(photo courtesy of Aaron Barnes)
Friday, June 8
The Midnight Mailman and Mr. Happy Puppet Head in:
"Price Check on Aisle DANGER!"
Chapter TWO
(start from the BEGININNG!)
* * * *
When he’s done pissing on the water monster in the toilet, Mr. Happy Puppet Head says, “It’s all yours,” and bobbles away, leaving me alone in the most terrifying public bathroom I have ever been in. I’m about to follow my friend out when I realize my bladder is suddenly painfully full. Too much tangy lukewarm water fountain, I guess.
I look at the toilet and the angry monster. It snaps its translucent teeth at me and thrashes about. It briefly occurs to me I could just piss on the floor, but I disregard this as totally out of the question. I’m in a grocery store.
I stand a few feet from the toilet, just out of bite’s reach. Junk in hand, I raise it to the demon. My entire body is taut, eyes blinking furiously behind my goggles.
I can do this. I can.
Urinating on a monster sounds easier than it actually is.
Seconds crawl. I strain to listen for anyone else who might come into the bathroom to catch me in my cowardice. If someone were to come in, I’d pretend to finish and leave quickly without making eye contact. But I can’t hear anything over the creature’s insistent splashing.
I can do this. I expel liquid waste through my urethra all the time. Why should it matter if something’s trying to kill me as I do it?
I sigh heavily. I can’t do this.
I zip up and back carefully out the door. It’ll take maybe twenty minutes to get home. I can handle that.
I’ll be happy as long as I never have to go into that bathroom again.
I find Mr. Happy Pupet Head in the Damaged Aerosol Food section. Four severely dented cans of Spray Cheese for the price of one. Amazing.
"Price Check on Aisle DANGER!"
Chapter TWO
(start from the BEGININNG!)
* * * *
When he’s done pissing on the water monster in the toilet, Mr. Happy Puppet Head says, “It’s all yours,” and bobbles away, leaving me alone in the most terrifying public bathroom I have ever been in. I’m about to follow my friend out when I realize my bladder is suddenly painfully full. Too much tangy lukewarm water fountain, I guess.
I look at the toilet and the angry monster. It snaps its translucent teeth at me and thrashes about. It briefly occurs to me I could just piss on the floor, but I disregard this as totally out of the question. I’m in a grocery store.
I stand a few feet from the toilet, just out of bite’s reach. Junk in hand, I raise it to the demon. My entire body is taut, eyes blinking furiously behind my goggles.
I can do this. I can.
Urinating on a monster sounds easier than it actually is.
Seconds crawl. I strain to listen for anyone else who might come into the bathroom to catch me in my cowardice. If someone were to come in, I’d pretend to finish and leave quickly without making eye contact. But I can’t hear anything over the creature’s insistent splashing.
I can do this. I expel liquid waste through my urethra all the time. Why should it matter if something’s trying to kill me as I do it?
I sigh heavily. I can’t do this.
I zip up and back carefully out the door. It’ll take maybe twenty minutes to get home. I can handle that.
I’ll be happy as long as I never have to go into that bathroom again.
I find Mr. Happy Pupet Head in the Damaged Aerosol Food section. Four severely dented cans of Spray Cheese for the price of one. Amazing.
Thursday, June 7
It's hard to breathe because of the smell.
"Knock yourself out, kid," says the man. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you."
Cinder stands staring at the lump of decaying carcass. "Soother? Is that you?" His friend doesn't answer. Things without faces rarely respond when their names are called, as our hero is fast learning.
Despite the stench, Cinder grabs a hug on his corpse friend and cries a little. They had had such great times together.
"Goodbye, Soother," he sniffs. "See you later."
The sun outside burns his eyes. He wipes away his tears and looks up at the man. "I'm ready."
"Hop in then," the door to the van swings open and the pair drives off to meet their destiny at Squiggly Jenny's Packing Plant.
***********************************
(photo courtesy of Victoria Warren)
Wednesday, May 9
The Midnight Mailman and Mr. Happy Puppet Head in:
"Price Check on Aisle DANGER!"
Chapter ONE
* * * *
At the local B&S, items are marked drastically down.
None of the cans in the canned food aisle have labels on them. Instead, they are divided into three sections with signs demarcating which section is which. Our options are "Good," "Edible," and "No."
Bread items are piled onto one large squished, stale, moldy display.
The Vegetables are shriveled and the fruit is bruised. Lettuce looks like Oregano and Pears like Avocados. There are no Tomatos anywhere.
The samples are dumped in a pile on the floor.
A frightened squirrel is somehow tied to my shopping cart.
The woman behind the Deli Counter stares vacantly at me, her hands wrapped in soiled plastic gloves, her hair in a net. I point and ask her what a specific item is, exactly. She shrugs her shoulders and blinks. “It’s fried chicken with Bar-B-Que sauce on it.” I ask her how old it is and she says she doesn’t’ know.
Next to the worst Bar-B-Que chicken ever are various chunks of animals wrapped tightly in shrink-wrap. Some look like whole animals, fur and all. I don’t ask her about these.
Mr. Happy Puppet Head is chewing on something. I ask him what it is and where he got it.
“From the sample pile over there,’ he gestures behind him.
“That’s a trash pile,” I tell him.
“No, it’s pretty good.” He crunches loudly on whatever garbage he’s decided is food. Bits of lint and part of a dirty napkin cling to his mustache. “Where’s the bathroom?”
We find that someone has barricaded the men’s bathroom with a large pile of label-less cans of food. “I guess we’ll have to wait ‘til we get home,” I shrug.
“Yeah right. I have to piss.” He knocks over much of the pile and yanks the door open with his teeth. I follow, fighting for my balance as I make my way over all the cans.
Inside, the air is bitter and chill. There is only one toilet sitting in the far left corner of the surprisingly large, dimly lit room. Six inches of water covers the floor and I can see that the walls are layered with dark mold. A drip drip drip from the sink echoes loudly.
I don't like this room at all.
“This place sucks.” As Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles to the toilet, a Water Monster lunges from the filthy porcelain with a WHOOSH! It snaps jagged water-teeth furiously at the air directly in front of my friend, growling and frothing all over the place.
I jump straight backwards, diving for the door. My feet slip from under me and I crash to the floor in a soggy pile of cans and rolls of waterlogged toilet paper. “Mr. Happy Puppet Head!” I shout.
Mr. Happy Puppet Head stops and studies the translucent horror in front of him, miraculously standing inches outside of the monster’s reach.
“Wait your turn, dick-stain,” as he starts pissing his candy-smelling puppet urine all over the snarling Monster. “Hey, you think that girl at the Deli Counter wants me? I like older chicks with braces.”
End Chapter ONE.
"Price Check on Aisle DANGER!"
Chapter ONE
* * * *
At the local B&S, items are marked drastically down.
None of the cans in the canned food aisle have labels on them. Instead, they are divided into three sections with signs demarcating which section is which. Our options are "Good," "Edible," and "No."
Bread items are piled onto one large squished, stale, moldy display.
The Vegetables are shriveled and the fruit is bruised. Lettuce looks like Oregano and Pears like Avocados. There are no Tomatos anywhere.
The samples are dumped in a pile on the floor.
A frightened squirrel is somehow tied to my shopping cart.
The woman behind the Deli Counter stares vacantly at me, her hands wrapped in soiled plastic gloves, her hair in a net. I point and ask her what a specific item is, exactly. She shrugs her shoulders and blinks. “It’s fried chicken with Bar-B-Que sauce on it.” I ask her how old it is and she says she doesn’t’ know.
Next to the worst Bar-B-Que chicken ever are various chunks of animals wrapped tightly in shrink-wrap. Some look like whole animals, fur and all. I don’t ask her about these.
Mr. Happy Puppet Head is chewing on something. I ask him what it is and where he got it.
“From the sample pile over there,’ he gestures behind him.
“That’s a trash pile,” I tell him.
“No, it’s pretty good.” He crunches loudly on whatever garbage he’s decided is food. Bits of lint and part of a dirty napkin cling to his mustache. “Where’s the bathroom?”
We find that someone has barricaded the men’s bathroom with a large pile of label-less cans of food. “I guess we’ll have to wait ‘til we get home,” I shrug.
“Yeah right. I have to piss.” He knocks over much of the pile and yanks the door open with his teeth. I follow, fighting for my balance as I make my way over all the cans.
Inside, the air is bitter and chill. There is only one toilet sitting in the far left corner of the surprisingly large, dimly lit room. Six inches of water covers the floor and I can see that the walls are layered with dark mold. A drip drip drip from the sink echoes loudly.
I don't like this room at all.
“This place sucks.” As Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles to the toilet, a Water Monster lunges from the filthy porcelain with a WHOOSH! It snaps jagged water-teeth furiously at the air directly in front of my friend, growling and frothing all over the place.
I jump straight backwards, diving for the door. My feet slip from under me and I crash to the floor in a soggy pile of cans and rolls of waterlogged toilet paper. “Mr. Happy Puppet Head!” I shout.
Mr. Happy Puppet Head stops and studies the translucent horror in front of him, miraculously standing inches outside of the monster’s reach.
“Wait your turn, dick-stain,” as he starts pissing his candy-smelling puppet urine all over the snarling Monster. “Hey, you think that girl at the Deli Counter wants me? I like older chicks with braces.”
End Chapter ONE.
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