Ellen Santa-Rafael Domingo has eleven arms, one for each of her children.

In her first arm, Leena's arm, she carries Lemon Pie.

"Momma, gimmie my Lemon Pie," says Leena all the damn time.

In her second arm, Charlie's arm, she carries a fistfull of Bendy Straws.

"Momma, gimmie one of them Bendy Straws." Charlie loves his Bendy Straws.

In her third arm, Linday's arm, she carries a Birth Certificate.

"Hey Momma. When was I born?" asks Linday. "In which Hospital and what's your Maiden Name?"

EllenSanta-Rafael Domingo never answers Linday becuase she's too busy holdingthe Two Angry Tiny Dogs in her fourth arm, Deana-Smitty's arm.

"Get him, you Tiny Dog!" scrieches Deana-Smitty. "You fight that Angry Tiny Dog, you Angry Tiny Dog!"

In her fifth arm, Sams' arm, she carries a New Set of Luggage.

"Momma?" asks Sam. "This Set of Lggage isn't so New anymore, is it?"

"I can't afford New Luggage every time you ask me that," replies Ellen Santa-Rafael Domingo. "Now hand me the Bug Repellent."

In her sixth arm, Nancy's arm, she carries Bug Repellent.

"Momma! They're on me! They're on all over me!" Nancy scratches furiously at her face skin.

Her seventh arm has been missing ever since Lenny-David-Spencer ran off for Marriage.

"Hand me that Power Bill, Wife," Lenny-David-Spencer says from his new recliner."I like to pay the Power Bill at least two weeks before it's due."

In her eighth arm, Mr. Bum Homeless Man From Street's arm, she carries a pack of Stale Cigarettes.

"Ah... thanks, Momma. I owe you one."

Her ninth arm and her tenth arm stroke each other nervously, wringing each other's hands and picking at fingernails.

Little Sarah and Little Jill have yet to recover from the Science Fair accident.

Her eleventh arm is the small nub of protruding bone and flesh you can just start to see under her left shoulderblade. It is only a few weeks old and has many months left to go.

It's a little tender now, and whenever she has a spare moment, Ellen Santa-Rafael Domingo pokes at the little pre-arm. This poking would turn into a habbit if she had more time, but she doesn't.

"Looks like rain, Momma," says Mr. Bum Homeless Man From Streets. He takes a drag from his Cigarette.

"It rains sometimes," says Ellen Santa-Rafael Domingo. "But that's what makes the flowers grow."

As if in response, Little Jill's left arm jerks a lttle. "Hey! Did you see that?"points Leena, her mouth full of delicious Pie. Everyone crowds around to see. Ellen Santa-Rafael Domingo and Leena and Charlie and Linday and Deana-Smitty and Sam and Nancy and Mr. Bum Homeless Man From Streets and Little Sarah who lies quietly next to Little Jill and the not-quite-an-arm-yet all wait for another small sign of life from the poor girl who so rarely proves that she's still alive.

But she doesn't do it again.

It begins to rain. Not one arm among the lot holds an umbrella.

"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.