Friday, January 29, 2010

Would you like to play a flash?

Kudos to General Cormac for such arcane chicanery,
a pox upon me for the following painful radioactivity.

As far as Jack was concerned, even a field of four-leaf clovers couldn’t turn things around. He was convinced that because he was born in a leap year, that he was under a secret thirteenth Zodiac sign and its symbol was a giant screw. Lucky for him, his middling, psilocybin post-insert favorite here-ism wanderings led him through a soft, rolling field irrigated by abandoned nuclear power plant runoff. Sixty-six- and sixty-seven-leaf clovers had to be good for something other than a future Ripley's curiosity or condemnation by local preacherdom as a great work of the devil. They could use a dom, those subs to sky fairies, Jack chuckled to no one in particular.

Why was it so hot in February?

Ah, yes, Radiation Day, the annual commemoration of when screws turned thumbs blue then red when blood gushed out and there ain't a competent phlebotomist when you need one nowadays. High glucose? No matter, plutonium'll wash that right clean just like it washed all the endorphins, endocrinologists and uxorious urologists away and left the rest of this wretched species some comic book combination of neon purple, orange flake and bald. I was getting there on my own, thank you very much, world leaders, Jack exclaimed to no one in particular.

Humanity had no idea that the cliché apocalyptic plague wouldn't kill millions upon millions, but instead drive them absolutely batty. Think Pee-Wee Herman swaying to his own Electric Kool-Aid Funky Satan Groove. The various shadow governments didn't have a plan in place for such a surprise, of course, and the planetwide fingers-on-buttons were now attached to homo sapiens crazier and more bloodthirsty than the completely hypothetical, genetically-spliced laboratory love child of Dick Cheney and Osama bin Laden. Probably just a rumor, I'm sure. Only scattered pockets of fanatical Muslims or amillenialist Christians or third temple Jews or Buddhists (yes, even they've gone violently loon) or Wiccans (yes, even they're spending less time naked under the moon) remain.

If it wasn't for un, the continued inability of said groups to put aside childish questions of abstract, unprovable dogma and self-righteous scowling in order to band together on some pan-world crusade and deux, roving gangs of murderous nihilist bicyclists shooting the religionists dead at every opportunity, this manic depressive pseudo-civilization on the lookout for the next cache of soothing booze would fall like an inebriated deck of cards. Manic depressives like me, Jack retorted to no one in particular.

The ground suddenly fell like an inebriated deck of cards and Jack found himself no worse for the ware in a dimly-lit (and thankfully cool) tunnel, which was strange because what fool would set up camp in the shadow of such a monstrosity as a abandoned, leaky nuclear power plant? Dusting himself off, the eerie glow seemed to be consciously leading him further into the earth.

Wavelengths randomly shifting from pale yellow to aquamarine to indigo left Jack disoriented. An odd, wobbly sound quickly began to manifest. Believing it to be nothing more than a colony of mutant albino rats, as common as cell phones once were, Jack crept closer towards its apparent origin and instantly recognized it as muffled human speech.

Resting against an outcropping, Jack peered around the edge, discovering a man-sized fissure. Only a sliver of evidence was available from his vantage point. He moved closer, the sound becoming a grinding fugue.

The light, initially blinding, quickly faded to reveal the cavernous scene before him. Realizing at once that he had inadvertently rambled into the Keep Out Zone, he stood in nightmarish awe before a congregation of robed, irradiated acolytes in prayer before their god, a crumbling statue of Charlton Heston.


Holte Ender said...

I hope those "irradiated acolytes" did truly, Behold His Mighty Word."

Tom Harper said...

What a cute little stray kitty, pictured at your linked post. That cage he's in must be at the animal shelter. I think I'll adopt him and bring him home to bond with our other cats. He'd fit right in, wouldn't he?

Tengrain said...

Graves, you swine!

...because he was born in a leap year, that he was under a secret thirteenth Zodiac sign and its symbol was a giant screw.

I understood you post up to this point, and I have the name of a good Viennese professional who can help you. Really.



susan said...

I'm glad my chief creative interest is in painting simple and easily understood pictures. Thank goodness I don't find myself living with such images as - 'the completely hypothetical, genetically-spliced laboratory love child of Dick Cheney and Osama bin Laden'. The plane you inhabit has clearly lost another engine.

Übermilf said...

Is this the plot to the new "Alice in Wonderland" starring Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter?

Thanks a lot for ruining it for me.


Where did they get a statue of Charlton Heston? That's the most unbelievable part of the story.

sunshine said...

I don't know. I think I need a "Feel good" story soon.
These apocalyptic dismal scenes are getting to me.
Can the future not be a happy place?


Well, I suppose if I'm going to be fighting off albino rats .. I'd better go work on my emergency pack!

(Good story... even though I wasn't in the mood...)


David Barber said...

Am I right in thinking Charlton Heston's crumbling statue was buried up to its chest on the beach??

I liked it, Randal, although I need a dictionary and thesaurus with me when I read your stuff. Keep it up (your writing).

Regards mate, David.

Distributorcap said...

i played Global Thermonuclear War last nite - I hear I hit Cleveland

Beach Bum said...

There has always been some cynical survivalist part of me that would like to set out an easy chair, cooler full of beers, and with my loaded M-4 carbine next to me watch the "manic depressive pseudo-civilization" consume itself. Thank you for the blow-by-blow in this great story. The only thing I was missing in all this was the ammo.

Cormac Brown said...

Um, you'll have to read the post to see my coment.

Übermilf said...

I'm worried about Randal again.

Dusty said...

I agree with Beach Bum!!!!

Randal Graves said...

holte, I think those maniacs blew it up.

tom, someone's gotta be the eater, someone's gotta be the eatee.

tengrain, c'mon, this was far more understandable as a semi-plotted story.

susan, but now that I've mentioned it, such an image will haunt your stroll through the Land of Nod forevermore.

übermilf, are you calling me a liar?

sunshine, this WAS a feel good story. Who doesn't love Charlton Heston?

david, well, no one did love liberty more than Mr. Heston, except maybe Mr. Wayne or Mr. Bush.

dcap, I don't have green hair yet, but the landscape looks a bit warped.

BB, the occasional feeling of wishing to blow up the outside world is healthy. Especially if you're well stocked in Campbell's soup.

cormac, that's mighty ominous.

übermilf, your concern is misplaced, for I am master of my 6'x6' domain.

dusty, I agree with you!

Rum said...

Pass me the Robitussin and some scotch -- Alice in Chernobyl with Breton playing the Hatter and Rand the Mad Queen-- Heston shrugged indeed --

nice rant

CJT said...

This was hilarious, I can't believe that I waited so long to join everyone in FFF... I loved the ending with Charlton Heston, and I agree this would be a great new backdrop for Alice in Wonderland... or maybe wizard of oz.

Doc said...

Afterwards, they settled into a nice brunch of Soylent Green and Kool-Aid, all the while condemning the wheel as man's greatest f*ck-up.

Week after week, you continue to blow me away.


Randal Graves said...

rum, the kernel to a fantastic bit of lunacy lies in your comment. Get writing!

CJT, well, that Cormac can be a bit scary when he's off his meds. I think I should've thrown a pic of Charlie up there in his NRA garb.


Dr. Zaius said...

You leave Charlton Heston out of this!