Bad Day

The alarm clock radio burst into life blasting out a very loud Hotel California .At the point where the singer was singing the familiar words “mirrors on the ceiling pink champaign on ice “Boris’s right arm shot from the bed and hit snooze . The Mayor ‘s left arm travelled to a spot on his forehead that was throbbing like hell. Gently he poked around a huge zit.

Boris got out of bed and staggered to the bathroom ,placing both hands on the washbasin, he leaned towards the mirror. Protruding through his shaggy blond fringe,he could see a huge red boil. Slowly he rasied the middle finger of his right hand to cover the zit and could see his finger moving, in and out,. in and out, in a rhythmic motion, that was quite hypnotic.

Boris steadied him self for the inevitable agony that was to follow. Placing both middle fingers on ether side of his boil he began to squeeze really hard .The volcano On Boris’s face exploded, foul smelling green and yellow pus ejaculated out across the mirror, ran down to the bottom of its pretty gold leafed frame and dripped onto the floor.

As Boris again examined the boil in his dirty mirror, he could see it looked even bigger than before he had squeezed it. Boris’s mouth dropped wide open.The boil was growing at quite an alarming rate, it was also changing its shape. He watched the spot transforming into a match box sized bendy bus, it flapped from side to side while its little headlights flashed on and off.

The clock radio turned back on. Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror played The Bendy bus flapped and flashed its lights to the beat. Boris spun around from the mirror and felt for the bus growing out of his forehead, his podgy fingers glided along the smooth metallic texture of its body. The little bus honked its horn.

A memory from his second year at Oxford flashed though Boris’s brain. He had been walking alone across the rugby field, when the ship had came for him, he had shared his Kitkat with the captain, the little grey being warned him that a man called Red Ken would be a powerful enemy one day and could send dark forces to attack him. “This man”, warned the little Gray fellow, “may look like a harmless idiot, but don’t be fooled he is from the planet NW1666 and is able to melt minds and bend reality”.

Ken was inside the pyramid roof on Canary Whalf . He was kneeling before a statue of a large horse fly. Sitting between the flys huge wings there was a large flat round mirror. Carefully placed upon the mirror was a little tuft of blond hair, and a model of a bendy bus. Ken rocked back and forth on his knees. Drawing in more energy he foamed and frothed at the mouth. Finally, Ken got off his knees and climbed up onto the fly’s head so that he could see in his magical mirror Boris transformed into a big shiny number 58 bendy bus. Perfect, thought Ken !

By Michael Crosswaite 


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2 responses to “BAD DAY A SHORT STORY !

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