Bad Waves of Paranoia from the Beer Cooler

[consequence]

I was there sitting in the back of the store, doing my best to hold it together long enough to actually get some work done. I was doing OK. I think I was doing OK at least. Anyway, I was trying to find some more twelve packs to go on the shelf when I actually started to look around. At the customers I mean. There was a man in the aisle, trying to decide between Flying Dog Gonzo IPA and Carton Brewing Boat Beer and he's screeching. Like some ungodly hybrid between a fog horn and a prehistoric bird. No one else noticed, but it's ear piercing if you have the right frequencies. The noise rises and rises as I draw near. It came from the shaking in his hands and the unsteadiness in his eyes. In the way he jumps when I ask him if I can help. What I could help him with I don't know. The poor b------- only wanted some beer. Only wanted to stop hurting. He stopped the shrieking long enough to say "No thanks, just looking." and continues on his way, with some six pack clenched in his hands. I moved on as well, stopping to eye the cigars in the case. I heard a tapping. A desperate signal from some girl here with a guy who looks way too old to be her boyfriend and way too menacing to be her father. He's like some desert freak, wearing camo and combat boots. I can't bring myself to look him in the eye because I'm sure some kind of grotesque horror awaits me if I do. Some grim visage of Steadman-esque features. Scarred and scalped. His bulging arm's wrapped around her waist like some kind of groping tendril, squeezing ever tighter, and you can just see the life draining out of her as he brings her in closer. I realize it was Morse she was trying to send out. On the off chance that anyone has the know-how to respond. ...---... ...---... ...---... S.O.S. Christ someone should've said something, done something, anything at all... But we're all crying for help. We're all wretched. Too wretched to save ourselves let alone another. ...---... ...---... The girl was dragged off into the dark. With that filthy appendage still clutching, now at her shoulders, closer to the jugular. The desert freak's been in the store a few times since then. With a new girl. God help her. Pterodactyl man was never heard from again. At least not by me. I think he was hit by a bus. Or he was taken away. Can't be sure. Maybe he's out there. Still screeching. Still screeching. Like a far off howl of some dog stuck in a bear trap. I think he had something figured out. He realized we're all frogs being brought to a slow boil. That's it. He figured it out, but they got to him before he could find a way to escape this mad house. Christ, maybe they're after me now. Maybe he really did get hit by that bus. ...---...

[Dew]

this was a surreal walk through what felt like a Kubrik film. I love psychological studies on pack mentality and bystander effects and things like that. I ask myself constantly, can I break my mold and act without the pinning force of doubt and habit? the only thing that makes it easier and easier to imagine myself acting without fear is my waning love for life. delicious write! it seemed to me the sos is a symbol for the stifled emergency message screeching in our hearts everyday, but never rises high enough to be seen for a hail instead of corner-store madness. wonderful write! Exaltamundo! - dew

[karrie]

Some good writing here! I found myself totally immersed and captivated!

[JASON]

Imagine if we were all just normal and everyday...
We would never have an opportunity to read something unique like this.
Nicely done.

[bumblebee]

this is brilliant.. it sucked me in and i was lost within it..
If you happen to write any more of this, do send me a pm to let me know xx

*wanders off to see what else you've written*

[ramfire]

You get all kinds when you run a store. Poor girl, maybe she escaped. I like your story, will be a sequel? Hope so.