1st
OLK EXPERIENCE (a short story)
I just sat down on the coffee stained cowhide cushioned bench in another greasy-spoon called ‘Slixx’. There were butt burns all around the unused ashtray...maybe some people liked the smell of burning wood or maybe it was a sacramental fetish of theirs.
Over in the dim lit corner were a few oddly shaped patrons whispering in another booth just inside my left peripheral zone. This is where most apparitions are most likely to manifest so I blinked twice and a third time for good luck. The apparent apparitions were not only there but staring
at me.
“Nani-ho-shike?” There stood a presumptuously unversed waitress, white as snow with fiery red hair and lucid emerald eyes.
“Coffee please and a bowl of chowder.” I heard myself say.
Was I imagining it or did she just wink and walk away leaving behind her last nights processed odor. It lingered for a moment in my nostrils...hope that doesn’t happen again.
I reached inside my coat pocket and pulled out a pack of stogies along with my forever zippo.
‘Snap..ch’, and a roaming cloud of blue swirled up toward the cobwebbed ceiling fan.
I’ve been told not to inhale but you know that first hit always pushes me halfway through the chair. You could say an out of body experience.
As I was waiting for my coffee and soup I noticed that someone had scratched their philosophy into the sacramental table-top. ‘Dying to cry, dying to die, found that life was a lie, my lady loved and left me with lingerie head-gear, three cigarettes stuffed in a can o’ beer.’
Hmmm... very suiting for this place. I can’t imagine what he meant by lingerie head-gear but I conjured up some scenarios that kind of enticed my interest.
“Here’s your coffee,” she said while scratching her sleeveless armpit.
“Thanks,” I said while mimicing her.
“Must be something in the air,” she chuckled.
“Must be,” I said while thinking of a primates TV special I had once watched and I think she felt closer to me... you know.
I thought this would be the opportune time to ask about the table-top philosophy.
“Do you know who scratched this into the table,” pointing to the scratches.
“Oh him... sure, he was my X... God rest his soul,” she hummed almost sounding like a prayer. Say no more, I thought to myself so I just nodded my head and said, “Oh!”
“Order of chowder,” the cook screamed from the kitchen. “Gotta go,” and she swayed to the sound and was gone. Luckily for me she brought the soup and left no unpleasantries behind. I heard the spring door open, gowing, smack-mack-ack and it reminded me of an old ranch style outer screen door closing. The not so apparent apparitions ceased their mumblings and all that could be heard was the cook muttering something about those damn cockroaches.
As I was looking up an unpleasant looking, one eyed, stubby fingered man sat down next to me.
“You should be careful of what you think,” he said while sticking his tongue up over his upper lip, licking his hairy left nostril. Before I could say anything, he pulled out a small but believable hand gun and said, “ Your money or the chowder.”
I handed him the bowl and before be had guzzled most of the contents I heard the waitress yelling, “Hey Clops don’t be harassing our paying customer.”
He possibly choked on one of the clams, squeezing the trigger of the gun and out came a stream of water like somebody pissing. “Where’s the bathroom,” I asked... not that I had to throw my Calvin K's in the dust bin but I had to have a leak. “Just behind those drapes over there,” said Clops. Then he smiled and said, “Your money or your coffee.”
I believe it’ll be gone before I get back.
(to be continued)
‘Why behind the drapes’ I mused. It couldn’t be any worse than what I had already experienced. The drapes had a pattern of mutated moons that repeated itself. I can’t say I’d ever seen anything like it although I once saw something similar in Wal-Mart in the messy discount bin.
I felt almost invisible but I believe I reappeared when I came face to face with a soothing blue wall with no door. It had to be another joke so I played along with it by closing the drapes behind me. There were some smudged snickerings which soon erupted into a lava of lavacious laughter. I had had just about enough of this place when I noticed something remotely odd. As I touched the wall my right pointer slipped into a hole and as I took it out I could hear a toilet flush so I stuck it in again and pulled it out. Again I heard a toilet flush and the sound of a fart.
I wasn’t sure if it was me or someone unloading an inflated whoopie cushion.
The drapes behind me began waving like an audience bidding farewell and the next thing I felt was something pulling me through the wall. I stumbled and fell onto a baby blue tiled floor. Looking over my bad left shoulder to where I came through, I saw a blurry blue wall with small holes everywhere. Over each hole was a small plaque of sorts so I pulled myself closer to take a closer look. Names, names, names, numbers, numbers, numbers then I saw one slightly different.
It said, Congratulations, you have successfully unlocked the wall, see back for further instructions.
What’s this, I murmured to myself...then I snickered,thinking this dream would be much better if I had had a companion to laugh with.
I took it off the wall and on the back side of the tag there were no instructions but in the middle as with all the tags was a hole. I did the obvious and poked my finger through to the tags delight. Whip, whap, snap and the tag shot off my finger like a gunpowdered musket ball and smacked against the wall taking with it some of my DNA. Sure enough, it had my name and Phi-V3 inscribed into it.
Then it dawned on me... there were no toilets and I had to squeeze my cheeks together to hold back the deluge.
Just opposite of where I came through was another wall full of tags with finger holes. Of course they all had names and numbers. The tags were shaped like stars, all but one which was a crescent moon.
Ahaaa I thought, thinking of some hillbilly outhouse out in the boonies, how obvious.
When I got closer, there were the letters ‘OLK’ inscribed on it and a similar pattern as on the drapes back in the Slixx. As I glanced about I recognized my name and the finger hole in one of the stars. Now that would have been too predictable to stick my finger into it. My sense of adventure brought me back to the moon.
The ‘OLK’... wonder what it stands for. Maybe, Order of Lizard Knuckles or Orifice of Latrine Knights... doesn’t really matter, not yet anyway.
I just sat down on the coffee stained cowhide cushioned bench in another greasy-spoon called ‘Slixx’. There were butt burns all around the unused ashtray...maybe some people liked the smell of burning wood or maybe it was a sacramental fetish of theirs.
Over in the dim lit corner were a few oddly shaped patrons whispering in another booth just inside my left peripheral zone. This is where most apparitions are most likely to manifest so I blinked twice and a third time for good luck. The apparent apparitions were not only there but staring
at me.
“Nani-ho-shike?” There stood a presumptuously unversed waitress, white as snow with fiery red hair and lucid emerald eyes.
“Coffee please and a bowl of chowder.” I heard myself say.
Was I imagining it or did she just wink and walk away leaving behind her last nights processed odor. It lingered for a moment in my nostrils...hope that doesn’t happen again.
I reached inside my coat pocket and pulled out a pack of stogies along with my forever zippo.
‘Snap..ch’, and a roaming cloud of blue swirled up toward the cobwebbed ceiling fan.
I’ve been told not to inhale but you know that first hit always pushes me halfway through the chair. You could say an out of body experience.
As I was waiting for my coffee and soup I noticed that someone had scratched their philosophy into the sacramental table-top. ‘Dying to cry, dying to die, found that life was a lie, my lady loved and left me with lingerie head-gear, three cigarettes stuffed in a can o’ beer.’
Hmmm... very suiting for this place. I can’t imagine what he meant by lingerie head-gear but I conjured up some scenarios that kind of enticed my interest.
“Here’s your coffee,” she said while scratching her sleeveless armpit.
“Thanks,” I said while mimicing her.
“Must be something in the air,” she chuckled.
“Must be,” I said while thinking of a primates TV special I had once watched and I think she felt closer to me... you know.
I thought this would be the opportune time to ask about the table-top philosophy.
“Do you know who scratched this into the table,” pointing to the scratches.
“Oh him... sure, he was my X... God rest his soul,” she hummed almost sounding like a prayer. Say no more, I thought to myself so I just nodded my head and said, “Oh!”
“Order of chowder,” the cook screamed from the kitchen. “Gotta go,” and she swayed to the sound and was gone. Luckily for me she brought the soup and left no unpleasantries behind. I heard the spring door open, gowing, smack-mack-ack and it reminded me of an old ranch style outer screen door closing. The not so apparent apparitions ceased their mumblings and all that could be heard was the cook muttering something about those damn cockroaches.
As I was looking up an unpleasant looking, one eyed, stubby fingered man sat down next to me.
“You should be careful of what you think,” he said while sticking his tongue up over his upper lip, licking his hairy left nostril. Before I could say anything, he pulled out a small but believable hand gun and said, “ Your money or the chowder.”
I handed him the bowl and before be had guzzled most of the contents I heard the waitress yelling, “Hey Clops don’t be harassing our paying customer.”
He possibly choked on one of the clams, squeezing the trigger of the gun and out came a stream of water like somebody pissing. “Where’s the bathroom,” I asked... not that I had to throw my Calvin K's in the dust bin but I had to have a leak. “Just behind those drapes over there,” said Clops. Then he smiled and said, “Your money or your coffee.”
I believe it’ll be gone before I get back.
(to be continued)
‘Why behind the drapes’ I mused. It couldn’t be any worse than what I had already experienced. The drapes had a pattern of mutated moons that repeated itself. I can’t say I’d ever seen anything like it although I once saw something similar in Wal-Mart in the messy discount bin.
I felt almost invisible but I believe I reappeared when I came face to face with a soothing blue wall with no door. It had to be another joke so I played along with it by closing the drapes behind me. There were some smudged snickerings which soon erupted into a lava of lavacious laughter. I had had just about enough of this place when I noticed something remotely odd. As I touched the wall my right pointer slipped into a hole and as I took it out I could hear a toilet flush so I stuck it in again and pulled it out. Again I heard a toilet flush and the sound of a fart.
I wasn’t sure if it was me or someone unloading an inflated whoopie cushion.
The drapes behind me began waving like an audience bidding farewell and the next thing I felt was something pulling me through the wall. I stumbled and fell onto a baby blue tiled floor. Looking over my bad left shoulder to where I came through, I saw a blurry blue wall with small holes everywhere. Over each hole was a small plaque of sorts so I pulled myself closer to take a closer look. Names, names, names, numbers, numbers, numbers then I saw one slightly different.
It said, Congratulations, you have successfully unlocked the wall, see back for further instructions.
What’s this, I murmured to myself...then I snickered,thinking this dream would be much better if I had had a companion to laugh with.
I took it off the wall and on the back side of the tag there were no instructions but in the middle as with all the tags was a hole. I did the obvious and poked my finger through to the tags delight. Whip, whap, snap and the tag shot off my finger like a gunpowdered musket ball and smacked against the wall taking with it some of my DNA. Sure enough, it had my name and Phi-V3 inscribed into it.
Then it dawned on me... there were no toilets and I had to squeeze my cheeks together to hold back the deluge.
Just opposite of where I came through was another wall full of tags with finger holes. Of course they all had names and numbers. The tags were shaped like stars, all but one which was a crescent moon.
Ahaaa I thought, thinking of some hillbilly outhouse out in the boonies, how obvious.
When I got closer, there were the letters ‘OLK’ inscribed on it and a similar pattern as on the drapes back in the Slixx. As I glanced about I recognized my name and the finger hole in one of the stars. Now that would have been too predictable to stick my finger into it. My sense of adventure brought me back to the moon.
The ‘OLK’... wonder what it stands for. Maybe, Order of Lizard Knuckles or Orifice of Latrine Knights... doesn’t really matter, not yet anyway.
I was about to insert my finger in the moon when something shattered behind me and then a loud thump. Quickly whizzing around in a moment of adrenaline, there lay the one-eyed, stubby fingered Clops sprawled out like an unusual ‘not so welcome welcome mat.’
“Thought you’d like your coffee,” he said while holding just the handle of the mug. The rest of it was scattered about in a creamy pool of steaming coffee.
I looked at him and said, “I like, like, like my coffee in a mug... what brought you here besides thought?”
“Everyone told me to come and bring you back. They all know about this room but no one has had the balls to really find the bathroom.”
Right then I realized that Clops was more than just a prankster... possibly a water pistol toting gangster of sorts. He picked himself up and motioned me to come closer... I didn’t.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sai,” I answered.
“That’s very extreme,” he said.
“It’s my great great Samurai grandfathers fault,” I said.
“Yeah, and the sun sets in the east,” he replied.
“No shit... always wondered why the legs on my Dali clock went counter-clockwise,” I said.
“Thought you’d like your coffee,” he said while holding just the handle of the mug. The rest of it was scattered about in a creamy pool of steaming coffee.
I looked at him and said, “I like, like, like my coffee in a mug... what brought you here besides thought?”
“Everyone told me to come and bring you back. They all know about this room but no one has had the balls to really find the bathroom.”
Right then I realized that Clops was more than just a prankster... possibly a water pistol toting gangster of sorts. He picked himself up and motioned me to come closer... I didn’t.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sai,” I answered.
“That’s very extreme,” he said.
“It’s my great great Samurai grandfathers fault,” I said.
“Yeah, and the sun sets in the east,” he replied.
“No shit... always wondered why the legs on my Dali clock went counter-clockwise,” I said.
He stood there for a moment possibly collecting his thoughts, then with his one eye, he oggled the moon on the wall. "Were you going to put your finger in there,” he asked.
“You’re very perceptive, wanna come along?” I replied.
“Not this time... there’s a new customer waiting for my routine and she’s ordered blueberry pancakes.” He handed me the handle of the mug and smiled then said, “I’ll tell them you went to the bathroom.” He turned and splatted through the coffee, stuck in his finger and disappeared.
In the Outhouse
I felt relieved knowing that he had turned down my offer... but I hadn’t relieved my now inflated blatter and just looking at the coffee on the floor made it even worse. I spun round to the blue wall, stuck my finger in the moon, heard two frapping farts, a toilet flush and was sucked through. It felt like I fell off a balcony and found myself kneeling in a bed of flowers in someone’s backyard. It was night and the cool moisture of the flowers sprinkled me with something I didn’t want to feel. Then I saw it... an outhouse. ‘Finally’ was a wonderfully diuretic thought.
In the Outhouse
I felt relieved knowing that he had turned down my offer... but I hadn’t relieved my now inflated blatter and just looking at the coffee on the floor made it even worse. I spun round to the blue wall, stuck my finger in the moon, heard two frapping farts, a toilet flush and was sucked through. It felt like I fell off a balcony and found myself kneeling in a bed of flowers in someone’s backyard. It was night and the cool moisture of the flowers sprinkled me with something I didn’t want to feel. Then I saw it... an outhouse. ‘Finally’ was a wonderfully diuretic thought.
I rushed over the flowers, across the lawn to my savior door just to find that there was no latch. The familiar crescent moon was there with the finger-sized hole. Without blinking I jammed my finger in and the next moment I was about to fall into the deepest darkest pit. No time to waste. I whipped it out and with great satisfaction along with a couple of farts I stood there for a Guiness record time. As I was flicking the last few drops I heard a buzzing hum coming from deep down and it was getting louder and closer with each millisecond. Before I could pull up my fly out came thousands of black shit fly’s tickling my toes. I turned around and quickly did the thing with the hole. Of course I fell onto the lawn but this time the sun was shining brightly and I couldn’t see a thing until something blocked out my blindness. It took me a couple of seconds to focus on it and to my astonishment it was none other than the waitress from the Slixx.
“How was it?” she asked as if there was something amazing to tell her.
“You mean the outhouse?” I asked as if asking the right question.
She just laughed and said, “What outhouse? You just watered the flowers.”
I turned to where the biffy should have been but there were only urinated flowers glistening in the light.
