Archive for the ‘Edd Vick’ Category
3 & Z
Thursday, April 10th, 2008
To celebrate our first anniversary, each of us here at the Cabal has come up with a story beginning with a line kindly provided to us by the illustrious Jay Lake. Click the link at the bottom of the page to see how Alex, Dan and have handled the challenge, and come back tomorrow to see what Kat Beyer comes up with…
Zoli liked to hang around psychiatrists’ waiting rooms to hit on the low self-esteem chicks. Being a ghost, he rarely got a reply, but he lived for the few he got.
‘Lived’ being relative.
First was Lily. He hovered behind Doctor Frost, reading that Lily had been raised by a mother that wanted her to be a model. Lily could not be thin enough, graceful enough, blah blah blah. Zoli rolled his ectoplasmic eyes.
She came out to the waiting room and stepped up to the receptionist’s window. Zoli made his move. He flew in front of her and said, “Hey, baby. Rub that lamp some more, because wish number one just came true!”
Lily screamed, clutched her chest, and fell, her soul flitting upward where Zoli could not follow. “Massive heart trauma,” said the EMT. “Never seen a heart tear itself up that badly.”
The next 312 women he hit on walked right through him.
Then came Dekanawida. Zoli poked his head through Doctor Yough’s chest to peer at his notes. Awful handwriting. Something about sexual abuse from her father, something about multiple sex partners, something about sabotaging her own successes.
She walked out of the doctor’s office to find Zoli waiting. “Hey sweetie,” he said. “If you give me the time of day I’ll give you the time of your life!”
Dekanawida stumbled back, tripped over a magazine stand, and cracked her skull open on a water cooler. DOA. Very DOA, maybe even VVDOA.
And Zoli got it. He totally understood. When a chick saw him, it meant she was about to croak. You’d almost think he was a jinx or something.
He couldn’t keep away. Something about haunting psychiatrists seemed just so right. Another thousand or so women passed through him.
Third, and last to be honest, was Melissa. When Zoli first saw her, it was like a bolt of lightning stabbed him right through his impalpable heart. He’d mimed lov before, but he knew the real thing when it hit him. He stayed in Doctor TenDening’s waiting room, suddenly not willing to intrude. He wanted to leave, he really ought to beat it, but he just couldn’t.
When she emerged, there he was. “Um,” he said. “Er, hello.”
She didn’t scream. She didn’t jump away. Unfortunately, what she did do was turn around and walk back into the psychiatrist’s office.
She committed herself to the asylum that very night. Zoli happily followed.
The Dragon’s Greatest Treasure
Thursday, April 3rd, 2008
The dragon caught up to Prince Ibis at the Wal*Mart store on the north side of town. The prince was buying toilet paper, aspirin, and hypoallergenic pillows for his castle three dimensions over. Peeling up the roof, the dragon quickly scanned the crowded store and singled out the prince, the only one not screaming or running.
“There you are,” rumbled the dragon. “Return my treasure or die. No. Wait. Return my treasure and die.”
“That doesn’t leave me much choice,” said the prince, wishing his dimension skipper wasn’t outside in his Volvo.
The dragon squeezed through the minivan-sized hole in the roof. “Fine,” he said. “It’s fine with me if you want to do this the hard way.”
“I don’t want to do this at all.” Prince Ibis rolled under a table of blue jeans as the dragon took a quick breath and puffed a ball of flame that set the entire section of DVDs ablaze.
I forgot what a horrendous aim he has, thought the prince. I wonder if he needs glasses.
The dragon glided down to a tall display showcasing baby strollers, which proved not to be as stable as his preferred mountain ledges. The shelving unit rocked, scattering strollers, then fell into the shoe racks. Slippers, moccasins, sneakers, and loafers flew in all directions.
While the dragon recovered, Prince Ibis jumped out of his nook and ran for the front of the store. He’d barely taken four steps before stumbling over an errant stroller that carried him into a display of two-liter Coca-Colas.
And there was the dragon, on him. Before he could move, one leathery wing knocked him down to be pinned by a heavy forepaw.
“Your treasure,” the prince gasped. “I can take you to her.”
The weight lessened slightly. “The princess?” said the dragon. “The princess with the golden hair?”
“Of course,” he said. “She’s here, waiting just outside.” He gestured toward the exit.
The dragon picked him up and undulated on three legs to the doors. A crowd of people watched, and beyond them the prince saw approaching police cars. He didn’t fancy being in the middle during a fight between bullets and balefire.
Then he saw it. “There she is,” he yelled, pointing toward the women’s clothing section. “There!”
The dragon turned and saw the mannequin. The blonde mannequin. Pouncing, he caught it up in his other forepaw. “At last, my beautiful princess,” he crooned. His grip on the prince loosened.
Ibis wriggled, then dropped to the floor. He scooted to one side, then froze next to a pair of male mannequins sporting cableknit sweaters.
“Where did you go,” asked the dragon. “I promised to kill you, you know.”
The glass in the front of the store caved in under two dozen rifle butts. “Hold it right there,” said an amplified voice.
“Oh bother,” said the dragon.