“&%#* $@& +=$^#”
“Oh I’m sorry Ms. Li the bee, I do not know how to speak Cantonese,” Miss Alana the llama responds. “Aiyah lah, I was not talking to you, you stupid horse” “Well that was rude, that was cruel, please talk nicer or I’ll drown you in a pool!” Miss Alana the llama was angry now. How dare that twit of a bug speak to her like that? The audacity! This behavior just would not do, oh no no no, this behavior would not do. Miss Alana the llama knew something would have to be done about this dreaded pest, so she decided right then and there that she would end Ms. Li the bee no matter what it took. No one, especially an irrelevant bee, talks to Miss Alana the llama like that. “I’d like to see you try. Ai, I’m too small to catch dumb dumb,” Ms. Li the bee says back. “Yes, yes, this is in fact true, but I can squish you easily right under my hooves.” “AH! Back off you rhyming alpaca!” “It’s llama! I’m Alana the llama!” Ugh, her mind! How dare she again! Ms. Li the bee has a serious attitude problem that simply must be taken care of. Miss Alana the llama knew something had to be done, the question was what… Aiyah, that stupid biǎo zi llama threatening to kill me, the audacity! I’m just a humble little bee making some tea. Ai! I’m even rhyming like her now. I ought to… well I ought to.... Aiyah I don’t even know what I ought to do! Ms. Li the bee kept ranting to herself, on and on, about how irksome and bothersome that oversized dog was. But underneath her animosity was a facet for her fear. Miss Alana the llama was very threatening, and it seemed like she would kill Ms. Li the bee if she had the chance. Miss Alana the llama was the most perplexing and obscure animal in the neighborhood, and she did not have many friends. Her only true friends were Mr. Jake the snake and Mrs. Kobayashi the okapi, however, they were both mysteriously beheaded by some ravenous murder who has not been caught yet. The entire neighborhood has been on edge and high alert ever since the two murders. After finding Mrs. Kobayashi the okapi’s head floating down the river and Mr. Jake the snake’s head hanging from a tree, the neighborhood formed a local police force made up of the elephants. Mr. Pelican the elephant (he was named after his uncle) headed the watch and ensured the neighborhood’s safety. So far no other crimes have been committed, and this reassured Ms. Li the bee that she was going to be ok. Well, at least I’m safe at home, there is no need to worry here. Ai, I think I’ll make some tea, tea always calms me… Bling ching blrrrrring. Ms. Li the bee was just adding her tea bag when she hear her doorbell go off. She takes a quick sip savoring the sweet and bitter taste and flys over to the door to see who is there. Aiyah! What pathetic fool is interrupting my tea time! Ms. Li the bee looks through the peephole and sees Miss Alana the llama standing outside with some bright yellow orchids. Normally Ms. Li the bee would not even bother answer the door and would just fly away, but yellow orchids are her favorite and she just could not resist them. Ai how does this fool no that I love yellow orchids? Only Mr. Mator the gator knows that they’re my favorite flower. I’m kind of suspicious of her… Ai, oh well! I want me orchids. Ms. Li the bee opens the door and greets Miss Alana the llama. “Why hello llama, nice seeing you again, how are you? What do you need? Do you need anything? How has your day been?” Ms. Li the bee’s tone has changed since yesterday; she really wants those orchids. “Oh no, no thank you, I am actually ok. I wanted to give these to you, they would look great in your foray. Also I have something I need to do… something I need to say. It’s just that well I’m sorry for how I acted the other day. What I did was wrong, it was not ok. I felt I owed you, I felt that I need to pay. So here are these flowers, bright as the sun on any day. I hope you feel better and we can put this ordeal away.” Miss Alana the llama spoke from her heart, she convincing, and boy was she smart. Ms. Li the bee was helpless, she had to let this horse dog into her house. The words and sincerity of Miss Alana the llama could not have been faked, and she did have yellow orchids. “Well… I accept your apology. I think we can be friends. Also, thank you for the flowers, they’re very lovely. Do you want to come in? I just made some tea?” “Oh! I would love tea! This would help me relax, I really need to balance my chi,” Miss Alana the llama eagerly responds back. This bee is stupid, this bee dumb. She’ll get stomped and squished by my hooves, just like gum! Miss Alana the llama enters the house and out the flowers down on a table. She examines the house and takes it all in. “Ai, so what have you been up to lately Miss. llama?” Ms. Li the bee ask inquisitively. “Oh, no nothing much, nothing much at all. I’m just preparing… preparing for fall.” “Ai, sounds fun. I love the trees at this time of year, so many pretty colors.” “Me too, I must say I do agree! Fall is great because leaves on the trees.” Miss. Alana the llama is calming herself. She musn’t be to hurried or she may mess up. She’s allergic to bees and one wrong move will get her stung and killed. She must be careful, she just must. “My grandson loves to jump in leaf piles, but I can’t make them anymore because it is too much on back. Aiyah lah, I just can’t handle it.” “Oh, that’s too bad, that’s too sad. I can rake a pile for you, that would make me very glad.” “Aiyah! Really? I would love that and I know my grandson would too!” “It’s my pleasure, it’s the least I can do. Maybe after I rake a pile you can teach me kung-fu?” Miss Alana the llama was running out of small talk. Talking to this puny yellow bug was making her sick to her stomach. Not too mention every second she makes that ludicrous buzzing sound that bees produce. She had to do it soon, she just had too. “Here’s your tea lah, I added some extra sugar for you, it’s a little a bitter at first but you get used to the taste.” Ms. Li the bee hands the tea cup over to Miss. Alana the llama. “Careful, careful, the cup is still pretty hot.” “Oh thank you Ms. Li the bee. This looks so yummy this tea,” Miss Alana the llama responds backs. SHe takes a small sip and has to choke it down. The tea is bitter even with the extra added sugar, but Ms. Li the bee was turned around pouring herself a cup of tea so she did not see Miss. Alana the llama struggle with the tea. “So lah, have any…” BAM. Miss. Alana the llama smacks Ms. Li the bee with her right hoof. Ms. Li the bee was sent flying across the room and hits the wall with great force. Any other bee would have broken both wings, but Ms. Li the bee is no average bee. She served as a sniper back in China, killing Japanese soldiers who invaded local chinese villages by shooting them from the mountains. Ms. Li the bee was also trained in wing to stinger combat so she was prepared to take on this horse dog. She gets up quick with super bee strength and stands her ground. She’s ready. “You stupid little bug, you stupid bee. Give me a second and I’ll have you squashed like a bee!” Miss. Alana the llama stares directly at Ms. Li the bee and gives her a threatening look. The tension is room increases, the hearts of the bee and llama fasten. Someone will die today, but who… “Biǎo zi! I knew you were up to no good! Only Mr. Mator the gator knows that I like yellow orchids! You set me up!” “You’re right I did, I did set you up. And now you’re screwed, I’m gonna heck you up! AHHHHHH!” Miss Alana the llama runs towards Ms. Li the bee with great speed, charging at her like an african elephant. Ms. Li the bee stands her ground and waits for the right opportunity. Patience is key. Miss. Alana the llama hoists herself into the air and sends a flying sidekick towards Ms. Li the bee’s way, but Ms. Li the bee is prepared and blocks the kick with a swift move. Miss. Alana the llama is thrown to side, shaken by the strength that she did not know Ms. Li the bee possessed. “Not bad, not bad, not bad all. But let’s see how you are against my technique of tiger paw.” Miss. Alana the llama leaps back into action, jetting herself up by performing a bridge kickup, kicking her legs into the air and using counter motion to bring her body up into a standing position. She now stands on her hind legs. “Let’s go, come on, let’s fight for real. When I finish you, I’ll throw you away like a rotten banana peel!” “Bring it on lǎn fù! You lack technique and patience, this fight will be over soon,” Ms. Li the bee responds cooly. She has composure, she has, style, most importantly she has patience. She is confident in her abilities to fight, all she has to do is keep calm and fight on. “Okurrrrrt dumb bee, let’s finish now. I wanna get home before dark to kill Ms. Chou the cow!” Ms. Li the bee is angry now, how dare that pony cat threaten to kill her good friend! Ms. Chou the cow was the only other animal in the neighborhood who could speak cantonese. She had to win this fight not only for her, but for her friend as well. Ms. Li the bee is done trash talking now, she wants to fight. Miss. Alana the llama looks deep into her eyes and sees Ms. Li the bee’s determination, she realizes that this battle will be harder than she thought, but she is confident that defeating this insignificant pest will still be a piece of cupcake. This time Ms. Li the bee is on the offense and flies over to Miss. Alana the llama, catching her off guard. Miss. Alana the llama is hit in the face with great force, and her head is thrown back. But just as quick her head comes right back up and collides with Ms. Li the bee. Ms. Li the bee sails across the room and Miss. Alana the llama follows her in pursuit, but Ms. Li the bee is able to open her wings and stop herself before she makes contact with a wall and manages a fighting stance before Miss. Alana the llama gets to her. There is brief pause… BAM! Ms. Li the bee and Miss Alana the llama kick each other at the same time, their legs hitting each other with equal magnitude. They keep kicking at each other, but each kicked is dodged and deflected. No opponent shows signs of giving up. But Miss. Alana the llama finally lands a blow on Ms. Li the bee and sends her plumitting down, and then she sees the teapot sitting on the stove and runs into the kitchen. Ms. Li the bee struggles to get up, but then she is brought quickly, for Miss. Alana the llama threw the boiling hot water onto her. Ms. Li the bee shrieks out in pain and begins seizing on the floor. Miss. Alana the llama struts over to the struggling bee. She is still crying. “You’re dumb to think that you could have ever won! I’ll squash like a little bee, and that’s no pun!” Ms. Li the bee looks up at Miss. Alana the llama and sees the hoof above her. She screams no lner, but is silent instead. Tears have dried to her cheeks and fresh ones run down her face in great streams, creating puddles on the floor. Ms. Li the bee has never cried this much before. One time, a Japanese soldier monkey threw a rock at her and broke one of her wings. She cried on that day too, the only other time she has ever cried, but it does not compare to the pain she feels now. No, the pain is not so much physical but emotional. Ms. Li the bee has never felt so helpless in her life. She is strong and independent bee who has taken care of herself ever since her parents had abandoned her in China. A week after her husband’s death she was back in the meadow pollinating flowers. Animals told her she should rest and recover, but she said, “Recover from what? Spring will be over soon, and if I don’t do this now I will not be able to make honey!” All the animals in the neighborhood admired her couraged and spirit. Even though at times she was harsh and cruel, she would still help someone out if she saw them struggling. Ms. Li the bee was not crying because her wing was broken. She was not crying because she was missing a leg. She was not crying because the burns on her skin. No, she was crying because she was scared. Ms. Li the bee has never been scared. Even when fighting the war in the China Ms. Li the bee used her fear as means of adrenaline to keep her senses heightened. Even when she moved to America all by herself, without knowing any english, she convinced herself all would figure itself out, and that she would be strong. Ms. Li the bee had mental strength, and this made her strong, but now that strength was gone, and was replaced by hopelessness and fear. She knew that she had no fight left, she was too weak, she accepted her fate, but that does not mean it still did not scare her. Silent tears kept running down her face and they would not stop. They just could not stop… “Aiyah lah, how are you?” “Good, good, good.” “You look shaken, you good lah? Need some herbal tea lah?” “Ai, sounds good. Do you have any food too? I’m starving.” “Of course lah! They no call me Mr. Chou the chow cow for nut-ting!” Ms. Li the bee flies over the fence and walks over with Mrs. Chou the cow over to her house. It has been a week since her encounter with Miss. Alana the llama. Her wing still hurts, but she can use it, and she has extra legs so losing the one caused no harm. Her burns are still apparent, but the no longer sting like the did. Ms. Li the bee can still remember the fight as if it were yesterday. Right before Miss. Alana the llama was able to stomp on her, she maneuvered quickly to left dodging the hoof. Acting fast she her one good wing to propel her into the air just high enough to reach Miss. Alana the llama’s knee. The pain of her movements were tremendous and she screamed out in pain. Once on Miss. Alana the llama’s knee Ms. Li the bee stung her. The llama froze with fear realizing what had been done. Being careful, Ms. Li the bee pulls the stinger out of Miss. Alana the llama, ensuring that she did not remove the stinger from herself, but only from Miss. Alana the llama. For those who did not know, once a bee stings an animal, they die after losing their stinger. Ms. Li the bee fell to the ground and began to pull herself away from the llama, still frozen in fear. It takes only seconds for the chemical reactions within Miss. Alana the llama to occur. Bumps appear to form on her skin, and they become so big that they show through her pristine black coat. Finally, she reacts to what is happens and begins screaming her head off. She starts jumping up and down, flailing her neck to and fro, and shakes her body rapidly, as if she thinks that moving sporadically will get rid of the poison in her body. She has lost all self consciousness and only thinks about the pain. Miss. Alana the llama is in a state of painful delusion and her screams, movements, and seizures are her only methods of coping with the situation at hand. She will, and she will die soon. She underestimated her opponent, and paid the ultimate price: death.
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For me to love you, you’d have to
Bring back the wings of an angel, The tears of the Devil, The apple from Eve, The stone that slayed Abel. Turn against all those you’ve loved before, Love the most hated, Set the world on fire, Watch it burn with silent tears. Kill the unworthy, The unwanted, The unable, The unkept, The unloved. You’d have to spin the world into a dismaying darkness And laugh at the splintering chaos. Only then, will I be yours. The cold air shot Sam’s back like tiny ice crystals pecking at him over and over, but he braced onward. He walked up the driveway into his beloved home. Sam was the only person who ever felt at home in the strange place. It had an alarmingly red porch that squeaked as a greeting to anyone who approached the eerie house. The walls were covered in molded wall paper that hung on by threads, and the floorboards were soaked with water, which made them bend with the slightest bit of pressure. Where ever the wallpaper had given up hope on sticking to the walls Sam simply slapped a crooked painting in its place. That night Sam placed bags of candy into gimmicky themed bowls and set them by the door; ready for childrens’ grabby hands to stuff handfuls of the teeth rotting sweets into their pillow cases. All through the night the red porch did not make a single sound. The bowls were still full, and Sam began to perform his yearly ritual of eating his money's worth of candy. Suddenly, there was a loud creak from the porch, but something about the sound was different. The porch seemed to scream like a cat whose tail had been stepped on rather than squeak. Not once had Sam ever heard his beloved home make a sound so monstrous. He opened the door to find a small black figure holding out a bright red pillow case. It said nothing, but somehow Sam felt as if its black eyes were looking deep into him. He filled the child’s bag and regressed to his seat on the couch bewildered. As he climbed the creaky stairs up to his bedroom he looked into his room to find a red knitted blanket. “Have I always had that”,he pondered to himself. He placed the blanket on the window sill and tucked himself to bed, when he heard the ear piercing scream of a cat. Sam crept down the stairs to see who was at the porch so late. Walking down the steps he saw the wallpaper fall to the ground , and the floorboards snapped under the weight of his feet. Before he took the final step he saw the black figure holding the red knitted blanket. As Sam stepped down to the main floor it turned to look at him, but all he saw were its black lifeless eyes seeming to peck at his soul telling him to come forth. As he approached the figure it stood up, and Sam saw its blood encrusted hands, and into the pillow case it held. “It can’t be possible”! Sam screamed and ran towards the door. The figure met him there and forced him to see what lay in the bag. All Sam saw was his own lifeless head. The next morning Sam was gone, and the house had turned completely red. The term "rolling in their grave" suddenly had a different meaning for me.
"Here lies Zachariah Winchester," the pastor said, standing above my grave. Yes, my grave. Sixteen years old and already dead, lying under grass and dirt and a tombstone with my name, birth year, and death year inscribed into the stone. I've been dead to these people for almost a full week, and not a single person knew how I died. Not my friends, not my parents, and not my siblings. In fact, they unwittingly buried the only person who knew about the criminal. You. You are my girlfriend. Emphasis on the word, "are." If I could, I'd tell you just how much I want to see other people. Unfortunately, when I tried to do just that, I ended up here: six feet underground. You've really got to watch your step when talking to girls these days. Of course, both parties are at fault here. I should've stayed with the girl who rolled her eyes at the way I played my violin, and I should've catered to her every whim. But that's not what a healthy relationship looks like, and so I couldn't deal with it. The priest above me lowered his head as his speech came to a close. My mother began weeping, sobbing onto Dad's shoulder. He stood there, strong like a statue, which he always seemed to be. Still, motionless, and unchanging. You had the nerve to come to the funeral. You stood over me and flipped on the drama switch, so you came up with enough tears to flood the cemetery and thus convinced everyone you mourned me. You longed for me. Wished you could've had one last hug. One last kiss. What a fake. With my girlfriend standing above me, my rage bubbled like a pot of water in the kitchen. Boiling over and splashing onto the stove top, craving vengeance. I didn't deserve to die. And you didn't deserve to live. ——-- It was a closed casket funeral. They couldn't find the rest of me, so showcasing a torso with a head and no arms would've been unsettling at the funeral. And rightfully so. I needed the rest of my body. I wanted to look normal again, like Zachariah Winchester. Blond hair with blue streaks, green eyes, and both my arms. And legs as well. The arms were buried in the park, the one with the swings in my neighborhood. I loved the swings. There was nothing better than kicking your legs around while your mom gave you a push, leading you to almost kick your older brother in the face as he passed by. I didn't know how the hell I was going to escape the coffin. No arms, no legs. I was just a head on a torso; however, I didn't need to get out of the casket first. As long as my arms still moved, I would escape. I would find you. My fingers moved through the dirt, pushing past the soil and fighting to breathe again. The blood under my fingernails became tangled with dirt and dust, and once I felt the cool, crisp air of the evening graze my skin and erect my goosebumps, I knew I was out. Now came the hard part: finding my way back. ——-- It's funny, isn't it? When my stubbornness that enraged you freed me from this trap and made me feel alive? You said I was a hard-headed jackass, but maybe instead of seeing my faults, you could've seen my usefulness. Too late. Dig, dig, dig. Get to the coffin, just keep digging. I unburied my casket before prying open the lid and sitting up. Ah, hello, arms. Good to see you. A couple of maggots tried to get comfortable under my skin, but I pulled them out and pressed my left arm back into my socket before they could set up camp and multiply. It would be convenient to not have my arms rotted away until I got my hands on you. I hoped you liked the smell of dirty, rotting flesh. I know I sure as hell didn't. I dragged my torso across the grass of the cemetery, pulling my weight along and inching closer and closer to the exit of the cemetery. Once there, I picked up a couple sticks I could use as makeshift legs until I got ahold of my real ones. Now, my real legs… you were pretty creative with how you hid them. My left was in my backyard, set there just to silently spite my parents as they stepped outside. They would be stepping on their son. Their dead, sunder son. But what about my right? Oh, you had just the loveliest idea. The bottom of the creek. Tied to a weight and sunk down as low as it could get. I could feel the water rushing over it, the bottom feeders scuttling over and fighting over which piece of meat they would steal for themselves. So, I would have to continue with only one leg and a stick. But no matter. The job would be completed, the deed would be done. I knew where my parents kept the shovel. I had to be silent as I grabbed up the shovel and wobbled back to the garden. You couldn't have buried my leg in the yard, could you? It had to be under my dad's squash plants, and its roots just had to wrap around and invade my already infected leg. Once uncovered, I pulled the roots off and winced at the pain. It felt like I was yanking out splinters. Squirmy, dirty splinters. Some more maggots decided to set up camp in my leg, so I had to deal with picking those out as well. Even when I reattached my leg and stood myself up, I could feel a couple unseen maggots gnawing at my flesh. Where were you? Fast asleep, I was sure. In your house. In your warm bed. With your loving family sprinkled around the house, going about their day without realizing that you were a little murderer. A little sneaky, a little arrogant. Playing the victim and thinking you wouldn't get caught. Surprise. I'm now at your window. I watch you sleep, see your chest moving up and down in a calming, tranquil pattern. Even though you sleep with the window closed, you keep it unlocked. Stepping into your room, I remember the day when you killed me. A saw to mutilate me in your garage. A knife to slit my throat. A sponge and bucket filled hydrogen peroxide to clean up the place. For three hours, you hid me in different places. Then your daddy came home and asked what you did. A smile. "Nothing. Just hung out with Zachariah, but he had to leave." Did I have to leave? Or did you have to hide me? My feet hit the floor of your room and step on the pretty pink rug. I make sure I have my knife in my hand, ready to cut, slit, or dice. Whatever I want to do, however I want to do it, it will be done. You wake up when my stick leg taps across the floor to your bed. Just like any rational person, you try to scream when you see a rotting corpse, erect with skin flaking off on your bedsheets. Before you can get a sound out, my hand is over your mouth. Your eyes lock on my exposed bone. Unlike you, I'm merciful enough to slit your throat first. Kill you so you don't have to suffer through what I'm about to do. I've always been curious about the human body. Next to playing violin, studying anatomy is another hobby of mine. But getting to see it for myself… it makes me smile. I can't tell what you're feeling with that knife in your eye, but I'm sure it's exactly what I felt that night. A saw grinding against my shoulder, tearing away flesh and spurting blood. I wonder if your dress was ruined by my blood. Screaming only makes the process worse. You cannot make a sound. Blood dribbles down your chin and out your mouth like a cursed fountain. I decide that you had some creative ideas with me. I'd like to use them for myself. It's as if my knife is another limb. It moves by itself, cutting anything I want, slicing your lips. Ripping up the corners of your mouth, and it looks like you're grinning from ear to ear. Unfortunately for me, I have no saw. I have to improvise and instead throw you to the ground and rip your shoulder from your socket. I keep pulling until I hear the pop and ripping of your skin. I fly back against your bed, your arm in my hand. Blood stains your floor, your pajamas, and your pretty pink rug. I like that. What if I try that with your leg? It doesn't work the way I thought, so I cram my knife in your leg and cut around the flesh. I've never seen your bones, and yet I know I want to smash it. A loud cracking sound echoes throughout your room. Your family is full of heavy sleepers, isn't it? I want to mutilate that pretty face of yours. That pretty face that took my life from me. That face that took away everything I had. My friends, my family, my future. You reap what you sow. But I know you didn't want this. Who wants to die? Who wants to be chopped up and eaten away by maggots? Speaking of maggots, the little ones emerge from my leg, curious at the smell of fresh flesh. You'll give them a nice home, won't you? You're almost unrecognizable by the time I'm done with you. Almost anything that could've been sliced has been sliced, and anything I could tear off myself has been torn. But… I'm not satisfied. I don't want to do more. I don't want to keep spilling your blood all over your room, over that pretty pink rug. Killing you only makes me what I hate: a murderer. I've had enough. I put my leg over the window and let myself fall to the ground. My work on myself comes undone. My arms split from my torso, my only leg tears off. I can only stare up at the stars. I'll stay here until morning, until they come to bury me again. And this time, I won't need to escape for vengeance. |
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