Archive for April, 2010
Catch a Slug!
Thursday, April 8th, 2010
Note: passing reference to nudity.
Fillmore was stuck again, and the slug was due any minute. Stupid dog! Elle pulled on her boots and gloves and stepped off the curb, squelching into a good 10 cm of slime. Stepping carefully, she made her way out to where the beagle was completely plastered with mucus. Elle suppressed a shudder. How could this be better than diesel? (Whatever that was.) This was why she usually walked to school on the pedarch. She heard the slug’s horn sound two short blasts. It was a block away.
“Come on, dummy,” she said, reaching for Fillmore’s collar. How could he hang his head and squirm away at the same time? The collar slipped out of her hand. Fillmore turned over to expose his belly. He knew she was angry. “It’s ok,” she shouted, “just come on!” Elle grabbed the collar again and dragged him to his feet. A loud “WHOOT!” blasted from the air horn on top of the slug’s head. Fillmore gave a panicked lunge and Elle bellyflopped into the goop. The slug was braking, but sliding right for her, slime making a bow wave half a meter high at its front. She shut her eyes and mouth, curled into a ball. Imagine doing this for fun, like some gangbangers did.
She was airborne.
—
Somebody was washing her face. “Enough, already!” She put up her hands and pain shot through her left elbow. She screamed.
“Get that dog away from her,” someone said.
Elle opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, ringed by strangers, thoroughly slimed. Fillmore was howling somewhere nearby. Her arm was broken. “Leggo my dog,” she mumbled. A moment later Fill was nosing and licking her face. He bumped her left arm and her vision went out for a moment.
—
Or so it seemed, but when she opened her eyes again she was clean, in a hospital bed, and a cast covered most of her arm. Her mother stared at her from an armchair in front of the window. She took a deep breath.
Elle winced.
“What were you thinking, young lady?” Mother began. Ma probably meant well, but she didn’t stop. Finally, Elle couldn’t take any more.
“Ma! I wanted to get in the Rollers. It’s part of the initiation. You know, slime rolling? Now I just have to get the tats.” She pointed at her chest. “What do you think—a bug-eyed purple monster right here? It would match my thong beach suit.”
As a way to shut her mother up this was spectacularly unsuccessful.
end
The Strange Story of Hugh Djass
Wednesday, April 7th, 2010
Hugh Djass got picked on a lot as a kid, but whenever he complained to his father, Del Djass, Del said the same thing:
“Son, you have the name you do because I love you. Your mom didn’t want it, and I know you don’t want it right now, but I think someday you’ll thank me. If you can make it through childhood, head held high, with a name like ‘Hugh Djass,’ you can make it through anything.”
“Dad, I really don’t like it! We have to change it!”
“Not until you’re 16. Then I’ll gladly sign the papers if that’s what you want, because you’ll have made it through childhood. Until then, you’ll just have to man up.”
So Hugh manned up. He ignored the taunts and waited for everyone to get tired of them. Unfortunately, they didn’t–but on the bright side, the friends Hugh eventually made were all people with a sense of humor.
On Hugh’s 16th birthday he received a stamp collecting set from his father. Hugh wasn’t remotely interested in stamp collecting.
“The thing is, Hugh, stamp collecting teaches you discipline and attention to detail. Don’t knock it before you try it!”
“OK,” Hugh said. “Thanks, dad. But now I need something else from you.” And Hugh slowly took a folded form from his jacket pocket. It was a name change form.
Del frowned. Hugh burst into tears. “I just can’t stand it any more, Dad! Just sign it, OK? Please?”
Del obviously wasn’t crazy about the idea, but Hugh knew he was a man of his word, and he flipped to the end and signed.
The next afternoon when Del returned from work, Hugh was sitting at the table, working on his homework, whistling.
“So,” Del said, “did you change your name?”
“Well, it’s a funny thing,” said Hugh. “I filed the form, but I decided not to change my name, at least not directly.”
“I don’t understand,” Del said.
“It’s changed, all right, but I don’t think there’s much difference in practical terms between being named ‘Hugh Djass’ or ‘Hugh Djass, Jr.'” He handed a court-validated copy of the form to Del. “Should’ve read it first, Dad. Attention to detail, right?”
Then Hugh gathered up his homework and left Hugh Djass, Senior alone with his thoughts.