Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
Going Ape Shit Press 010
going ape shit press #10 by darmok, lord of the underworld
well, it's a creative handle... that's about all i can say...
|<80OOoo=-------------------------------------------------------------=ooOO08>|
It was Alex's day off, which was an oxymoron, because workaholics
never give themselves a day off. He dedicated his day to planting an
oak tree in the front yard, which is his wife's birthday present. He
missed her, but this was the only day he can plant her gift without her
being around. He made up the popular excuse that he had to work this
weekend, he's allways working, so it was very beleiveable.
But it also meant not having any help, being new to Ashton Falls, no
one but family could help. It made no difference, though, the tree
could not have weighed more than 60 pounds. So, he dug a hole deep enuf
and found...
did you ever find something that
you were never meant to find?
... a trail... of ants. Rooted up from their homes, they were
scattering all over, trying to burrow back into the ground. He stopped
to take a glance, he'd never seen anything like it... hundreds of them,
all involved in one thing, surviving. While he was transfixed on those
little creatures, a mound of dirt collapsed onto his hand.
Dismissing this tragedy as a trifle annoyance, he took off his
gardening gloves to remove the dirt. But none of it was dirt, it was
all ants.
Quickly he tried to brush them off with his other hand, but they
stayed on both hands, so he wiped his hands on his clothes, which just
transplanted them.
He shot them off with the hose, but they GREW back.
GREW BACK!
He used the hose again just to make sure he was seeing what he thought
he saw. He cleaned off all the ants and watched in awe. The just
sprouted out of the pores in his skin, like they grew eggs, hatched, and
laid eggs as they were hatching.
He raced into the garage and snatched a jug of insecticide splashing
it over his hands. They died, but not before laying more eggs. He
tried more and more bug killers. They dropped off dead, but not before
laying more eggs deep within his skin, beating him to the punch. So he
clasped his hands together as soon as the next wave was out. A crisp,
happy, painful-sounding crunch was followed by Alex smiling. He kept
his hands gripped to keep them from coming back. It would have worked,
but, when an animal is trapped, it attacks. He felt them biting,
gnawing, burrowing into his flesh, digging below the upper layer.
He unclasped his hands and watched them unhatch once again. He could
have sworn that they were happy with his defeat. He wished they would
talk, just so he could hear them scream ass he crushed them between his
fingers. It was maddening, just sitting there, watching them crawl over
him, over each other, laying eggs, eating each other, laying more eggs,
mocking him. One thing he notiched is that they never traveled farther
than his wrists (and shirt). He deduced if he could just get rid of the
ants on his hands, they won't come out anywhere else, because maybe they
follow their own scent.
It seemed like a good theory, so he grabbed the gasoline.
He splashed gasoline on his left hand, because he was right handed,
and, as an accountant, would only need his left hand to hold dowh the
paper he would be writing on. He then took out his lighter, and set
fire to his hand. His hand was hardly touched by the fire, but all the
ants were, and they fluttered off his hand and onto the ground on fire.
They grew back.
He expected as much so he drenched his hand into a near by
prepared bucket of water, and the ants just started swimming around. In
the time it took Alex to dump ou tthe water and refill it, they grew
back. He drenched the ant-ridden hand in gasoline several times with
the same result. He felt very little of teh fire on his hand as the
itch of little feet traced his skin, over and over. He wanted them off-
now! So he plunged his left into the bucket of gasoline... but he
didn't realize that his hand was still on fire. The gas reacted
immediately with a booming thud of an explosion and immense pain as
flesh was seared off. The thick rubber bucket was blown wide open like
Elmer Fudd's rifle after Bugs ahd stuck his finger in it. As for his
hand, numb with pain, he could not see thru the fire at the damage, or,
more importantly, the ants. He plunged his hand into the water and
still could not see through the steam, and then he saw. The ants had
been completely blown off, along with all his fingers.
He wished his wife, or anybody, had heard his scream. He figured it
was so loud that she probably did hear it. No mroe ants would come
through his skin now, because now, all that was left was a fused stump
with some bones peering out.
He completed the first part of his struggle, and the next part was
easy, he took off his shirt, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into
the bonfire on his front lawn. He could imagine their screaming. He
chuckled, because he knew he would win.
The next part would not be so easy.
Not being able to find anything else to kill them on his right hand,
Alex tried to wrap it with a thick towel. Trying not to get them
anywhere else, he made a fist around the towel and used his knee and
teeth as arms to tie the knot. Such extreme caution was used so as not
to get them anywhere near his face. If he did that, he knew it would be
all over.
But, using the towel, he made an airtight pocket starting on his wrist
completely engulfing his hand. He could still feel pin-lick pricks over
his hot, sweaty skin.
His adrenaline stopped pumping and he had time to decide calmly what
to do next. It was night, he could not be able to do anything about the
ants on his front lawn until he couls see them, otherwise, it would be a
disaster.
He had not eaten all day and the thought of it now disgusted him. He
was running on empty, and quite uncontrollably, he collapsed into a
pleasant and dreamlike sleep.
He did not remember any dreams in the morning, except one: the ants.
But was that a dream? No... he still felt them, like pins and
needles, all over his hand, and in his mouth?
He stumbled hurriedly into the bathroom and saw what he felt: the ants
had some how torn through the towel on his hand, made it across his
pillow, and were now on his cheek, and on the tip of his tounge.
"Oh god, don't swallow, whatever you do, just don't swallow."
A string of obsenities was blabbered out after that, as he jumbled
across his room, found his keys, got into his car, and drove to an
exterminator's nearby.
After all that cursing, which made his tounge move, the ants were now
all over the inside of his mouth. By the time he got there, they were
crawling all over his tounge, lips, under his tounge, biting, eating,
piercing his skin to lay eggs.
Practically totaling his car, he raced screaming into the
exterminator's shop. Two middle-aged idiots who looked like they had
been sniffing fumes for far too long, stopped their lunch break and
looked at each other. What would your reaction be to some screaming
weirdo with a thing for ants?
But it was what alesx was screaming that kept them from calling the
police... it sounded like "Please, do whatever you have to get them
off." They were now running all over his chin, covering his mouth,
making him nautious. The urge to swallow was unbelievable.
The twi 'idiots' grabbed a several-gallow jug of insecticide that
would kill practically anything it touched. They emptied the whole
contents on Alex's right hand and watched.
The killing acid burned through the ants, dissolving their little
bodies, he saw them writhe in pain just before they burst open like
pouring salt on a slug. The the killer toxin tunneled through his skin
destroying the egs, and severing his nerves. He felt the liquid tear
holes in his pores, neutralizing all feeling in his hand whatsoever with
a numbing hot burn. But it was better than ants.
His releif was over soon...
He swallowed.
He felt them swim down his throat, embedding themselves in his tender
flesh, grabbing on with those hook like legs and laying their young.
The the young would sprout, and he saw the knife...
The sharp butcher's blade for the workmen's lunch glistened invitingly
in the incredibly dull light. Alex's mind worked fast. Slicing his
wrists would be far better than living a life with this insect plague
inside him. But what about the two workmen? The would sure call for
help. What if he kills them? No. Why ruin two other
lives? Maybe after teh slashing his wrists he could stab himself in the
eyes? A quick blade puncturing his brain would turn him into a
vegitable but at least he would not feel these ants!
Alex tried his best to resume sound thinking as the workmen watched
this lunatic pace around their shop. The phone rang but they did not
answer it. With Alex's somewhat calm thinking came feeling, feeling not
about his wife, that was not important to him now, he felt the
ants. Laying eggs, hatching, eating each other, laying eggs, hatching,
being dissolved in saliva, laying eggs, hatching, he felt parts of them
liquifying and oozing down his throat.
He could not help it, he vomited, pools. He had his eyes open as he
felt his shouldters and throat burn as his stomach acids pumped the ants
onto the floor. He did not, could not, stop. Once his stomach was
empty, a thin stream of bile pooled in the center of vomit. Ants
disintegrated in the puddles of juices as did their tunnels in his
throat. He won.
When Alex was released from the hospital, he set fire to the remaining
infestations near his house. explained the whole story to his wife, whom
you will forever now find him by her side, moved to the city, (with no
bugs whatsoever) and enjoyed his sacrifical virtory. Because now, huge
pockets of air exists where nerves used to be on his hands and
mouth. It made Alex realize what was missing in his life; his wife,
leisure, happiness, things he took for granted then, but would kill to
have now. Now, everything is different, and hsi state of mind is
impossible to deal with. Maybe he will recover, it just goes to show,
some things were not meant to be tampered with.
|:<00OOoo\=
goddamn! do you realize how much i had to type out??? that entire
thing i had to transcript from a typed paper... well at least now i
know that i could be a professional typist.. =]
|:<00OOoo\=
end propaganda and all that lovely stuff...
