"This is how you do it," he says. "Grab it's head with this arm, and just... jam it down it's throat."

"I think he'll bite me if I do that," she says.

"No way." He mimes the action of grabbing the little thing's head and sticking his arm down it's throat. "Just in and out, grab grab grab, and then we're Home Free."

"If this woman puts her arm into my mouth," says the little creature, eyeing the two people calmly. "I will bite it off. I will. I'll just bite it off and that's it."

"Wait, so it ate three of your babies?" asks the man.

"No, just the two. The other's over there in her playpen." She points into her front yard behind her to a small playpen with a young child playing with some colorful toys. "Just my boys. My boys are in there."

The little creature stands silently as it watches the two tall people talking. It makes a funny little face and spits out a baby's shoe. It is a blue shoe with a baseball on it.

"I bought that last week for him, and now it's all spitty." She picks up the shoe and tries to wipe off the spit, but it's sticky and slimy and she drops it back on the ground. "Now he's gonna have to walk around with just the one shoe."

The man suddenly grabs the little thing and wraps one arm tightly around it's head. "Don't worry, ma'am. I'll get your babies." The creature doesn't struggle or move or anything. With his other arm, the man forces his hand down the creature's throat. He wiggles it around, searching. After a long moment, he pulls out a small, spit-covered baby. It is a beatiful boy with curly blonde hair and a big happy smile. The woman takes her child and sets it on her hip.

"If you do that again with your arm," says the creature. "I will bite it off. I will. I wish you would not put your arm in my mouth again. I really wish you would not. And if you do, I will bite it off. I will."

"What about the baby?" demands the man. "We'll need to get that baby out of you."

"You now have two babies. How many babies do you really need?"

"All my babies," responds the woman, jiggling her slimy son on her broad hip. "They're mine and I need all of them, thank you very much."

The man nods his head and rams his arm down the thing's mouth. This time there is some struggle as the creature squints its eyes up tight and thrashes its arms about. The man clenches his jaw and searches for that baby.

"Do you find it?" asks the woman.

"You sure it's in here?"

"I think I know where my baby's at, thank you very much."

"There's just slime... oh, wait..." He struggles some more, and the little creature manages to slip out of his grip. The man pulls and pulls, and the little thing digs its heels into the sidewalk and pulls and pulls. Both sides are straining hard.

A pickup truck pulls up to watch.

"What's going on here?" asks the old woman in the driver's seat. "What's with all the pulling and that small monster, bugger thing?"

"Oh, it ate some my kids," explains the woman.

"Oh..." The old woman turns off the engine to her truck and leans comfortably on the steering wheel to watch what happens next.

The man puts one of his feet on the thing's face and pushes, and his arm slides a little bit out of the large mouth it is penetrating.

"Nice day, though," says the Old Lady.

"Oh, yeah... real nice." replies the woman.

The man puts his other foot on the thing's face and pulls as hard as he can. He strains and all the veins in his neck and face and arms bulge out like he's going to explode.

With a loud POP the man pulls a very small baby out of the creature's large mouth. It is also covered in slime, and less smiley about everything, but seems to be just fine otherwise.

"Hey, look at that." The woman takes her third baby and sets it on the other hip. "Thanks much."

"Oh, no problem. None." The man tries to wipe his slimy hands off on the grass, but little bits of grass and leaves adhere to his slimy skin. "Now you go on and get. Get out of here and don't eat folk's babies, okay?"

"I will eat any baby I choose. Any. I have already eaten twenty and you can't stop that from having happened. You can not, can you, Mr. Grab Arm?" And the little creature runs off and disappears into a hedge.

"Sometimes I'd like to run off and disappear into a hedge like that," says the Old Woman. "But I've got some canned goods to buy. Corn and the lot." She starts her truck up and drives off, disappearing into the horizon.

The woman then disappears into the small puddle of sticky spit at her feet, and the man disappears into a haze of late night television and rigid self-appraisal.

New banner, eh?

And is there anyone out there who'd like to help us make a New and Improved web site design?

Oh, shit...

What?

The door's locked.

She speaks.
Just open it. They lock from the inside.

He replies.
I know... but it won't open.

She changes into someone else entirely.
Hey, you got my money or what?

Um...
He jiggles the handle hard, not liking the looks of the man his wife has just turned into.
Um...

The scary man/wife grabs him by the collar.
I will smash your face right now. Watch.
He pulls his fist back ready to smash his face when he changes into someone else. This time a funny comedian. She wears a polka dotted blouse and is holding an empty cardboard box. She looks at the man expectantly.

Um...
The man jiggles the handle like he is confused.
Um... why are you turning into different people?

I don't think you're following me here, mister. Get it? Empty cardboard box? See?
She points into the empty cardboard box.

Oh. Yeah, I get it.
He spins so his feet are in the air and he begins kicking at the window trying to escape. The window doesn't let him escape.

Okay, I got one. There's a man doing pushups when this other guy comes up and says, Hey mister, she's already gone.
The comedian turns into a Princess from the Rennaisance.

She is the most beautiful thing the man has ever seen, so he stops kicking at the driver's side window and stares open-mouthed at the Princess from the Rennaisance his wife has turned into.
Hi.

As a reply, the Princess hands the man a bag of crunchy, crunchy crackers and bursts into flames.

The man tries to kiss her burning face, and his face burns too. Everyone has a burning face in the locked car.

A police officer knocks on the glass and asks if everything is okay in the burning, locked car.

The man whose face is on fire and whose wife-turned-Rennaisance-Princess-on-fire is on fire speaks.
Yes. Very okay.

The Princess then turns back into his wife who isn't on fire at all.
PUNCHLINE:
Hey, where'd you get those crunchy, crunchy crackers?

This story isn't done, and it's looking like it never will be. But here it is anyways.

*********************************************

"Where's the hammer?" asks Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"In the toolbox," I tell him. "Why?"

"I bought a cow." He leaves the room, and I hear him rumaging through the toolbox in the hall closet, then walk out the backdoor. Curious, I follow.

There is a cow in the backyard. A big fat black and white one with a bell around its neck. Mr. Happy Puppet Head hits it in the head with the hammer. The cow moos loudly and runs to the other side of the yard. Mr. Happy Puppet Head chases her and hits her again. She moos and runs again.

"Mr. Happy Puppet Head?" I ask him. "What are you doing this for?"

"It's a good investment. Lots of meat."

"I don't like beef."

"You don't like anything." The cow is slowing down, a trickle of blood runs down it's face. "It's still a good investment."

notes to finishing:
-Midnight chases crazy possesed meat all over the house like Tom and Jerry.
-lots of hit-in-the-crotch jokes
-Flan


-"This is good beef," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.
"Sure," I say as I hold the ice bag to my bruised crotch.

The End.

This is the blog of the main character in the movie I am working on now and one of reasons the Midnight Mailman has been down for so long.

It is of some interest. Especially to me since I am mentioned every now and then.

http://www.archiesbloodcar.blogspot.com/

One girl. Her brother. And a Roboctopus.



You'll think it's pretty good. Really pretty good.

ROBOCTOPUS the movie



coming soon.

"Now it is Halloween," she says.

"What?" he asks. He is eating a quesadilla, cheese dripping down his freshly shaven face.

"I don't know what I'm dressing up as tonight." She pours herself another glass of grape juice. "I'm thinking maybe a ghost or... a ghost maybe."

"I'm going to be a crab monster. I made a really awesome costume." He shoves the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and stands up, knocking his chair over. "Don't look at me," he yells at her. He picks up the microwave from the countertop and holds it over his head like he's going to smash it. "You never believe me!"

"Fine," she says. "But I'm not cleaning it up, and I'm not buying you another one." She looks out the window. "Your carpool is here."

He stares at her unblinking. "I'm serious, Dianne. I'm serious." He shakes the microwave over his head.

Diane picks up her half-eatedn quesadilla and grape juice and slides past him into the living room. "Smash it. You're the only one who uses it."

"I use it, too," says the daughter Lily, hidden under the kitchen table.

"You do not!" he yells at her, shaking the microwave violently. "This microwave isn't for you!"

"I'm a grown woman! And it's about time you recognized my need to admit that I use the microwave." She sobs into her hands.

He closes his eyes as tight as he can. The microwave is getting heavy and his carpool honks one more time before leaving for work without him. He hears his wife start the shower upstairs and his daugter dry-heaving under the kitchen table.

"You never believe me about my crab costume!" He throws the microwave against the already dented refrigerator.

"I will be a crab, with big ass pincers and it'll be red and everyone will be impressed with my costume-making skills!"

Now it is Halloween.

Some sort of Curse or something.



end of conversation.

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."

"Okay."

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.