Darth Maul fidgeted quietly in the waiting room as 'Muskrat Love' in typical Muzak style played and the prepubescent padiwans across from him giggled at him with youthful ignorance. He tried hard not to reach for his saber and behead the little bastards. His years of training also kept him from not tugging at the wedgie that was snugly planted between his buttocks.
"Fuck you Yoda," he thought to himself.
The door beside the receptionist's window opened and a young cheerful Ewok waddled out with a clipboard in its furry paws. It looked at Maul and spoke in Ewok,
"Mr. Maul, the doctor will see you now"
Maul stood up, then stooped low and followed the Ewok squeezing his large frame through the much-too-small door trying hard not to make the door frame larger himself by using the force.
The obnoxious Ewok led Maul to a room and seated him in a vinyl reclining chair that was far too small for him. His legs stuck out ridiculously tripping the Ewok as she tried to wobble by.
The Ewok looked through a folder that had appeared when Maul wasn't looking. He was too busy looking at the poster of gum disease. And smiled.
"I see you are here to have an adjustment on your braces" The Ewok squeaked.
"Yes." Maul sneered.
"The doctor will be in to see you in a few minutes" she snapped, offended that the over sized Sith was in her office. She closed the folder, turned and waddled out of the tiny room humming an off-key Ewok tune.
Maul sighed and cursed his insurance purveyor for not providing him with a better orthodontist. The other Siths were covered under Dark Side Interstellar, but his rank only allowed him to have Dark Side Intergalatic.
After a few minutes, the orthodontist appeared. He was a nondescript Quarren with large wrinkly tentacles. He oozed with professional pride and also oozed a nice slimy trail on the floor. The stench of his lunch was overwhelming to the sensitive Sith and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Suddenly, Maul was gripped with an overpowering fear and dizziness. Sweat broke out on his brow, his ears rang, and his heart began to race as the room suddenly closed in around him with a soft black curtain.
Maul opened his eyes to find the doctor hovering over him with a worried look in his strange eyes.
"Mr. Maul! Sith sir, you passed out! Are you alright," the doctor asked in a shaky voice for one who was supposed to be a professional.
Maul's eyes began to well up with tears. Something about the sensitivity of those oceanic eyes said something to him. Tears he had held back for light years sprang forth. Maul wailed and cried with deep bellowing wailing that could be heard from the waiting room.
"They make fun of me!" he sobbed, clenching his fists and kicking his feet.
"They always hated me! They don't understand!" He cried.
The suddenly sensitive doctor nodded his squiddy head and muttered soothing words to Maul, stealing a glance at the wall clock.
"Mommy" Maul sobbed, unconsciously sucking his right thumb and rocking back and forth in the small chair.
Tenderly, the doctor put a tentacle on Maul's arm and spoke in a soft voice,
"Mr. Maul, would you like to reschedule?" he crooned
Maul quickly removed the thumb from his mouth.
"Yes" Maul whispered looking up to the doctor with softened glistening eyes.
"Can I," Maul started to say still fixed in the doctor's eyes.
"Yes, you can have a lolly on your way out" The doctor smiled.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Ants: A Short tale of horror.
Suddenly, the ants weren't so cute anymore. Carlos dropped the magnifying glass and watched in amazement as a swarm of angry fire ants engulfed it. He felt something stinging his toes, then climbing up his leg. More stings, more tiny crawling legs. He slapped at the offending creatures, then turned to flee back to the trailer to safety leaving the ants to make war with the forgotten magnifying glass.
Only, ants don't forget so easily. One ant in particular was following Carlos back to his home. And as this ant crawled, a scent was left behind for the others. The war was not over. Not by far.
*****************
Carlos let the screen door slam as his bolted into the house. He could still feel the damned things on him. They just moved to Florida and his mother warned him about messing with these ants. They were not the docile ones he knew from back in Wisconsin. These fuckers attacked. He stood in the kitchen and slapped at the attacking ants until his skin stopped crawling.
"I hate Florida," Carlos said to himself as he felt the bite of another ant that had managed to work its way into the waistband of his Fruit of the Looms. He crushed it quickly with another slap.
Carlos walked into the crowded living room and flung his young frame into the used couch. The odor of wet dogs rose from the stained cushions and Carlos wrinkled his nose in distaste. He looked around for his Gameboy, but then remembered that he had to pawn it for grocery money.
He hated that they were poor. He hated that Mom yanked him out of the only school where he was able to make friends. In short, he hated just about pretty much everything anymore.
Carlos groaned then felt under the couch for his favorite magazine. He might as well make use of the private time. Mom won't be home for another few hours.
He flipped the magazine open to the picture of a pretty young girl known from recent bad movies.
"Daddy's home," he mumbled as he fumbled with his left hand looking for his only true friend.
*********************
The ants were pissed. They were also hungry. They began to march.
*********************
Carlos finished up his task, and cleaned himself with an old sock he kept for just such an occasion. He hated that he had to do this, but he figured he may as well get some joy out of life. Even if for just a moment. Then, he fell asleep, oblivious of what was about to happen.
***********************
The ants had arrived at the house. The scout left a good trail and was rewarded by having its head bitten off by the general.
They marched in single file, along the wooden step supports and into the trailer home. A silent tiny army was about to take revenge.
The scent of food was overpowering as they entered the kitchen. Some of the ants were dispatched to collect food for the troops. The remainder filed into the living room until they found their victim.
The first thousand bites were enough to make Carlos scream in agony. All he knew was he awoke to have hot needles being driven into his left foot. He rose his head from the pillow to find his foot was covered in ants all biting at once. It was like a pulse of hot electricity running through his body.
He screamed again and rose to his feet. He shrieked and began dancing the dance of the insane. Or in this case, of a man being attacked by ants. Carlos stomped on his own left foot in desperation hoping to kill the bastards. The pain was overwhelming, hot, thick and beginning to nauseate him. He kept stomping. He stomped until he he no longer could think. He stomped until his left foot began to crack. Tiny bones were shattering, but Carlos did not care. He just wanted the stinging hotness to stop. Carlos stomped until his toes broke and his foot turned into a purple mass of swelling. His right foot was fairing no better. Both feet swelled into bloody balloons, and Carlos collapsed to the floor passing out from the horrific pain, and his mind turned on itself.
The ant troops kept filing into the house and onto their unconscious prey. The signal was sent, and in unison, they began to eat.
Only, ants don't forget so easily. One ant in particular was following Carlos back to his home. And as this ant crawled, a scent was left behind for the others. The war was not over. Not by far.
*****************
Carlos let the screen door slam as his bolted into the house. He could still feel the damned things on him. They just moved to Florida and his mother warned him about messing with these ants. They were not the docile ones he knew from back in Wisconsin. These fuckers attacked. He stood in the kitchen and slapped at the attacking ants until his skin stopped crawling.
"I hate Florida," Carlos said to himself as he felt the bite of another ant that had managed to work its way into the waistband of his Fruit of the Looms. He crushed it quickly with another slap.
Carlos walked into the crowded living room and flung his young frame into the used couch. The odor of wet dogs rose from the stained cushions and Carlos wrinkled his nose in distaste. He looked around for his Gameboy, but then remembered that he had to pawn it for grocery money.
He hated that they were poor. He hated that Mom yanked him out of the only school where he was able to make friends. In short, he hated just about pretty much everything anymore.
Carlos groaned then felt under the couch for his favorite magazine. He might as well make use of the private time. Mom won't be home for another few hours.
He flipped the magazine open to the picture of a pretty young girl known from recent bad movies.
"Daddy's home," he mumbled as he fumbled with his left hand looking for his only true friend.
*********************
The ants were pissed. They were also hungry. They began to march.
*********************
Carlos finished up his task, and cleaned himself with an old sock he kept for just such an occasion. He hated that he had to do this, but he figured he may as well get some joy out of life. Even if for just a moment. Then, he fell asleep, oblivious of what was about to happen.
***********************
The ants had arrived at the house. The scout left a good trail and was rewarded by having its head bitten off by the general.
They marched in single file, along the wooden step supports and into the trailer home. A silent tiny army was about to take revenge.
The scent of food was overpowering as they entered the kitchen. Some of the ants were dispatched to collect food for the troops. The remainder filed into the living room until they found their victim.
The first thousand bites were enough to make Carlos scream in agony. All he knew was he awoke to have hot needles being driven into his left foot. He rose his head from the pillow to find his foot was covered in ants all biting at once. It was like a pulse of hot electricity running through his body.
He screamed again and rose to his feet. He shrieked and began dancing the dance of the insane. Or in this case, of a man being attacked by ants. Carlos stomped on his own left foot in desperation hoping to kill the bastards. The pain was overwhelming, hot, thick and beginning to nauseate him. He kept stomping. He stomped until he he no longer could think. He stomped until his left foot began to crack. Tiny bones were shattering, but Carlos did not care. He just wanted the stinging hotness to stop. Carlos stomped until his toes broke and his foot turned into a purple mass of swelling. His right foot was fairing no better. Both feet swelled into bloody balloons, and Carlos collapsed to the floor passing out from the horrific pain, and his mind turned on itself.
The ant troops kept filing into the house and onto their unconscious prey. The signal was sent, and in unison, they began to eat.
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