Aftermath of a birthday party

It was a beautiful day at the park. Mary was just cutting up the birthday cake and giving it away to the other parents, leaving the slice with the big '5' for herself. Her twins aren't toddlers anymore; a smile runs through her face.

It's late though, nearly 6. Their father hasn't shown up yet and he was supposed to take them to the movies. The party starts to deflate and they're left waiting. The twins, hyper, running through the park by themselves, when their dad finally shows up in his pick-up and takes them away.

Mary waves and smiles, turning away to the mess she has to clean alone. She's cursing. Upset. Throwing the remaining bags of chips away in an attempt to speed the process. The night is approaching, after all.

It's not too long before she's done though. She starts walking away with her tinfoil wrapped cake before hearing scurried movements. Probably rats or something, she looked around and put a spring on her step as she hurried away. She's far from the park by now, making a turn at the church and coming to a halt.

There's a moment of pure humanity on her face. A bewildered curiosity. A silenced scream of a stare when you see and expect a cat, but know that in that dark corner, those red tinged eyes aren't feline.

But what could it be? The shade is overwhelming, it's low. If not for the eyes, the size and location would make her believe it really is a cat. A few, very cautious steps in the direction, she feels a grin form. The rugged forms of clothing. Is that a hood?

She steps back. It's too small to be a dwarf. Its grin is insincere.

She falls.

She doesn't know where, but she feels a sharp pain. It runs through her body and chills run down her spine as she strikes the ground. She sees the tiny being walk into the church, and she feels her ankles grabbed. Another sharp pain.

She looks down to her legs. The crimson on the sidewalk, the dark stain on her jeans, the rip on the stain of the denim, directly underneath her ankle, the knife at the end of the rip. Tiny hands tugging at her wound; pulling through the gates of the church. The pain so strong, she's crying but it can't stop. So many little hands now tugging at both her legs.

Her screams were many, as were her kicks, and hence as were the wounds on her skin. Tied down to the floor. Gashes on her arms, thighs, and her ankles. The gnomes, playfully flicking their knives on the bare tendons and cartilage.

They laugh as her tears dry. She turns paler, nearly a soft shade of baby blue. Shivering, trembling, flinching.

The church doors open. Her eyes widen, hope strikes her fasting heart. She opens her mouth, attempts to scream, but her lungs collapse.

The footsteps draw nearer, she closes her trusting eyelids as the gnomes around her run away. A set of old hands slowly reach out to her cheek. She whimpers as she realizes the minuscule feel. These aren't human hands.

A cage slams on the floor next to her, metallic clinging echos. She scrunches up her face as she feels the tip of a knife entering her ear canal. Silence, but she hears something. Softer than the crackle of paper.

She soon feels it. Something in her ear, walking around. Going deeper. And another. And another behind that one. Too weak to move, she feels dozens of insects enter her ear until they're so deep she can't feel them any more.

The gnomes stare at her. Smiling. Each drinking crimson from their goblets, and enjoying from a big plate of cake with a 5 on it.

   ---   ------------------------------------------   ---   

I was feeling that Halloween spirit recently. Does it show? This was inspired by a friend, it took some time and thought. Kinda.

Unless blogger ends up compromising my picture space (they did), the above poster should be official movie poster size (27"x40") and because of the use of a Creative Commons licensed photograph (thanks to mararie), the poster is legal to adapt, remake, or print out and enjoy under similar rules to hers. Just contact me somehow if you want it in original size, I don't bite strangers. Usually.

All other pictures used were taken by me at some point.

And yes Hollywood, I would love to write the remainder of this and turn it into a movie for a reasonable sum of cash. I do, in fact, have the rest of it pretty much planned out. It's just long and time consuming to write. You know how it is.

Paul's Cereal

I don't like people. Okay, it's not that bad. I don't like people when I'm not around. I can't see what they're doing, I don't know what their actions are. I can't monitor. I lose control.

It's not that I care what they do. Usually it doesn't even involve me, but on those occasions where someone wants to be at my home while I'm not there, or when I'm showering, or before I wake up (never giving anyone keys to my house again).. there's just reason for me to worry.

It might seem paranoid, but it's justified.

Like the other day, I was gonna go out clubbing with my friends. I specifically said I'd be ready at 9:30, but this one imbecile came for me at 8:20.

"I have to shower.." I whispered.

"It's okay, I'll just wait and watch TV or something" was his response. The sly dog.

I was hesitant, I didn't like the situation but what was I supposed to do? Shoo him away? I just nodded my head and went in for my shower.

But what was he doing while I showered? Was he really watching the crap on my basic cable, or was he doing something worse? Something I wouldn't like. Something he wouldn't be able to tell me, so at the same time something I would never know about.

I'd rub shampoo on my hair and think. Maybe he's spitting on my socks. Maybe scratching my DVD's with his keys. Or mayb-

Maybe he's fucking my cereal.

Before getting out of my room I took the time to draw a few illustrations of what my friend was probably doing. That way I'd get to show him that I knew, and when his eyes open in fear he can know that I know he betrayed me.

But you've also gotta give it to him, it's a genius idea. I'll be out for at least a couple of hours with him, when I come back the semen will have dried out and when I add milk to the cereal I'll never notice any of the crust. It'll all mush down.

I paid $7 for that cereal too. Terrible.

He just laughed at me. It's confusing, because at this point he should be surprised I caught on. It's not even nervous laughter, it's roaring. Who does this cereal fetishist think he is? He ruined my cereal, it was expensive. I wasn't even halfway done with it.

As D4, I'm actually quite proud of the box of cereal I drew

And what's worse, she probably liked it too. Oh I know her well, with her arrogant gluten free rings and her delicious cinnamon spices. She was probably all over him before I even stepped foot into the shower, and yet he denies me of his truth. Almost as if I didn't have all the evidence I needed right there on my hand! I drew it a mere 4 minutes ago, the blood is still wet on his hands. I can smell it.

He finally started realizing that I knew when I started shouting and went to look for the cereal box myself. I saw his eyes widen as I opened the cabinet and saw that he placed her exactly the same way I did. Sneaky.

"Paul, stop being so paranoid!" He yelled at me. In my own house, after sleeping with my cereal.

I took the box and tossed it into the garbage, ordered him to either fess up or leave right this instant, and the coward left. I'll never trust him in my house again, and for good reason too. Forget about the taste and consistency, think about the germs! Some nerve.

I didn't go out clubbing that night. I did however run out to the supermarket and get me some cereal. It was cheaper this time. She looks faithful.

Work it, bitch

I enjoy good service. No, seriously. I like to tip at least 20% if the service was good at a restaurant. I like to wish people a good day when they've answered my questions. I like being well attended at any local food place, and then telling other people they should check it out. Even if said food is somewhat shitty.

But this one time, not too long ago, I went to a better known sandwich shop. Let's call it Wubsay. Now, I like me a good Wubsay sandwich. It's not the best out there, but it's good for what it is. What sucked a big cheese encrusted cock was the guy attending me.

I'm in line, there's 2 guys ahead of me. I'm just there, waiting like any sane human would expect, when the sandwich maker asks me what I want. My neck snaps back towards him, and I see him asking the guy ahead of me what he wants in his sandwich.

"I must be hearing things."

But then he calls me again. Now I'm all for multi-tasking, but if you're going to attend me, fucking attend me. He gets the hint after I wait for him to put another Wub into the oven-microwave thing. He looks me in the eyes and asks me what I want. What I ordered doesn't matter, I've already forgotten. Let's say I ordered the extra cheesy sardine combo. He nods in acknowledgement, then deals with the heated Wub.

After he does all his chores with the heated Wub from the guy ahead of me, he comes back to me and asks me what I want. So far the service is pretty bad. His act of multi-tasking was really just a waste of time.

"But it's okay" I say "It's minimum wage, it's to be expected."

He prepares my sandwich up for me and asks what I'd like on it. I was waiting for this moment the whole time I was in line. I know exactly what I want and don't want. I start something like: I don't want lettuce or--

He looked like this-ish.

From here what happens is nothing too exciting. I get pissed off. I'm the customer, I'm always right. Don't correct me, you just listen to me and pull your saw-edged butt plug out of your anus, shit-stain.

I had a low temper that day. But I did nothing mean. I just said everything like I wanted to say it anyway. No lettuce, no jalapenos, everything else goes.

After a bit of thought, though, here's what I should have said:

Everything. Yes, even jalapenos.

Now take the jalapenos off. Now take the lettuce off. Now the tomatoes. Don't forget the banana peppers. Now the green peppers, please, I don't need them any more. Actually, I'm not hungry, I'm gonna go.

Next time some skid-mark comes at me with this shit, I'll have this ready. Be on your toes, Wubsay employees.

My Relationship with Roaches

I've had a lot of experiences with these things throughout my life. Roaches. Even the name is ugly, they're hard to get used to and real easy to hate. It's not like they do anything, of course. Usually they're just germ transmitters. Like flies, lizards, mice, cats, dogs...

But then sometimes.. things happen. Sometimes, they're just cruel motherfuckers. I'm not prejudiced, they're just assholes.

When I was 5

I had to go to the bathroom. It was maybe 9 at night so everything was dark. Of course, I waited until the very last minute of whatever cartoon I was watching to quickly run down the hall and make a right at the bathroom. Commercial breaks are so quick, there really is a need to hurry.

I open the bathroom door, slide my bare foot in and put my hand on the switch. I don't flick the switch, though. No, there's a rubber band under my foot. It feels funny, I roll it around, play with it a little while and smile. I realize the cartoon is gonna be on soon, so I hurry up and turn on the light.

From here it all happens so fast. The light is on, I lift my foot and see this big brown thing, practically drunkenly wobble out from under my foot. My teeth grind, my eyes widen, and this foot-fucker decided to fly its way up my leg.

Fuck that shit. Nearly pissed myself as I darted out of there.

Ok, it wasn't this creepy looking. But it flew.

Fast forward a few years to-

When I was 15

It's early morning this time. Getting ready, the whole routine. I'm the first one awake. It's time for breakfast, maybe a hard boiled egg. Maybe an egg sandwich. Classy stuff. I was always classy.

I open the fridge, I get an egg, put it on the counter top. So far so good, life is pretty fucking sweet. Lower a pot, fill it up with water. Put that pot and water on medium high and wait for it to boil. Fuck yeah I'm a pro.

So I wait a few minutes, the water is boiling, I stick the egg in it. All that fancy stuff, and then I pull a glass out. To drink from it or something. Of course, under that glass was a family of cockroaches, staring up at me blankly. Their fancy little antennae twitching like they've been caught in the act.

"That's awfully rude, man. We're here making these babies come out and you're fucking interrupting us. Why don't you go squeal like a little bitch and forget about making breakfast? Eating sucks anyway." - Roaches

I took their advice. Later on that night I found them eating my toothpaste. It's a surprising detail to note that I never got a cavity after that point.

Less than this. Still.

Two days ago

I was emptying out a closet. This closet has always had a big hole that leads to the tub on the bathroom on the other side. It's for easy plumbing purposes or something. You know what whatever. It's got big piece of plastic on the wall and that's where the hole is. It's just wide enough for a basketball to fit through.

Well in the process of clearing the closet out and re-realizing that hole was there, it just seemed logical at the time to satisfy my curiosity and attempt at tugging it off. Right there, on that chewed-off rust-black floor that's most likely corroded by the never ending tub leak. With little brown marks up against the walls, and the faint smell of dirty mop.

I was pretty curious. I mean, I tugged at that plastic bitch hard. I don't know what it is that I did wrong, but apparently my feet were doing a better job. I fell.

Usually when something looks shady, you stay away from it. I however decided to stand on it and sink 5 feet into the ground all of a sudden. That cheap closet floor decided to give out, right when I needed it to work, and it was disgusting. I scraped my right arm on the side a bit, but that's fine. "Just a graze" says my inner macho man.

What wasn't fine was the hole on the bottom, near my knee. Maggots around the rim as far as I could see, the occasional flying insect zooming out, and you can't ignore the giant (about 16 inches long and maybe 6 inches wide) cockroach. I could see it too, looking at me with those fucking giant beady eyes. Its fucking antennae poking out from its hole/nest. It's at that point that I took my battle-axe, which I have on me at all times, and swung it right across its "head". It's not clearly defined, but I took the top chunk off in one swift crunch of a sound.

Bigger.

Oh it kept moving though. The fucker.