Put It In Your Mouth did not receive any suggestions last week, so there was no winner. Or wait! Does that mean you are all winners? I have written a short story using all of your suggestions. That's right. All of them. I apologize in advance.
A dark adventure tale assembled by yours truly using your dark and wonderful suggestions.
Thank you very much guys.
Once upon a time there was a young girl named Beth.
Beth lived in Lubbuck, TX which, if you don't know, is 50% wind and 50% dirt.
Beth didn't have many friends. She was often teased at school for having "men's knees" and for always forgetting jokes. The kids at school started a list called Ten Reasons Why Beth Can't Remember Jokes. Gosh—they weren't even good reasons, kids are so cruel. One day Beth snapped. She could no longer tolerate the teasing and laughing at her expense so she decided to run away. She didn't really know where she would go but she thought maybe, Chicago? Beth did, after all, really love chicago dogs—well all dogs really. Adults would often tell her she had good dog etiquette, whatever that meant.
She packed a bag and headed out on the road. She felt like Jack Kerouac, or Henry Thoreau. Well, actually she wasn't sure who she identified with the most. Regardless, she was gone.
Beth had been walking for forever, at least a quarter mile, down the flat and dusty Lubbock road when she decided to stop for a snack. Beth found a lonely tree and sat beneath it. She pulled from her bag a solitary can of cheese whiz. Cheese was Beth's favorite snack, but she knew it wouldn't travel well. Once, Beth put a piece of cheese in her pocket for school and by fourth period she smelled funny and the kids were calling her "smells like death Beth". So she sought the cheese whiz instead.
Just then Beth spotted a goat. The goat was approaching her. It was a strange looking goat. It appeared as though the goat had a unibrow. Beth should've been frightened. Many things frightened Beth: vajazzling, asking strangers for directions, wondering "Am I alone in the Universe"? All these things frightened Beth, but for some reason she was not afraid of this goat. The goat stood before her, blinking, with a definite unibrow.
Beth squirted a tiny bit of cheese whiz into her hand and held it out for the goat. "You know what would be good with this?" the goat asked.
"Whoa, what!" Beth could not believe her ears.
"Well, do you? Do you know what would be awesome with this?" the goat urged.
"Did you just talk?" Beth screamed.
"Well since you don't know, I will tell you. Philly Soft Pretzels. It's too bad we don't have any Philly Soft Pretzels. Man. Those things are the best."
Beth stared at the goat in disbelief for several minutes as the goat went on and on about how Philly Soft Pretzels are high in protein and how they are hand twisted every morning in the Philly Pretzel Factory where they serve over a million pretzels a year. Beth listened in awe to the goat talk about how Italian monks in 610 a.d. used bits of pretzel to reward children for learning their prayers. Beth listened to all of this while developing a fixed mechanical rhythm of squirting cheese whiz into her hand and holding it out for the goat. She examined the goat's unibrow and and tried to imagine him with other facial hair. What would be the best facial hair option for a goat? She had never thought about it before.
"Sounds like we are out." The goat nudged Beth. "We're out."
"Huh? Oh." Beth rejoined reality or what she interpreted to be her reality of the moment. She realized she was out of cheese whiz, or as the goat had implied, they were out of cheese whiz.
"So where are we headed?" the goat asked.
"I'm running away to Chicago. Wait, 'we'? Do you want to come with?"
"That's the idea, right? We're best friends now. We shared a meal. I don't know how your kind does it, but that is pretty special for us goats."
"Hmm, I don't have many friends," Beth admitted, "but my kind shares things on facebook. I guess that's pretty special. But I don't have an account anymore because I over-share online."
"Chicago is far. We will want to stop for drinks soon."
"I'm not old enough." Beth was concerned she would lose her new friend before their journey even began.
"So what? I'm a goat. Don't worry, I know a place. Suburban Tap. They'll serve just about anybody. Follow me."
On the walk to the bar they shared stories. They talked about the iPhone and Android games they were embarrassed to admit they could not stop playing. Goat told Beth about how he was kidnapped as a baby (and how baby goats are called kids so it is a totally common phenomena) and his kidnapper tattooed his scrotum (which is a completely uncommon phenomena). Beth told goat about the teasing at school and how she started wearing leggings and tights to mask her man knees but then all the girls told her she was wearing them wrong. They talked about the music that shaped their lives. They revealed to each other (at the count of five) their favorite dinosaurs and found out they had the same one! They were having so much fun. Both of their eyes were damp with tears of laughter, which was a good thing because did I mention how dusty Lubbock is?
"Here we are."
"I am very excited goat. Wait a minute. We are best friends and I don't even know your name."
"Oh, shoot. My name is Casey. I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself. I get that way when I talk about Philly Soft Pretzels. I lose all manners."
"Casey? That is a girl's name, right?"
"Yeah. I'm a girl goat."
"Oh," Beth apologized, "I don't know why I assumed you were a boy. That makes sense, you've got nipples."
"Well boy goats have nipples too, although I don't know why. I mean what for, right?" Casey laughed awkwardly. "What are we waiting for? Let's go inside."
The inside of the bar was even better than Beth had imagined and boy was Casey right, they did indeed let anybody in here.
"Belly up!" Casey patted her hoof on the stool next to her.
Beth looked around and could spot the many unique persons in the bar with her. She began thinking how many of these people represented the same characters she used to find online when she had a facebook account. Wow, these people exist.
"You should eat something. My treat. I ate all of your cheese whiz."
"What are you eating?" Beth asked.
"There is an all you can eat salad buffet on the way out of town. I am saving myself for that. It should be killer."
"Wait," Casey considered for a minute, "yeah, order me a pretzel. I have to use the little gal's room."
The server asked Beth if she was ready to order. Boy was she. "I'm so hungry I could eat my own fist."
"May I suggest the fish of galaxy 8 instead?" the waitress seemed genuinely concern that Beth may eat her own fist.
"Yes, I'll take that please. And a pretzel. And some alcohol too. Thank you."
"Any preference of alcohol?" the waitress inquired.
"No."
Casey came back from the bathroom noticeably upset.
"What is wrong?"
"It is all the cell phone conversations happening in public restrooms. They make me so uncomfortable."
"May I ask why, Casey?"
"Because—I always initially get excited thinking they are talking to me and that I am about to make a new friend—then blam. What happens? I always wind up feeling like an idiot and no where near close to making a new friend."
"I think I know how you feel," Beth tried sympathizing with Casey, "I was once pressured to watch Two and a Half Men."
"I don't get it. How is that anything like how I feel?" Casey felt frustrated.
"Well, because I felt like an idiot. You know? Because it is a bad show. I only watched it because of an ex I am still close friends with. Was close friends with. I mean how do you stay friends with someone after they peer pressure you into watching Two and a Half Men?"
"I'll drink to that." Casey and Beth toast with their alcohol.
The food arrives. Beth looks at her fish of galaxy 8 with wide optimistic eyes. It looks a bit odd, but she puts it in her mouth anyways. One bite and Beth reflects on everything she has put in her mouth before. Wow. This was special.
After the meal Beth and Casey order more alcohol.
"You know, I don't get it. Why don't you have more friends Casey? You are the most likable person, I mean goat, I know." Beth was slurring at this point.
"I do have my own vlog. It's about indie films. It was pretty popular for a while. But you know, I myself often wonder, why does no one like goats? I mean, come on."
"Hey! Hey you!" a guy shouts from the corner of the bar.
"Oh great." Casey tries to hide her face with her hoof.
"Who is that?" Beth is concerned.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" the guy is still trying for Casey's attention. He walks over to Beth and Casey spilling his drink on the way.
"Crap," Casey sighs, "Beth this is Leon. Leon this is Beth."
"Oh, is Casey still talking?" Leon patronizes Casey.
"Hey, you leave my friend alone."
"Or what?" Leon threatens.
"I don't know really," Beth backs down, "Can you just leave us alone please?"
"Sure, sure I will. But Casey, you owe me a pretzel. And some blog advice."
"What?" Casey is surprised by Leon's request.
"Yeah, I want to learn how to write more than two blogs a year. I thought you might help. You are such a powerful vlogger."
Casey is genuinely surprised by this compliment. "Yeah, okay. I'll call you."
"Okay, what was that about?"
"I met him one night over drinks and I made the mistake of discussing turbulent politics in developing countries. He has been antagonizing me ever since. But you know what they say?"
"What, what do they say?"
"Everybody poops."
To Be Continued...
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