4.3 KiB
| title | date | tags | topics | image | draft | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Potpie for Dinner | 2007-02-08T11:09:34+01:00 |
|
|
/img/fruit-flies.jpg | false |
[BRADLEY] “Jerry?“
[JERRY] ”Yeah, Bradley?“
[BRADLEY] ”Where are we?“
[JERRY] ”I ain’t quite sure, but I can smell that fruit gettin’ close, and I ain’t stoppin’ till I find it!“
[BRADLEY] ”Shouldn’t we be getting back to the pad?“
[JERRY] ”Goddammit, Bradley! You wanna be eatin’ mold your whole damned life?“
[BRADLEY] ”But I can’t see a thing, Jerry. I’m scared!“
[JERRY] ”Well, me neither, but Jes’ stay close, and you’ll be fine!“
[BRADLEY] ”What if he comes home, Jerry? What if he sees us?“
[JERRY] ”Aw, jeesuz, Jerry! He ain’t comin’ home! He ALWAYS eats out! An’ tonight - so are we!“
[BRADLEY] ”Alright, Jerry. You’re boss... “ [a f noise] ”Argh! Ouch!“
[JERRY] ”What the hell, Jerry?“
[BRADLEY] ”I hit somethin! I think I hurt myself!“
[JERRY] ”Uhg! Can you still fly, you friggin’ clutz?“
[BRADLEY] ”..er.. yeah, but my wing hurts!“
[JERRY] ”Why do I always bring you with me?“
[BRADLEY] ”Ain’t we friends, Jerry?“
[JERRY] ”Yeeeah, we’re friends.... I don’t know why, but yeah.“
[BRADLEY] ”You’re my friend, too, Jerry!“
[JERRY] ”Ack! Don’t go gittin’ all touchy-feely on me, you sissy!“
[BRADLEY] ”I’m sorry, Jerry...“
[JERRY] ”Weelll, jes’ start sniffin’ around for them damned oranges! They gotta be around here somewhere!“
[BRADLEY] ”Sure, Jerry, Sure!“
A thunderous thud resonates off in the distance, and a blinding flash of light fills the space around Jerry and Bradley. Three enormous rough-surfaced balls, swirled in bright orange, dull brown, and gray, can now be seen at a distance below them, resting in a wide-mouthed, but deep crater. It vaguely resembles a fruit basket.
[BRADLEY] ”AAAHH!! What was that!!! JERRY!!!!“
[JERRY] ”JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH, BRADLEY! Look at those oranges! He must be gettin’ a lot of overtime lately - those are the extra-larges -- And look! They’re already half rotten!“
[BRADLEY] ”Jerry!! Why are the lights on!! Oh, my GOD!! He’s home!! He’s home!!“
[JERRY] “Settle down, dammit! You’ll attract attention to us!! Head for the fruit, you idiot!”
Bradley begins spinning in circles around a gargantuan, brightly glowing white orb, that is suspended from a heavy pipe that extends a long distance over their heads.
[BRADLEY] “I wanna go home, Jerry! Take me home, Jerry! I don’t wanna diiieee! I don’t wanna diiieee!”
[JERRY]“ What the fuck, Bradley! Stop that! Oh, great! Now, he’s comin’! You got his attention! Goddammit, Bradley, Flyyyy!!”
Jerry makes a bee-line for the sink drain. Behind him, Jerry can feel a wave of atmosphere boiling up behind him, knocking him off course, spinning and twirling him erratically toward the refrigerator.
Suddenly, he is deafened and dazed by an earth-shattering burst of skull-piercing sound. He is paralyzed for a moment, and begins to tumble toward the ground. Mid-plummet, he regains consciousness, and begins flapping again. He rights himself, and looks around.
[JERRY] “BRADLEY!! Bradley! Where are you!”
Jerry circles around twice, in search of Bradley, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Looming up over him now, Jerry can see a large, pink and brown balloon bobbing in mid-air. There are two dark holes (in just the right places), with glass boulders in them, that somehow follow his every move.
[JERRY] “FUCK! He sees me!”
Jerry ducks, and weaves to-and-fro, hoping to make it to the moldy scrub pad near the sink drain, before it’s too late.
But it is too late: A monolithic wall of pink flesh fills Jerry’s entire field of vision, the room grows instantly dark, and Jerry thinks to himself as he can feel the air pressure rapidly ramping up: “I wonder what those Oranges would have tasted like...”
. . . .
Michael claps his hands together.
[Michael] “GOTCHA! ... Goddamned fruit flies! One of these days, I’m really gonna have to clean up this kitchen!”
Michael wipes his hand on his pant leg, pulls the freezer door open, reaches in, and pulls out a small frozen carton that has the photograph of a pie-like pastry entrée on the lid.
The End.