Randerolf

It was a place of Gods and Liars.

It was a small fishing village. As you walk down the dirty cobblestone street, too small for cars, to big to fit the rustic look, people pass you. Dirty people. There are buildings whitewashed with dirt. It smells like a movie theater seat.

You walk along, avoiding the occasional, uneven brick. To your right you see a woman having a baby in the ball pit of an old McDonalds. It was quiet just before your ears burn with her screams of bloody murder. The air gets hotter.

Do you stop and watch? Sure. Why not?

She was a native American women in her early 3o’s. She gives birth with no help to an angry and beautiful baby girl. “Congratulations.” You walk away, trying not to feel like you do when you go to the zoo. You’re not staring, your not a voyeur, you’re learning.

You get many meters away and stop. The baby is still crying. “I’m going to listen to Oprah and do a random act of kindness. I should give her money for formula.”

The town was a mix of what you would see on a postcard and what the tourist guides would keep visitors from.

As you turn around, a giant rock falls from the sky and crushes the McDonalds, including it’s “drive-thru.” The welcome sign with the arches are still there.

You don’t know what to say or do. You feel awkward.

You put your money back in your pocket.

God was mad. He usually was. Nobody knew why. Maybe he was sexually depressed. Let me explain. God was a 400 meter high monster who looked like Godzilla, only Godzilla could do cool stuff. God could only throw stuff and vomit on command.

There were all sorts of Gods, but God was the one who stayed around here. The tourist guide said that there were a lot of them. They all were named God. That was confusing.

And the people just walked along in their dirty little town.


You keep walking away from the coast. It’s not natural for a rock to fall from the sky and crush a McDonalds.

You hit the rural area. Less houses. Vast tracts of land. Fields. There are pine trees in on the mountain ahead of you. The cobbles give way to a dirt path going towards the mountain. There are thousands of people in the fields, all wearing dirty thrift store clothes. The ones closest to you have price tags still on them.

The movie theater seat smell turns into a combination of potatoes and generic car air fresheners.

God was doing some crap on the other side of the mountain. He was saying something, but you couldn’t understand it.

You hear a mass of people running towards you. They are carrying sharp sticks and pitch forks. A guy in police uniform with a thick mustache bumps into you. “Hey Bub! Let’s go! God’s Comming.” The people pass and they make sounds not words and chant “We will meet them at the gates.” You stand there.

The thrift store people continue looking busy in the field. A rock floats in the distance from the other side of the mountain. It’s quiet now. And it falls back to earth. Destroys part of a field. God mutters more stuff that can’t be understood. (too far away).

You look on the left side of the mountain, the side facing away for the peninsula that you just came from. There’s a giant chicken. It’s really fluffy. “God that’s sweet.”

The chicken is slow and waddles over the mountain and meets the villagers at the base of the mountain. You run there to watch. As you run, people are tossing sharp sticks at the giant chicken. They yell at it and it waddles at them. They do no damage. God looks like its a masochist. It’s just taking it.

You run in its direction and the villagers stab it. It was a rope-a-dope. The bird yells “RONALD!!!” and starts tearing away at the villagers and people go flying as it swipes at the attackers.

God, the other one, peeks over the side. The godzilla-like beast jumps up and yells “What the Fuck!!!!?” and throws what is feces or dirt at the giant chicken, HARD. It slams into the side of the chicken’s head, knocking it over on it’s side.

“That was sweet!!!,” you yell. The chicken clucks and squirms, but can’t get up. God does a victory dance on the mountain and sings “Slam. Da da da. Da da da da. Let Boys be boys! Slam...” There’s more clucking from God and you’re getting close. “Jeez, he landed on quite a few people. I wonder what’s that like?” The chicken looks so soft.

You are very close and the chicken is about 9 to 12 times as tall as you are. Keep in mind that the chicken is on it’s side. You get next to it and it’s moving, yet to get up. You touch it like a kid touching every object in an interesting middle-America department store. The clucking is SO LOUD, but it’s SO SOFT. You lift up the feathers and see severe scaring and there are many parasites crawling on it’s skin. THE CLUCKING IS SOOOOO LOUD. WHAT THE HELL?

You do what comes natural. You pull out your zippo lighter and light the chicken on fire. OH MAN. THAT WAS ONE FLAMABLE CHICKEN. It’ was like gasoline was on it. The chicken is SO on fire and you are getting the hell out of there. You’ve never seen a chicken catch on fire like that in your life. God’s over there laughing so very hard at the sight of the giant burning chicken: “Take that God! You’re a chicken and you’re ON FIRE! Mwa ha ha ha ha!”

You’re running back to the village. The clucking is still loud, but at least the god is on fire. Now it smells like Japanese food. The fire is 5,000 feet high and the villagers are leaving. They are angry at you. You don’t care, you are far from the burning chicken. It explodes. A large ploom of fire grows into the sky. God says, “Holly Crap!!!” He runs away like a little girl. The villagers are mad. A little Korean boy comes up to you: “You blew it up. Damn you, Damn you to hell!”

End

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A story I wrote a while back. Very loose, very silly. One of my most unskilled, yet one of my most popular. Thanks for reading. What do you think?

chavos

wow.... the first part was especially good...it has just the right mix of surreal. i think the chicken parts lose focus a bit, but thats not to say i haven't tried the challenge of writing about giant chickens and come up just a bit short, i have.

this section is priceless... thank you for the grin i'm now enjoying.

J.R.V.A.

I LIKE

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And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart

Jaron

I'm giggling like a motherfucking coke fiend, right now. You deserve it.

costello

good lord thats funny

__________________
"They don't even know what it is to be a fan. Y'know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts."

-Almost Famous

ARTelevision

I'd cultivate that talent.
I value humor more than almost anything (believe it or not).
Thanks!

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create evolution

Xiangsu

I loved it.