I held eyeball to eyeball contact...
And said my piece.
“If you EVER park YOUR CAR outside of MY HOUSE again, you won't know what the HELL has HIT you.”
My forefinger stabbed forward repeatedly, emphasising my righteous indignation as I took the moral high ground.
“You BIG DUMB SCHMUCK! don't think I'm scared of YOU mate, I might be half your size, but I could take your lights out ANY day of the week, NO problem!
I am SICK to DEATH of having to park MY car at the other end of the STREET, just because YOU can't be ARSED to reverse YOUR piece of SCRAP back to where it SHOULD be parked., you LAZY, BONE idle, BALD-headed, POT-bellied, HUMPTY-backed, DOG-breathed, WRINKLE-faced, MAGGOT-todgered, BALL-LESS, SNIPE-nosed, KNOCK-kneed piece of CRUD.
If YOU parked YOUR rustbucket where it SHOULD be parked, I would be able to park MY car where IT should be parked, WOULDN'T I? But NO!, THAT would be too SIMPLE...WOULDN'T IT? Too EASY! Too much like using a bit of common bleedin' SENSE!.. WOULDN'T IT? NO! Because YOU have to act like the INCON-bleedin'-SIDERATE, BOULDER-bellied TOSSER that you ARE... I'VE got three buses and a TRAIN to catch before I get to MY car on a MORNING!
It would be really NICE if just for ONCE in my life I didn't need to YOMP across half the ESTATE to get to MY front DOOR When I get home from work! I mean, JEEZ! It would be nearly as quick to WALK home WOULDN'T it?
Are you GETTING all this? Is it sinking through your THICK-boned SKULL into that PATHETIC, LENTIL-sized, THREE-celled BRAIN of yours?
Now get your UGLY-mugged ARSE down them STEPS mister VERNON JARVIS, get into that clapped out, rattling box of SHRAPNEL that you call a CAR, and SHIFT IT!!!!”
There was a gentle knock on the front door...
I walked into the hallway and opened the door to find Vernon Jarvis from next door on the doorstep
“ Oh, hi mate” He said. “I've brought that DVD back that I borrowed last night. Thanks bud, much appreciated. Oh drat! I've parked the car a bit too far forward again haven't I? Must be the second time this month, sorry mate, I'll nip down and move it back a couple of feet.”
“No, don't bother Vern” I told him, smiling. “It's no problem at all mate, I'm only encroaching onto next door's kerb a foot or so, and anyway, Frank doesn't mind, he doesn't even own a car.”
“See ya later mate.” I said, still smiling.
I closed the door gently, and walked back into the lounge, when I passed the mirror I couldn't quite look myself in the eye this time.
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Friday, 17 June 2011
For my own safety
I've had many labels stuck on me in the time I've been in here, insane, paranoid, delusional, schizophrenic, liar, to name but a few. I think liar was the one that hurt the most.
Not for one single moment did any of these so-called experts consider that maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth.
For my own safety, their words not mine, I was detained under the mental health act, and brought to this 'hospital'.
Eventually I had grown to like my room, the fabric covering the walls and floor was tough and yet soft at the same time.
“For your own safety.” They had told me, as they ushered me inside.
And yes, it was safe, for now. Eventually things on the outside would get so bad there would be no-one left in control here, and I would have to leave and take my chances, but for now it was safe.
And here I was, in the interview room once more...
The man in black looked across the table at me, his face expressionless, but the glint of concern in his eyes betrayed his inner thoughts.
“People are disappearing.” He said.
“Yes, I know.”
“A lot of people, thousands each day.”
“Yes, I know.”
He shifted slightly in his chair, his body language betraying him further.
“Do you know where they are being taken to?”
“No, but I know where they end up.”
The man in black straightened in his chair, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, he stared at me intently.
“Where?” He asked me.
“The same place as your breakfast, and your Sunday roast, and your Saturday night beer and pizza.”
“What?”
“Where do all meals end up? Down the sewer, they end up down the sewer.”
“You could have helped to prevent a lot of this you know.”
“When I tried to tell people that these creatures were living amongst us, when I tried to warn people about this, when I tried to convince people to defend themselves against this, I was brought here, for my own safety. No-one wanted to listen to what I had to say.”
“Well, we're ready to listen now.”
I sighed, stood up, and walked slowly towards the door. “It's too late.” I told him over my shoulder. To the guard I said “I'd like to go back to my room now please, for my own safety”
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
Not for one single moment did any of these so-called experts consider that maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth.
For my own safety, their words not mine, I was detained under the mental health act, and brought to this 'hospital'.
Eventually I had grown to like my room, the fabric covering the walls and floor was tough and yet soft at the same time.
“For your own safety.” They had told me, as they ushered me inside.
And yes, it was safe, for now. Eventually things on the outside would get so bad there would be no-one left in control here, and I would have to leave and take my chances, but for now it was safe.
And here I was, in the interview room once more...
The man in black looked across the table at me, his face expressionless, but the glint of concern in his eyes betrayed his inner thoughts.
“People are disappearing.” He said.
“Yes, I know.”
“A lot of people, thousands each day.”
“Yes, I know.”
He shifted slightly in his chair, his body language betraying him further.
“Do you know where they are being taken to?”
“No, but I know where they end up.”
The man in black straightened in his chair, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, he stared at me intently.
“Where?” He asked me.
“The same place as your breakfast, and your Sunday roast, and your Saturday night beer and pizza.”
“What?”
“Where do all meals end up? Down the sewer, they end up down the sewer.”
“You could have helped to prevent a lot of this you know.”
“When I tried to tell people that these creatures were living amongst us, when I tried to warn people about this, when I tried to convince people to defend themselves against this, I was brought here, for my own safety. No-one wanted to listen to what I had to say.”
“Well, we're ready to listen now.”
I sighed, stood up, and walked slowly towards the door. “It's too late.” I told him over my shoulder. To the guard I said “I'd like to go back to my room now please, for my own safety”
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 10 June 2011
Tapeworms
“He's still movin'”
We stood a few feet away from Geoff's body, the slug from my .45 had drilled a hole through his forehead, probably gone straight through and into the ground too.
“He's dead.” I told him, matter of factly. “Now pour the petrol an' burn him before the damn thing comes out.”
“He ain't dead,” Said Paul, his voice rising in panic. “Look... LOOK... He's still movin'!”
Geoff's stomach was twitching slightly, small movements, tiny squiggles under the skin.
As we watched, the movements began to increase in intensity, and to slowly edge upwards towards his chest.
I put two more slugs into him, both directly into the twitchy bit, the body danced slightly with the impacts but the movements continued upwards, the ribcage started to thrum, as though a silent jackhammer was being used on the inside.
Paul stared, bulge-eyed with fear and horror.
“Paul... PAUL... Use the goddam petrol, for crissakes will ya?”
He just stood, rooted, useless in his terror.
I made a start to grab the fuel can from his hand when a slight crackling sound came from Geoff's mouth...
I felt the freezing tendrils of paralysing terror crawl up my spine, I turned my head in Geoff's direction...
Geoff's throat was a writhing distended lump. A translucent, ghastly pale, inch-thick head appeared from his mouth, small antenna flickered around as if tasting the air...
Paul snapped, he started screaming... he just stood... and stared... and screamed...
I watched with absolute horror as more of the creature slithered out, like a ghostly segmented viper. The eyeless head turned in Paul's direction, attracted by the sweet sound of his screams...
The hellish creature slowly drew itself back, away from us, then, almost faster than the eye could follow, whiplashed its body through the air, I spun around just in time to see the last few inches of it slither rapidly into Paul's open mouth.
I backed off several yards whilst Paul was gagging and coughing, eventually he seemed to recover, and straightened up, his eyes glazed with something that wasn't there a few moments ago.
We stood and looked at each other, both of us knowing what I would have to do.
Me and Paul had known each other since we were kids, best buddies all the way, it was hard to believe it would end like this.
I walked forward raising the gun, tears blurring my vision as I pressed the barrel to his forehead...
“Do it!” he said, his voice calm, steady.
“Goodbye my friend.” I said, then squeezed the trigger.
Paul's body flew back, landing spread-eagled in the dust, almost immediately the writhing began beneath the skin on his stomach. His unwanted house-guest already packing to leave, these creatures needed live flesh to feed off.
I grabbed the fuel can, flipping the top open and began to pour, liberally dousing his head, filling his mouth until it overflowed, then along the length of his body. Salt water dripping from my cheeks and mixing with the petrol.
I stood back a few paces, struck the match and threw it onto Paul just as his throat started to bloat...
Within seconds the head appeared from the flame-filled mouth...
The creature thrashed around as it tried to escape the flames, writhing, burning, screeching... dying.
As I watched while the worm slumped, and blackened, I pondered my next move.
This had certainly turned out to be some day, I had just wasted two more members of a rapidly dwindling population.
Could we actually win this war? Or even survive it?
Well, whatever happened, I would go down fighting.
A short distance away the road forked left and right, which way to go?
I was unlikely to find good news whichever direction I chose. Good news was extremely hard to come by these days.
The goddam worms were everywhere, every town and city were infested with them.
Decision time...
I fished a coin from my pocket...
And flipped...
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
We stood a few feet away from Geoff's body, the slug from my .45 had drilled a hole through his forehead, probably gone straight through and into the ground too.
“He's dead.” I told him, matter of factly. “Now pour the petrol an' burn him before the damn thing comes out.”
“He ain't dead,” Said Paul, his voice rising in panic. “Look... LOOK... He's still movin'!”
Geoff's stomach was twitching slightly, small movements, tiny squiggles under the skin.
As we watched, the movements began to increase in intensity, and to slowly edge upwards towards his chest.
I put two more slugs into him, both directly into the twitchy bit, the body danced slightly with the impacts but the movements continued upwards, the ribcage started to thrum, as though a silent jackhammer was being used on the inside.
Paul stared, bulge-eyed with fear and horror.
“Paul... PAUL... Use the goddam petrol, for crissakes will ya?”
He just stood, rooted, useless in his terror.
I made a start to grab the fuel can from his hand when a slight crackling sound came from Geoff's mouth...
I felt the freezing tendrils of paralysing terror crawl up my spine, I turned my head in Geoff's direction...
Geoff's throat was a writhing distended lump. A translucent, ghastly pale, inch-thick head appeared from his mouth, small antenna flickered around as if tasting the air...
Paul snapped, he started screaming... he just stood... and stared... and screamed...
I watched with absolute horror as more of the creature slithered out, like a ghostly segmented viper. The eyeless head turned in Paul's direction, attracted by the sweet sound of his screams...
The hellish creature slowly drew itself back, away from us, then, almost faster than the eye could follow, whiplashed its body through the air, I spun around just in time to see the last few inches of it slither rapidly into Paul's open mouth.
I backed off several yards whilst Paul was gagging and coughing, eventually he seemed to recover, and straightened up, his eyes glazed with something that wasn't there a few moments ago.
We stood and looked at each other, both of us knowing what I would have to do.
Me and Paul had known each other since we were kids, best buddies all the way, it was hard to believe it would end like this.
I walked forward raising the gun, tears blurring my vision as I pressed the barrel to his forehead...
“Do it!” he said, his voice calm, steady.
“Goodbye my friend.” I said, then squeezed the trigger.
Paul's body flew back, landing spread-eagled in the dust, almost immediately the writhing began beneath the skin on his stomach. His unwanted house-guest already packing to leave, these creatures needed live flesh to feed off.
I grabbed the fuel can, flipping the top open and began to pour, liberally dousing his head, filling his mouth until it overflowed, then along the length of his body. Salt water dripping from my cheeks and mixing with the petrol.
I stood back a few paces, struck the match and threw it onto Paul just as his throat started to bloat...
Within seconds the head appeared from the flame-filled mouth...
The creature thrashed around as it tried to escape the flames, writhing, burning, screeching... dying.
As I watched while the worm slumped, and blackened, I pondered my next move.
This had certainly turned out to be some day, I had just wasted two more members of a rapidly dwindling population.
Could we actually win this war? Or even survive it?
Well, whatever happened, I would go down fighting.
A short distance away the road forked left and right, which way to go?
I was unlikely to find good news whichever direction I chose. Good news was extremely hard to come by these days.
The goddam worms were everywhere, every town and city were infested with them.
Decision time...
I fished a coin from my pocket...
And flipped...
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 3 June 2011
Skitter
I quietly closed the cellar door and walked down the steps, it is in here somewhere... Hiding...
As I walked to the centre of the cellar, I thought I saw a small movement in the shadows...
Then...
“TINK”... The light went out...plunging me into a wall of black...
Fear surged to the surface, I held myself together just below the panic threshold...
Then I heard it...the sound of sharp claws scrabbling on the stone floor...
Skitter
I couldn't move, my whole body was frozen with terror...
Skitter
I couldn't speak, my throat constricted ...
Skitter skitter
I could barely breathe as the panic threatened to engulf me...
Skitter skitter
Sightless in the pitch black...
Skitter skitter skitter
Heart pounding... mouth dry... eyes straining futilely...
Skitter SKITTER skitter
It's getting closer... bolder...
Skitter skitter SKITTER skitter skitter
Playing with me...
Skitter skitter SKITTER SKITTER skitter skitter
There was a barely audible creak as the cellar door swung slowly open...
Skitter skitter SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER skitter skitter
blinding light in my eyes...
Skitter skitter
The voice, a welcome lifeline in this ocean of skittering nothingness...
“John? I told ya not to come down inta the cellar without a torch... didn't I tell ya that? Ya know how unreliable the lighting is down here. An' what with your darkness phobia an' all... Now, did ya get the hamster back inta his cage yet?
“No, I ain't caught him yet, but I can hear the little blighter runnin' around.”
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
As I walked to the centre of the cellar, I thought I saw a small movement in the shadows...
Then...
“TINK”... The light went out...plunging me into a wall of black...
Fear surged to the surface, I held myself together just below the panic threshold...
Then I heard it...the sound of sharp claws scrabbling on the stone floor...
Skitter
I couldn't move, my whole body was frozen with terror...
Skitter
I couldn't speak, my throat constricted ...
Skitter skitter
I could barely breathe as the panic threatened to engulf me...
Skitter skitter
Sightless in the pitch black...
Skitter skitter skitter
Heart pounding... mouth dry... eyes straining futilely...
Skitter SKITTER skitter
It's getting closer... bolder...
Skitter skitter SKITTER skitter skitter
Playing with me...
Skitter skitter SKITTER SKITTER skitter skitter
There was a barely audible creak as the cellar door swung slowly open...
Skitter skitter SKITTER SKITTER SKITTER skitter skitter
blinding light in my eyes...
Skitter skitter
The voice, a welcome lifeline in this ocean of skittering nothingness...
“John? I told ya not to come down inta the cellar without a torch... didn't I tell ya that? Ya know how unreliable the lighting is down here. An' what with your darkness phobia an' all... Now, did ya get the hamster back inta his cage yet?
“No, I ain't caught him yet, but I can hear the little blighter runnin' around.”
©2011 Stephen. J. Green.
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