It was fortunate to find a nice quiet spot in the park where listening to the birds and enjoying the absence of human voices was possible. Spreading out a blanket fashioned in the design of the tartan of my maternal Grandmother, who was an immigrant from Scotland, made the strange park scene seem like home. Then, settling back and taking a Topo Chico out of the cooler, the process of pecking away at the latest story began.
Out of the corner of my eye, there was a flash, but when looking directly, there was nothing. Since seeing things has been part of my life for eons, a shoulders shrug was followed by a return to work. While typing away, a feeling of not being alone crept over me. You may have had the feeling at one time. You know you want to turn around and look behind you but are very reluctant to do so since it might be something you don’t want to see. It became apparent that the birds felt keeping quiet was the better part of valor in the stillness.
That’s when the hair stood up on my neck, and my flight response kicked into high gear. Not able to move fast enough before being grabbed from behind by a big smelly beast. Wanting to scream but prevented by a slippery hand sliding over my mouth, cutting off all sound. The calloused hand was wet with a slick substance that had a strong copper odor. Anyone who has read a horror story knows precisely what covered the hand.
The gag response decided to react to the smell, and after several involuntary moves, the beast released its grip. It threw me to the ground and put a singular finger to its lips accompanied by a widening of the eyes that signaled for me to shut the hell up. Taking the opportunity to size up the beast, the first stunner was the impression that whoever made this thing used several different body parts. Neither arm matched. One was hairy and one smooth. The legs looked like they were taken from a horse. The head resembled a Yeti without the good looks. “What chew lookin’ at bub.” Were the first words spoken. I stammered that I had never seen anything like it before, and it explained that it was the new prototype USPS postal person.
Immediately a thought came to mind about the blood on its hands. It explained that the last delivery was a side of beef, and it had not had a chance to wash up. The thing finally handed me an envelope and inside I found a message from Linda Hill. It read
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “body parts.” Pick a body part and talk about it. Make sure to leave a comment below or put a disclaimer at the top of your post if it’s NSFW! There are people who participate in SoCS and love to support others, but not everyone will want to read about private parts. Have fun!
If you would like to have, fun visit Linda’s blog and read how easy it is. Here is the link.
Body Parts by John W. Howell © 2021
“So who made the monster out of body parts?”
“I think the feds.”
“Legs from a horse?”
“OMG. You have finally flipped.”
“Come on it’s a stupid story.”
“Where did the USPS monster go?”
“Had more rounds.”
“Side of beef?”
“Neither rain, sleet, snow, dead of night, or cow carcass will keep them from their appointed rounds.”
“I need a drink after all that.”
“Should I call the USPS?”
“I think I’m going to use UPS from now on.’
“It’s fiction for heaven’s sake.”
“Just the same.”
“I think I’m going to have a VooDoo Ranger IPA.”
“To go with your warped sense of fiction.”