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~ Transfer Transform Repeat ~ by David Reese-Thomas |
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Press Hold and wait. My face melts. I am another. Now my circuits cry tears of joy. |
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~ Eyeless ~ by Dante Giovanni |
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Chipped bone, empty gaping holes, black where eyes should be, stare from this hastily dug grave. |
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The Brown Bag
by John Rattertvatter ©2008
Shock orange hair, Goba wore, over concrete white flesh.
Blood-stained lips, Goba licked, as she deliberated her lunchtime
feed.
"I like my sandwiches with four eyes," she preened. "I like my
sandwiches slightly living."
Goba salivated.
At hand awaited a brown bag. Within the bag Goba kept her
sandwich. The bag sat ajar, allowing the sandwich to breath.
Yet the bag remained sealed enough that the sandwich ceased
breathing about mealtime.
The lunch horn sounded.
Goba fingered her sandwich from the bag. Goba gave her
sandwich a leer.
"Oh, it squirms!" she delighted. "And so lifelessly!"
Goba gobbed off half the sandwich.
She crunched.
From beneath her shock of orange hair, and from behind her
blood-smeared lips, Goba slushed, "Prescription glasses add such
zest!"
Goba crowned her repast with a freshly plucked spruce
limb from a nearby forest canopy.
Then she went back to her job managing other man-eating
monsters.
~ John Rattertvatter, North
Carolina ©2008
In the 14 years of his living the life of the marginalized
writer, John has held 19 different part-time jobs. This tales was
inspired by a couple of the worst of them. Other fallout from his
nomadic lifestyle led to his novel, The Gods of Our Fathers.
John currently works as a part-time baker in a bagel shop. |
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