|
|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||
|
#1
05-14-2009, 01:45 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Supermarkets
There is no doubt in my mind that supermarkets are the true evils of modern day society. They are satanic temples, built for the feckless dregs and the contemporary simpleton.
Today, I had the misfortune of having to pop into one to buy a half-pint of milk and a TV Quick. By God, the place was crawling with saucer-eyed fatheads! I felt panicky, giddy and sick with fear. The enormity of the place bent my already fragile psyche. I didn't know which way to turn for what! Bug eyed plebs stared. Sweat dampened my crotch. Trying to turn back, my eyes flashed, seeking, searching for the exit sign. Where...where was it? "WHERE IN GOD'S NAME...?" I cried, my hands flapping in front of me like two convulsing pigeons. In the end I ran into a tower of baked beans, scattering cans everywhere. I was weeping, my face beetroot red, my trousers somehow around my ankles. I heard a terrible noise, a sort of insane pig squeal, causing people to turn and gape and gasp, and I realised that the noise was coming from my own swollen gob hole. I relayed my story to Uncle Ferryweather, later that evening. We sat in his dark, crumbling out-house, sipping brandy from chipped tumblers. He could see I was still agitated, disturbed, and his gnarled fingers gently stroked the knuckles of my hand. "Can we practice?" I whispered, suddenly, standing, trying desperately hard to smile, grabbing a brick from off the floor. "Pretend this is a pint of milk,OK? OK? You can be the check out man. If I practice and practice and practice, then may be..." I swallowed. Gripped the brick. Walked over to Uncle Ferryweather. "Hello," I said. "I would dearly love to buy this pint of milk." I offered Uncle the brick. But Uncle just sat there, in his chair, staring hard and empty and silent. I placed a hand over my face, dropped the brick to the floor, and wept through my fingers. Last edited by Benny Tumbleweed; 05-14-2009 at 01:52 PM. 
|
|
#2
05-14-2009, 01:49 PM
|
||||
|
||||
|
..........
Ok.
__________________
 Quote:
None of this is real
|
|
#4
05-14-2009, 02:30 PM
|
||||
|
||||
|
Ever since Petsmart quit holding primate supplies... Poor little feller's been on his own, eating berries, and school kids.
__________________
Quote:
None of this is real
|
|
#8
05-15-2009, 03:44 AM
|
||||
|
||||
|
I'm not sure what to make of this guy.
An obvious troll to be sure...but his stuff is still remotely amusing. It'll get old quick, there's no question about that, but honestly - this place has been a little slow the last week or so. An entertaining troll might not be a bad thing.
__________________
"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." - Friedrich Nietzsche
|
|
#9
05-15-2009, 07:07 AM
|
||||
|
||||
|
Nah. I like supermarkets and give my guys avatars.
__________________
 The Ferrets like it...
|
|
#10
05-15-2009, 08:03 AM
|
||||
|
||||
|
He's an author of reasonably good Bizarro flash fiction. If I weren't me, I'd think it was me. Maybe I'm not me. Ahhh...I'm going into a lazy-David Lynch style freakout. And this is a guy I've known for like five minutes, so by the rules of lazy David Lynch films, I have to be that guy.
__________________
Horror and Bizarro novelist and editor
|
 |
|
|
