»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Cool Universe VII
| Passions in Prose |
|
Cool Universe VII |
|
|
mirror man Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814 |
Cool Universe by mirror man Chapter 7 When Abnorman got home from school that day, there was Mama Cool, working in the kitchen. He was so happy to see that the giant yellow rat hadn’t eaten her, all he could say was, “Mom!” He was so happy to see her that he even forgot to ask her why the giant yellow rat hadn’t eaten her. He was so happy, in fact, that he didn’t see Daddyo standing behind the door. Then Daddyo grabbed him, sat him on his chair in the kitchen, and things returned to normal. Abnorman stared at his plate, and Daddyo stood in the doorway in his suit and tie and with a briefcase in his hand. Daddyo took out a paper and pencil and said to Mama Cool, “So how many pounds do we have so far?” Mama Cool opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. “About ten,” she said. “And how much is chicken this week?” “Ten cents a pound,” said Mama Cool. Daddyo scribbled something on his paper and said, “Good, good. That’s a dollar. A dollar saved is a dollar earned.” He thought some more and said, “How much is hamburger?” “Fifteen cents a pound,” said Mama Cool. Daddyo scribbled some more and then said, “Even better. That’s a dollar fifty.” He thought some more and then said, “How much is steak?” “Fifty cents a pound,” said Mama Cool. Daddyo scribbled some more and then said, “That’s better still. If we don’t feed them chicken, we save a dollar. If we don’t feet them hamburger, we save a dollar-fifty. But if we don’t feed them steak, we save five bucks!” I’d like to point out here that this really is a great way to save money. I myself saved nearly a half a million bucks this year alone by not buying a yacht. To continue: Daddyo thought some more and said, “You know, a guy could save a bundle not feeding...uh...that is, somebody could save something, a lot of something, by not doing that...that what-we-were-talking-about thing...by not doing it just right. You know what I mean?” He frowned down at Abnorman. “Yes dear,” said Mama Cool. “Does it say that in the Book?” “Yes,” said Daddyo. “There’s a whole section about it by Bumble Dude. He said they make great tax deductions, too.” He put away his pencil and paper and looked down at Abnorman again. “Mama Cool,” said Daddyo. “I want you to watch Abnorman while I’m gone and make sure he’s tax...I mean, make sure he eats his supper.” “Yes dear,” said Mama Cool. Abnorman shook his head. “And I want you to make sure he doesn’t get down off his chair until he does.” “Yes dear,” said Mama Cool. Daddyo seemed to be uncertain about something here, and the more Abnorman thought about it, the more he began to realize that Mama Cool was the weak link here, which was what Daddyo was worried about. Then Daddyo said, “I think he should be tied up.” “Aw, Mom,” said Abnorman. “I hate being tied up.” He couldn’t remember ever being tied up, true. But then, if no one ever told him such a thing had never happened, how would he ever know he couldn’t remember it? Think about it. Then Mama Cool said, “But dear, if you tie him up, he won’t be able to eat his supper.” “That’s true,” said Daddyo. Abnorman thought about this, looked at his supper, and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be tied up or not. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine the way he is,” said Mama Cool, smiling sweetly. “Won’t you, Abnorman.” “Sure,” said Abnorman, smiling back. “You won’t get off your chair while I dust and clean the house, will you?” said Mama Cool sweetly. “Never,” said Abnorman sweetly back. “And you’ll eat all your chicken camuffato while I’m gone, won’t you,” said Mama Cool sweetly. “Of course,” said Abnorman sweetly back. “Promise?” “Promise,” said Abnorman. He raised his right hand, put his left hand over his heart, and said, “Cross my heart and hope to die if I’m telling a lie.” Daddyo looked suspiciously at Mama Cool, and Mama Cool smiled back. Daddyo looked suspiciously at Abnorman, and Abnorman smiled back. Then Daddyo frowned, scratched his head, and said, “Oh, yeah.” He ran out to the front room and came back with the Book. He quickly thumbed through it, read it, closed it, pointed a finger at both of them, and let out a huge snort. “Hah!” And, “Hah!” he said. He scowled, thought a moment, looked back in the Book and said, “Hah!” Daddyo stomped out of the kitchen, into the cellar, and came up a minute later with a dog chain. He wrapped one end around Abnorman’s ankle and secured it with a padlock. Then he wrapped the other end around one leg of the table and secured it likewise. And then he nailed the table to the floor. “Hah!” he said. Then he pocketed the keys to the locks, kissed Mama Cool goodbye, and left. When Mama Cool came back from seeing Daddyo off, Abnorman said, “Gee, Mom, do you have to do this? I’m not going anywhere.” Not now, anyway. “Now, now,” she said sweetly, “it’s all for the best.” She patted him on the head, waved away the flies, and said, “Think of all the poor children starving in Pazukastoch. They’d love to have your supper to eat.” “Okay,” said Abnorman. “Let’s pack it up and send it to Pazukastoch.” “No,” said Mama Cool. “It’s your supper.” “But Mom,” Abnorman whined. “I can’t eat that.” “Why not?” said Mama Cool. “Look at it,” said Abnorman, pointing. Mama Cool looked at it. “What’s wrong with it?” “What’s wrong with it!?” Abnorman cried. “Why...why...it’s full of rats and maggots and flies!” And it stinks! “I can’t eat that.” Mama Cool looked around the room, huffed, and said, “You’re just being stubborn.” “Am not,” said Abnorman. “And silly,” she added sternly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” “But...but....” “I just made it this morning,” she said. Abnorman stopped. “You did?” “Certainly,” said Mama Cool. Abnorman looked at his plate. “But how can that be? It’s...it’s...,” disgusting! “It’s full of rats and maggots and flies!” “Now that’s not a very nice thing to say,” said Mama Cool, frowning. “Would I feed you rats and maggots and flies?” “Well...,” said Abnorman uncertainly. “Well?” Then Abnorman began to feel bad. He dropped his head, stared down at the floor, and said in a small, small voice, “No.” Of course not. It was unthinkable. “Thank you for that much,” said Mama Cool with just a touch of pique. Then Abnorman, with his head still hung in shame, looked up at his plate through his guilt-ridden eyebrows, and said, “But I can still see it.” “What do you see?” said Mama Cool patiently. “Rats and maggots and flies,” said Abnorman. “Oh, you’re just impossible!” said Mama Cool. She threw her dish rag on the table and crossed her arms. “This whole thing is ridiculous. I’ve never seen such a little kid act like...a little kid!” She scowled at Abnorman and said, “I guess the only way to prove it to you is to show you myself.” And then, before Abnorman could think about what she had just said, she picked up his fork, jabbed it into his supper, rolled it around, and pulled out a huge gob of chicken/rat camuffato-whatever. It was crawling with maggots and stinking with putrefying rat meat. Strands of gray spaghetti stuck out from it in eternal rigor mortis, and a cloud of blue bottle flies buzzed angrily around it. Then she put it into her mouth, pulled out the fork, and chewed. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Abnorman’s eyes bugged out. Mama Cool continued to chew. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Most of the flies escaped, and a lone maggot tried to crawl away on her cheek, but she slurped it up with her tongue and ate that too. Abnorman’s mouth hung open. Mama Cool smiled, showing her teeth, and Abnorman could see a hundred little half-maggots squirming on her gums and yelling, “No! No! Yaaaaaa! No!” Abnorman’s tongue hung out. Then Mama Cool swallowed and washed it all down with a glass of curdled milk. Gulp. Burp. Aaaah. “There,” she said, putting the fork back on Abnorman’s plate. “Happy now?” “Yaaaa!” yelled Abnorman. He jumped and shrank as far back in his seat as he could get. He tried to say something else, anything but “Yaaaa!” and couldn’t. He thought he was going to puke. No one had ever told him such a thing was possible. Then his stomach lurched and did a belly flop inside, and his heart sank with sudden comprehension: if Mama Cool could eat rats and maggots and flies without a second glance, he was DOOMED! “Ohhhh,” he moaned, rolling his head and gripping his chest and stomach all at once. “Oh, gukk.” Then Mama Cool said, “Now you be a good dude, eat your chicken camuffato, and I’ll be back to see how you’ve done. And when this is all over, you can have some milk and cookies and watch TV. Yo Dummy’s on in a little while. I have to go clean the house now.” And she left. Abnorman sat in his chair with his eyes closed and watched Mama Cool’s gastronomic triumph silently repeat itself over and over in his brain. He didn’t know what to think. If this was to be his part in the war to save the universe, he’d rather crunch his way through a sea of writhing cockroaches. He’d rather bathe in a tub of deviled slugs and eat turnips and fried mush. He’d rather...ugg...kiss a girl. Maybe. No, that was too much. He’d have to think about it. No. He didn’t know anything. And slowly, Abnorman began to recover. He didn’t know if he would ever recover completely, but he did know what he saw when he opened his eyes, and what he saw was a plate full of rats and maggots and flies. And he wasn’t eating it. No. Not ever. Never. As for what Mama Cool had said, he couldn’t believe she actually thought he liked Yo Dummy. That was yesterday. Today he didn’t like Yo Dummy. And why? Because Yo was a dummy, that’s why. YO didn’t have to eat rats and maggots and flies. All he had to do was hang there on strings. He didn’t even have to talk. Buffalo Chips talked for him, and Buffalo Chips didn’t even try to hide it. A kid had to be blind not to see Buffalo Chips’ mouth move when Yo Dummy talked, and a kid had to be a total dummy not to know that Yo Dummy was just a big dummy on strings and not a real dude kid. He wouldn’t watch Yo Dummy if he did eat rats and maggots and flies. He bet Yo never even shot anyone, either. A little while later, Spoiled and Bratty Puke walked in. Spoiled was about two years younger than Abnorman and just a spoiled little brat. Bratty was his older brother by a year and just as bratty. Taken one at a time, they were insufferable. Taken together, they were a couple of Pukes. They walked over to where Abnorman was sitting and looked at his plate. Spoiled’s nose was running and he was constantly wiping it with his fist. He did this, Abnorman was told, because he wasn’t allowed to pick it with his fingers and eat it. “What you got?” Bratty said. “Maggots,” said Abnorman. “What’s maggots?” said Spoiled. “Baby flies,” Abnorman explained. Spoiled looked at it up close and said, “They’re moving. Why are they moving like that?” “They’re eating the dead rat,” said Abnorman. “What dead rat?” said Bratty. “The dead rat somebody cooked and chopped up and put with the spaghetti,” said Abnorman. “What’s the brown stuff all over it?” said Spoiled. “Dried blood,” said Abnorman. “Looks like spaghetti sauce to me,” said Bratty suspiciously, always the one for detail. “No, that’s blood,” said Abnorman definitely. They looked it all over again, and finally Bratty said, “Neat.” “Yeah, neat,” said Spoiled, his eyes wide with envy. There followed a moment of reverential silence. “So where’d you get it?” said Bratty. “Mama Cool gave it to me for lunch,” Abnorman said proudly. “You gonna eat it?” said Bratty suddenly not so appreciatively. “Mmmm...maybe,” said Abnorman. “Yuck!” said Bratty. “Yeah, yuck!” said Spoiled. “Why? What’s wrong with that?” “That’s disgusting!” said Bratty. “Is not,” said Abnorman. “In fact, maggots are very nutritious. They help build strong bodies twelve ways.” “Do not,” said Bratty. “Sure they do,” said Abnorman. “I read it on the label when Mama Cool bought it at the store.” Then they both looked at Abnorman and Bratty said, “Ah, you’re making that up.” “Am not,” said Abnorman. Then Bratty looked at Abnorman slyly, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Okay. So eat it, if it’s so great.” Abnorman frowned down at his plate and thought. This wasn’t going the way he had planned. So he said, “Well, you see, I already puked once today.” “Wow,” said Spoiled. But Bratty wasn’t so easily impressed. “Yeah? So let’s see it.” “See what?” “Your puke.” “Oh, I ate it already,” said Abnorman. “Yuck!” they said. “You don’t understand,” said Abnorman. “It’s the law of Universal Puke. We learned it in school.” “I never heard of no such law,” said Bratty suspiciously, always the one for detail. “Well now, that is surprising,” said Abnorman loftily, “being pukes yourself. Simply put, the Law of Universal Puke says that when you puke, and you eat it, you puke again, making more puke. The more puke you eat, the more puke you puke. And if you do this enough, you soon find yourself wallowing in puke. Then the puke soaks into the pores of your body, bonding you with nature, and you become one with the universe.” Spoiled and Bratty Puke thought about all this, looking at Abnorman and then at his plate of maggots, and Bratty said, “What’s that mean, become one with the universe?” “It means you’ll know everything,” said Abnorman. “You can go anywhere and do anything. It means you’ll be rich and famous. It means you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and you can do anything you do want to. It means you won’t have to listen to your parents, you won’t have to go to school, and you can have everything you want.” “Ah, big deal,” said Bratty. “I already have all that.” That hadn’t occurred to Abnorman either, so he thought about it. And then he said, “It’ll make you cool.” “Yeah?” said Spoiled. “Yeah,” said Abnorman. “Okay,” said Bratty, grinning evilly. “Then let’s see you eat it.” “What? Who? Me?” said Abnorman in total surprise. “Oh, no. I like being poor and stupid and anonymous.” Which just goes to show you how tremendously precocious Abnorman really was. It was, like, a masterstroke of uncool genius, even. Bratty and Spoiled thought about this, which seemed to make sense, and finally Spoiled said, “Can I have some?” “I don’t know,” said Abnorman. “I’ll ask. Hey Mama Cool!” “What?” said Mama Cool from the other end of the house. “Spoiled and Bratty Puke want to eat my maggots. Is that okay with you?” “No!” Abnorman turned to Spoiled and Bratty and said, “Sorry.” Spoiled began to scream, “I want maggots! I want maggots!” “I’m sorry,” said Abnorman patiently. “but Mama Cool says you can’t.” “Bwaaa! I want maggots! I want maggots!” “I’m sorry,” said Abnorman again. “Bwaaaa! Bwaaaa! I want maggots!” “I’m really, really sorry,” said Abnorman. Spoiled, Abnorman decided, would always be a Puke. Spoiled bawled some more, to no avail, and then Bratty turned up his nose and said, “We don’t want your stupid old maggots anyway. We have our own, and they’re better than yours. Come on, Spoiled, let’s go home and eat maggots.” And they left. After they were gone, Abnorman looked at his plate and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He didn’t know, but the Law of Universal Puke apparently needed some work. He was thus contemplating the universe when suddenly the back door burst open and there stood little Dippy Maroon, the kid from across the street. He was bawling like a baby and holding his arms up, covering his head. “Help! Help! Bwaaaa-ha-ha!” Dippy screamed, running into the kitchen. “What’s wrong! What’s wrong!” Abnorman screamed back. “It’s Doofus,” said Dippy. Doofus was Dippy’s older brother and much bigger than he was. “He’s going to hit me on the head with a hammer and kill me!” Amazed, Abnorman said, “Why would he want to do a thing like that?” “I don’t know. I don’t know. Bwaaa-ha-ha!” said Dippy, holding his arms over his head and dancing anxiously. “Well now,” said Abnorman, regaining his composure, “maybe you should think about that.” “What!?” said Dippy. “Sit down,” said Abnorman, “and reason it out calmly.” “What!?” said Dippy. “Well, for instance,” said Abnorman, “maybe your brother is obsessed.” “What!?” “Maybe he’s got some demon in his brain that makes him do these things,” said Abnorman. “That’s nuts!” yelled Dippy. “Exactly,” said Abnorman. “Your brother is nuts. Now, there are several ways of dealing with this. You could, for instance, try taking care of him at home, but obviously that isn’t working.” “Yes!” yelled Dippy. “Or you could commit him to a mental institution,” said Abnorman, “but then you’d have to tell everyone that your brother is crazy and living in a nut house.” “He already is!” yelled Dippy. “Or, for five bucks,” said Abnorman, leaning in, speaking softly, and giving Dippy the sly wink, “I could call up my Grandpa Guido and have him bumped off.” “What!?” yelled Dippy. “Snuffed,” said Abnorman. “You know. Iced, rubbed out, whacked, sleeping with the fishes.” “I don’t have five bucks,” said Dippy. “Well then, how about your baseball card collection?” “No!” yelled Dippy. “Well, then how about just Babe Ruth?” said Abnorman. “No!” yelled Dippy. “I’ll throw in this neat plate of maggots and flies,” said Abnorman hopefully. He held it forward for Dippy to inspect. “Yuck! You’re crazy!” yelled Dippy. “And you stay away from my baseball cards!” Then he jumped, and yelled, “Yaaa! Here he comes! Help! Help! Bwaaaa-ha-ha!” and he ran through the house and out the front door. Abnorman looked down at his plate. Maggots, it appeared, were quickly losing their market potential. A second later, Doofus came in the back door with a hammer in his hand. “Where is he? Hee, hee,” said Doofus. Doofus was nearly as big as Abnorman and twice as mean. Abnorman couldn’t imagine having an older brother like Doofus. “Where’s who?” said Abnorman. “Dippy,” said Doofus. He held the hammer high in the air, ready to strike. “That way,” said Abnorman, pointing. “Here I come!” Doofus yelled. He ran giggling through the house and out the front door. “Hee, hee, heeee.” Abnorman watched him go with great relief. He may have been insane, but he wasn’t crazy. “Hey Mom!” Abnorman yelled. “What?” said Mama Cool. “I think you better call Mrs. Maroon and tell her Doofus is chasing Dippy with a hammer and trying to kill him.” “And how would you know that?” she said doubtfully. “Because I just saw them,” Abnorman said. “They ran in the back door and out the front.” There was a short silence, and then Mama Cool said, “I’ve been out here all this time, and I haven’t seen anything.” “Hey Mom!” Abnorman yelled. “What now?” “Why would Doofus want to hit Dippy in the head with a hammer?” “I don’t know,” said Mama Cool. “He probably saw it on TV and thought it was funny. He’s a Maroon. Now be quiet and eat your supper.” “Okay,” Abnorman yelled back, but he didn’t...eat his supper, that is. He thought about this for a long time, and later, he would look up “Maroon” in the Big Book of Cool Family Tradition and make the astounding discovery that what he had witnessed was not the senseless, random act of violence he had thought it was at the time, but that it was actually the method of reproduction all Maroons use to produce other Maroons. It made perfect sense. Then he heard a noise in the back yard. Abnorman slid off his stool and dragged his chain over to the back window. There was Dippy running in circles, and Doofus chasing him with the hammer. “Yaaa! Help! Help! Bwaaaa-ha-ha!” said Dippy. “Hee hee hee,” said Doofus. He swung and missed. “That’s it, Dippy!” yelled Abnorman. “Yaaa! Help! Help! Bwaaaa-ha-ha!” said Dippy. “Hee hee hee,” said Doofus. He swung and missed again. “Dodge right!” yelled Abnorman. Dippy dogged right, and Doofus swung and missed again. “Ha ha,” said Abnorman. “Damnit!” yelled Doofus. “Stand still, will you?” “Oh, what you said!” said Abnorman, aghast. “I’m telling!” And he turned around and yelled, “Mom!” “Okay, that does it,” said Mama Cool from the front room. Abnorman hurried to his chair, and Mama Cool came walking into the kitchen a few seconds later. She was holding a duster in her hand. “What’s going on?” she said. “It’s Doofus and Dippy,” said Abnorman. “They’re in the back yard. Doofus is trying to hit Dippy with the hammer again.” Mama Cool looked out the back window, frowned, and looked back at Abnorman. “Nobody’s in the back yard.” “But they were, honest,” said Abnorman. She frowned again, looked at Abnorman, and said, “I’m going to clean the house now, and I don’t want to be disturbed.” She started to walk out. “Gee, Mom,” said Abnorman. “I’m hungry. Can I have a piece of chicken?” “No,” she said, “not until you eat your supper.” “Please,” said Abnorman. He got down on his knees and begged. “Please, please, please, pleeeeeeeese!” It was a pitiable sight. Totally uncool. She looked at Abnorman scornfully for a moment and then said, “Oh, alright.” She took a piece of chicken out of the refrigerator and gave it to him. “Just don’t tell anyone I did that. And throw the bones in the garbage when you’re done.” And she walked out. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Abnorman called after her. “I won’t tell.” And he scarfed down the chicken and threw away the bones like a cool dude kid. Abnorman would reflect on this later in life and realize what a tremendous act of kindness it actually was. It became a bulwark of strength in times of desperation, and proof to himself that he was actually capable of being loved. From this also came a lasting sense of guilt for never adequately showing his true sense of gratitude to Mama Cool, which he could only demonstrate by eating every piece of chicken Mama Cool gave him from then on...no matter how bad it was. He could only hope that, some day, she would come to realize this also. Or at least, appreciate it. As for all that other stuff, all that stuff he had learned in school, none of it seemed to work. In fact, the only thing he got out of it, that he could see, was a piece of chicken. Which wasn’t such a bad thing. It was just that it hardly seemed worth the effort. Later that day, Daddyo, Maximum Cool and Too Cool all drifted in, one by one. They ate dinner, watched TV, and everything was the same as it was before. The cockroaches came out, the rats came out, and Abnorman was left to contemplate his sorry situation, alone again. Abnorman began to see that this could -- probably would -- go on forever. The war to save the universe, it seemed, would never end, and he saw himself, fifty years from now, an old dude in dirty rags, uncool, unheroic, and totally insane, chained to the kitchen table and begging for scraps. He’d have to gum his food because all his teeth would be gone, and he’d never watch TV again, not even Yo Dummy, because his eyes would be too weak to see. He’d die a lone, lingering, miserable death, and after the rats and maggots were through with him, someone would come in and sweep him off the table into the garbage can. “Ohhhh,” Abnorman moaned softly. “Ohhhh.” He looked down at the floor and saw a gathering of rats attracted by the stink of his decaying supper. “To be or not to be, that is the question,” he said. He looked down for an answer, and hearing none, he went on, “Whether ‘tis noble in the heart of dudes to suffer the slings and errors of outrageous misfortune, or to take up arms against a sea of rubble, and by a posing, end it.” He stopped to sniffle and heard Daddyo yell from the other end of the house, “Shut up and go to sleep.” Abnorman continued, “Ah, to croak, to cop a Z, the endless crash, maybe even a belfry flicker. Aye, there’s the kicker, for who---?” “The rub,” said Daddyo. “The what?” “The rub. There’s the rub,” said Daddyo. “You’re mangling it all up. Now try to think of someone besides yourself for a change and go to sleep.” Abnorman heard a snicker from his former bedroom. “What a dope,” said Too Cool. “Am not,” said Abnorman. “Am too,” said Too Cool. “You’re the dope,” said Abnorman. “You eat rats.” “And you eat maggots. Maggot breath.” “Rat breath.” “Maggot breath” “Rat heinie breath.” “Maggot breath, maggot breath, maggot breath. Ha, ha, ha! You’re a dumb dog on a chain, and you eat rats and maggots. What a dope.” Now that was the last straw. As far as Abnorman was concerned, this was all Too Cool’s fault. If he hadn’t told Abnorman he was eating rats, Abnorman would have eaten his rat camuffato happily, and liked it. And watched “Father Knows Better” and liked that too. And played with all the neighborhood Maroons, and liked them too. Even when they tried to kill him with a hammer. And he could look forward in life to becoming a happily adjusted Daddyo himself, possibly even a Maroon. Well, maybe not that. But anyway, that was the way it seemed at the time. He fumed. He spit fire. And a thought occurred to him. Abnorman stood up on his chair, picked up his plate, and leaned around the corner of the doorway. “You like rats so much,” he yelled, “eat this!” And he threw it into the open doorway of the bedroom. A herd of rats went scrambling after it. He heard a loud crash, a thousand clicking paws, and then a scream. “Akkkk! Akkkk!” “Be quiet,” Maximum Cool said from the bedroom. “You’ll wake up Daddyo.” “AAAAAK! AAAAAAAAAK!” More crashes, loud thumps, bumps, and screaming, “Get ‘em off! Get ‘em off!” “Knock it off!” Daddyo yelled. “If I have to come out there, I’ll chain you up with Abnorman. Now shut up and go to sleep.” And then everyone went back to sleep. In the morning, it was discovered that the rats had eaten Too Cool in his sleep. Because of the grave circumstances, Abnorman was let off his chain and allowed to view the corpse. There was no sign of Abnorman’s plate or anything that was on it. One dead rat lay in a corner, and almost nothing was left of Too Cool. In fact, all Abnorman could find was a skull. Mama Cool was crying and bit her fist. “Oh dear,” she said. Daddyo wrapped his arm around her and hung his head. Maximum Cool just stared. “Oh dear,” said Mama Cool again. “He went quick,” said Daddyo sadly. “He was a cool kid and we’ll all remember him fondly.” Then Abnorman began to feel sad too. Yuck, he thought, what a way to go, eaten alive by rats. He picked up the skull and examined it. They had eaten everything. They hadn’t even left the brains. A tear trickled down his cheek. “I knew him,” said Abnorman, to no one in particular, “a dude of infinite jest.” “Shut up,” said Daddyo loudly. “And to end it all like this. Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow.” “Shut up,” said Daddyo, louder still. Abnorman wiped another tear from his cheek, laid the skull back down on the bed and said, “Good night, sweet prince.” Then Daddyo scowled at Abnorman, let out a blast of disgust, and said, “Why you lousy hypocrite. You hated his guts!” Then everyone gasped. Daddyo looked around at everyone in surprise and said, “What? What’d I say?” “That wasn’t very nice,” said Mama Cool. “Yeah,” said Abnorman. Then Daddyo looked around again and said, “I don’t believe this.” And then to Abnorman, “You two were always fighting and calling each other names. You couldn’t stand each other. And now you call him a dude of infinite jest and a sweet prince. Gimme a break.” “Oh!” said Abnorman, loudly indignant. “Oh! That’s just not true!” “Oh brother,” said Daddyo, rolling his eyes. “That’s not fair,” said Abnorman angrily, crossing his arms in front of him. “I miss him, just like everyone else.” “Yeah?” said Daddyo. “How much? Abnorman had to think about this, and then he said, “A lot.” “See?” said Daddyo to Mama Cool, “He misses him a lot.” “Yeah,” said Abnorman. “Okay,” said Mama Cool, “that’s enough.” Daddyo and Abnorman scowled at each other, and then Daddyo turned to Maximum Cool and said, “How about you?” “What? Who? Me?” said Maximum Cool with a start. “Yeah, you,” said Daddyo. “Say something!” “Oh,” said Maximum Cool, holding his hands behind him reverently and looking down sorrowfully. “I can’t imagine a cooler way to go.” “Did you see it?” said Abnorman. “Yeah,” said Maximum Cool. “It was real gross.” “Neat,” said Abnorman. After a while, things calmed down and Daddyo said, “Well, I guess we all know what to do. Everyone, grab a shovel.” And so they buried Too Cool, or what was left of him, in the back yard behind the shed. Abnorman moped around the rest of the day and slowly came to realize the magnitude of loss Too Cool’s death would have on the family as a whole. It was a sad day for everyone, but at least there was this consolation: Too Cool had given his cool life in the war to save the universe. And that, Abnorman thought, was saying a lot. And saying it, Abnorman realized later, was a lot easier too, now that Too Cool was dead. copyright 1998, 2000 Author’s note: this is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictional, and any resemblance to real life hypocrites, bullies, and liars is merely coincidental. [This message has been edited by mirror man (07-09-2003 09:53 AM).] |
||
| © Copyright 2003 mirror man - All Rights Reserved | |||
Skyfire 
since 2000-12-27
Posts 3381Riding |
okay now you're getting gross lol... keep it coming! |
||
|
mirror man Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814 |
To anyone reading this: Author's unpleasant note: this is the final and only version of this novel that I have released to the public. However, this novel has been copied and used by others without my knowledge or consent. So if you should happen to come across another copy of this novel, under this name or another, in any medium, on the web or not, it is not released with my knowledge and consent and so is pirate. Or plagiarism. Or both. |
||
|
mirror man Senior Member
since 2001-01-08
Posts 814 |
Special note to teachers, educators: This novel, this version, may be copied and distributed in any medium as needed for classroom study. -- mirror man |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
