Crickets & Twig
Sally Crickets, the coolest girl in school and my most total crush was super furious at me. And rightfully so, I sorta stabbed her and tossed her body over the dam and into the ravine during a kegger at Bruce Park.
But it wasn't my fault!
It was the turnip-ghost-monster that was living in my stomach that made me do it.
Does that sound crazy?
Of course it sounds crazy!
But lately crazy seems to be way more normal than normal. In Hilltop normal would seem frikin nuts!
Okay, try to follow along: The turnip-ghost-thing that was in my stomach was controlling me. Then the turnip-ghost-thing took me back in time to show me that Sally's dad killed the turnip-ghost-thing when he was still a kid and buried him and then like a bunch of years later my dad grew a turnip garden over where they hid his body and I ate those turnips in a salad with arugula.
And now Sally is dead. And I guess so am I.
It was a rough first hour. The last thing I remember was that I was at the park party. Then crazy batpoop fudging stuff went down. Then Sheriff Crickets was on his knees crying. And poor Sally's face; upside down and underwater. It went blue so fast.
I pushed myself over the dam.
I just kind of did it.
I guess it felt like I was trying to kill the turnip-ghost-thing inside me rather than you know... killing myself.
It was crazy cold and then kabang - I was in this dead place feeling something trying to crawl up from my stomach towards my mouth.
It felt like when you eat pizza so fast that a huge booger of mozzarella drips down and blocks your breath-hole. You can pull and pull, but the mozzarella will just keep stretching, like a magician pulling ribbons from his sleeve - This felt like that, but instead of mozzarella is was vomit – vomit that moved like slithering tendons.
I pulled and pulled and finally I slid something over my tongue and out my mouth. It was followed by a bucket splash of sour puke.
I had pulled a gym shirt out from my mouth. Through the orange glop I saw it was a Hilltop High Hawks shirt.
Something else started coming up. This time I pulled wet gym shorts. I threw them in the puddle of bile at my feet too.
This was the grossest thing to ever happen anywhere in the history of time - is what I thought until what happened like ten seconds later.
I want to say I was a puke factory, but it was more like being an angry faucet of puke with irregular pressure spurts. It was during one long gush that I noticed the puddle amassing. It filled up the gym shirt and shorts like spoiled cottage cheese trying to build itself into giant wart. When I was done yaking my legs gave out. I wiped the stinging vomit from eyes to see a blurry body standing over me.
The turnip salad that possessed me to commit murderous acts was standing over me. Dripping.
"tHaNkS fOr tHe HeLp, hArV." It said. The shirt and shorts I had puked up was now a boy made completely of my vomit... except he had teeth. Those weren't vomit.
The Vomit-boy formerly the ghost-turnip-thing in my stomach formerly last night's arugula salad formerly a kid who was buried alive by the Sheriff when he was a kid quickly sloshed his head towards Sally.
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WATTY 2016 WINNER of the HQ Love Award! Strange Yarns is a ball of tangled tales. Twisted, knotted, and intertwined. Like Tales of the Crypt, the Twilight Zone, and The Outer Limits. Strange Yarns is not just a collection of ghastly tales, these are...