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Durex Blender Corporation 008
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T ||==\\ || || ||==\\ ||==|| || || B L E N D E R C O R P O R A T I O N
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H || || || || ||==// ||=|| >|< >>> Presents <<<
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E ||==// \\==// || \\ ||==|| || || #008-RT01 -- [08/12/91]
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Irrelevant Prose
Volume One: Several Shorts
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by Random Tox
The Policy
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He had been alone in the desert without supplies for almost a week. The
sky was growing darker and the day steadily receded as he crawled, half-naked
and starving through the barren wasteland. His slashed and bleeding palms
oozed blood as they worked their way over the plentiful rock formations which
were quickly becoming harder to see in the dying sun. Then he saw it.
The light blazed on the horizon, the golden glow beckoned to his heart.
He wobbled to his feet and ran, ignoring the searing pain as the gravel
worked its way into his infected soles as he tore towards the heartwarming
glow of the beacon. The night wore on and the sign loomed high above the
tangled hair of his head. He cried. Kneeling before the simple building, he
prayed, vowing never again to forsake his religious duties. Then, leaning
against a plastic clown, smearing his grinning face with blood, he lumber
across the pavement to the MacDonalds.
"Sorry sir!" Said the smiling attendant. "No shoes, no shirt, no
service!"
The Beauty
----------
His hormones surged rapidly, massive whitecapped waves crashing down
with ferocious force onto the beaches of his gonads. The hair on the back of
his neck rose slowly, bristling, and he moaned softly, the quiet sound
slipping past his flushed lips. She was more beautiful than any other girl he
had ever seen, her soft, beautiful auburn hair fluttering in the wind like a
lady's token on a knight's lance. His lance. Her doe-like eyes, soft and
brown, swept the area, pausing to look into his, picking over the deepest
parts of his soul.
"My love." He whispered, a tear trickling down his cheek as the brown
collie with the red collar turned the corner, her soft brown eyes gazing at
him for a moment before a brick wall cut her off from him. Forever.
The Gun
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There it was. Right in the shop window, beside the gleaming model train
with real smoke, it stood, solitary and beautiful. It was the thing I'd
always wanted. It was the RamCo Super-Ace Whizbanger Aerodynamic Gyro-Spin
Spearheaded Mondo-Alien Space Hero Raygun, and it was the only one left. It's
smooth, sweet, well-oiled casing slid back over its body, a glistening metal
fin rising from the rear, and just below that the leather-wrapped grip,
embossed with the official TriWorld logo. The trigger jutted out like a
vicious tooth, embraced by the curving guard which crawled up from the grip
to the shining barrel with its torpedolike contours.
It was more spectacular than any other object in the glorious store
window, and it was destined to be mine. I could feel it. And then a skinny
green extra- terrestrial with bulging eyes and a gray spacesuit went in and
bought it. Damn.
The Chase
---------
The dull, staggered cruching rose in both frequency and volume as a dark
silhouette stumbled from the cloaking shadows of evening, sluggish feet being
forced to run through the crisp, clean whiteness of the new snow. He was
wearing a gray business suit, an expensive paisley silk tie hanging loosely
around his thin neck, pink and red from the cold. His armsflapped as he ran
onward, the torn slivers of his suit trailing behind him like streamers from
a department store fan. His ragged breath showed in stark puffs of warm mist
that dissipated as he ran, joining the night air.
Left, right, left, right, stumble, stand straight, left, right. The man
lumbered off, tired and worn, leaning against the graffiti-stained bricks of
the alley wall. Run. Run. The dark brown mass of his hair shifted in the
breeze that came through the open end of the alley. His eyes shifted as he
turned to face the exit, deep brown irises shrinking as his pupils dilated.
He saw his pursuer. The hunter. He saw the dull glint of gunmetal, the
twitch of the finger.
A gunshot richoched off the battered walls and into the moonlit skies of
the city. The alley was abandoned. A pool of deep red tricked over the snow,
staining it with sin, an open deed before the moon's eye. In the dim light
afforded by the cracked and buzzing street light, the pristine whiteness
slowly melted with the heat of the ruddy drops spilt a just few minutes
before, small tentacles of steam rising upwards as the chill air of darkness
kissed the earth.
Falling Leaves
--------------
It was autumn and the golden-brown leaves fluttered gently to earth,
denting the cement slabs of the sidewalk. Albert bent over to investigate
this curious phenomenon and was killed instantly when a particularly large
maple leaf landed on the back of his head.
Food for Thought
----------------
I speared a rather juicy piece of the meat on the end of my fork, and
with some trepidation raised it to my lips. It was crunchy and tasted like
chicken.
"Do you always eat fried yak spleens?" I asked my host, using my tongue
to slide the various slices around in my mouth. He looked at me with an
expression of mirth on his face, "Yak spleens, boy? Hehe. You wish they
were." I chuckled at his little joke. Then I found out about the operation,
and how his spleen was removed several months ago. My host smiled, "I got
bored looking at it on the bookshelf all day."
[Hullo to all th' folks from Geneva. It's your fault I wrote these. - RT]
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(C)1991 by The Durex Blender Corporation & Random Tox
All Rights Revered. Even yours.
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The Durex Blender Corporation : Boston (617) 696-8156 - 24oo/8N1 - 24 hours
