Short Story: "Acid Reflux"
*I wrote this story five years ago...I haven't even looked it over to make sure it doesn't suck now. I'm posting it blindly. Let me know what you guys think. Thanks!
Goin' to the store, goin' to the store, la, da, da, da, da/ Meed some gum, la, da, da, da, da. Maybe some beef jerky. And...um..uh--shit, forgot. OK, goin' to the store, just around the corner, goin' to the--Jamaican beef patty--haha that's it. No, wait, then I can't get the beef jerky cause they clash. I'll get soft chocolate chip cookies instead.
Wow, bad acid. Bad, bad acid. Definitely should not have dropped acid before store. Ha ha, that rhymes. Definitely talking to myself I am. Why is this walk taking so long? I feel like I've been walking for an hour...but the store is just around the corner. And why is that tree talking me? It better shut up before I kick it. Come on man, seriously, it better shut up. Did it just give me the finger?? Fuck you tree! I will kick you now! Actually, I will kick you as soon as I am next to you. La, la, la, la, la. Hmm, where did all your friends come from? Sneaky trees...there was one of you--now there's a whole bunch. They must have been hiding under the sidewalk. Touche, you almost had me on that one.
Aha! My shifting and highly acute eyes have spotted something! Vietcong! Damn, I thought the war was over. Perhaps they were hiding under the sidewalk too. Good thing I have...a lacrosse stick. Those Vietcong hate lacrosse like Canadians hate bocce. I will be Rambo and kill them all. I shall climb a tree. La, la, la, climbing the tree. OK, no one will see me now...they will be sitting ducks except Vietnamese sitting ducks that are wearing camouflage and standing instead of sitting--and they have canteens, which ducks do not have. I kill one, two, threefourfive--there's no more Vietcong alive. Now I'll get down from the tree. Hmm, interesting--the other trees must have gone back under the sidewalk.
La, la, la, la, la, walking to the store, la, la, la. I wonder if I have enough money. A dollar, and another dollar, and a quarter--thats enough.
Who said that?
"Steve, down here--it's George."
Huh? George? Ack, George Washington! Why are you talking to me? You are on my quarter, but you are also on my dollar and my other dollar--why are the other George Washingtons not talking to me?
"Because paper doesn't talk stupid."
"Now first of all, why are you having Vietnam flashbacks? That was like twenty years before you were born."
Uhh--that is a good question.
"And do not get the beef patty, get the jerky!"
No, stupid-head. You're not the president now, George Clinton is!
"George Clinton is not the president. He is the frontman for Parliament Funkadelic. The president is...nevermind, I'm leaving."
OK, be like that.
Walkin' to the store, walkin' to the store. Woah! It's a lawn gnome, awesome! Woah again, it's moving. The gnome is alive, the gnome is alive! Hey gnome, what's up? You are a short little fellow. I'm sorry for you buddy. It must be rough being so small. I was small when I was little...but then I hit puberty. I guess you gnomes don't have any puberty...or maybe you're just too nice to hit it. How come you are not talking? Is it because you are shy? Or are you a Vietcong in disguise? I think you are a Vietcong. Take me to your leader. Do not play mute now--I know your secret. Take me to the king cong! Fine, then I will find him myself.
FIRE IN THE HOLE! Aggh, that was close! How clever, they disguise mortars as guano. No matter though, you must be smarter than that to catch me, for I am both nimble and agile. It was nonetheless a close call, for pilo-erections now cover my skin. Shit--another guano-mortar. Time to run. Run, run, run. Ooooooooh, look at all the glistening dew drops that perch insouciantly upon the blades of grass. Oh 'Nam--it's a jungle out here--but a beaut' all the same. OK, must shut up and run--no time to admire nature. Run, run, r--crap...I falled...it hurts. Stupid glistening dew drops.
NO! It can't be. I thought I killed you, Vietcong disguised as a lawn gnome. Do what you want with me, but I shall never tell you anything. OK, fine, I'll tell you--Aliens roll egg rolls, shhhh. Now do me a favor. Go to that store around the corner from the outside of the jungle and get me a beef patty and gum and soft chocolate chip cookies. That's an order lieutenant! Aghh, I'm done for. I will just lay here and die.
And he did. Shortly after Steve laid down on the sidewalk, an elderly woman left her house to find his lifeless body in front of her lawn. Her lawn gnome leaned upright against him, the gum, beef patty, and cookies resting atop his motionless stomach. One acid trip too many put a period in the middle of Steve's life. After twenty short years, he breathed no more--instead, he stopped talking about myself in third person. God damn, what the hell was I talking about? And where is the lieutenant with my food? Incompetant militant Vietnamese lawn decoration. I guess I'll have to go get this stuff myself.
And he did.