Tag Archives: monsters

Game

I’ve been spending all day thinking about what keeps me going. At this point, it’s a matter of pride.

The old bat won’t win this. Not this time. She’s been controlling my life from day one and I won’t stand for it. When I was a child, she was stifling my creativity because she didn’t understand it and wrote it all off as anomalous behavior. Draw one Hitler asteroid falling on star-chested dinosaurs and suddenly you’re a little monster. And then there was the science project about how squirrells and pigeons can be used as a biofuel. Dad said I was ahead of my time, but that was before he left us for that bimbo who worked in Forensics.

Now I’m practically a grown woman and Mom is still trying to control me, deciding who my friends are and should be. It’s a crafty war game we play, though I know I’m weaker than her from a social standpoint. I’ve been going to the library, reading up on warrior philosophy, guerrilla tactics, and passive resistance. My greatest flaw, I think, has been underestimating my enemy. Though my mom is not as intelligent as I am, she far surpasses me in experience at being an authoritarian.

Most recently, I have been fascinated with the story of Che Guevara’s motorcycle trip and how he assisted the leper colony in Peru. The samurai say to love yourself and all others, which hastens the idea that they are only killing out of a sense of duty and honor. Emotions will come to boil at the point where Mom and I square off, but I will have the upper hand by staying calm at the start, of this I’m sure.

I’ve joined the Philosophy Club at school to find like-minded troops for my revolution. War games are not won through one person’s will alone. I need followers and compatriots to enact my plans. Mother won’t know what happened to the little monster doodling crayon drawings of dinosaur Holocausts. Suddenly, her little monster has all grown up. War is the essence of growth, Mother, so thank you for raising me to be this way. Let the games begin.

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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XX

Eye Gouger

There’s nothing subtle about the Eye Gouger. He likes to gouge out eyes. No, he does not poke or prod or scratch at your eyes. He gouges them. He gouges them with fingers. He gouges them with knives. The Eye Gouger’s tools are limited only by the ones with which he can gouge your eyes out. If you see the Eye Gouger on the street, he may tell you that you have pretty eyes. Don’t be fooled. This is just a ploy to gouge your eyes out. He wants them. He wants to gouge them. So stay away or you may have bloody eye holes where your pretty eyes once sat.

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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XX

A Story To Prepare Your Children for Adolescence

Billy always popped his zits.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

His parents always told him,

“No!”

But he  never listened.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“You could get scars!” they cried. “One day a monster will eat your torso!”

Billy paused a moment. This was a strange thing for them to say…

But he shrugged and continued popping his zits.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

One day, Billy had some especially large zits. He decided to pop them.

And he did.

One pop. Two pops. Three…

And a monster came out of his third zit! It had horrible gnashing teeth and claws like needles. Its breaths smelled of dead babies and its laugh sounded like tortured cats blended with virgin maidens thrown into volcanos!

The monster swallowed Billy whole, right up to his hips. The greedy monster did not chew, so Billy was still alive to feel the blood leaving his squirming torso and feel his skull crush inside the monster’s jagged esophagus until his last frightened breath.

Billy’s parents walked into his room the next day and saw the crippled legs and the pool of blood. “Why doesn’t that boy ever listen?” his mother said, hands on hips.

“I don’t know, honey. I don’t know,” his father said. “I guess he’ll never learn!”

And they laughed and closed the door behind them.

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Filed under FEATHERTON II, Flash Fiction