The clown is mine
“Reports are coming
in from all over the country, strange occurrences at fast-food restaurants” were
the hurried words from the news broadcast. Strange that I remember it that well…even
after all these years. August twenty sixth twenty twelve, if only someone of authority
had put the pieces together, was the day the re-birther movement was born. What
a fucking nightmare!
All I wanted to
do was have some chicken, and a pop…so to the local chicken hut I went. That
chicken was the best I have ever had, and the pop…it was to die for. Well I
wish I could die. If only I could die, if only. I am not sure if it was the
pop, or the chicken, but one caused my dilemma. I can’t die, just can’t; won’t
work no matter what I do.
That was three
hundred and thirty three years ago.
Within months
of the birth of the movement it became clear that the commotions could be
linked to two fast-food joints, one burger, and one chicken. I have been tracing the start for hundreds of
years now, and I found them…the fathers of the burger family. After a week of
torture one admitted it was he that started the whole thing. And for that I
will damn him for eternity. Presently he is lying in a vat of oil soaking for
his burning upon my return. The burning won’t kill him, but it will sure hurt
and it is the least he deserves.
“I swear I didn’t
mean for the statue to come to life; I just wanted to stop people from drinking
the pop, I swear!” The boy actually thought I cared what he had to say about
his intent.
“Shut up! I
only want one thing from you…where… is… the… clown? The only words coming from
your mouth should start with, the clown is…otherwise shut the hell up while I
cut you some more”
I call him a
boy but he is the same age as I, but he looks to be about nine years old.
Holding the
knife I decided to see what he would do if I punctuated the next question by
stabbing his blue fucking eye out. “Where the fuck is he you fuck stick!” Thrust,
withdraw, the knife made a squelching noise as I pulled it out, and he
screamed, and screamed, and screamed. The wails were soothing in a way; they
drowned out the eternal screeching. Eternity would be good if not for the
screeching.
After a few
more minutes of the screams I threw a bucket of water over his face, and got
really close to him on his other side.” Where is the clown” I whispered into
his ear as I tapped the tip of the knife on his cheek progressively closer to
his eye…
“In Tokyo…at
the burger temple in Tokyo” he said with a sob. And then he pissed himself.
That was three
days ago. It took me a day to get to Tokyo, and I have been sitting outside the
temple for the last two.
The clown is
mine…he is mine!
Chris McQueeney
8/27/12 12:10 P.M.
This story was penned in response to a story written by Ben Ditty...he Is an extremely fun and interesting writer please go check him out....
9 comments:
Brilliant :-D
I don't want to be a kill joy but there is a variant of this theme on cable, a series about people who can't die. It's set primarily in England.
These are not vampires though...and it isn't like the subject of immorality is new :-)
And it is all Ben's fault
I'll buy that...Ben is the one!! Been lookin for that boy...
Haha, I like it. And hey, I went to both of those places today...didn't drink the pop though;)
Hahaha I like it! I went to both of those places today....but I didn't drink the pop;)
haha this is a riot....the burger temple in tokyo eh? there is some irony in fast food paired with eternal life...
Your story is read in a new light after reading Ben's. Ha!
Hmmm. So that's the havoc three-hundred odd years will wreak on a mind?
Maybe I'm glad there was no transference, Ben....
Dark, very dark, and yet very yellow :). Too funny. I need to read Ben's--very behind.
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