George Meeker had a horrible week. Sorry there I go again, I tend to talk in the third person as I tell this tale. It started on Monday, as most weeks seem to.
George was sitting at his breakfast table when his wife walked in and shared some startling news.
“I have some news that might startle you,” She began. George didn’t look up from his plate of half-burnt and half-runny eggs, he knew she would continue unabated. “I am leaving you for your dog.”
George’s gaze shifted toward her, then passed her as it continued skyward. “Reginald Ronny Reagan! You get your furry ass in here!”
Reginald entered the room wearing his neatly pressed Armani suit. “Ruff roo grrrr.”
Reginald and George’s wife shared a passionate kiss and they left the house arm in arm.
George only had one solace, he knew Reginald had worms and didn’t tell either of them.
He yelled after them, “Someday you’ll run out of peanut butter!”
Tuesday continued this trend of things going poorly for him… me.
George was on his way home from work. He was only one block away from his front door when he was tackled to the ground.
The man who tackled him was a traditionalist to the theory that if you are white in a warm climate you must have a mullet. The man began to kiss George all over his face.
Grossed out, George pushed him off. “What the hell are you doing?” George asked wiping his face with his sleeve.
The mullet man stood up and extended a sleeveless arm to help George up. George reluctantly took his hand and stood up.
The mullet man spoke the following, “The aliens bruh! They won’t takes a queer. They needs butts where a weenie hasn’t been, otherwise the probes gives a false reading.” He pointed up to the sky.
George now saw something glimmer distantly in the blue sky. Nothing definite, could have even been a plane, and George wished to tell this man that, but thought better of it. The mullet man, you see, was no longer there.
George looked around frantically. He only saw an empty middle-upper neighborhood.
George continued home and went to bed, trying to forget the incident.
In the sky, the mullet man tried screaming for help.
Wednesday was not any better for me. Things kept spiraling out of control around me and I didn’t yet know this was happening everywhere, I was just in the eye of the storm.
George was awoken by a sharp pain in his left leg. It was disconnected from him. In the corner of the room a small child held it in her mouth, her hair wagging happily. She jumped onto the bed and dropped the leg on George’s lap.
“Did I do good? I found it for you. I had to look all night but I found it. Know where it was? Huh? Huh?” The child asked at rapid fire speed. “It was in the vegetable crisper again. I guess that leg gets hot huh?” The girl lifted her right leg parallel to her torso and began licking the inside of her knee, spitting on the floor every few licks.
George lifted his leg and pressed the curve into his hip, where it reattached. “Yeah you did good kid. What’s your name?”
The girl stopped licking her leg and stared at George with hurt eyes. She began to sob lightly. She put her leg down and ran out of the room.
George tried to get up to follow her, but fell as his leg was still numb.
He struck his head on the way down and did not wake again until Thursday.
Which improved on nothing.
George pulled a large wad of fur out of his sleepy mouth. He used his arms to push his upper half up enough to survey the situation. Upon seeing where he was, he shoved his head back down in fear.
George was up the air, riding on the back of a giant dragonfly covered in a fur resembling shag carpeting.
The dragonfly craned its owl-like head around to face George.
“Oh you’re up!” The dragonfly said with a smile. “Good, this has been dreadfully boring without a bit of idle chit-chat to pass the time. So where to buddy?”
George looked around the dragonfly’s back and saw a small laminated card in front of him. It had the dragonfly’s face and read: “Dragon F Ly, Licensed Taxi.”
“To work…?” George asked feebly.
Dragon chuckled. “You don’t sound sure. You need a drink buddy?” A side compartment that George hadn’t noticed opened up, revealing a treasure trove of liquors. One was changing colors rapidly with the bottle. George grabbed that one.
“Fantastic choice, I must say. Pure distilled rainbows. Tastiest stuff known to man, also about three hundred proof.” Dragon licked its lips. “Pour me one there buddy.”
George did as he was asked, before passing the glass to an arm he’d swear wasn’t there before, he asked, “Are you sure you should?”
“Buddy I’ve been doing this since you were shitting in the amniotic fluid. Pass it here.” The arm took the glass and Dragon knocked it back.
George knocked his back as well. Immediately he felt a sense of calm fall over him.
“This stuff is amazing. I feel like I’m floating. I’m weightless!” George proclaimed proudly as he closed his eyes to fully enjoy this situation. The weightless sensation became nauseating so George opened his eyes.
The dragonfly was gone, and he was falling. Far below on the ground, the trees and bushes moved around until they looked like a word. Friday.
George landed in Friday.
George swatted away something poking at his bruises. It kept coming at him. Poking different spots all over his body, each hurting. George didn’t open his eyes until he heard a voice saying, “You look hurt. Need some aloe? We got lots.”
George’s eye lids pulled apart slowly to reveal a talking bush. Actually, it was a bush, but George assumed that was what was talking. This was confirmed when it wiggled slightly when it next spoke.
“What’s your name?” It asked.
“George Meeker.” George replied, trying to lift himself up. George realized now that a multitude of vines were crisscrossing his body keeping him tied to the ground. “Why am I restrained?”
The bush chuckled slightly. “You fell from the sky, we couldn’t have you move around too much until the examination is complete.”
“Examination?!” George screeched.
“Of course. We need to make sure your spine is intact. We can’t have you paralyzed now can we Mr. Meeker?”
George relaxed slightly at the words of logic from the bush.
Two very sharp sticks pressed into George’s lower back, it gripped his flesh and tore a flap all the way to the base of his skull.
The bush said, “It all looks good here, now how about that aloe?”
George felt pressure as the tree limbs stitched his back up using long leaves of grass. The tree that was stitching him up struck a match and lit a limb to burn the wound closed.
The ember continued to grow and the tree began to panic, knocking the vines off of George. The ember burst into a full flame, which engulfed the tree. The flames spread rapidly through the wooden surgeons.
Fire crawled up George’s pant legs and began to melt his flesh until he was nothing but bones.
At least he… I did not have a broken spine.
Nearly twenty four hours after the blaze began it was over. George used his hands to brush the ashes off his bones. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last ate anything. He was wasting away.
He wandered into a burger joint not to far away.
George walked up to the counter and sat down on a bar stool. The restaurant was currently unoccupied by any customers, which took George by surprise as the kitchen was furiously busy.
George waited patiently as a nice young woman came up to take his order. George could tell by looking at this woman that she was blind.
“How can I help you?” The woman asked.
“I’d like a double cheeseburger with the works please ma’am.” George said, the sound of his voice scaring him a lot. It sounded like two sticks being rapidly smacked together.
The woman’s smile turned into a frown slowly. “Oh.” she said. “Mickey, I need a hand please.”
A very large man made exclusively of rocks stepped out from the back room and approached the counter where George was sitting.
“Mickey? Does this man have skin?” The woman asked smoothly, while still staring at George.
“He doesn’t.” The rock man said, his voice was like a jackhammer on old asphalt.
“Sir, I have to ask you to leave. We have a strict policy: No Skin, No Service. There is a fine upholsterer just next door that might be able to help you. If you tell him we sent you he might even offer you a discount.”
George was angry, he was very hungry, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I can’t do that, I haven’t eaten in days, can you not tell?! Please? Just one burger!”
The woman crinkled her face into a snarl, “Sir, I said we cannot serve you until you return here covered in full epidermis. I am not allowed to bend on this rule for the safety of all customers and employees.” She began to wear a sly grin that sent a chill along George’s spine, although it might have been a breeze. “If you choose to, I can have Mickey here escort you out.”
George slammed his bony fist on the counter. “Then I guess you’ll have to…”
The next thing he… I knew, it was Sunday and I was alone in a large room.
George woke up in a large room. It was filled with six monitors so large they would put Times Square to shame.
Each monitor had a keyboard hanging loosely underneath. Above each was a day of the week.
George wandered his skeletal frame over to the monitors. He grabbed the keyboard under Monday and tapped the space bar a few times.
The screen lit up. After a moment of warming up he recognized the figure in front of him. It was a man named George Meeker.
Skeletal George was furious. “Fuck him! Why shouldn’t he suffer the same way I did?!” He typed angrily on the keyboard that his wife should enter the room and leave him for the dog.
Skeletal George grinned and went on to Tuesday. Again he tapped the space bar, and watched as the monitor brought up a familiar image. He typed that an alien would abduct his former fleshy body, but mullet man saved him again and was abducted instead.
Skeletal George continued all the way through Saturday.
It was at this completion that Skeletal George noticed there was curiously no monitor for Sunday. He searched the room, which did not take very long. Only six monitors were there, and six matching keyboards.
There was a noise behind George that made him jump.
It was me, holding the Sunday monitor high above my head. I brought it forcefully down upon him again and again until I was sure he was nothing more than a pile of bone dust. Then I went back to my hiding spot for the next George to find his way here.