Tuesday, November 30, 2004

The Last Part, 6

Eliza and the smartest-man-that-ever-lived walked in silence for a few minutes. Now only two blocks from the library, Eliza spoke up, “If you were that good at reading when you were that little, then how come you haven’t read since then?”
Whether it was the headache or the weather or a really quick and kind of early mid-life crisis, we will never know, but for some reason he told Eliza everything. Every single thing.

They were standing on the steps of the library when he finished. He told her everything right up to the present, even what they had said to each other minutes ago in the simplest way he could. She listened listlessly, but attentively. He cried a little. She tightened her mouth in apparent cogitation and finally asked, “Why’d you want to be all alone?”

“I didn’t want to be alone, I wanted people to respect me, love me, hate me, ignore me, amaze me, amuse me, argue with me, bewilder me, correct me, mug me…” He stopped, looked at his feet, then continued, “I wanted them to at least try to believe that I wasn’t an alien. I just wanted to be normal.” He blew his nose.

Eliza punched him in the nose. She didn’t even wait for him to finish wiping his upper lip. She just socked him. She didn’t knock him over, but he sat down anyway. “Why did you do that?” he sniffled. Blood was running out of his nose.

“Because you lied to me. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe you, I mean, you started out pretty well, you were funny, in a ridiculous sorta way. Come on, a genius baby? But I thought, ‘Eh he’s cute, maybe I’ll let him take me out for a drink.’ But noooo, you’ve got to try the whole sob story thing about not being accepted by your parents and your peers. And then, and then, you start crying? Give me a break.” She went on, and angrily at that. “Well guess what? If any of what you said is true then you’ve got to be the dumbest-man-that-ever-lived. And…” She was getting ahead of herself. “…you know, the most abnormal thing you did was get hit by a bus, I wouldn’t have even noticed you otherwise. Even dogs know that the normal are lonely.” And she stomped off into the library, cracking her knuckles.

The so-called genius walked home with a little bloody piece of tissue hanging out of his left nostril.

3 Comments:

At 4:46 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

luke, this is wonderful. is there more?

(trin.)

 
At 5:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

There certainly better be more or the delicate PROMISE that this had of being good will evaporate "with a hiss of compressed air escaping," and "the fart smell of steam." So, in a spirit of friendship I encourage you, Luke, to make this the latest and not "THE LAST PART". ;-)
Hope all is well in the house of the dearly departed
Mitchell

 
At 6:20 PM, Blogger luke said...

Um... there could be more, how about this:

Part 7
And then the humbled genius rode the mechanical bull off into the sunset. Oh, and he got the girl too.

THE END


or,

Part 7
The genius got home and found that his houseplants had not only come back from the dead, but they had eaten all of his electronics. Even the chinese man that sat in the corner was consumed. He stood just outside his front door, the squirming green mass of ferns and ivy and cacti writhed in fear of its angry master. The genius calmly raised his left hand, closed his eyes, and gently touched his pinky and thumb together. The entire universe of the apartment began to vibrate, humming quietly at first. His forehead beaded with sweat. The hum growing louder and higher, rapidly reaching the fingernails on the chalkboard setting, caused the great mass of vegatation to open up as the waters of the red sea. Two large black eyes, sunflower heads, peered out from the center of the writhing photosynthesizing blob. With his eyes still forcefully closed he walked directly toward the eyes. His thumb and pinky began to glow, plaster crumbled from the ceiling, the houseplant recoiled as a snake about to strike. The genius slowly brought his other fingers closer to his thumb. Shafts of blue light connected his fingers, creating a sphere. He drew back his hand, as if to pitch a baseball, but he, being righthanded looked like a girl trying to throw with his left hand.

Then his head explodes. His brains, which were neon green, splattered the walls, and burned everything like acid. They would have burnt the plant-thing too, but it never existed. His brains ooze into the neighbor's apartment. The neighbor, an elderly lady in the church choir, screams. His brain-goo which feeds off everything, growing rapidly, begins to wreak havoc in the city. An asteroid a quarter of the size of earth lands in the Artic about three hours later or so, and breaks the earth into seven peices, everything burns up, or falls off or whatever would happen. Six pieces end up burning in the sun, or some other star. One piece, the smallest of the big ones, gets sucked into a black hole and compressed to the size of a sugar cube, but it was more like a romboid.

THE END...?

 

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