This is my entry into Finish the Story Contest hosted by the @bananafish and the wonderful community that keeps it running for 52 weeks now.
Not going to lie. I had a terrible time with the prompt even though I know a thing a two about the characters. At this point, I was like, "Fuck it," and wrote what you'll get to read. Since the prompt came from a dream, I thought I'd explore that and have fun with whatever came to mind.
Enjoy the show. If you don't, throw things like fresh veggies. I'm starving. ;-)
Pointy Eyes Shine In The Dark
by @f3nix
"Auntie Masha‘ n the God’s Mistakes / every day on FRINGE -FM! / We will lure them, interview them / fun and tortures never end! "
The radio anchor's words glide over the frantic notes of the jingle like an old rusted Cessna.
"We're still here! I know, my lobotomized listeners, you too are amazed that your beloved auntie is still broadcasting on the frequencies of... "
"Stop with the preambles, old wino!" The voices of the three God's Mistakes recall a misplaced cross between Smeagol and the Chipmunks. In the studio, plastered with purple sound-proofing cones, the three animated puppets stare at Masha with lusty and murderous eyes. In a quick flash, the radio host instinctively thinks about the many crossroads of her life.
"Let's all welcome the most annoying and useless voices in the whole history of radio broadcasting from Edison to nowadays. Don't interrupt me, at least not at the beginning of the program, damn puppets..."
"...Cursed the stoned producer who wanted you," the host adds a quick note in her mind.
"Hey granny, we are co-hosts, not voices.” The felt creatures stand assertively.
"As we said, my bizarre radio listeners, here we are at our usual appointment with Masha's spicey interviews. Today we have an exceptional guest who certainly does not need introductions: directly from Berlin, Kurt Kükenvernichter, the one who returned metal music to the wide public. You know, Kurt, that auntie won't allow you to exit this studio without you having confessed at least some sordid and succulent secret.” The presenter begins to press. "For starters, we want to know how you managed to convert post-millennials around the world to your music."
Meanwhile, it seems that Kurt has decided to ignore the presentation. The round sound of his flask's stopper popping is not even captured by the microphone that already the singer has gulped down a sip of grog, dark and thick like tar. He slowly approaches the loudspeaker and greets his fans - especially the female ones - with a bronze baritone voice.
"Anyway, I never converted anyone. In these shitty times, I saw an empty throne and sat there."
"Aha. Sure. On thrones, photos of you collapsed on a toilet have been leaked from the net in the last few days. It is said to have been an exclusive party in Miami. Not exactly an image in line with the Kurt we all know. Do you want to deny or give us some clarification?” If radio frequencies could take shape, listeners would now see a scythe.
"They are all ... I was saying ... hhhhh ... it's all a pathetic charade!" The shrill voice of a clown who sniffed early-morning helium extrudes from the singer's throat as from an occluded sphincter.
"What the fuck was that?" Auntie Masha leaps in shock from the chair. The God’s Mistake for once are silent, overwhelmed by a more absurd voice than theirs and looking at each other with lost pointy eyes.
Time is strange on radio and silence represents an abomination against nature. Five interminable seconds pass before the host manages to recover and decides to send the advertisement break. Kurt has already thrown himself out of the studio, making shrill desperate blows. In fading out, a coarse puppet's laugh resounds.
In the loft, the thick curtains are still those of the old printing works. The late rays of the sun filter through the large dirty windows together with the sounds of the offices being emptied. A man wrapped in black leather and studs is spread on a padded velvet chaise long while, at the end of the room, another figure sits composed giving him his back.
"You see, Doctor, my voice is everything, why did it start to betray me? I can't understand what's happening to me. I feel violated by a dark and perverse part of myself. Under this thick layer of metal, there is a sensitive heart and I don't think I can stand this anymore."
As he confesses, Kurt hears a little music coming from behind the back of the chair. It looks like something already heard.
"Doctor?"
"Isn't this riff I just invented beautiful?" Asks the therapist to the air with a gloating triumph note in his voice. Kurt pokes his head out and sees him fiddling with a tiny electric ukulele.
"Actually I think it's Smoke On The Water, Doc."
The chair snaps in a flash of lightning.
"Kurt, I have the solution but it won't be easy and requires your blind trust in me." Dr. Machete smiles as a strange light moves through his eyes. Struck by dusty beams of light, he looks like a sly Cheshire Cat.
"Who do we have here walking between rooms, Kurt?" Dr. Machete raises his hand out and across his heart to where a long corridor rug with patterns of hieroglyphic Egyptian images extend down a hallway along the doors it passes. From left to right, a few figures with the shape of a man's body and the head of an animal pass from one side to the next.
"I see ... personification ... these memories I fancy ... it doesn't look right."
The doc slaps his hand together. Looking around, Kurt finds himself in a sandbox. Toy soldiers buried in the sand with upturned battle tanks and little green army men sitting high up in a tower, congratulating themselves on the plan they'd carried out against the other, call out radio commands in their walkie-talkies.
A frantic mother enters the right side of Kurt's peripheral vision, the latest paper in hand. The headline reads -
The doc snaps his fingers. Kurt is the size of one of the army men and is standing in the sand between two brown plastic stables that house horses. The doc, towering over him, shakes his boot, a drop of water forms a puddle of water a couple of feet out from where Kurt is standing. Crickets begin chirping. Frogs begin croaking. Then, mosquitoes start growing on the leaves coming up out of the ground. They rush the nearest target - Kurt.
Kurt turns a 180 and runs as fast as his legs will allow him. He catches sight of the rapid flashes of light before the sound of gunfire hits his ears. "Mom. Dad." He ducks down to avoid a mosquito's proboscis to the head, "This isn't funny."
He begins falling down after the ground gave way beneath him, landing in a theater seat looking at the screen from the second row. He cranes his neck to look up. There, on the screen, is a woman dusting a window seal, the light from the sun reflects off of the dust particles lighting up her face. She opens her mouth to speak but she is drowned out by a voice coming from a room inside of the house.
Kurt grips the armchair, his knuckles turning white. and the camera follows the woman in through the window. It's the same hall he saw moments ago only this time the rug was missing. In its place, a mural of a bananafish standing on top of Oddy Osmourne covers the floor before a gigantic water-fountain. The woman did a slew of backflips down the hall, landing on her hands with feet up in the air and her pointy eyes shine in the dark locking in Kurt's gaze.
"Remember who you are," she said.
Kurt felt a bump form on his head. His hand instinctively touches the spot and then the pain shot through his body.
"Mendo. You back man?" Seeing Mendo blinking his eyes, Machete sighs. "Bro, you like, ah, like, ... Man! You're alive!"
Mendo, dazed and confused, mutters, "Wha ... hap... en."
"You drank Tres Culos's bottle he'd filled with acid thinking it was a beer after you got hit in the head with a bottle a fan through at you. You tripped for days - kept calling me doc and yourself Kurt."
| Previous | Finish the Story Contest | Entries | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| The Town That Changed | Even the Clouds Smile | The Border | Horror Vacui | |
| Black Star | Quitting Life | LER | It Awakens | |
| Apocalypse and Pretzels | Metallic Kisses | Curie upvoted The Battle of Bloodneck Valley | Awakening | |
| Curie Upvoted Obstinancy | The Last Will and Testament of Geralda Connors | Curie Upvoted Pirate Hunters | Spoon-fed Memories | Lucid Dream |
| The Taste of Chicken | Curie upvoted Hunt More Precious Than a Green Stone | Kayla | Curie Upvoted The story of Mr. Renhe Ren | Second Prize Winner Blue Inferno for Tres Culos |
| Leitner | Collaboration A Game in the Hall | Curie upvoted The Extraodrdinary Café | The Package | Curie Upvoted The Abysmal Biscuit |
| The Devisal of Mr. Dankworth |
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