Post by flapjacks70 on Oct 8, 2012 19:18:58 GMT -7
Under my umbrella
“Bye mom!”
I opened the front door and took a step out, pausing at her
yelled response from the laundry room in the basement - “Did
you watch the weather report?” I rolled my eyes; of course I
did. Every morning, though it bored me to tears most times.
“Yes,” I hollered back. Then waited. A thumping of footsteps
came from deep within, the slam of a door, then she appeared
in the hallway, a blue plastic basket of folded clothing in her arms.
“You’re not going out like that are you, young man?”
I looked down at myself. I was wearing a pair of clean pants,
check. And a shirt, not inside out this time, check. A jacket, which
she was always harping on whenever I left the house, so what
was the big deal.
“Spattered showers,” she said, putting down the basket and
moving over to the closet. Pushing aside the row of coats, she
drew out an umbrella and handed it to me, making me groan. The
damn thing was three feet long, and heavy, the center pole being
made of three quarter inch steel. Jutting out from the top was a
slender metal blade, slightly off center, sharp as a razor, making
the whole thing awkward to carry.
Accepting the black contraption, I stood there, idly picking at the
gold embroidered design that ran around the water proof fabric’s
outer edge. Until she gave me a dirty look that is. “And don’t for-
get your lunch, and your hat,” she added, pointing to a brown
paper bag and crinkled hat on the hallway table. I scooped them
up, noisily stuffing the headgear into a pocket, and mumbled
another goodbye, eager to get out before the topic strayed to
uncompleted chores.
Bright crimson and gold streaked across the horizon, the sun
not quite ready to show itself just yet. I was leaving early for
school, and that was okay, as I tended to dawdle.
I closed our front gate and took a few steps before I realized
there was a puddle of gore in front of our neighbors fence. Well,
something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, I
thought, as I approached the mess. The kid next door, Harry,
was younger than me and a bit of a moron. Case in point, not too
long ago, he had cut the end off an extension cord, plugged it into
a socket and stuck the bare end into a freshly filled container of
pee. That knocked out the power for twenty square blocks. I
probably don’t need to mention it, but I will anyway: Lots of
people died via zombie apocalypse related incidents or otherwise.
Like I said, no big surprise there. Fact is, people can get used
to darn near anything if they’re around it long enough. Even
mutated, flesh eating monstrosities... or worse.
Eyeing his remains, I struggled with the desire to take his very
collectable Star Wars lunch box, and my revulsion at the idea of
having to clean his guts off of it. This particular one had Chewy
on the side, and underneath him in digital styled printing - ‘Let the
Wookie win’. I got closer, crouching, this was going to take a
minute.
Just then, I heard a feral growl, and for some reason all I could
think of was that fish admiral guy from the movie declaring ‘it’s a
trap!’
A hulking werewolf leapt over the fence and landed not three
feet away, licking its already bloodied lips, and baring it’s razor
sharp fangs. Not impressed, I howled back, making sure to
reveal the six fillings in my own teeth. Dental amalgams, a mix-
ture of silver and quicksilver: once frowned upon by the medical
community for it’s mercury content, nowadays it had made a
comeback, at least to those in the know.
The beast skittered half a step back and started to pace, re-
garding me, his potential snack, all the while. There are varying
opinions on the intelligence of werewolves, but they are much like
the people they spawned from: some were as dense as a sack of
hammers, while others were as sharp as a sharpened bag of
hammers. I just made that last one up. Pulitzer here I come.
Suddenly I got the feeling that this one might be dumb enough
to attack after all. More convincing would be required. I brought
the umbrella up, sticking the business end in the furry interlopers
face, the pure silver blade glittering in the growing light.
It snapped at the pointy umbrella end once, then snorted and
slunk away, looking back once with disdain, as if I wouldn’t have
been a tasty morsel after all. I was insulted.
Now, about that lunch box.
I didn’t take it. I’m more of a dark side person myself. If Boba
Fett had been on the side of that kit, I would’ve been all over it
(no pun intended Harry). Besides, Wookies, like werewolves,
tended to have dried poop clinging to their backsides. Not cool.
I strolled along for a bit, ignoring the occasional scream or gun-
shot, and then skipped across the street to one of my favorite
spots. An empty lot between two houses, full of ant hills and
overgrown with weeds. I went over to one of the largest mounds
of earth, almost a foot high, and knelt beside it.
Ants and zombies have a lot in common. I learned this from
taking a handful of nest from one pile and dumping it onto
another. The ensuing battle would feature severed legs and
antennae, but more importantly, many beheadings. The de-
capitated individuals, much like the shambling undead, would
continue to fight, threatening to bite the ankles off any nearby
foes.
Hilarious, but this morning I had planned something even more
awesome. I quickly separated some ant head myself and set
them aside, then did the same with a batch from another hill.
Ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get ready to rumble!
I mixed the heads together with anticipation and waited. The
creatures struggled feebly about with their antennae, but not
much else. It was a cripple fight on downers. Damn if it didn’t
look more promising on paper.
Blaw!
I would have jumped out of my skin, if there had been an
escape hatch. As it was, I fell back on my rear, surrounded by
untended knee high grass and dandelions, and gaped.
A figure had pulled itself out of the ground and was wiping dirt
off itself while it approached me. Vampire. Prince of the night, but
not anybody in particular during the day. A minor annoyance at
best. I dug into my lunch bag and pulled out a small bulb of garlic
and began to chew it.
Blaw!
I couldn’t help but laugh. That noise always cracked me up.
The two legged blood sucker didn’t seem bothered in the least.
He flicked the last bit of grit off his tuxedo then took out a clothes-
pin from a pocket and clipped it over his nose.
So much for the garlic. I reached for the small crucifix dangling
around my neck and realized with horror that I’d forgotten to put
it on this morning.
Fortunately, Nosferatu are a fastidious bunch, and while this
one carefully tied on a feeding bib, I was able to scramble over to
my umbrella and open it up. All the way, and further, flattening
out the fabric top until, combined with the handle below and the
blade above, it resembled a cross.
Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, but the vampire covered his
face with an arm, uttered one more ‘blaw’, then turned into a
heap of bats that exploded into the sky with a cacophony of
screeches and flapping wings.
I cried, I admit it. I’m not manly enough yet to start denying
things like that. Eventually, I ran a sleeve across my nose and
surveyed the source of my distress: be damned if I didn’t step
on my main event.
(more to come)
“Bye mom!”
I opened the front door and took a step out, pausing at her
yelled response from the laundry room in the basement - “Did
you watch the weather report?” I rolled my eyes; of course I
did. Every morning, though it bored me to tears most times.
“Yes,” I hollered back. Then waited. A thumping of footsteps
came from deep within, the slam of a door, then she appeared
in the hallway, a blue plastic basket of folded clothing in her arms.
“You’re not going out like that are you, young man?”
I looked down at myself. I was wearing a pair of clean pants,
check. And a shirt, not inside out this time, check. A jacket, which
she was always harping on whenever I left the house, so what
was the big deal.
“Spattered showers,” she said, putting down the basket and
moving over to the closet. Pushing aside the row of coats, she
drew out an umbrella and handed it to me, making me groan. The
damn thing was three feet long, and heavy, the center pole being
made of three quarter inch steel. Jutting out from the top was a
slender metal blade, slightly off center, sharp as a razor, making
the whole thing awkward to carry.
Accepting the black contraption, I stood there, idly picking at the
gold embroidered design that ran around the water proof fabric’s
outer edge. Until she gave me a dirty look that is. “And don’t for-
get your lunch, and your hat,” she added, pointing to a brown
paper bag and crinkled hat on the hallway table. I scooped them
up, noisily stuffing the headgear into a pocket, and mumbled
another goodbye, eager to get out before the topic strayed to
uncompleted chores.
***
Bright crimson and gold streaked across the horizon, the sun
not quite ready to show itself just yet. I was leaving early for
school, and that was okay, as I tended to dawdle.
I closed our front gate and took a few steps before I realized
there was a puddle of gore in front of our neighbors fence. Well,
something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, I
thought, as I approached the mess. The kid next door, Harry,
was younger than me and a bit of a moron. Case in point, not too
long ago, he had cut the end off an extension cord, plugged it into
a socket and stuck the bare end into a freshly filled container of
pee. That knocked out the power for twenty square blocks. I
probably don’t need to mention it, but I will anyway: Lots of
people died via zombie apocalypse related incidents or otherwise.
Like I said, no big surprise there. Fact is, people can get used
to darn near anything if they’re around it long enough. Even
mutated, flesh eating monstrosities... or worse.
Eyeing his remains, I struggled with the desire to take his very
collectable Star Wars lunch box, and my revulsion at the idea of
having to clean his guts off of it. This particular one had Chewy
on the side, and underneath him in digital styled printing - ‘Let the
Wookie win’. I got closer, crouching, this was going to take a
minute.
Just then, I heard a feral growl, and for some reason all I could
think of was that fish admiral guy from the movie declaring ‘it’s a
trap!’
A hulking werewolf leapt over the fence and landed not three
feet away, licking its already bloodied lips, and baring it’s razor
sharp fangs. Not impressed, I howled back, making sure to
reveal the six fillings in my own teeth. Dental amalgams, a mix-
ture of silver and quicksilver: once frowned upon by the medical
community for it’s mercury content, nowadays it had made a
comeback, at least to those in the know.
The beast skittered half a step back and started to pace, re-
garding me, his potential snack, all the while. There are varying
opinions on the intelligence of werewolves, but they are much like
the people they spawned from: some were as dense as a sack of
hammers, while others were as sharp as a sharpened bag of
hammers. I just made that last one up. Pulitzer here I come.
Suddenly I got the feeling that this one might be dumb enough
to attack after all. More convincing would be required. I brought
the umbrella up, sticking the business end in the furry interlopers
face, the pure silver blade glittering in the growing light.
It snapped at the pointy umbrella end once, then snorted and
slunk away, looking back once with disdain, as if I wouldn’t have
been a tasty morsel after all. I was insulted.
Now, about that lunch box.
***
I didn’t take it. I’m more of a dark side person myself. If Boba
Fett had been on the side of that kit, I would’ve been all over it
(no pun intended Harry). Besides, Wookies, like werewolves,
tended to have dried poop clinging to their backsides. Not cool.
I strolled along for a bit, ignoring the occasional scream or gun-
shot, and then skipped across the street to one of my favorite
spots. An empty lot between two houses, full of ant hills and
overgrown with weeds. I went over to one of the largest mounds
of earth, almost a foot high, and knelt beside it.
Ants and zombies have a lot in common. I learned this from
taking a handful of nest from one pile and dumping it onto
another. The ensuing battle would feature severed legs and
antennae, but more importantly, many beheadings. The de-
capitated individuals, much like the shambling undead, would
continue to fight, threatening to bite the ankles off any nearby
foes.
Hilarious, but this morning I had planned something even more
awesome. I quickly separated some ant head myself and set
them aside, then did the same with a batch from another hill.
Ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get ready to rumble!
I mixed the heads together with anticipation and waited. The
creatures struggled feebly about with their antennae, but not
much else. It was a cripple fight on downers. Damn if it didn’t
look more promising on paper.
Blaw!
I would have jumped out of my skin, if there had been an
escape hatch. As it was, I fell back on my rear, surrounded by
untended knee high grass and dandelions, and gaped.
A figure had pulled itself out of the ground and was wiping dirt
off itself while it approached me. Vampire. Prince of the night, but
not anybody in particular during the day. A minor annoyance at
best. I dug into my lunch bag and pulled out a small bulb of garlic
and began to chew it.
Blaw!
I couldn’t help but laugh. That noise always cracked me up.
The two legged blood sucker didn’t seem bothered in the least.
He flicked the last bit of grit off his tuxedo then took out a clothes-
pin from a pocket and clipped it over his nose.
So much for the garlic. I reached for the small crucifix dangling
around my neck and realized with horror that I’d forgotten to put
it on this morning.
Fortunately, Nosferatu are a fastidious bunch, and while this
one carefully tied on a feeding bib, I was able to scramble over to
my umbrella and open it up. All the way, and further, flattening
out the fabric top until, combined with the handle below and the
blade above, it resembled a cross.
Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, but the vampire covered his
face with an arm, uttered one more ‘blaw’, then turned into a
heap of bats that exploded into the sky with a cacophony of
screeches and flapping wings.
I cried, I admit it. I’m not manly enough yet to start denying
things like that. Eventually, I ran a sleeve across my nose and
surveyed the source of my distress: be damned if I didn’t step
on my main event.
(more to come)
