Tuesday, September 27

Some sort of Curse or something.

end of conversation.

Thursday, September 22

We found her in the backyard, vines growing from her stomach, vacant eyes staring up at the afternoon sky.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"She's dead," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"O'Reilly..." says the sad voice that echos in our heads. "Patrick... Patrick O'Reilly..."

"Wait, was that... was that her talking in our heads?" I ask.

"Yes," Mr. Happy Puppet Head says as he turns and walks back to the house.

"Um," I tell the dead woman. "I don't know Patrick O'Reilly." The vines from her stomach wiggle angrily, thrashing the air. "I'm sorry. Do you need me to get you anything?"

"Revenge!" Her psychic yell is like a gong ringing through my mind. I clasp my hands to my ears but it doesn't help. The woman's stomach vines tangle with each other wildly as a multitude of vines shoot up from the ground around her, forming a soft cradle around her naked body. A large vine wraps tightly around me and lifts me into the air.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head comes back out of the house sipping a beer. Our house is now dwarfed by the towering, thrashing vines, the backyard completely engulfed by them. "Hey," he says, looking at me as I am tossed back and forth above him. "What's going on?"

"Bring me the murderer Patrick O'Rielly..." she moans without moving her mouth. "Revenge!"

"Oh, I get it," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. He pulls out his cell phone and dials 411. "Patrick O'Reilly, please." He waits. "Yeah, just connect me."

Two hours later, after a brief discussion with the murderer Patrick O'Rielly, he shows up in our backyard. He is handsome, young, and well-dressed. He says, "Here I am, Patrick O'Reilly. Where's my Prize for winning the Contest?" and is instantly snatched up by the vines.

With a psychic scream that nearly explodes my head, the vine woman hurls the victim of her vengence high into the partly cloudy sky. We watch as he shrinks into a little dot, then disappears.

"You feel better now?" I ask, still suspended by vines high above the ground.

"Not really..." she says. "I thought that would settle it... Damn..."

"I guess there's a lesson in all this" I tell her. "An Eye for and Eye just means there's lots of eyes poked out. And who wants that?"

"No, I think maybe that wasn't the right guy..." Her vines thrash a little more. "Was there another listing?"

Mr. Happy Puppet Head finishes off his beer and tosses it into the mess of vines. "Nope. Just the one. Wouldn't you recognize him, though?"

"I don't know... Vengence!" She starts thrashing again, and this time she accidentally drops me. It's kind of a far drop and I land on my foot funny.

"I think my foot is broken," I say, trying to bend my toes but not being able to.

"Nah," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Come on, put that pizza in the oven. I'm hungry."


We watch TV and eat pizza, all the while the dead vine woman is howling psycically in the backyard. We try to put earplugs in, but it does no good at all. One of our neighbors calls the cops, and I peek out the window as they shoot all their bullets at her. She throws some of their police cruisers into Outer Space, so they shoot her some more. This goes on all night.

The next day they have scientists and military people trying to figure out what's going on, but most of them get thrown into Outer Space, too.

I think the only resolution to all this is to simply accept her for what she is. I may not like my head to be filled with horrifying screams all the time, but with a little patience, I'm sure we can all co-exhist happily. That's what Love is for.

Monday, September 5

The Cute is feeling pretty good. He had just saved the Princess from the Room of Broken Glass, and just moments before she had given him a kiss on his head and sent him off on the Raft so he could get back home.

"I'm the best ever," the Cute says, looking around to make sure no one can hear. "I'm the best ever!" the Cute yells loudly. "And now I'm hungry."

But there is no food on the Raft. The Princess had either forgotten or meant ill for the Cute.

Either way the Cute has to find something to eat soon.

Try clapping your hands. You in the audience. Everyone at once. Or maybe send some food. Or a helicopter. The only place that half-ass Raft is going is the bottom of the Ocean.