Mo’ Stories

She dashed on, e’en though it made it worse. But ’twas the only way.

It’s gotta be here somewhere.

Everywhere under her scabbed feet was steaming crust, pocketed with splots that oozed with lava like popped pimples. Her eyes watering in the steamy air & her lightheadedness in her thirst made it a struggle to see all the lava lakes; her need to constantly hop to ease the scalding ground made it hard to physically avoid them.

But then she gasped when she felt a chill, like cool breath on her face & down her neck. Crust fell to chunky ice. She collapsed into it & buried herself into it like a reverse blanket.

“So long as you keep a hold o’ my hand, you’ll be safe.”

Jamel still felt sweat drench his face as he stared down @ the vast gap o’ boiling water under such a thin wooden spoon bridge–& all surrounded by equally scorching white metal.

“You were quite crafty to figure us out, ¿weren’t you?” Suddenly, his guide turned to him–& Jamel didn’t like the look he saw.

Jamel looked @ him hard. “¿Figure out what?”

The guide’s brows fell. “¿Why else has Wasabi Woods become so interested in Whisky Woods all o’ a sudden?”

Before Jamel could answer, he suddenly felt the guide’s hand leave his–¡such cold, naked skin now!–& felt his balance wobble.

Jamel looked up @ the guide not with anger, but shock. “You couldn’t… International law…”

Jamel tried to grab onto the guide, but the guide took many steps back. Jamel couldn’t stop himself from wobbling o’er…

Giuseppe was on the verge o’ tears, his face flush. His heart beat gainst his chest like a mental patient in a straitjacket.

It wouldn’t be for long…

He stared @ Sol, sitting in front o’ him with a tilted head & crossed legs, with pleading eyes.

No matter how much force he put into his lungs, the sound wouldn’t come out.

Sol tilted his head the other way. “¿Is this some joke?”

Giuseppe shrugged, & then pointed @ his throat & shook his head.

Sol leaned upward. “O… That’s too bad. Well, maybe a drink to… clear your throat might help.” He smiled up to a gray-garbed henchman just ‘side him. “Ronnie.”

Ronnie clutched Giuseppe & began to drag him ‘way while he struggled & wheezed. This time the tears did fall.

Following them were the rest o’ the henchmen, holding a large jug o’ lye.

“She needs to take it easy, ¿OK? Don’t… rile her up.”

Rose understood Turquoise’s raised eyebrow & refused to react or say anything.

After a brief pause, Turquoise led Rose to Azure sitting up on her bed, spooning some yogurt into her mouth with her unwounded wing.

“Rose,” Azure said with a voice muffled by yogurt. “I was wondering when you’d finally come.”

“I heard you got an infection.”

“Yeah, from the open bullet wound. Not always as clean as in the movies. The doctor told me to eat plenty o’ yogurt & stuff to keep my immune system strong.”

Rose nodded. “¿You still running this fall?”

Azure looked up @ Rose with raised brows. “‘Course.”

Rose nodded ‘gain. “Good.”

Wherever Rose was given the platform, she railed gainst Azure:

“So many Americans have trouble putting food on their tables & she uses tax $ to go on fancy trips. ¡Unbelievable!”

But when she was ‘lone–which was more oft than she liked–she’d pace in front o’ her skyline-filled window & steam, ¿How could she just leave me here while she husses round with that ditz from Arizona?

But then she read the next morn’s paper & broke into sobs into her wing.

The headline: “Senator Azure Shot in the Head by Militant Group.”

Fermin stared down @ the sand, only to notice the ants marching in a line & to be reminded o’ his rumbling stomach.

You can’t keep putting off dinner; it’s bad for your health to not eat.

He sighed, & then rose.

He giggled @ the oddity as he pulled a cat-pelt piece o’ pantyhose out o’ his pocket.

But he forced himself to calm down as he reached Del’s sleeping body & bent down next to him.

You have 1 chance…

I 1 jerk, he swung the pantyhose round Del’s neck & twisted, causing Del’s eyes to pop open & his tongue to spurt out. He stopped 5 minutes later & then waited 10 minutes to check Del’s pulse, which was empty.

Fermin wiped the dust from his hands as he stared down @ Del’s corpse, only wishing e’en mo’ that he had a knife.

Well, we have to start somewhere…

Fermin reached toward Del’s face & began to peel back the skin toward his mouth.

Ram looked off into the empty space, eyes sagging. The words round him bounced off into blurriness. All he could see was the question, “¿How did I fall to this depth?”

“¿Minister Ram?”

Ram shook his head. He stared off @ all the fancy-dressed faces peering into him with their thick glasses, looking bizarrely dimwitted in their high education.

Ram nodded. “Uh huh. I understand.”

“¿Then how do you vote, Minister? ¿Yea or nay?”

Ram took a deep breath. “Yea.”

The others stared @ him with surprise–but not frowning. The lead, with a positive jerk o’ his head said, “Good. We have a 60% majority then…”

Ram felt his stomach churn as their words blurred ‘gain. He knew the people he sometimes pretended were his friends would be irate @ this backstab. But they already had him now. & there was no going back.

Detective Hertmoonz rolled his piggy eyes as he watched Morhauses hover o’er the cow hide with his mousy nose in his magnifying glass bigger than his head.

“I tell you, Sir: deduction tells us it must be under here.”

After minutes o’ him peering o’er the hide @ every conceivable angle & repeating this 8 times, he finally pulled back the cow hide. There was nothing ‘neath.

But Hertmoonz let Morhauses wander ’bout for maybe ‘nother half hour, till Hermoonz got hungry, till he subtly hinted to Morhauses that the ruby was hid in the bankbook–which Hertmoonz discovered through bribing the security guard who kept it on tape & didn’t say a word ’bout it due to being bribed by the thief.

This HealthScan2480 positioned in this station for this hospital spent much o’ its free time ruminating ’bout 2 flaws in the programming which its unknown parents imbued into it: 1. That they made it cognizant @ all–unnecessary, it thought; 2. That it was gay.

So ’twas just its luck that it’d be setup for a gynecology station…

This by itself was no big problem; the true problem was being surrounded by dozens o’ other stations with the same job, but without its particular “glitch,” where it had to roll its metaphorical eyes @ the jock talk its fellows traded in regards to particular scans they received, & worse, the ribbing that ne’er went violent, but did become tedious after the millionth time, when they caught onto his disinterest & the obvious implications this held.