Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Directly Outside 6


Directly outside my window, the Gunge Collector hovers on his Levi-disk. He inserts his keycard in the console and opens up the window, filling my cell with a noxious mixture of bile fumes, exhaust smoke and wheezing sneers of laughter.


‘You 8745-tr653956-hf974610-getdl-00846?’ he calls to me, the screen of his handheld infopod flickering with images of how I looked before I was incarcerated in this hellhole. No, I’m Whirl, I think. Dumb insolence.

‘Yeah,’ I reply.

‘Mask up.’

I cross to the secure locker above my bunk and unlock it, my fingers already shaking from the cold as the mist from outside licks at my naked body with its sickly yellow tongue. Pulling on the mask, I feel the petrified rubber squeak across my skin and when I clamp the mouthpiece to my jaw, I discover the piercings in my lips have shrunk and offer up my lips to the bolt gun. The Gunge Collector wipes away the blood with a rag and clips a stained filter to the end of his pump.

Schhiiiiiiiiiick.

I hate that noise. And the first tug too, like my face is about to be sucked clean off. But I’m used to it now, and as the fluid is drained from my nose, I watch the dial on the pump — 20 — 30 — 40 — willing it on to a hundred. Below me, each snotty bolus bulges its way along the tube, down through the mist to the monster glistening in the courtyard. The end of the spout flails against its dilated pneumostomes, soaking the sore and peeling husks of blubbery flesh round their edges with globs of steaming mucus.

An icy dizziness engulfs me and I feel the Gunge Collector’s rough hands tear off my mask.

The window slams shut.

I fall to the ground.

I want to roll into a deep dark hole, curl myself up, and die. But I’m trapped in this place. Doomed only to witness as the world spins by, directly outside...

11 comments:

JaneyV said...

Oh I see - it's manflu!

JaneyV said...

And still no words from the Abyss. Mate you must feel like shit! I hope that tomorrow the need for vacuum snot relief is greatly reduced.

Feel better Whirl!

writtenwyrdd said...

Uck. That's just nasty. But well written.

Kiersten said...

Wow. I'd actually hire that guy for my son...got any of his cards?

Whirlochre said...

Sadly not, Kiersten — the telephone booths he pins 'em up in are 85,000 light years away.

But you might care to try www.convertyourvacuumcleaner.com.

Status report on the mucus (and this is (real blogging for you) is that while most of it has gone away, my head is still throbbing like the heart of a teen Brad Pitt fan.

Chris Eldin said...

manflu! LOL!
Really? I hope you feel better soon.

McKoala said...

Oh, man flu is so much worse than woman flu, you poor ickle whirlygig.

Mom In Scrubs said...

I like your "pauses becauses" series...but not this one. I have performed vacuum-assisted phlegm/snot removal, and I prefer NOT to revisit the scenario ever again: real or imagined.

Thanks, I think you've aggravated my PTSD, Whirl. I'll just go take a Xanax now...maybe two.

Whirlochre said...

Oh no! I've committed a Double Mom Irk Blunder (see last comments trail also).

Looks like from now on I've got to be really good.

But isn't that the trouble with Manflu? Exactly the same virus as Galflu, but doesn't it just have so much more negative impact on the world?

Next post will be fun. I promise.

And I'm stuffing my nostrils with silica crystals right now.

writtenwyrdd said...

Hope you are 100% soon, Whirl!

Whirlochre said...

Hmm, I have to say, I'm normally pretty stout when it comes to things like this thanks to the glut of dwarf genes dangling like Christmas baubles from my mum's side of my family tree, but this current incarnation of Bugs Aloud is dragging on with some determination.

Thanks to the silica crystals, I'm pretty dry nasally and I've got no cough to speak of, but my head continues to swell and pound as if Keith Moon and Bonz from Zep were slugging it out along the wrinkles of my brain for possession of some magical bongoes.

I've tried to soothe myself by listening to the smoothest of classical CDs, but even the gentlest aria comes roaring from the speakers accompanied by distorted voices crying DIIIIIIIIIE! MAYHEM! DIIIIIIIIIIIIE!

So I've written another death scene.