ThinkTwisted

I thought I would share this short story I wrote more than two years ago. Made me laugh when I re-read it.

As I sat and stared at the two monsters devouring their salads across the table from me, my mind began to wander. Would they turn their attention to me next? Or would the next course come in time to satisfy them? My heart began to pump hard in my chest. I could hear it in my ears. Just as they finished their last bites with a crunch, a tentative little midget came running from behind a set of double doors. She was more scared than I and this made me relax just a little. Her life was on the line more so than mine.

The monsters began to grill me as the midget girl quickly dropped their main course down on the table and she scurried away. They asked me what I was doing here; why I had I invaded their territory? I didn’t have a good answer for them. I made up some BS about living life on the dangerous side, seeking an adrenaline thrill. In all honesty, the fact that I was at this table was merely coincidental. I was offered a job I couldn’t refuse – I needed the experience so what other option did I have?

They seemed to buy into it. They munched down their extra-rare steaks and drooled with delight. They asked me about my experiences in their area: what had I seen, done, and taken part in? I explained to them that I tried to participate in their society, but was rejected and turned out by most. A few friendly critters treated me well, but only out of professional courtesy and/or pity.

Suddenly they became outraged. These grotesque stinking beasts beat the table with their claws. Everyone within earshot cringed and hid beneath their tables. A plate was hurled through the air and slammed into the back of the booth beside my head. Scared for my life, I started to jump up to make a run for it. As my back was turned toward the monsters and I started to take off, I felt a mammoth paw on my shoulder forcibly turn me around.
What I saw as I was turned around will stick with me through all my days. The two massive monsters were kneeling on the floor at my feet. Even on their knees, their heads were level with mine.

With tears in their eyes, they begged me for my forgiveness and mercy. They were filled with shame, that the society they ran could treat a foreigner with such disrespect.
I helped them rise from their knees and told them to relax. I would hold no grudges and I would keep an open mind. I suggested they turn from the violence used to command the masses, perhaps they could treat their constituents with respect. In turn, the constituents would show respect to others.

With this simple advice, I left them and their dreary corner of the world. Maybe I’ll return someday to have a different experience.

I let my cat outside tonight.  She likes to go out and roam around the yard pretending she is a tiger.  Once in a while she will kill something and proudly bring it back to the house for my inspection.

Tonight was no exception.  I was reading some Kafka on the living room couch when I heard some meowing and growling outside.  This was the normal, “I want back in, dammit!” sound my cat makes.  I hopped up to let her in.  As I looked outside to survey what she was up to, I noticed she was not alone.  Another black cat was out there, and she was growling and meowing at it.

I opened the door and called for her to come in.  Instantly she darted off towards the other cat.  She ran up the steps in my back yard, tripping and falling hard on the leap to the second step.  The other cat ran off scared and Cici came running back in.  She remained at the door hissing and growling with her tail all puffed up.  My wife looked outside a saw a twitching little mouse laying on the porch.  We let the cat back out, thinking she wanted to finish playing with the mouse.

She ran outside, picked the mouse up, ran back inside and dropped it on the kitchen floor.  She sat there pawing and biting at the poor little thing while it whimpered and bled.  My wife looked at me and asked me if I could put it out of its misery.

Sure thing honey, I’ll get my miniature pistols out and put a bullet in its head.

All joking aside, I took the little mouse away from the cat and tossed it up and onto the kitchen counter.  I grabbed the large butcher knife that came with our knife set (who uses those things anyway?) and looked back down at the mouse.

He stared back up at me, his little nose twitching back and forth.  He turned his head from the the counter and gnashed his teeth at me.  He began to squeak very loudly.  I leaned to listen.  To my surprise he was speaking to me.  Pleading for his life.

The little mouse said, “Please spare me, for my name is Charles.  I am the last of my family.  You cat has brutally murdered all of us.”

The little dude was bleeding quite a bit by this point.  I began to worry about him.  I said, “Do you really thing you can pull through?”

“Of course I can,” murmured the mouse, “I have been endowed special powers from being the last of my clan.  All mice are blessed with the ability to health themselves and grant wishes as they please when the last of their remaining family passes.”

I opened my mouth in astonishment.  I could not believe what the mouse said! Wait, the fucking mouse is talking!  I slapped myself a few times to shake the craziness out.  A dying mouse is laying on my counter, I am standing over it with a butchers knife ready to decapitate it.  Do you really think its talking to you? Just to be sure, I leaned back in for another listen.

Charles said, “I know what you’re thinking, and you aren’t crazy.  I told you we get special abilities.  Think about Fievel – that movie wasn’t fiction.  If you spare my life, I will grant you any wish you desire.”

I thought carefully about the mouse’s promise.  I felt sorry for the little guy, bleeding all over my counter.  I asked the mouse, “If I spare you life tonight and you grant me my wish, what good will that do you?  Your life will be terrible.  You have no family, no friends, no life beyond my back yard.  My cat will surely find you again.  Next time she won’t be so careless.  Tell me, why do you want to live?”

“There is no easy answer,” the mouse replied, “but I can tell you this.  Life is not about your friends, not about your family, not about the women you sleep with, and not about how much traveling you do.  Life is about living in the moment, enjoying the time you have, and realizing how lucky you are to be on such a beautiful planet.  Although the remainder of my life may be short and lonely, I will enjoy my time.”

About half way through Charles’s speech I got distracted.  He was babbling on about the meaning of life, and I couldn’t even pay attention.  Thanks a lot TV.  I looked back down at Charles.  As he stared back with his soulful little eyes, it seemed like there was a smile on his face.  I pulled my arm high in the air, and smacked the knife down hard on the countertop.  Blood sprayed out in the shape of a cone on to the counter.

As the blood drained from the veins of the little mouse into puddles on my counter, I wondered if he was right.  I had finally found out why they include large butcher knives with the set.

I was taking my dog for walk in the park today.  First, we went to the dog park.  He romped around like a mad man.  I’ve never seen a creature so obsessed with an inanimate object.  After I got his mind off the ball, we began to walk around the 2 mile loop that makes up the park.  I noticed two power-walkers come up on us quickly! Arms a-pumping and lungs a-heaving, it was quite a sight.  I began to imagine my life as a power walker, oh the efficiency!  Just think how many more mundane things I could accomplish if I did them twice as fast.  The more I thought about it, the more I realized I wouldn’t cut it as a power-walker.  I would start to challenge other power-walkers to games of power-walking CHICKEN.  I’d speed-walk right towards them, they would get aggressive, then scared and turn like babies facing a pig.  Eventually, I would meet my power-walking match.  We would collide with a force only rivaled by Hiroshima.  That would be the end for both of us, and anyone within three miles.

I passed by the power-walkers uneventfully.  As I continued my loop, I heard some noise behind me.  Turned and slyly looked over my shoulder.  Two little girls were approaching me on pink bikes.  I looked back forward, so as to not appear a pervert.  I heard one of them yell to the other, “pull over here while so she can catch up.”

Both girls pulled over to the gravel on the side of the road and waited for an old pick up truck to pull up beside them.  After the truck arrived, the girls took off again and speed down the road.  The truck slowly continued forward.  I didn’t think much about what was going on until I saw it happen again.  I realized that the children were riding their bikes, while the parents followed in the car.  Talk about lazy parenting.  Eventually they caught up to us and passed.  I looked in the car, I saw a man that was massively obese.  He clearly could have used the exercise, but instead followed the children in the most lazy way possible.  As a looked at him a little closer, I realized it wasn’t a man at all, but a WOMAN.

My mother-in-law and friend came to visit us this weekend.  They are doing some sort of driving tour up and down the east coast to visit people.  Anne has been teaching in China for the past year or two.  She wanted to visit everyone before going back for another year of teaching.

Anne told me a story about her confirmation into the Catholic church.  When she was little they used to confirm kids in the fourth grade, talk about getting them while they’re young.  She remembered walking down the aisle and seeing the children in front of her getting their sacrament.  As she watched the other children being confirmed she noticed something odd.  All the children were being smacked up side the face!  Welcome to the school of hard knocks, bitch!  Anne became nervous as she approached the bishop but did not sway.  She received her thwack!  She has been traumatized ever since.

We discussed the approach of the Catholic church.  They seem to get you while you’re young.  You have no choice.  They suck you in and guilt you beyond believe.  Sure, Anne could have went running down the aisle screaming she didn’t want to be Catholic, but she would have been severely punished by her family and probably forced to do it anyway.  Choosing a religion/faith/spiritual following is suppose to be a conscious act, not something that is forced onto you.  I feel this is a major flaw is most religions.  The get ‘em while they’re young strategy.

If I were a towel it’d feel good to be washed and folded.  Washing would get all the soapy scum and dirt I’ve cleaned off bodies.  I’d smell fresh and clean, be nice and warm from the dryer.  My fibers would get all fuzzy and soft.  Getting folded feels orgasmic.  I scream out with pleasure as I’m creased and smoothed into a small square waiting to get used again.

My wife and I have been looking for a new apartment.  Thursday, I went and viewed two apartments.  On my way back to the office after viewing the apartments I was driving towards 28 when a cop flew by in the other lane with sirens a-blaring.  I jokingly thought to myself, “gee I hope he isn’t looking for me…” and continued on my way.  As I sat at a stop sign waiting to turn, three cops zoomed out of nowhere and screeched to a halt in the middle of the intersection, facing me.  They glared at me for a second and then scrambled out of their cruisers.  “Oh god, what the hell did I do this time?!” I thought to myself.  After a few minutes of milling about and talking to each other, the cops returned to their cruisers and left.  Guess they just wanted to freak out some random kid.