I See Faces

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Alien Jason

He once ruled with a hockey mask, terrifying victims before he
mercifully ended their screams. When the film had run out and the
editors went to after-parties, Jason stayed - when even the last buzz
of the stage lights was quiet. So quiet, only the rattle of a royal
rat's bracelet could be heard. So dark, the thingy on an airplane that
finds the horizon would be useless. Just as you, the omniscient
reader, think you may be developing bat sonar, you realize it's the
20th-century architecture hugging in, gradually collapsing around
you... and Jason.

But you're omniscient, so you put the book down and go for a cup of
Ectoplasm Kool-Aid, chilled, but no ice. While you're gone, Jason gets
sucked up through the aftermarket skylight, that was installed to save
energy, but ironically, a lot of time and effort had to be put in
later to fix that dumb skylight.

About halfway through your Kool-Aid, you realize you need to replace
that little rare-sized bulb in the fixture on the front porch. Mostly
because you're a pansy and this story is already scaring you. I'm
merely reading in a creepy whisper because I have an audition to sing
for X-Factor tomorrow.

You know that the big orange hardware store is now open until 10, so
you get on the road in your Executive Cobalt. Styx's "Come Sail Away"
is playing. You pretend they weren't stuck for an ending to the song
as you roll down the window and belt out the money note into the 89%
humidified night: "They climbed aboard their starship, and headed for
the SKIIIIIES!!!"

You don't remember how you got to the aisle in Home Depot - yes, I
said "Home Depot" - but you're checking out all the great mowers you
could afford, if only Styx would pick you from your YouTube clips as
their next singer. But if you were their singer, you'd go on tour with
Styx and record with Styx and you wouldn't mow your own lawn anyway.
You might even live in a big city condo where there is no lawn.

A crack forms in the seam of your own starship headed for the skies.
It's a nasally customer service associate named Tammy, giving the
five-minute "make your final selections" warning. You cease your
ceiling gaze and slowly rotate your clearing eyes downward. And there,
laying in wait on the shelf is... "REEEE! REEEEE! REEE!" Oh wait,
that's a different movie.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Okra Poultry

At first it appeared to me as a rubber ducky, but I wasn't wearing glasses and I was holding it by the tail. I shouted to my surely excited family members, "Hey, okra duck!" And then a Jethro Tull song got stuck in my head for some reason, but that's not relevant. So I took a picture and when I zoomed in, I figured out that it was a beak, not a bill, and we were dealing with an entirely different Jethro Tull song -er- species of poultry, that is. Okra chick! Okra peep? There's really no song in that, so I ate it. Mmmm... Okra peep.