I open my eyes and look straight ahead of me. It’s mid-day by now and the sun is out in full force, but it’s obscured by the translucent curtain partially covering the open window. A calm breeze causes the curtain to waver; as I lay there, I watch as its shadow dances slowly and seductively up and down the ceiling. The stifling heat normally gets to me on afternoons such as this but today was different; I am at peace with myself and the world around me, and with her.
For the moment, I can feel her but I can’t see her. From the way it feels, she’s right where I left her, laying next to me with my arm around her, although she feels different than she did, but not in a bad way. No longer is she filled with anger; no longer is she yelling. No more talk of leaving me comes from her luscious red lips. No, both she and I move past that moment to embrace the laziness and the calm of the afternoon.
I look at her. She lies facing me with her eyes closed. Her red hair flows around us, entangling every part of us so that neither of us can escape this moment. Being locked in an exquisite embrace with a goddess such as this makes me want to cry; that there can be so much beauty in the world and it can all be lying in bed beside me.
I run my eyes up and down the body of my goddess, marveling at her perfection. Not only are her hair and lips exquisite, but she has an intensely cute nose and well-formed cheekbones. I glance down to the covers barely clinging to her luxurious curves and back up to her perfect breasts. I see the knife protruding from one of them, amazed at the amount of her blood attached to her and me and everything around us. The blood, which once matched the colour of her hair and lips, is now much darker and very dry, yet it is still a thing of beauty, hardened to its surroundings.
I continue to gaze at her pale, lifeless form, continually wondering how I can be so lucky to spend eternity in a wonderful embrace with an angel such as this. Have pleasant dreams, my sweet.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Homecoming
The sun shines brightly on my face as the barred gate slams shut behind me with an imposing bang. Freedom! I marvel at the green grass and the birds flitting past me. The world has once again come alive while I was stuck in the slammer.
A little yellow cab pulls up in front of me. My chariot back to life. I get in, closing the taxi’s door between myself and my past. The future and my family await!
It is on the way to my house that things start to lose their shine. My favourite restaurant, a quaint little Greek place where everyone knew me by name, is closed.
“How long has Mama Agathe’s restaurant been closed?” I ask the driver.
“Since Mama Agathe passed away a few months ago. Her husband was constantly reminded of her in that place, so he didn’t want to keep it open. And when none of her children wanted to continue the business, it closed for good. Kind of sad, really. Mama Agathe’s was my favourite.”
“Mine too,” I say. We lapse into silence as I continue staring out the window at my town passing us by. The next thing that catches my eye is the bright white and red sign of Shoppers Drug Mart right where the local pharmacy used to be. “Did Shoppers buy out Murrel’s?”
“Yeah,” the driver replies. “That was also a few months back. Bought out almost all of the pharmacies in the region.”
“Wow. I never thought old Murrel would ever sell out.”
“From what I heard, he retired in Florida with the money.”
“No kidding.”
We turn left onto my street. Now I’m getting really anxious. Only a few more minutes and I get to see my daughter again. Whenever my wife came to visit me, she always left our daughter at her mother’s. Said she didn’t want our girl to have any memories of the prison.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice the derelict building across from our house is gone. In its place sits the foundation of a brand new house, with workers swarming all over it. Who would’ve known that so many changes can take place in just six months?
We pull into the driveway of the two story brick house that my wife and I bought three years back. I pay the driver, then nervously approach the front door. The door swings open silently and my wife comes forward to welcome me back into my life. And out toddles our daughter, cautiously following her mom. It is only when I finally see my little girl after six long months without her blue-eyed smile that I truly grieve for all the time I had lost.
A little yellow cab pulls up in front of me. My chariot back to life. I get in, closing the taxi’s door between myself and my past. The future and my family await!
It is on the way to my house that things start to lose their shine. My favourite restaurant, a quaint little Greek place where everyone knew me by name, is closed.
“How long has Mama Agathe’s restaurant been closed?” I ask the driver.
“Since Mama Agathe passed away a few months ago. Her husband was constantly reminded of her in that place, so he didn’t want to keep it open. And when none of her children wanted to continue the business, it closed for good. Kind of sad, really. Mama Agathe’s was my favourite.”
“Mine too,” I say. We lapse into silence as I continue staring out the window at my town passing us by. The next thing that catches my eye is the bright white and red sign of Shoppers Drug Mart right where the local pharmacy used to be. “Did Shoppers buy out Murrel’s?”
“Yeah,” the driver replies. “That was also a few months back. Bought out almost all of the pharmacies in the region.”
“Wow. I never thought old Murrel would ever sell out.”
“From what I heard, he retired in Florida with the money.”
“No kidding.”
We turn left onto my street. Now I’m getting really anxious. Only a few more minutes and I get to see my daughter again. Whenever my wife came to visit me, she always left our daughter at her mother’s. Said she didn’t want our girl to have any memories of the prison.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice the derelict building across from our house is gone. In its place sits the foundation of a brand new house, with workers swarming all over it. Who would’ve known that so many changes can take place in just six months?
We pull into the driveway of the two story brick house that my wife and I bought three years back. I pay the driver, then nervously approach the front door. The door swings open silently and my wife comes forward to welcome me back into my life. And out toddles our daughter, cautiously following her mom. It is only when I finally see my little girl after six long months without her blue-eyed smile that I truly grieve for all the time I had lost.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Hollowing
The sound of traffic is my constant companion as I walk. Today the sun is out, there's a pleasant breeze, and the street I'm walking along has plenty of nice trees for shade. The perfect time to think and plot.
Garbage needs to go out before morning. No doubt the cats have again attempted to wow me with their ability to coat the floor with kitty litter and my roomate has probably dirtied half the dishes in the house, and hidden all the utinsels in her room under soiled clothes. Same old, same old. I opt to pick up a sandwich on my way home along with some other fruits and vegitables I can safely eat with my hands. Banana's would be nice, I haven't had much potassium in awhile...
Oh yes and then there's some phonecalls. I need to call my mother back and find out what package made its way all the way to their place with my name on it. And those health-vampires from the plasma clinic called demanding my vital fluids; accursed type 0 blood!
Hmm... maybe some tomatoes too. I remember the last time I went to the plasma clinic they sent me away because my blood-iron was too low; too good for my plasma are you, I'll show you!
Once all that's taken care of though I should be able to more or less relax. Damn, the library had that book I'd ordered and I completely forgot! Oh well, I can probably finish up one of the ones I dropped half-way through tonight anyway...
A siren screeches past, heading where I do not know - past me and through the intersection. The ambulance speeds by only a foot and a half from my nose and then is racing off towards the hospital.
I pause a moment. Probably nothing, but as the sirens fade and I watch the ambulance disappear I can't help the feeling that someone is dying. And for some reason, whenever thoughts of mortality drift to the surface, I can't help thinking of T.S. Elliot's poem. I can't help dragging my little rat feet over broken glass, searching for voices in the wind's singing as I awake alone here on this street.
Life is very long.
Standing on that street, I think perhaps for a brief moment I could feel what it was to stand between the emotion and the response, waking alone to greet for a moment Death's Dream kingdom.
For thine is
Life is
For thine is the...
The moment passes. I suddenly feel inspired to run the rest of the way, nevermind that the papers in my book bag will get ruined - I want to run. So I do, somehow the poem keeps up...
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
I buy icecream and feel alive.
Garbage needs to go out before morning. No doubt the cats have again attempted to wow me with their ability to coat the floor with kitty litter and my roomate has probably dirtied half the dishes in the house, and hidden all the utinsels in her room under soiled clothes. Same old, same old. I opt to pick up a sandwich on my way home along with some other fruits and vegitables I can safely eat with my hands. Banana's would be nice, I haven't had much potassium in awhile...
Oh yes and then there's some phonecalls. I need to call my mother back and find out what package made its way all the way to their place with my name on it. And those health-vampires from the plasma clinic called demanding my vital fluids; accursed type 0 blood!
Hmm... maybe some tomatoes too. I remember the last time I went to the plasma clinic they sent me away because my blood-iron was too low; too good for my plasma are you, I'll show you!
Once all that's taken care of though I should be able to more or less relax. Damn, the library had that book I'd ordered and I completely forgot! Oh well, I can probably finish up one of the ones I dropped half-way through tonight anyway...
A siren screeches past, heading where I do not know - past me and through the intersection. The ambulance speeds by only a foot and a half from my nose and then is racing off towards the hospital.
I pause a moment. Probably nothing, but as the sirens fade and I watch the ambulance disappear I can't help the feeling that someone is dying. And for some reason, whenever thoughts of mortality drift to the surface, I can't help thinking of T.S. Elliot's poem. I can't help dragging my little rat feet over broken glass, searching for voices in the wind's singing as I awake alone here on this street.
Life is very long.
Standing on that street, I think perhaps for a brief moment I could feel what it was to stand between the emotion and the response, waking alone to greet for a moment Death's Dream kingdom.
For thine is
Life is
For thine is the...
The moment passes. I suddenly feel inspired to run the rest of the way, nevermind that the papers in my book bag will get ruined - I want to run. So I do, somehow the poem keeps up...
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
I buy icecream and feel alive.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Without Me
Tom stared at the couple. “It’s not that I don’t like weddings,” he said to the man to his left, not taking his eyes off the bride. “In fact, I used to really like weddings. I mean, I was planning on getting married myself.”
He looked to his left; the man was staring at the couple attentively. “Of course,” Tom added, “you aren’t listening to a word I say. That’s okay, though. I’m used to that now.”
He turned his attention back to the bride and groom, who gazed into each others’ eyes with a look of longing and what appeared to be true love. Tom felt his eyes water up; he choked back sobs and took off his glasses, wiping his eyes. He looked back at the man to his left, “I-I don’t even know why I’m wiping my eyes; it’s not like anyone will notice anyway.”
He regained his composure and put his glasses back on. Making sure not to look back at the couple, he managed to continue speaking to the man to his left, “Since I know you’re so interested in everything I say…”
He trailed off, waiting for any response. The man to his left scratched his nose, shifted his weight a bit, and then returned to the position he was sitting in. “…I’ll continue. You know how I said that I was planning on getting married myself? Well, you know who was supposed to be my bride?” He returned his gaze to the bride, motioning in that direction, “It was her.”
* * *
Amy sits in the small, cluttered office. She shakily reaches for a package of cigarettes on the desk. She had quit smoking almost four years ago, but she really needed one right now. She manages to pull one out and puts the pack back on the desk. She picks up the lighter that is sitting next to the pack and attempts to light the cigarette. Her hand shakes so badly that she drops the cigarette on the floor in between her legs; frustrated, she throws the lighter to the floor and drops her face into her hands, her whole body convulsing as she sobs heavy sobs.
The door opens; in walks Detective Lonnegan. He sees the condition she’s in, so he closes the door and moves over to her quickly. “Hey, hey,” he says in a quiet voice as he approaches her. “I know how hard this is, and I know how…horrible something like that would have been to…experience.”
He sees the cigarette and lighter on the floor, crouches down and picks them up. He stands in front of her, offering the cigarette in silence. She looks up after a few minutes, tears running down her face, and she accepted his offer, placing the cigarette in her mouth. He lights it then pushes over some papers; he sits on his desk in the space he cleared.
They sit without speaking for a moment, silence save for the occasional sob. He finally gets the nerve and says, “Like I said, I know how hard this is for you, but I just need to ask you a few questions about…him.”
In between sobs, she manages to say his name, “Thomas.”
“Yeah,” Detective Lonnegan adds. “Thomas. I understand that you and he had…a past.”
“We were going to get married, if that’s what you mean,” Amy answers quickly.
“And?”
She looks up at him through her tears, “And what?”
He clarifies his question, “And what happened? Why didn’t you get married? Why were you getting married to this other guy?”
She pauses, looking away from him toward his bulletin board covered with all sorts of clippings and pictures and phone numbers that mean nothing to her. “Thomas went missing.”
“He went missing?” He looks surprised with her answer. “Just like that?” He adds with a snap of his fingers.
“Yes, just like that,” she continues. “I had no idea what happened…I thought he was dead. Everyone thought he was dead.”
She starts sobbing again. They say nothing for a few minutes, Lonnegan looking around the room. “But you’re sure it was him,” he adds.
She looks back up at him and shouts, “Of course I’m sure it was him.” Quietly, she adds, “B-but I don’t remember seeing him come in, and neither does anyone else. All I remember is the noise…and then seeing him…”
She breaks down again, crossing her arms and sobbing into them on his lap. He puts his hand on her back and rubs it slowly.
* * *
“Yeah, it’s true,” Tom added with a slight sob. “Amy and I were engaged.” He paused, looking away from her and back at the man to his left again, “I was engaged to the most wonderful, beautiful…intelligent person in the world…”
He looked back at Amy, tears starting to stream from his eyes. He took his glasses off once again, wiping his eyes. Without putting them back on, he turned his attention back to the man to his left, yelling, “But then this happened! I-I can do this and you won’t even notice!”
With that, Tom shoved the man to his left into the woman beside him. She immediately looked at the man to his left with disgust; he apologized immediately, trying to draw attention away from the scene he created, then returned to his original position, paying attention to the ceremony once again.
As soon as everyone settled, Tom continued yelling at the man to his left, “You see? I-I don’t know what happened, but no one can see me or hear me or anything! Hell, I can’t even see myself when I look into a mirror!”
He paused. He faced Amy again, quietly adding, “But I’m still here. I’m like a…ghost. Of course, I can still do things, but everyone seems to ignore them…or think that it’s someone else’s fault.”
Tom sighed. He continued, still looking at Amy, “But that’s what went wrong. Amy saw that I was missing and she tried to find me, but no one could. I tried to communicate with her, but that didn’t work at all.”
He turned back to the man to his left, chuckling to himself, “I actually wrote her a message, but that just scared her silly. She really thought that someone was messing with her. After about a month, she thought that I was…dead.”
He paused, looking back at the Amy; he could see how happy she was. A tear fell down his cheek. He looked back at the man to his left, “Of course, who could blame her? There was no sign of me for that long; it was a logical conclusion. They held me a sort of funeral service of sorts, but without any earthly remains.
“Then life just sort of…went on. Slowly, everyone stopped thinking about me. No one wanted to talk about me, especially her. She had a hard time living her life, but it slowly happened.
“Months passed, and she found another man to spend her life with,” Tom motioned up at the groom. “Yes, she found another man who gets to spend the rest of his life with the…sweetest woman to ever roam this earth.”
Tears came back to his eyes. He started sobbing, but continued talking, “And here I am, spilling my guts to some guy I’ve never met before…who can’t even hear me right now.”
He sat there sobbing quietly for a moment before saying, “I’m going to miss you, Amy.”
* * *
The minister looks at Amy and pauses, smiling. He returns his gaze to the groom, saying, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
The minister pauses once more then turns to Amy, “Amy…do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Amy looks into the eyes of her husband-to-be and back at the minister, “I do.”
The minister smiles and looks from one to the other. In a loud, booming voice, he says, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you–”
His statement is interrupted by a gunshot coming from the crowd. Everyone looks in the direction of the sound; to their horror, a man is sitting in a pew a few rows back, clutching a gun. His brains, no longer in his head, were blown out the back of his skull onto the guests who were sitting behind him.
The man to his left sports a shocked expression, one that can be made out despite the blood covering the right side of his face. He looks up to the couple and the minister, muttering, “H-he…N-no one was th-there…H-he j-just appeared…”
Amy looks down the aisle into the lifeless eyes; there is no mistake in her mind of who it was. Her heart nearly sinks into her stomach as she whispers, “Thomas.”
He looked to his left; the man was staring at the couple attentively. “Of course,” Tom added, “you aren’t listening to a word I say. That’s okay, though. I’m used to that now.”
He turned his attention back to the bride and groom, who gazed into each others’ eyes with a look of longing and what appeared to be true love. Tom felt his eyes water up; he choked back sobs and took off his glasses, wiping his eyes. He looked back at the man to his left, “I-I don’t even know why I’m wiping my eyes; it’s not like anyone will notice anyway.”
He regained his composure and put his glasses back on. Making sure not to look back at the couple, he managed to continue speaking to the man to his left, “Since I know you’re so interested in everything I say…”
He trailed off, waiting for any response. The man to his left scratched his nose, shifted his weight a bit, and then returned to the position he was sitting in. “…I’ll continue. You know how I said that I was planning on getting married myself? Well, you know who was supposed to be my bride?” He returned his gaze to the bride, motioning in that direction, “It was her.”
* * *
Amy sits in the small, cluttered office. She shakily reaches for a package of cigarettes on the desk. She had quit smoking almost four years ago, but she really needed one right now. She manages to pull one out and puts the pack back on the desk. She picks up the lighter that is sitting next to the pack and attempts to light the cigarette. Her hand shakes so badly that she drops the cigarette on the floor in between her legs; frustrated, she throws the lighter to the floor and drops her face into her hands, her whole body convulsing as she sobs heavy sobs.
The door opens; in walks Detective Lonnegan. He sees the condition she’s in, so he closes the door and moves over to her quickly. “Hey, hey,” he says in a quiet voice as he approaches her. “I know how hard this is, and I know how…horrible something like that would have been to…experience.”
He sees the cigarette and lighter on the floor, crouches down and picks them up. He stands in front of her, offering the cigarette in silence. She looks up after a few minutes, tears running down her face, and she accepted his offer, placing the cigarette in her mouth. He lights it then pushes over some papers; he sits on his desk in the space he cleared.
They sit without speaking for a moment, silence save for the occasional sob. He finally gets the nerve and says, “Like I said, I know how hard this is for you, but I just need to ask you a few questions about…him.”
In between sobs, she manages to say his name, “Thomas.”
“Yeah,” Detective Lonnegan adds. “Thomas. I understand that you and he had…a past.”
“We were going to get married, if that’s what you mean,” Amy answers quickly.
“And?”
She looks up at him through her tears, “And what?”
He clarifies his question, “And what happened? Why didn’t you get married? Why were you getting married to this other guy?”
She pauses, looking away from him toward his bulletin board covered with all sorts of clippings and pictures and phone numbers that mean nothing to her. “Thomas went missing.”
“He went missing?” He looks surprised with her answer. “Just like that?” He adds with a snap of his fingers.
“Yes, just like that,” she continues. “I had no idea what happened…I thought he was dead. Everyone thought he was dead.”
She starts sobbing again. They say nothing for a few minutes, Lonnegan looking around the room. “But you’re sure it was him,” he adds.
She looks back up at him and shouts, “Of course I’m sure it was him.” Quietly, she adds, “B-but I don’t remember seeing him come in, and neither does anyone else. All I remember is the noise…and then seeing him…”
She breaks down again, crossing her arms and sobbing into them on his lap. He puts his hand on her back and rubs it slowly.
* * *
“Yeah, it’s true,” Tom added with a slight sob. “Amy and I were engaged.” He paused, looking away from her and back at the man to his left again, “I was engaged to the most wonderful, beautiful…intelligent person in the world…”
He looked back at Amy, tears starting to stream from his eyes. He took his glasses off once again, wiping his eyes. Without putting them back on, he turned his attention back to the man to his left, yelling, “But then this happened! I-I can do this and you won’t even notice!”
With that, Tom shoved the man to his left into the woman beside him. She immediately looked at the man to his left with disgust; he apologized immediately, trying to draw attention away from the scene he created, then returned to his original position, paying attention to the ceremony once again.
As soon as everyone settled, Tom continued yelling at the man to his left, “You see? I-I don’t know what happened, but no one can see me or hear me or anything! Hell, I can’t even see myself when I look into a mirror!”
He paused. He faced Amy again, quietly adding, “But I’m still here. I’m like a…ghost. Of course, I can still do things, but everyone seems to ignore them…or think that it’s someone else’s fault.”
Tom sighed. He continued, still looking at Amy, “But that’s what went wrong. Amy saw that I was missing and she tried to find me, but no one could. I tried to communicate with her, but that didn’t work at all.”
He turned back to the man to his left, chuckling to himself, “I actually wrote her a message, but that just scared her silly. She really thought that someone was messing with her. After about a month, she thought that I was…dead.”
He paused, looking back at the Amy; he could see how happy she was. A tear fell down his cheek. He looked back at the man to his left, “Of course, who could blame her? There was no sign of me for that long; it was a logical conclusion. They held me a sort of funeral service of sorts, but without any earthly remains.
“Then life just sort of…went on. Slowly, everyone stopped thinking about me. No one wanted to talk about me, especially her. She had a hard time living her life, but it slowly happened.
“Months passed, and she found another man to spend her life with,” Tom motioned up at the groom. “Yes, she found another man who gets to spend the rest of his life with the…sweetest woman to ever roam this earth.”
Tears came back to his eyes. He started sobbing, but continued talking, “And here I am, spilling my guts to some guy I’ve never met before…who can’t even hear me right now.”
He sat there sobbing quietly for a moment before saying, “I’m going to miss you, Amy.”
* * *
The minister looks at Amy and pauses, smiling. He returns his gaze to the groom, saying, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
The minister pauses once more then turns to Amy, “Amy…do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Amy looks into the eyes of her husband-to-be and back at the minister, “I do.”
The minister smiles and looks from one to the other. In a loud, booming voice, he says, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you–”
His statement is interrupted by a gunshot coming from the crowd. Everyone looks in the direction of the sound; to their horror, a man is sitting in a pew a few rows back, clutching a gun. His brains, no longer in his head, were blown out the back of his skull onto the guests who were sitting behind him.
The man to his left sports a shocked expression, one that can be made out despite the blood covering the right side of his face. He looks up to the couple and the minister, muttering, “H-he…N-no one was th-there…H-he j-just appeared…”
Amy looks down the aisle into the lifeless eyes; there is no mistake in her mind of who it was. Her heart nearly sinks into her stomach as she whispers, “Thomas.”
Monday, July 27, 2009
August Quotation
"The saddest day I came across was when I learned that life goes on without me."
- Tomas Kalnoky
- Tomas Kalnoky
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Death of a Hero
“So, Lightning Rodney’s dead.”
“Lightning Rodney? Who the heck is that, some sort of Mexican wrestler?”
“Not quite. You never heard of him? He was that superhero.”
“A superhero?”
“Yes.”
“Named...Lightning Rodney?”
“Yes.”
“...What was his superpower?”
“Well, he was sort of like that made-up superhero, the Flash, more or less.”
“More or less? So, he ran fast?”
“Well, yeah, he ran fast, only he couldn’t do it all the time. You see, Lightning Rodney could only run like that when he was under a certain weight.”
“And what weight was that?”
“How the hell should I know? All I know is he figured it out. But it was hard for him to stay below that weight.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, he lost as much weight as he realistically could before losing most of his muscle mass. I mean, if he lost too much muscle, he probably wouldn’t have been able to run like he did, so he had to improvise; he had to lose as much weight as he could in other ways.”
“Meaning...?”
“Clothes; he didn’t wear any clothes, minus really good running shoes.”
“...Are you joking? You mean to tell me Lightning Rodney was a superhero who ran around really fast, so long as he was naked?”
“Well, not quite. That still wasn’t enough. He really had to be creative to get his weight down...Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“I don’t know...The moon...lit up for a second there...”
“Really?”
“I thought so. Anyway, it must have been my imagination. Where was I?”
“Being naked wasn’t enough for Lightning Rodney.”
“Oh, right. Like I said, losing his clothes didn’t quite get him down to the weight he needed to be in order to run like the wind, so he had to trim off everything he could. He did what he had to; he trimmed his hair.”
“And that made him light enough?”
“Well, he shaved his head completely, and he had to shave and pluck all the hairs out of his body. Oh, and his nails. They had to be trimmed down as much as possible.”
“So, he couldn’t run really fast until he was naked and hairless?”
“Precisely.”
“Interesting. So, how did he end up dying?”
“Well, Lightning Rodney was weakest in the morning, immediately after waking up, since his hair grew while he slept. He had to get up and shave and pluck and everything before he was able to run really fast. Turns out, some of his enemies figured this out as well, and that’s when they surprised him.”
“Oh, so that’s how he died; they got him while he was slow.”
“Not exactly. Like, they did break into his house and who knows what they were planning to do to him once they were there, but he didn’t die by the hands of his enemies. No, Lightning Rodney sort of did himself in.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You see, apparently he heard them break in or whatever, and he decided to make his move and get out of there.”
“But wasn’t he heavy and slow?”
“Yes, but he figured he needed to lose a bit of weight quickly and then he’d be fine. So, he grabs a knife and stabs himself in one of his main arteries.”
“Oh my. Why on earth would he believe that was a good idea?”
“Well, I guess he figured he would lose enough blood to be able to run fast then he’d make it to a hospital in time for them to patch him up, and that’s what he tried to do. From what I gather, once he was light enough to run quickly, he ran with his wound facing forward in so that the pressure would hold his blood in. I think it worked, since they didn’t find any blood in his path to the hospital.”
“Well, if it worked, how’d he die?”
“Like I said, he made it to the hospital, but then no one was ready for him. Lightning Rodney bursts in the emergency doors and stops running. He barely has the time to yell, ‘Help me,’ or something like that and the blood starts gushing out again. Without the pressure holding it back, the blood just sprays all over everyone; the nurses and all the patients waiting in the room get covered in Lightning Rodney’s blood. He didn’t have a chance by that point.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Now we have one less naked superhero.”
“Yeah, I agree...Wait, turn around. Check out the moon. It’s starting to glow again.”
“You’re right. It keeps getting brighter and brighter. And what’s that sound?”
Voip. Sizzle.
“Lightning Rodney? Who the heck is that, some sort of Mexican wrestler?”
“Not quite. You never heard of him? He was that superhero.”
“A superhero?”
“Yes.”
“Named...Lightning Rodney?”
“Yes.”
“...What was his superpower?”
“Well, he was sort of like that made-up superhero, the Flash, more or less.”
“More or less? So, he ran fast?”
“Well, yeah, he ran fast, only he couldn’t do it all the time. You see, Lightning Rodney could only run like that when he was under a certain weight.”
“And what weight was that?”
“How the hell should I know? All I know is he figured it out. But it was hard for him to stay below that weight.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, he lost as much weight as he realistically could before losing most of his muscle mass. I mean, if he lost too much muscle, he probably wouldn’t have been able to run like he did, so he had to improvise; he had to lose as much weight as he could in other ways.”
“Meaning...?”
“Clothes; he didn’t wear any clothes, minus really good running shoes.”
“...Are you joking? You mean to tell me Lightning Rodney was a superhero who ran around really fast, so long as he was naked?”
“Well, not quite. That still wasn’t enough. He really had to be creative to get his weight down...Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“I don’t know...The moon...lit up for a second there...”
“Really?”
“I thought so. Anyway, it must have been my imagination. Where was I?”
“Being naked wasn’t enough for Lightning Rodney.”
“Oh, right. Like I said, losing his clothes didn’t quite get him down to the weight he needed to be in order to run like the wind, so he had to trim off everything he could. He did what he had to; he trimmed his hair.”
“And that made him light enough?”
“Well, he shaved his head completely, and he had to shave and pluck all the hairs out of his body. Oh, and his nails. They had to be trimmed down as much as possible.”
“So, he couldn’t run really fast until he was naked and hairless?”
“Precisely.”
“Interesting. So, how did he end up dying?”
“Well, Lightning Rodney was weakest in the morning, immediately after waking up, since his hair grew while he slept. He had to get up and shave and pluck and everything before he was able to run really fast. Turns out, some of his enemies figured this out as well, and that’s when they surprised him.”
“Oh, so that’s how he died; they got him while he was slow.”
“Not exactly. Like, they did break into his house and who knows what they were planning to do to him once they were there, but he didn’t die by the hands of his enemies. No, Lightning Rodney sort of did himself in.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You see, apparently he heard them break in or whatever, and he decided to make his move and get out of there.”
“But wasn’t he heavy and slow?”
“Yes, but he figured he needed to lose a bit of weight quickly and then he’d be fine. So, he grabs a knife and stabs himself in one of his main arteries.”
“Oh my. Why on earth would he believe that was a good idea?”
“Well, I guess he figured he would lose enough blood to be able to run fast then he’d make it to a hospital in time for them to patch him up, and that’s what he tried to do. From what I gather, once he was light enough to run quickly, he ran with his wound facing forward in so that the pressure would hold his blood in. I think it worked, since they didn’t find any blood in his path to the hospital.”
“Well, if it worked, how’d he die?”
“Like I said, he made it to the hospital, but then no one was ready for him. Lightning Rodney bursts in the emergency doors and stops running. He barely has the time to yell, ‘Help me,’ or something like that and the blood starts gushing out again. Without the pressure holding it back, the blood just sprays all over everyone; the nurses and all the patients waiting in the room get covered in Lightning Rodney’s blood. He didn’t have a chance by that point.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Now we have one less naked superhero.”
“Yeah, I agree...Wait, turn around. Check out the moon. It’s starting to glow again.”
“You’re right. It keeps getting brighter and brighter. And what’s that sound?”
Voip. Sizzle.
Popcorn
The Walmart doors opened as a man entered. He stopped a few feet into the store and raised his hands.
"Bryan is coming!" he said loudly to all who would listen. In this case it was the greeter and the few people at the courtesy desk. They all stared at him as he continued, "And he brings popcorn!"
Then he strode purposefully out of the store. The greeter smiled nervously at the customers across from where he stood. After nervously returning his smile, everyone went back to what they were doing, the incident largely ignored.
About a half hour later, another man entered the store. This one held a large blue bowl in his hands. He raised it above his head and loudly proclaimed: "I am Bryan, and I have popcorn!"
At this point, everyone within hearing range felt a massive headache come on. But they only had a moment to wonder about it as their heads exploded. All you could hear was the sound of popcorn popping and bodies hitting the floor, until finally there was silence. After a long moment, Bryan took a large handful of popcorn from the bowl. Smiling, he said into the silence, "That will show them to mock my theories!" And he strode out of the store, laughing the whole way out.
"Bryan is coming!" he said loudly to all who would listen. In this case it was the greeter and the few people at the courtesy desk. They all stared at him as he continued, "And he brings popcorn!"
Then he strode purposefully out of the store. The greeter smiled nervously at the customers across from where he stood. After nervously returning his smile, everyone went back to what they were doing, the incident largely ignored.
About a half hour later, another man entered the store. This one held a large blue bowl in his hands. He raised it above his head and loudly proclaimed: "I am Bryan, and I have popcorn!"
At this point, everyone within hearing range felt a massive headache come on. But they only had a moment to wonder about it as their heads exploded. All you could hear was the sound of popcorn popping and bodies hitting the floor, until finally there was silence. After a long moment, Bryan took a large handful of popcorn from the bowl. Smiling, he said into the silence, "That will show them to mock my theories!" And he strode out of the store, laughing the whole way out.
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