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Grace and The 2AM Track Star

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Grace Newsome was running on an inside track at her 24 hour gym. She was all alone and it was 2 in the morning. She woke up the past few weeks every night by 1am riddled with fear, taking over her body and she felt an intense desire to run. Once she got in her car, the fear would begin to lessen and the closer she got to the gym, the better she would feel. Luckily for Grace, she only lived 5 minutes away from it.

Tonight had the same beginning but it would end differently. She felt so free during these long runs. She was running from everything in her past and racing toward her future. She would normally run close to 7 miles, even though it exhausted her. But, that’s what she wanted. She would run herself tired and then get home so that she could sleep the rest of the night. This had worked every night, since she began. She felt that tonight, she couldn’t stop until she hit the 9 mile mark.

By the 7th, her legs began to burn slightly. She wouldn’t stop for anything. She tried to talk herself out of this, but her legs just kept going. Closer to 8, her calves were throbbing and it felt like her legs were turning to jello. She would not stop though. She would try to, but her body would seem to silently whisper that she had to keep going. Something was coming for her. Of course, she knew that it was a ridiculous thought, because nobody was there and this wasn’t in the scope of her logical reality. She continued to run through the pain emanating up into her tightening thighs. She would not stop until she hit 9. The endorphins were surging through her body, trying to naturally medicate her muscles. She was in her head the last three quarters of her final mile. An obsession was building in her thoughts. Why am I running in the middle of the night? Why would this terrifying panic come over me, yelling at me to be at the gym by 2am? She couldn’t remember the nightmare, but she would wake up hot, sweaty, and feeling an immense tightness in her chest. The first night this happened she sat in bed for a few minutes waiting for it to pass. It only escalated. She cried out for help. Her eyes closed and she saw herself running on the track at her gym. A small amount of relief was felt immediately. She got up, already in her sweats and grabbed her keys to leave. The closer she got to the gym, the better she felt. It completely subsided once she began running. It was the third night when she felt that she was running from something, but didn’t know what it was. She let it go, getting further from the something she was trying to escape. She was a track star!

Victory! She had outrun it, whatever it was. She laughed at her own adult silliness. She had crossed the finish line at mile 9 and felt the obsession lift. She was finished and walked for a few minutes to wind down. After feeling her heart rate drop and then finding its own normal resting pace again, she headed to the shower to quickly wash up, so that she could make it home relatively quick. As she was leaving two older women showed up and began their day on an elliptical machine, both sounded excited about something that had happened but she was too introverted at that moment to make out what they were talking about.

She hopped in her car and started to drive in the direction of her house. It was almost 5am, as she waited at the red light in the far end of the strip mall parking lot. She figured that she could make it home to grab a few hours of shut eye before heading into work at 10:30. She was glad it was her week to go into work at the bank mid morning.

She had taken a left off Stevens Avenue heading closer to Capisic Street when a cop car racing with his blues on pulled up passing her and turned down her street. She followed him, still halfway in a daze and wondering if her neighbor had finally gotten sick of his abusive foul-mouthed alcoholic boyfriend, punching him out. She would have left him a long time ago. They fought all the time and the cops were no strangers to their domestic issues.

She could hear some loud noises and lights were flashing rapidly up a head. She drove up to a roadblock with lots of cops, fire trucks and a disaster unit on the scene. People were standing outside and crew workers were all over the place trying to control whatever was going on.

A policeman waving traffic came up to her window, “Lady, you can’t go any further than this we have an emergency wreck we are cleaning up. A plane crash landed into a few homes and exploded igniting the houses on fire.”

“What????!!! Where???!!!! What house???I live down there!!!!” she yelled frantically.

“132, 130, 128, 124. All on Capisic. Right after the bend. The houses are barely standing. 130 is just gone! Its not even there anymore!” he said this in disbelief.

Grace gulped really hard. It felt like she was trying to swallow a grapefruit. She opened her car door and felt a wave of serenity hit her. It was coupled with a wave of extreme nausea. A warm spray of vomit flew out of her mouth and hit the ground, then splattering up into her car on her shoes.

The officer walked  closer to her and asked, “Are you okay Miss?”

She wiped her mouth off with the sleeve of her lavender colored hoodie. “I think so. It was my house that was hit. I live at 130.”

“Wow! You are one lucky woman to be sitting here right now. It struck at 3am and if you had been in that house. Well, I don’t even want to go there.” He said this with a small amount of compassion but more so because it was his job and partially because he didn’t know what to say to someone who could be dead. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and goose flesh pulled at his hairy arms.

“Yeah………,” she said this in shock. She pulled up and over off to the side of the road, where he had pointed for her to park. She sat there alone in silence, amidst all the loud sounds, thinking about her run.

She began to thank the universe. She thanked God. She thanked the Earth. She thanked the trees and the early Spring flowers blossoming on the streets. She thanked the sweet warm smell of the May lilacs carried by the wind. Mostly, she thanked her tired legs for not letting her stop.

In the early morning hours of that Thursday, Grace Newsome the 2am track star was crying. She literally had outrun her death, running a marathon for her own life and lived to tell about it. She had been saved by a miracle or by the grace of God, something had been working through her and she never forgot this precious gift as long as she lived.

 

 

The Suburban Slasher of Memory Lane

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Suburbanslash

            My first victim was over 20 years ago. That was when I was much younger than I am now.

            I often think of her when I have the afternoons free. I am generally a very busy person.

            I have been hiding out all of these years in Suburbia, as your next door neighbor, married with children, who are already in their teenage years.

            The urge to kill became so intoxicating for me at such a young age. I remember the day when I knew I had it in me and I knew that I would kill. I was a block away from my house, enticed by a spider in its web. It was so graceful and powerful, in such regality, a queen of her own kingdom. I looked down on the ground below at all the little ants marching into the sandhole mountain they had created.

            I bent over and picked one of them up, ever so delicately, in between my thumb and forefinger, possibly maiming it.  I tossed it into the intricately woven web and watched methodically for the excitement to unravel. The spider sensed little vibrations from the ant’s movements, thrashing around to break itself free. It slid in a beautiful dance-like sway down the silk web and immediately sunk its fangs into the ant. It spun the ant circular into a cocoon from the death fabric it emitted, until the ant was gone. I felt alive watching this. I grabbed another and it happened again. The feeling grew stronger inside me. I spent most of the day giving that spider more food to eat than it would ever need to in its lifetime.  I knew that evening, when my parents tucked me gently into bed, that  I wanted to be fierce like that spider and rule my own kingdom one day.

            I sit here today, in suburbia sipping on a light afternoon whiskey and water, fantasizing about all of the lives I have ended. I remember each one, having 17 under my belt. 17 kills. I have rid the world of 17 lowly marching ants that would surely have amounted to nothing. I did them a favor, really. I occasionally sneak into my bathroom at night and softly rub myself, over the exciting memories I have, reliving each one and the intensity I felt during those slaughters.

            I’m never going to do it again of course and have kept my word. It was hidden in the vows on my wedding day, they just weren’t spoken. Besides, I don’t have the desire I had when I was younger. But, I still have the deliciousness of all those deaths to recount, over and over, in my own secret silent kingdom.

            Its half past four now, Melinda and Darren should be coming through the door any moment now.

            “I’m home!!!!!! I’m so hungry. They starve us at school. And those pudding snack packs need to be bigger. They are sooooooo good!” yelled my precocious daughter, throwing her backpack on the couch. I killed someone her age once. They even look kind of similar.

            “Well, we just need to make sure we pack you more protein in your lunches, pumpkin,” I answered. Don’t I sound normal to you? It fills even me with laughter sometimes. “Where’s your brother?”

            “Over Jerry’s house. They’re gonna watch one of those sick disgusting slasher films they like. Yuck!!!He is such a weirdo!” replied Melinda.

            “Don’t judge! It’s not becoming and not very ladylike either. Now, you need to go start your homework young lady.” I smiled at her. She has no idea of who I am. I giggle a little bit and she thinks it’s because she made a funny face. I’ve cut people ear to ear for throwing smiles at me like that. I handed her a plate of homemade super chocolate chunk cookies, because I’m the master and just that good.

            She turned around and was halfway out the door when she smiled at me, “I love you Mommie, you are the Queen of the Castle and the best Mother in the Universe.”

            “Awe, I love you too Princess!” I meant this to the best of my ability.  She is mine and she is brilliant. Every parent thinks this about their children. I know this about mine. She is right though, I am still the queen and I am the best mother. Really, I am.  

            Now it’s time to get back to the kitchen and finish my amazing and decadent Pesto Eggplant Lasagna. It’s my husband Baxter’s favorite.

The Parking Fairy

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PFairy2           “Beep, Beep!!!” Pippa Knowlton cranked her head to the left towards the car that just honked at her. It ran the same red light she did and she had moved into the left lane without looking to that side, expecting nobody to be there. She shouldn’t have run that light. It was already yellow when she decided to chance it as most people so often do. She had received the message “Don’t run that Pippa! Brake! ”, but she chose to ignore her intuition.

She clutched her chest and felt the locket that Ted gave her for Christmas, it was warm from her body heat. It always seemed to make things better to clasp it and it reminded her how much she loved him.

“Oh Pippa, that light wasn’t worth running, almost getting sideswiped from that douche mongrel, who chose to run it with you, “ she said trying to justify it and make herself feel better after breaking the law.

She was running late from her workout at the gym. She loved Zimzooga Class and often skipped her lunch just so that she could go. It only gave her 15 minutes to find a parking spot and get back to school for her to teach 6th period Health to a bunch of privileged sophomores.

She had 4 minutes to get there and 3 minutes in between bells to do this. 7 minutes goes quickly and Pippa knew all too well how fast time flies when you don’t want it too. Thank goodness she made the lights the rest of the way there, even though she ran that one light.

She saw a car with its blinker on as she was turning the corner to grab the same spot that car was moving towards. In parking etiquette the other car had actually been a little closer, but she was on the same side of the street as the space, and she had 3 minutes to get to class. She pretended not to see him and did an insane ninja like parking move and took it. The driver pulled up next to her, rolled down his window, flipped her off and then yelled a word at her that rhymed with punt. He then sped off angrily and she thought, “I can deal with that.”

Pippa was getting ready to jump out of the car, but just as she pushed the door open, an invisible force pushed it shut. The doors automatically locked.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked a little scared and in disbelief at what was happening.

“You shouldn’t have parked here and you are not supposed to!” said this weird little lady who suddenly appeared on her passenger seat.

“Where did you come from? Who are you and why can’t I?” asked Pippa with an attitude.

“Oh, don’t you give me an attitude young lady! After all the times I have helped you out!” said the wrinkly faced woman. She was getting uglier and more pronounced by the minute.

“How have you helped me? I have never seen you in my entire life, ” said Pippa still unsure, “ I’m gonna be late for class.”

“Yes Pippa dear, you are late for class, you are very late,” said the impish woman. At this point the longer she sat there arguing with her, the more Pippa began to see things about the old woman she hadn’t when she first spoke. Her nose had grown outwards and into a hook-like shape, wings had sprouted from her back, and claws had grown out of her hands.

“I’m the parking fairy, and you are in serious violation, “ she answered her, sounding full of snide but also educational as well.

Pippa began to talk but the parking fairy waved her hand and nothing came out of her mouth. She tried to move but was frozen.

“I talk, you listen, you little ungrateful insolent thief!” she yelled in a very unsettling way, it scared Pippa.

“Do you think everyone just randomly parks all the time and gets away with it just by pure luck? What about those crazy times where you ask for a parking spot in a high traffic area, and lo and behold, you show up and there it is, waiting for you! That’s me! I do all of that for everyone. I don’t always get it for you, sometimes you get it a block away or something. But Pippa, “ she squeezed her claw-like fists, “ you took the man’s parking spot he had asked me for. This was meant for him and not you! Now you have to pay the price. You were to park 2 streets away and be late for class by 1 minute. You messed everything up. Remember your intuitive moment running that light. You should have listened. That was me in your head. Now you have to pay!” With that she reached over and shoved her nails into Pippa’s eyes.  She then withdrew a hatchet from the air and chopped off her hands. “That’s so you can’t drive and steal other people’s spots ever again!”

Pippa laid there, a bleeding and blind wreckage. She was crying, snotting all over herself, pissing blood everywhere and wishing she had listened to her gut. She began to fall further into shock, her body and voice were both still paralyzed.

“I have to fly Pippa! You are one lucky girl. It could have been a whole lot worse,” she grabbed her wand and blew Pippa a kiss. “ I have an appointment with another person. You are so lucky, you should see, oops too soon??? Anyway, you got off easy. The other guy that ran that light with you has much more coming to him. He had the nerve to steal a handicapped person’s spot!!” She cackled and then was gone.

Pippa certainly didn’t feel very lucky at all. She never heard or saw the parking fairy again. Actually, she never saw anything ever again.

 

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The Great Willa Pritchard

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Willa

 

Willa Pritchard was bored with her life. She was 35 years old, highly talented and didn’t have any major direction. She had many friends, no real enemies that she knew of, and a relatively new boyfriend in her life that she cared for very much.

She wanted so desperately to move forward but felt stuck and didn’t know how she was going to move on. She thought about this a lot and at great lengths. She believed faithfully that if she were to be given some small sign or had a miracle happen in her life, it would propel her, giving her the ounce of hope she needed to continue on.

Her piggy bank of hope had been nearing close to empty, although she never let on to anyone, that there were times when she would stare blankly at the wall fighting not to give up. She did not want to consider surrendering to the inevitable mundane morbidity of the death and taxes entrapment role.  She was more, much more, waiting for her shot to be great!

Willa was sitting on a bench in front of her apartment one afternoon, when life finally caught up with her and the serendipitous winds of change brought her exactly what she needed.

She was writing a poem based on her latest night of lonely angst, an hour when solace could not be found in the comfort of her soft pillows or woven into the threads of her lush feather down comforter. She placed a period at the end of the sonnet, when a young boy came to sit on the bench beside her.

He smiled at her and she smiled back. His little tousled golden locks, caught every lustrous shine of the midday sun. They sat resting on the back of his head without brushing his shoulders.

He reached over handing her half of his sandwich, which Willa accepted graciously along with a trade. She reached inside her lavender colored fleece vest pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie of ginger snaps, which she handed over to him. His little eyes lit up in response, as most children’s do when they are handed cookies. His bright smile relayed how happy he would be to eat these very soon.

They sat in silence eating lunch. She really was quite hungry and glad that he had showed when he did. She chewed slowly relishing each bite and thinking how amazing and better it tastes when someone else makes the same sandwich you made a thousand times before. Her new friend sat there with his little legs hanging over the bench, kicking his feet back and forth, munching away, not a care in the world.

Willa was really stunned at the marvelous beauty of this moment. How kind it was to have this little gentleman, show up and share his generosity like he did. She needed it more than he would ever know. His smile had uplifted her to one of those motivational minutes that made her start planning her life again. She became excited as if life had somehow been renewed and restored from this one gestured act of kindness.

“WATCH OUT LADY!!!!!” yelled a strong and loud voice, belonging to a foreman working nearby.

She looked up just in time to something large and very heavy falling straight down from the rooftop of the building. Its inertia was gaining with every second and was closer to its unplanned target, her and the little boy.

She dropped the rest of the sandwich and she felt this phenomenally intense rush of energy move through her body. She made an outward thrust with both of her arms, pushing the little boy off the bench, launching him into the air.

The few people witnessing this miracle stood there with their mouths gaping wide in disbelief. They watched as her push had been so forceful, the little boy flew all the way across the road and into a safety net of full trashbags, cushioning his impact. He landed crying from the shock and the fear of flying in the air.

Just as her hands had lost contact with the little boy’s midsection, the object falling from the building careened into Willa Pritchard, crushing her into the bench and further into the sidewalk. She died instantly.

Sometimes an act of kindness is coupled with an act of bravery. Willa had met her predestined greatness and succeeded.

Years from now, the young man she saved, after completing his longtime life’s work, will be the man who discovers a scientific method to suspend cell growth slowing down mitosis. Thus, allowing human beings to achieve longer life spans of up to 300 years old and even a little longer. Future scientists will use some of his theories to allow same sex couples to splice their DNA together to have children in the surrogacy of a synthetic uterus, to design an energy regulation device that allows a person to increase more of their untapped brain power to literally use their mind to heal disease by thought alone and the list goes on.

Willa Pritchard, the heroic catalyst, knew she was destined for greatness, just like we all are. She remained strong and confident through turbulent times in her life, never giving up. In the end, she was right.

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Jo-Jo Gets Hungry

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JOJO

Joan Puddles or Jo-Jo as she was called by many, woke up early one Saturday morning to an intense pain in her midsection. It was an ache that ran so deep into the bottom of her stomach, she could literally feel the gastric juices moving inside her, up her esophagus and imagined them yelling at her to get up and eat.

She tried to focus on the music playing on the radio to help the pain go away, but it did nothing to quell her at all.

“All it is, is hunger Jo-Jo,” she said. “You went most of the day yesterday not eating anything, then right before bed you ate all of those empty calories. All those simple carbs just taste so damn good though!” It pissed her off that she was right and serving herself a big cup of honesty, instead of coffee, which she would rather be enjoying.
It’s very true. She was hungry, so hungry she felt she could eat a horse, like the saying goes. She got up and out of bed, feeling slightly cranky at the world already. When she was in this state of hunger she experienced extreme irritability towards things that wouldn’t normally bother her.

She looked at the counter filled with numerous crumbs and used finger smudged napkins. One of her roommates had left a mess, yet again. She knew immediately which one it was.

“Bobbi, you filthy little pigbabybitch! Clean this shit up! I’m not your maid!” she said to the air, as if Bobbi could hear her. “Oh pooh! I must be starving if I’m yelling at that lazy bitch and swearing so quickly in the morning. I better eat!” Jo-Jo often talked to herself, as most people do. It wasn’t in a crazy way, they were more like audible affirmations checking-in with herself, a quip she really enjoyed about who she was. She wiped the counter down, silently in protest.
A few minutes later, Jo-Jo sat down at the table to a bowl of hot Maypo with cream and brown sugar. She loved this breakfast very much. It was just like the way her father used to make it for her on Saturday mornings before cartoons would begin. Richie Rich, the Wuzzles, the Littles and Teen Wolf all seemed better after eating on those fun days. It actually even appeared to make Saved By the Bell interesting, which at 8, was hard to do.

She was done with the bowl, which she rinsed out with cold water and then she placed it in the dishwasher. There was still a problem though. It felt as if she hadn’t eaten anything at all. The noise and the feeling of hunger were still lurking.

“Maybe I’m just really hungry and need some protein too!” she said in an excited but somewhat sarcastic way to herself. So, with that sensation going on inside her, she took out some eggs and began to make a veggie scrambler. She added cheese, green pepper, some red onion, a few mushrooms, a handful of cherry tomatoes, a sprinkle of garlic salt and half of an avocado. She popped some bread in the toaster and pushed the knob down. Her eggs crackled in the pan filling her house with that amazing breakfast scent. Her toast was done, which she quickly spread some cashew butter on and then spooned her egg jamboree on one of the nice ceramic eggplant colored plates that belonged to her favorite, coolest, funniest and sexiest roommate Tootsie. Tootsie was gone for a month. She was off saving the world, feeding the homeless, knitting scarves for chlamydia and doing it in style.

Jo-Jo sat down to enjoy her second breakfast and within a few minutes, she was done again. She sat there, still without any satiation. She grabbed a banana and then ate that. There was an apple sitting there too and then she ate that as well. She started laughing as she grabbed yet, another banana. After she ate it, she consumed the only orange in the nearing empty fruit pile. She saw the pear, which she sucked down next. Next to the wooden bowl there was a plate of cupcakes, just sitting there waiting to be eaten. She had dessert next. After the first one, the second went down quickly, as her hand grabbed for the third one. Moments later the plate was empty and she had finished all twelve of them.

Now something was definitely wrong. The more she thought about what she had just eaten, the hungrier she felt. An obsession about food came on and then the compulsion to consume it followed behind. The hunger was growing.

She opened the fridge and took from her shelf. A container of leftover pork fried rice went first, followed by a pound each of ham, cheese and turkey rolled up and dipped into mayo, then a bag of crunchy baby carrots, a container of blueberry yogurt, a quart of dill cottage cheese, the rest of the ricotta and a whole jar of pickles. She had finished off her entire shelf, except for two uncooked eggs.

She sat on the floor in front of the fridge with the door still open, crying because she was still filled with this ravenous and unsatisfied hunger. She ached to eat something, but it felt like if only she knew what it was she needed to eat and could find the right food, she would finally become full. That’s the mystery of the hour.
Two hours passed by and she had eaten all of Bobbi, Tootsie and Moqueesia’s food. She looked down at her stomach and even pushed on it. She felt nothing. Her stomach panged forcing her to pay attention to it. So, she stood up and went to the cupboards. Within another two hours she had eaten the entire contents of 4 cupboards. Nothing was working, nothing at all.

That’s when Songo, the playful and silly housecat jumped up. He purred and rubbed up against her. A strange thought went through her head. She almost didn’t feel human anymore. She had intentions of petting Songo when she reached out to touch him.

The cat meowed in terror as dark ruby blood sprayed all over Jo Jo’s face. She gnawed into her cat’s neck and felt the hunger lessen to a small degree. Not much, but it was something. Jo-Jo then, ate her cat. He was a little dry so she dipped him in Ranch dressing, as it was her favorite from the condiment world. She felt some satisfaction but still not enough.

That’s when Bobbi walked through the door and saw the mess all over the house. She looked at Jo-Jo in repulsion, felt some anger rise up giving way and said,” Jo-Jo what’s your fucking problem?”

Jo-Jo wasn’t in the mood to explain. “You know what bitchbag macnuggets, I think it’s you!” she yelled. Bobbi smelled different to her today, almost like the buttery popcorn smell of a movie theater. Jo-Jo started laughing hysterically and then doubled over in pain from the returning hunger, clenching her fists together, and pushing them into her stomach.

“Jo-Jo what’s really wrong?” asked Bobbi, acting as if she cared about someone other than herself.

“I’m starving. I can’t get full!” she muttered in disgust. She began whimpering, “I even ate Songo. I dipped him in Ranch like he was a damned appetizer from The Portland House of Pizza. I think something is seriously wrong with me!”

“You ate the fucking cat, you crazy bitch?! Get out!” yelled Bobbi. “I’m going tell everyone what a nutbag piss nazi you really are. No one will ever want to live with you Jo-Jo Puddles, not even Tootsie the coolest!” Bobbi said mockingly as she was turning and getting ready to leave the room.

That’s when the hunger became violently aggressive inside Jo-Jo and she bent over, getting on all fours like an animal. She leaped at Bobbi, pushing her into the closet, tearing into her fleshy throat and ripping at her jugular, feasting on it, then moving into the meat of her left clavicle. Her hands began digging at the flesh and pawing it into her mouth.

Bobbi lay there in shock from the moment it happened. Her screams came out, sounding wet and muffled. She tried to fight Jo-Jo off, but she had the strength of something inhuman. There was so much blood all around her. Her breathing became slow and labored. She was lightheaded and eventually lost consciousness.

Two hours later Jo-Jo sat against the fridge,a toothpick hanging from her mouth, her hand on her stomach and a smile on her face.

She burped and then giggled. “Oh tiddles!” she said. There was barely anything left to Bobbi but some intestines which she then dipped in Ranch to finish Bobbi off. She thought if it made Songo taste good then why the hell couldn’t it for these rubbery, similar to calamari textured, last little treats? What a mess of the leftover bones. They were scattered in different areas of the kitchen. “Soup maybe?” she proposed. “Even dead that bitch is still a messy pig, leaving her shit all over the place for everyone else to pick up,” she laughed a little at this candid and humorous statement. There was a huge difference at this moment. She was full. The hunger had been fed and contained.

She stood up and walked over to the stove to put on some hot water for tea. Now she felt she could start her Saturday.

Lunchbreak

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Lunchbreak

 

“Is that the one you want?” asked the waitress pointing to the aquarium on the other side of the room.

“Yes, please. I hear the darker ones yield a much higher dietary output, than the other ones. Are they organic? I only eat organic and it has to be rare.” She pointed to the one she wanted.

“I can assure you that they are of the highest grade organic that you can get,” answered the waitress, tapping her order into the computer device. “We prepare them to your specification. All of our food is free range without any chemical additives, although they are bred in captivity but done on a lush beautiful farm.”

As if that was suppose to make Zundaaq Vaskobacotil feel better. The waitress took off into the kitchen to check her order. This was her designated lunch break time and Zundaaq was hoping it wouldn’t take very long.

Since coming to Earth a few years ago on a scholarship, she still hadn’t become very accustomed to the food here. She was still working on it though. Traveling to different planets was actually the easy part for her. It was the food that always took some getting used to. She was open and up for trying new things. She always had considered herself pretty adventurous.

Coming to this planet, had given her race of Ganqwerbs another option for their survival. They were explorers and had always been searching galaxies for planets that had a replenishing food source, an oxygen atmosphere, and plenty of other natural resources to consume.

Another scream came from the kitchen. No doubt it was her lunch. She liked her food very rare, basically sunkissed. She looked down at her watch and hoped to return to work on time because she only had an hour for lunch.

She came to Praatik’s House of Yumminess at the suggestion of her co-worker and she had seen an advertisement on her communication device offering her a coupon, as long as it was before 5PM.

In a few moments her waitress came back with her lunch. “Please enjoy and let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Zundaaq had tried beef, pork, chicken, and food from the oceans. She didn’t care much for it. She had even tried going vegetarian, like some of her relatives, as they protested to her the inganqwerbity of eating meat. She could see their point but she liked meat. She didn’t want to be judged on the food she ate because she certainly didn’t do it to anyone else. However, human she liked very much.

The little dark skinned girl was strapped into the serving chair that the waitress had wheeled out. Zundaaq took her metal pilsch and drove it deep into the pre-labeled hole on the human’s head. She sipped on it’s synovial fluid and moaned in delicious delight. How tasty it was when it was barely alive, fresh and from the farm. She slurped it down quickly and wiped off her mouth.The human was now expired.

One thing about this human shooshi, is its rawness, giving you only moments to eat it before it goes bad. Eating it fast allows you to get the optimal nutrients before it is dead. Once that happens, they go sour and it tastes horrible. Sometimes her race would eat different areas of the human, but Zundaaq thought that was disgusting. She wasn’t much into wasting her food but she knew that it would just go back into the Earth and become compost anyway. This thought made her smile. She was big into recycling and always has been.

“I feel so much better now,” she thought. “How I love fast food.” She paid her bill and tipped generously, as she always did. She unhinged her legs and got up, pushing the heavy granite chair back into place. She spread her wings and flew up into the air heading back to work to finish her day, hoping not to hit the rush of post lunchtime traffic.

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I’ll See You Tonight

I’ll See You Tonight published on No Comments on I’ll See You Tonight

SeeYou

I’ve been hiding in the back of your closet since early this morning. I sneaked in when you let the dog out in the middle of the night. It was very easy to do. I’ve been watching you for a few months now and I like you. I like you very much.
If you had paid just a little more attention in your life, you might have been able to notice that for a short time, there has been someone watching you from afar.
I’ve studied you like a class, because that is what you are to me. I know that you hit snooze in the morning for up to 45 minutes on some days. I know that when no one is looking you throw your trash on the ground, instead of putting it into a trashcan, like I would do. That’s not very green of you. I also know you really love 80’s music and you still, on occasion, grab the flashlight near your bed and sing into it, like a teenager. I’ve seen you double dip a few times, even when you had a cold. I saw you pick food up from the floor and still eat it without hesitation. You like two sugars and skim milk in your Dark Roast Coffee. You treat yourself and eat pizza on Friday nights. You workout at the gym 4 days a week and do the same routine each time. You only check your mail Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I admired the way you handled your recent break-up with Kevin, crying at home in bed, but putting on a strong happy face for everyone else to see. I watched you put some loose change in some of the expired meters downtown last week for other people. That was nice. Your dog Poppins likes me very much too. He never came up to me once I got into your home, as you would have liked him too. There were a few times you left his excrement on other peoples’ lawns and on the sidewalk, because you forgot to bring his little baggies. That wasn’t very considerate of you at all. You whistle when you are excited about something. You wake up usually once a night to use the bathroom around 2:30 and to let Poppins out.
None of these things you do are very different from all the past men and women I have watched. You are all uniquely different. There is one thing, however, that you share in common. You are all dirty Capricorns! I hate Capricorns! My mother was a dirty Capricorn too! Unfortunately, she had to go. Just like you do! Just like they all did!
I’ll wait here though until you get home. It’s Friday. You will be bringing your pizza home to cook after work, the gym, and you check your mail. I suspect sometime around 7:30. I may even let you enjoy one last slice. Until then, I’ll keep waiting and be patient. It’s something I am very good at. I’ll come at you when you let your guard down, probably around 9:30, after your show. I don’t think I’ll let you brush your teeth though, it won’t matter anymore by then. I’m going to send you home. All Capricorns go to Hell! That’s what your ticket says. It’s last call for you. You will arrive at your final destination.
I’ll rest for a bit. I will rest and I’ll wait for you. I’m really excited and can’t wait to finally meet you! I’ll see you tonight!

WEDTHUMB

Wednesday

Wednesday published on No Comments on Wednesday

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My last day of school was Wednesday. I was so happy that I was finished. Completion is next to Godliness! I had worked really hard on my college educational career and now, I was done. I am the overachiever, the perfectionist, the student who raises her hand, every time the teacher asks a question. The classmate you strive to be. The one you don’t really like.

During my last class, the teacher began handing back our last assignment, a paper we had to have done, to pass this class. I always excelled in every class and nobody could mess with my rock solid 4.0 GPA. I had graduated High Honors from Ching Chong High School, so being in college it came as no surprise that I would continue such greatness.

I had worked painstakingly on this assignment for months, even turning it in a day early. Those 23 pages were filled with my blood, sweat and tears.  It was a tribute to my very last class.

When the teacher handed mine back to me, I did a double take, then looked at the name to see if he had made a mistake. It was mine. A minus!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Immediately my heart began racing and I started sweating profusely. I raised my hand to challenge the teacher’s decision, but he beat me to the punch.

“All grades are final and not negotiable. I am firm with this statement.” He said this, as if that bastard had just made it up for me!

“But…….,” I could barely speak. I stood up and had this strange but automatic reaction. “I’ll show you final, asshat! No one does this to my perfect career. This was my last class, of my last year!”

WEDTHUMB            The bitch sitting next to me was eating her homemade dinner in class. No respect at all! The teacher froze in horror. “You pushed me too far! You all pushed me too far this time!” I grabbed the girl’s hand, still holding the steak knife, and with one quick thrust, the blade was forced through my temple and directly into my brain. A moment later, all I heard were the screams of everyone who got an A, as I fell to the ground bleeding all over my teacher’s precious and biased classroom floor.

Lying there, I felt almost relieved, as I was dying rather quickly. Next time, I will do better. Next time I will get an A plus!

Today at that current university, urban legends aside, it is known as “The Day Amanda Buchowski got an A minus”.

Happy Ride

Happy Ride published on No Comments on Happy Ride

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20140119-214325.jpg20140119-214400.jpgSleep will not come to me and I’m so very tired. I have been up for quite a long time. So long, that one afternoon, I noticed the woman with the black eyes, staring at me from across the room, with her snide and insidious grin. I know that she is not real, but she won’t go away. I’m praying for sleep and praying for her to go away. She stands there, mocking me in silence. She wants me to stay awake so that she can still exist here. Should I fall asleep, she will transfer into a different place. Her eyes are nothing but giant black circles. I can’t take it anymore. The craziness ensues. What happened next was not what I expected. My friend came into the living room, mouthing words I could not hear. He took down the mirror and pointed at it. Suddenly, the woman was gone. I heard someone come through the door. I felt constricted and strapped in to something. I could barely move. The men with the kind faces say they are here to help me, but what they don’t know is that no one can help me anymore. I look at the flashing red lights and hope for sleep. I am weary. I will trust them with their words, as long as she doesn’t come back for me. Those horrid eyes. Those black empty holes that whisper things that no one should say, peer deep inside of me. I never want to see them again. I am lost.20140119-214348.jpg

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L’eggo My Gino

L’eggo My Gino published on No Comments on L’eggo My Gino

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“Do, do, do, do, dooooooooo.” This was the jingle going on inside Gino Chicarelli’s head while he was sitting on the porcelain goddess, going to the restroom. It also made him laugh a little too, because he was doing exactly what he was thinkhumming. He laughed again, as he continued to move through his Friendbook Feed. “The interactive game of real live people,” he thought. ” A way to make your mundane and ordinary life appear to actually be interesting to someone other than yourself.”  He was really on it, himself out of boredom, nosiness and its somewhat addictive properties. He was actually quite surprised with the amount of information people were willing to offer up freely about everything going on in their lives and minds.

“Oh Karen,” he thought. “You are always so vague in your issues and always want someone to rescue you from your own really bad decisions. Boo-Hoo Bitch! Have you ever thought that maybe its not all those mens fault and that they are lucky enough to have run for the hills from you? The hills are alive with sound of men running from Karen!!!!!!!!Lalalalalalala…… Men who will run, to the Paaaaa-cific!!!!!”

“And Lisa, all you do is talk about your tired, miserable life of being a bored housewife…oh and how sick you are….and how many cookies you ate…and how much we all have to hear that you hate yourself for eating them. Just eat the cookies Lisa. Fucking pound the whole box! Better yet, eat a whole cake! That way when you complain about it, someone will really care and be like, “that bitch ate a whole cake yo!”. Thanks for sharing!!!!!!!!”…..he laughed some more.

“Let’s not forget about you saucy Sondra and all the pictures you take of yourself doing crazy, amazing and impossible things! Wow, Sondra, I can’t believe how you ate that fucking soup! With a spoon!!!!You are such a boss!!!! Sondra, I’m pinching myself in delight over the fact that I have never seen someone take out their trash quite like that! You own it sistah!!!! Please, show me one more time how your hair falls so perfectly to one side and you cock your head in such a picturesque way, it’s like the Venus-De-Fucking-Milo, ready to jump through the screen and lick my teeth, you sexy vixen!!!!! The Piece-De-Resistance Sondra has really got to be the notoriously eventful and highly anticipated 104 photograph collection trip to the post office to buy yourself some,( big gulp here for you Sondra), STAMPS!!!!!!”

Gino was laughing so hard, he let out several farts syncronizing with every chuckle that escaped his gut. He was so wrapped up and into playing his game that he never had time to notice the vent over his head in the stall, had stopped working.

Soon after, he began laughing at just how ugly Nina’s baby really was to him.  Though everyone had been nice and posted how adorable she looked, he thought how funny it was that people never say what is on their minds while laughing on the inside or with others. That’s when the vent cover disappeared through the shaft.

A large mouth had been protruding over the stall from the vent for some time. Had it not been for his loud laughter and rancid gas, the thing would have passed by him in the ventilation system. Unfortunately, it was much too late for Gino at this point. Gino was just about to roll off the toilet in laughter, when a drop of wet slimy drool fell from the air and went between his legs into the toilet causing a small upsplash that sprinkled his bare bottom.

“What the f……,” as he looked up a long spiked tongue with teeth fell on him, wrapping around his entire body. It pulled him straight off the seat so quickly and into its mouth, it was like an excited waffle popping out of a toaster to be eaten. Only Gino never wanted to be breakfast for anything. The teeth immediately shred him into a soft fleshy pulp and it swallowed him, phone and all. The mouth pulled out from the vent and a moment later, as it decided to follow the sound of a women crying down another vent shaft, it let out a soft, but very gassy belch. It always did when it ate Italian.

 

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