Positively rad night in Worcester. Pic by @lorange_clark
His Noiseless Ball,
His Boxwood Rattle
get it here
There was a nest in tree next to my shed. I was sick of looking at it. I grabbed the garden hose and pointed it at the bees. Full bast. I screamed something at them because I wanted them to drown and die afraid and humiliated. They flew right through the stream of water and came at me in a straight line. It looked like a yardstick in the sky. They landed on my face and stung me repeatedly. On my eyelids, in my nostrils, and all over my lips. When they finished, they fell to the ground and died. I was so happy I killed them.
When I pushed the button, instead of water, some kind of viscous orange fluid came out. I jumped back, afraid, but then decided to take a chance and try a sip. It didn’t have much of a taste. Maybe a little minty, if anything. As soon as I swallowed, I realized my pants were getting tighter near my crotch. I looked down and saw my pockets were bulging and swelling and getting heavier. I stuck my hands in and pulled out fist fulls of coins. Mostly quarters, but also some dimes and nickles. They started spilling onto the ground. Five or six people gathered and formed a circle around me and were laughing and cheering. Eventually the coins stopped appearing. We counted it up and then got in my car and went out for pizza.
I walked out of the parking garage, not fully aware of my surroundings, and thinking about how I was late again. I swung open the door and it hit a passerby in the face. Before I could even finish saying the word “sorry,” I realized it was actor/director Sylvester Stallone. I have no idea what he was doing in New Haven (visiting family?), but I caught him off guard and he fell to the ground and his leg bent sideways and went *CRACK*. He was laying flat on his back and whimpering and muttering to the sky. I said I was so sorry and is there anything I can do. He motioned toward my Diet Coke as if he wanted a sip. I bent down, removed the cap, and filled it with a small amount. I carefully poured cap full after cap full of soda into his mouth. He was dehydrated and his leg didn’t look good. The bone was exposed and squirrels and crows were surrounding him and nipping at the wound. I looked in Sylvester’s eyes as they glazed into white pools of nothingness. He was dead. I stepped back and the animals began to devour what was left of his corpse. I was late for work, but I felt like the honorable thing to do would be to say a short prayer. I asked God to have mercy on his soul and to forgive me for my carelessness. When I arrived at work, I was too distraught to finish the rest of my bagel, so I gave it to my coworker Janice.