Sunday, February 6
The Forever Night Story, part THE END.
Our eyes have gotten used to the dark.
Where before people were pretending everything was normal, going to work, school, baseball games, the world steadily got colder and colder, and more and more broken as giants wandered around smashing and eating things.
Ours is the last house left as far as we can see down the street, which isn't very far. There's no more electricity and no moon. Just the stars.
"We're out of booze," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.
"Maybe we can find some," I say. But I don't want any.
Then we hear a loud clanging banging sound. It's the Marching Band. We peer out the window, listening as they approach. With Bermuda and Steve, the two-headed naked monster leading the group, they head straight for our front door.
The doorbell rings. We open the door.
"The Midnight Mailman," says Steve. "Mr. Happy Puppet Head."
"Come inside, it's cold," I say, opening the door wider for the small band of Marching Band to enter.
"Our sense of purpose keeps us warm," says Steve. I glance down at their exposed monster genitals, and they don't look too unhappy exposed to the weather as they are.
I shiver and wrap my cape tighter around my shoulders.
"We want you to join our marching band," says Bermuda. "It's fun. You guys'll like it. Promise."
"Nah," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.
"Oh," I say, watching my floating red friend retreat back into the house as he sucks on his empty hip flask. "I guess not," I tell the rag-tag bunch of cold misfits on my doorstep. "Sorry."
"I don't think you understand how important this is," Steve tells me. Behind him one of his band members, a middle-aged woman who was playing a toy saxophone, grows quickly into a giant, eats the man playing the Chinese wok, and stomps away.
"We need you, you need us," continues Steve.
"I don't think I can without Mr. Happy Puppet Head," I tell them. "Good luck," I say as I try to close the door. But Steve puts a big blue monster hand against the door and holds it open.
"I don't think you were listening, we need all the people we can get, and you need all the help you can get." There are only three band-mates behind Bermuda and Steve. None of them are holding real instruments. There's a rake, a pez dispenser, and an empty roll of packing tape.
"I don't..." I look back into the house, hoping Mr. Happy Puppet Head will come back to help me. I turn back to Bermuda and Steve to find that Bermuda has turned into a Giant, with a regular sized Steve for a right side. Bermuda roars happily before toppling over, since it's hard to balance on only one giant leg. But then Steve turns into a giant, and they can once again stand upright with no problems. They eat the remaining three bandmates, and stomp away.
I close the door. "They're gone Mr. Happy Puppet Head," I call.
I fall over because the house shakes something awful. Dust falls from the ceiling and the furniture all flips over. I run to the back of the house and there is no back of the house, no walls or kitchen or anything. Just a giant Mr. Happy Puppet Head eating the picket fence.
"What're you doing, Mr. Happy Puppet Head?" I ask. But he just keeps eating. He looks happier than I've seen him for a long time.
I watch him eating and chomping away at our backyard and house. I shiver from cold.
But then I'm not so cold anymore, and eating the backyard sounds like a very good idea. That tree I used to like to sit under looks delicious. Like a big piece of gummy tree candy. My teeth itch to bite into it. And then it isn't so big a tree after all, and I can pick it up easily.
This is great.
Eat eat eat. Chomp chomp chomp.
Friend Puppet Head, we go stomp. We go stomp. Fun. Stomp. Great.