Dispatches from Suburbia

If I played an instrument, I would have a band called "The Simon Thomsen Sex Tape"; and other musings, rants, and disconnected ramblings.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Horror Story


Quote of the Day: "Let me explain something to you. Um, I am not 'Mr. Lebowski.' You're Mr. Lebowski. I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. You know, that or, uh, His Dudeness, or uh, Duder, or El Duderino if you're not into the whole brevity thing."
-The Big Lebowski

So I'm focusing my blog more on fiction writing from now on. So here's some of my newest short story, "Horror Story":


Nick crouched between the toilet and the bathtub and held his guts in place against his stomach. The intestines were covered in some clear slime, something like gelatin, making it difficult to keep a grip on them. Around him, the tiled walls were speckled with blood and gore. Something chunky had dried on the linoleum. It looked like old meat sauce.The tubby guy in a sinister vulture mask—a large, curved beak protruding from the middle of his face—stood above him with a chainsaw, meat and gristle hanging from the blade. He wore bloodied denim overalls and dirty workman’s boots. Beneath the overalls he was shirtless, and his flabby arms jiggled whenever he revved the saw.

The blade spun and came awfully close to Nick’s forehead. Pieces of fat and flesh flew from the saw and spattered his glasses. Something tough and slimy caught in his mouth, and Nick felt the burning sensation of vomit rising in this throat.

“Alright, cut!” Matt called out. He was obviously discouraged. Matt’s spiky purple hair poked out from behind the camera. “Something’s not working.”

Nick checked his watch. It was almost midnight, and the juices from the intestines, which had been formed from a case of raw bratwursts, chicken gristle, and tomato sauce, had soaked through his clothes. “I’m sorry, Matt, but I’ve got school in the morning.” He began to stand, the meat sliding off of his lap.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Matt said without looking out from behind the camera. Kaja, Matt’s rambunctious girlfriend, trotted over to Nick and lightly pushed on his shoulders so he’d sit back down. Her nose curled and she dry-heaved as she readjusted the intestines.

“Yuk,” she said. She stood, looked at her handiwork, and squatted once more to make some minor adjustments.

Matt rose from behind the camera. He wore a loud, orange Hawaiian print shirt and torn jeans. He brought a jar of Ragu to Kaja.

“Perfect,” she said, pouring the entire jar onto the brats and standing once again. She tossed the jar in the waste basket and patted Nick on the leg, living a dainty red handprint on Nick’s khakis. She washed her hands, popped a stick of gum in her mouth, and winked at Nick.

He watched her walk away. She was tall, like Matt, and had her short blonde hair fashioned into wayward spikes. Nick thought she’d be a total fox if she didn’t look so much like his brother. Still, her white sleeveless undershirt (which probably belonged to Matt) hugged her curves and really complemented her breasts, and her tight black Dickies made her butt look pretty damned good.

No matter how good her butt looked, Nick still had to study for his Anatomy quiz. “Hurry up,” he said.

“Ok, this time really scream,” Matt said, “I want you to really squeal like a girl.” He took his seat behind the camera.

“The other motel guests will really love that,” Nick muttered. He eyed the gore around him. “So will the maids.”

“Let’s roll,” Kaja said.


Simon's Current Obsessions:


Shrek 3
The first two rocked, and hopefully this one does too. Anything this anti-Disney is alright by me.











House, M.D.
Eight weeks of brand new episodes. I'm not available on Tuesdays, 8-9 p.m.

1 Comments:

At 11:03 AM, Blogger Sheila said...

His Dudeness! haha That movie was funny as hell!

 

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