Mythos flash, in a way

In His House in Suburbia


That is not idle, which can eternal strive,
And in new seasons, strange broods may thrive.
--Jaaq al Coustou


One morning a Vespa was parked in the carport of the old Wilson place. I caught a glimpse of my new neighbor the next day. He was mowing and I was on my roof replacing some shingles. His face was a mass of tentacles, with a huge eye on each side. That seemed a little strange, even for SoCal.

I saw him again while raising money for the orphanage down the street. He had finally put his name on the mailbox. Instead of Wilson it now read "Phnglui." When I got to the door I thought I heard chanting inside, but it stopped as soon as I knocked. A few minutes later the door opened. Mr. P. stood there blinking. He was wearing a Miskatonic University T-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees. I couldn't help noticing that his bare feet had webbing between the toes.

"Hey man," I said, "I'm selling raffle tickets for the orphanage. They're a dollar. You could win, like, a big screen TV, or dinner for two at Steamers." After I mentioned that one I wished I hadn't. He might be a little uncomfortable with the idea of seafood, being a sort of human calamari.

"Oh, uh, sure. Hold on." He went to a little table that was covered with papers held down by a green soapstone statuette. He picked up his wallet. "I'll take five."

"Thanks man. Say, could I borrow your mower? Mine quit working last time I used it and it's still in the shop. This time of year they're so busy it takes forever."

"No problem. I already mowed."

I saw Mr. P pretty regularly after that. I got the feeling he'd been keeping a low profile until he found out how the neighbors would react to his appearance. I even saw him jogging in the park, and ran into him at the grocery store. He was buying shrimp, so I guess my seafood restaurant gaffe hadn't been a problem. When it came time for the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July picnic, I made sure to invite him.

"You may not be American, but you're welcome to party with us. Plus, we're going to do the drawing. For the raffle." I couldn't place his accent.

"I'm from Massachusetts," he said. "A little town near Arkham. Innsmouth; you probably haven't heard of it. Got kin up that way. And I'll definitely see you Saturday. I'll bring some crabcakes."

*

Everyone agreed the crabcakes were awesome. A couple of people asked for the recipe, and he promised to e-mail them. I don't know why, but for some reason I hadn't expected him to use e-mail. He noticed my expression.

"I can't afford to call my relatives long distance; I use Skype. I have some cousins near Ponape. Aquaculturalists."

About then, Missy Langston sat down next to Mr. P. She was wearing a very brief bikini, and she draped her arm across his shoulders. This made him a little uncomfortable, if the frenetic writhing of his tentacles was anything to go by.

"Oh Mr. P," she said. "I hear you have all kinds antique statuary in your house. I would love to see it." She leaned over and whispered in his ear. He turned bright red. I got up to get another beer. It was a while later when I noticed the two of them had gone. I also didn't see Missy's sometime boyfriend Chuck. Seemed like Missy had been fighting with him a few hours earlier, before she started talking to Mr. P.

About then Missy came running out of the darkness, screaming that Chuck was killing Mr. P and we needed to make them stop. She had lost her bikini top. A couple of us ran back the way she had come, to find Mr. P on the ground. About a third of the tentacles were missing from around his mouth and he was bleeding from a cut above his eye. There was no sign of Chuck. We got Mr. P upright and half dragged him to his house. I asked if he wanted to go to the hospital, but he shook his head. At the front door he waved us away, and closed and locked it behind him.

The next morning I checked on him. He didn't answer until I shouted that I was going to call 911. I heard a faint whisper from just on the other side of the door.

"I'll regenerate. Just go away. Please."

That night I took him some chowder. He didn't answer the door, so I left it in a cooler. The next morning the cooler was empty. A week later he was out trimming his hedge, sporting a set of bright pink stubby tentacles that replaced the ones Chuck had torn out.

In the meantime, no one had seen Chuck at all. Missy tossed her head and said "I'm glad! All he ever gave me was a black eye."

A few days after that Chuck turned up... floating face down in a canal, partially eaten by fish and crabs. He had been in the water for days, and his face was completely gone.

I was one of the few who showed up at the funeral. Missy arrived right before he was lowered into the ground, riding behind Mr. P. on his bright yellow Vespa.

It was about a month later that Missy started to show. Mr. P bought a used Accord. Missy announced that she was carrying quadruplets, and I bought them one of those fancy four-seat strollers. A couple of humorists down the street chipped in and bought a 100 gallon fish tank. I didn't think it was funny.


The end

"Carlos' Second Head"

He had never seemed to use it, but now that his second head was missing, Carlos really felt the lack. Maybe it was silly, but he had really enjoyed putting his sunglasses on it when he came inside. It unnerved people, and Carlos especially enjoyed unnerving people. Also, it had kept his left ear warm. You wouldn't think it would make that much difference, but it really did.

Most importantly, losing the head made his nickname really stupid. Carlos did not like feeling stupid.

"Yo, Shotgun. Wazzup?" They rapped knuckles.

"Two-head. Not much, my man. Whoa! What happened to your other head?!" It went downhill from there.

By noon he'd heard way too many jokes like "You ought to have your head handed to you" Or "You know what you need to get ahead?" He just had to find out who had taken his head!

Naturally, in a case like this, he went to Madame de Risier. She was the best fortune-teller in town. Carlos hated going to her creepy little store in the old part of town, because she was scary. She knew things she couldn't know. Like that time Vinnie the Trunk sent Old Man Randall to sleep with the fishes. She knew where Randall was like she could see him! And he was in 60 feet of water under the bridge!


So Carlos drove r-e-a-l s-l-o-w-l-y all the way over to Frontiere Street. He parked two blocks away from Madame de Risier's shop, and after he got out of the car he walked as slowly as he could. Still, eventually, he got there. He pushed open the door and went in. The bells shaped like tiny human skulls tinkled as the door swung closed behind him. "I know why you have come," intoned a voice from the darkened back of the store. The words hung in the air like a shovel full of dirt about to be tossed into Carlos's grave. The voice sounded like it came from something that spent a lot of time in a tomb. The whole place even smelled a little bit like a graveyard.

"You know what?" Carlos asked conversationally, "I'm leaving. You can do your thing in here with the voice and stuff and I'll just go back home." Then he added, "and you know what else? I didn't come because of the missing head. No, a lot of people would have come because of that, but not me. No, I came because it's not right when people steal from other people. The person who took my head needs to understand that crime does not pay. That's why I'm here. So, I guess I'm kind of here because of the head, but it's more than that." Carlos decided it was time to stop talking.

"Your head" came the eerie voice, "has been a passenger long enough. It yearns to be free. Please release it from the sweet bonds of parental servitude with which you have held it for so long."

"What are you talking about?" Carlos shouted at the crazy woman. "It is a head! Not a human being! It can't ever go out on its own," he said, shaking his remaining head in disgust. Carlos turned around and left.

He didn't really know where he wanted to go, so he just strolled aimlessly around through the touristy old part of town, fuming about the crazy fortuneteller.

He kept feeling like he was being followed, but whenever he turned around suddenly, no one was there. It was spooky. One time he turned around when he didn't have that feeling, and he came face to face with his head. His missing head! It was perched on the neck of a mannequin, the kind that has wheels. Apparently, when it wanted to go somewhere, the wheels rolled. It waved the mannequin's arm and said "hi."

Carlos was delighted to see his head, but he was afraid it was for the last time. "You, you have a new body. Is this goodbye?"

The mannequin shook its head. "Never that! We will see each other around. But I need to be my own head. You will need a new nickname. Something pithy and meaningful. I'll be thinking about it."

Carlos' neck had been itching all day where his second head used to be. He scratched his neck absently, and he seemed to feel a little bump there. It had not been there in the morning.

He smiled. "I'm feeling lucky. I think I'll keep my old nickname a little longer."


The end



From The Simian Transcript http://www.cyberwizardproductions.com/Banana_Oil_Books/The_Simian_Transcript_by_David_C_Kopaska-Merkel.html

Flash story from "The Simian Transcript"

A sample story from my book of flash fiction, "The Simian Transcript." The book is $10 postpaid, signed, from me.


Are you my mother?


Mama was reincarnated as a rhino last week. This really sucks. She won't fit through any of the doors, so she sleeps in the carport. I don't like hugging her now, because her skin is so hard and dry. It is like grandma's hands were last winter when she ran out of hand lotion – G-double r-gross! And, she can't drive me to soccer practice, so I have to wait for Leslie. She's so busy with her "singing career" (ha ha) she always forgets to pick me up and I get home late.

It was great though when Rodney was teasing me at the bus stop, pulling my hair and trying to pinch me. He makes me so mad! His arms are longer, so I can never pinch him back. But this time Mama came running across the road from our house. The ground was shaking and everything. Rodney wet his pants, when all she did was knock him down with the side of her head. When Selena's brother came back as a Jaguar, and some guy from Central High was bothering her, her brother ATE him. I mean, even ate his shoes. He is still locked up, but it was so worth it. The guy came back as a banana slug. What a loser!

Another time, a parade was going by and I couldn't see anything. She let me ride on her back and then I could see really well. There was a giraffe in the way. When she told it to move I thought they were going to fight and I was really scared. Giraffes are big!

But mostly it's a real pain. Like when we wanted to go to the drive-through at Wendy's, but Leslie didn't have any money and mom wasn't there because she doesn't fit in the car anymore. So all we had was leftover macaroni and cheese, and that is really yucky the second day. All she said was "you can cook if you don't like it."

If she dies, maybe she will come back as something cuddlier. I hope it happens soon.


The end



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