mercoledì, luglio 28, 2004

A Really Lame Short Story

A Really Lame Short Story
By Eddie G.

Once upon a time, as how all lame stories would begin, there was a demi-mortal known as the Eddie G. He was a mortal with an immortal destiny, a destiny to be assumed only after his mortal body had passed on. But since that’s quite a long time away, we shall leave it as that.

Every morning, the Eddie G. would wake up, open the fridge, find nothing in it, and then go back to sleep again, swearing and cursing.

One morning, the Eddie G. figured it was just too bloody pointless to keep an empty fridge around. So he put on some nice clothes, fitted on his favourite sneakers, opened the door, grabbed the fridge and threw it out the window using his demi-mortal strength, took off his nice clothes and favourite sneakers and went back to sleep, leaving the door still wide open.

Now in the Eddie G.’s estate lived a petty, bureaucratic security guard called Kibbles. Kibbles loved his job with a passion. Because of this, he hated anyone who violated the rules of the estate with a passion. In particular the demi-mortal known as the Eddie G. In short, Kibbles was a dedicated civil slave, I mean servant.

For the longest time, Kibbles vowed to find some way to nail the Eddie G. and then get him evicted. And for the longest time, he couldn’t. He had set for himself a goal to get the Eddie G. evicted by the 20th hour (i.e. 8 pm), of the 20th day of the month. He called this goal, in a sudden surge of inspiration, “Vision 20-20”.

Kibbles paced around the void deck now, an anxious look ridden across his face. It was already the 18th day of the month and Vision 20-20 was nowhere near realization. As he paced, his mind was churning with malicious plots to get the Eddie G. evicted. Plots that he was nonetheless too cowardly to carry out.

His reverie was interrupted by a square-like shadow that suddenly appeared at his feet. As the shadow grew bigger it was accompanied by a high-pitched whistling that came from above.

Refrigerators have an uncanny talent for finding pacing security guards who are deep in thought, especially when thrown out of a window by someone with demi-mortal strength wearing nice clothes and favourite sneakers.

The Warden looked sharply at Kibbles now, a somewhat subdued Kibbles at that, his countenance foreshadowing the berating that was to come.

“You have absolutely no idea how serious this matter is haven’t you now?” the Warden asked.

Kibbles, the lionhearted Kibbles, continued to stare at the ground in silence.

“We”, continued the Warden, “have a maniac throwing refrigerators out of windows. And instead of working diligently to find the culprit, where do I find you? Asleep under a refrigerator!”

The fact that the Warden – like all civil slaves, I mean servants – wasn’t very bright probably explains why it did not occur to him that Kibbles didn’t choose to sleep under the refrigerator.

The fact that Kibbles wasn’t very bright either probably explained why he didn’t tell the Warden how he had not chosen to sleep under the refrigerator.

“I want you to find the culprit and bring him to me,” instructed the Warden, who promptly went back to his office to finish another important assignment – jelly doughnuts.

Kibbles rubbed his hands together with glee. He knew the first person he would find.

The Eddie G. awoke to the sound of loud incessant banging on his apartment door. Kibbles loved his job with a passion.

“For Christ sake!” yelled the Eddie G. at Kibbles who was standing outside the already opened apartment door. “Couldn’t you just walk in?”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” said Kibbles in a pompous voice. “It’s just in etti-kwet-ay that I should knock first.”

“Just in etiquette?” mused the Eddie G. at how the language was so terribly mangled while trying to correct Kibbles’ pronunciation.

Kibbles scratched his head for a moment…

“I don’t think he’s on duty today.” he finally replied.

“What do you want now?” the Eddie G. groaned.

“Well sir,” Kibbles now resumed his pompous tone of voice, “it just so happened that somebody threw a refrigerator out of his window this morning. And I believe that this somebody, sir, is you.”

A smile began to take form on the Eddie G.’s face.

“My poor, deluded, misguided Kibbles,” said the Eddie G., putting an exaggerated emphasis on the word “misguided”, “if you take a look around my pitiful apartment, you’d realize that I don’t have a refrigerator. Now how am I supposed to throw a refrigerator out of my window if I don’t even have one?”

Kibbles scratched his head again. That made sense to him.

“Now why don’t you,” coaxed the Eddie G. as a father would an irritating son to go out and play so that he could continue his sleep, “why don’t you go to the other apartments where they actually HAVE a refrigerator and ask them if they HAD thrown it out?”

Kibbles shuffled about uncomfortably. He hated to admit that it sounded like a good idea.

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed, “but I’m watching you.” He made a gesture to prove his point… and poked his own eyes.

“Good riddance,” thought the Eddie G. aloud as Kibbles blindly tumbled down the stairs, and went back to sleep.

Have you ever had one of those wonderful dreams where everything just goes the way you want them to? Like for instance, swimming in a pool of lasagne, getting a hickey from Mary-Kate Olsen or marrying Britney Spears and then filing for a divorce two days later after you’ve had your way with her? Well these dreams have a tendency of ending prematurely, courtesy of an evil device called the alarm clock, just when it’s about to climax (i.e. eating the lasagne, getting another hickey, signing the divorce papers). The Eddie G. had one such dream where he was on the verge of realizing his immortal destiny. The alarm clock did not disappoint either.

In a fit of indescribable rage, he grabbed the still-ringing alarm clock and hurled it out of the window. He walked over to the wall where he had his schedule pinned up. Hmm… nine to eleven… Mushroom Theory and Practice. Who needs this? He went back to sleep again. This time, he dreamt that he was in Australia, and he was a Sheila.

Kibbles was early for work again. Eight hours early to be exact. He loved his job with a passion. He was trying to process the day’s agenda in his mind.

“Let’s see. Yes. Today I shall hover around the Eddie G.’s apartment,” he said while pacing about the void deck, “and the minute he does something dodgy, I’ll catch him in the act and –“


“No… KER-THONK doesn’t sound right…” reasoned Kibbles as he passed out.

Words could not describe the Warden’s disappointment when he saw Kibbles lying spread eagle on the void deck floor eight hours later.

“Sleeping on the job again today, huh?” he bellowed as all civil slaves – I mean servants – love to bellow.

“Now you’ve gone a step further and brought your own alarm clock,” he added with a hint of sarcasm, “there’s proper etiquette for you.”

Kibbles stirred groggily. “Since when did Justin Etiquette have a brother?” he wondered.

“And the refrigerator case remains unsolved,” reminded the Warden, his mouth now full of jelly doughnut, “now get cracking OR ELSE!”

The Eddie G. was peering intently at a crystal ball, a turban wrapped snugly around his head, when Kibbles walked in, alarm clock in hand.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the Eddie G. intoned without looking up. “Have a seat.”

Kibbles sat down in front of the Eddie G., quite convinced that he (the Eddie G.) had lost his mind.

“This alarm clock…” Kibbles began.

“Do you see an alarm clock around here?” the Eddie G. asked in a silky voice, “that establishes the fact that it can’t be mine.”

“HOLD ON!” he suddenly announced as Kibbles tried to protest. “I see… I see… pain in your future. Great pain…”

Kibbles was fidgeting nervously now.

“Beware, Kibbles the Great, beware! A push in the wrong direction will bring out immense pain!” proclaimed the Eddie G. with great melodrama.

“How? What? Where?” Kibbles was insane with paranoia now.

“It doesn’t say,” sighed the Eddie G. “Now if you’d excuse me, you still have to find those fridge throwers don’t you?”

“How did you…?”

“I’m psychic, you fool,” reminded the Eddie G. ushering the security guard to the door.

“Now bugger off,” he said, and pushed Kibbles down the stairs.

When one tumbles down ten flights of stairs, he has a natural tendency to lie motionless for a long period of time after that.

And when one sees someone else lying motionless for a long period of time, he has a natural tendency to assume the person lying motionless for a long period of time to be sleeping.

The Warden made no exception.

“GET UP, YOU LAZY BUM!” yelled the Warden in capitals – another favourite civil slave, I mean servant pastime.

After a series of kicks, Kibbles finally did.

“You obviously don’t know proper job etiquette now, do you?” the Warden asked.

“Oh so Justin’s brother has even got a middle name…” mumbled Kibbles.

“What’s that?”


“Since you’re so bloody deprived of sleep, I’ll let you go back and catch up on it. Just make sure you report early tomorrow morning raring to go,” offered the Warden grumpily.


“NO BUTS!” insisted the Warden. “I’ll get someone to fill in for you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Now go!”

Kibbles went home, sulking at the idea of Proper Job Etiquette having to fill in for him.

It was no surprise that he turned up for work on time the next morning. He loved his job with a passion. He glanced at his watch. 8 a.m. on the 20th of the month. Christ Almighty! 20th of the month already! He had a little less than 12 hours to realize his Vision 20-20.

Now it so happened that on the 20th morning of each month, the Eddie G. would throw a particular fruit out of the window in tribute to Vitamin C, the Fruit Goddess. As the appointed hour drew near, the Eddie G. wore his High Priest robes (which greatly resembled a black trench-coat), tied his hair into a neat ponytail and donned a pair of sunglasses. He looked at his calendar. The month of the Durian, he told himself. He prepared his heart. The ceremony was about to commence in five… four… three… two… one… NOW! He grabbed the durian from the Altar of Elaborately Arranged Fruits and flung it out of the window.

“What a dumb ceremony,” the Eddie G. said to himself while he disrobed, “but better that than a month’s worth of constipation I guess.”

Now it also so happens that when one makes a wish on the 20th of every month, it is highly likely to come true. That was what a hungry Kibbles found out when he wished that something nice to eat would fall on his head.

Again, Kibbles regained consciousness to a menacing figure towering over him. It wasn’t the Warden this time though, but the Eddie G., eating the last remnants of the durian that had fallen on his head.

“I thought you were going to eat that,” the Eddie G. grinned, “but since you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you, so I decided to finish it for you.”

“But…” Kibbles was too hungry and maimed to say anything else.

“Hey! It’s my durian after all,” the Eddie G. reminded.

“I mean… err…” the Eddie G. regretted. “Oops”.

Something snapped in Kibbles’ head at the mention of “my durian”. It was the straw that broke that camel’s back. He had finally found a reason to get the Eddie G. evicted. He forgot about his tumultuous, empty stomach. He glanced at his watch. It was 6 pm already. He had only two hours left, but it was more than enough.

“It was only an accident,” pleaded the Eddie G. as a glazed look began to form in Kibbles’ eyes.

“Accident huh?” he sneered, “Just like the fridge and the alarm clock were accidents too huh?”

He toyed with the newfound revelation that the Eddie G. could have been behind the fridge and alarm clock too, and then discarded it. What are the odds, he told himself.

The Eddie G., being the smarter one, noticed Kibbles’ temporal lapse in concentration and seized the chance to take off.

So the chase ensued across the void deck, past the Warden’s office (who was too busy with his jelly doughnuts to notice anything), up the stairs, down the stairs, past the Warden’s office again, across the void deck again, around the corner, around another corner, around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around a pillar…

It is interesting to know that people who run around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around pillars get extremely disoriented when it’s over.

It is also interesting to know that people who only run around (like the Eddie G.) and not around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around pillars (like Kibbles) don’t.

Kibbles began to panic now. He was still dizzy and smelling of puke when he realized that it was now 7:30 pm.

He ran to the void deck where the now empty durian shell lay. It reminded him of how terribly hungry he was. All seemed lost. Time was not on his side. He felt very much inclined to give up.

No! He mustn’t give up! Not after he’d come this far. Not after he had to endure falling fridges, alarm clocks and durians (they were all unrelated he reminded himself), tumbling down ten flights of stairs twice, being accused of sleeping on the job three times, having Proper Job Etiquette to fill in for him, not after all these. He mustn’t give up!

“I wonder where he could be?” he wondered aloud.

“That way,” said a potted plant and pointed him the way.

While most of us take a split second to realize that potted plants cannot talk or point, Kibbles took five minutes.

And five minutes was all the Eddie G. needed to run in the opposite direction from behind the potted plant.

This was it, Kibbles told himself. There was no way he could catch the Eddie G. in 15 minutes. He decided to throw in the towel and resign from the job he had so loved with a passion. He headed straight for the Warden’s office.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the Eddie G. in the Warden’s office hiding from him. He could still make it!

“This young man here,” he said to the Warden, grabbing the Eddie G. by the scruff of his neck.

“Has decided to move out,” the Warden announced, stacking a sheaf of papers recently signed by the Eddie G.

Kibbles could hardly believe his good fortune.

“You mean…”

“That’s right,” the Eddie G. said, “you beat me fair and square. So I’m moving out. Immediately.”

Immediately! Kibbles did a happy albeit stupid-looking little jig. He didn’t have to resign from the job he loved with a passion after all. To top it all off, he had realized Vision 20-20, with 10 minutes left to spare too. It was too good to be true. He had to rub it in. After all that jackass nonsense he had to go through, he had to rub it in.

“So when are you mo-ving out?” he asked, placing an exaggerated emphasis on the word “moving”.

“As soon as my transport arrives,” replied the Eddie G.

“And when is that?”


Ah yes. Kibbles had finally won. No wait! He had lost! 8:01! That’s one minute after Vision 20-20 expires. Kibbles the Bureaucrat had lost. He ran out of the Warden’s office screaming like hell.

Old Chinese Proverb: Man who screams like hell, probably bound to get there.

Kibbles was never heard from again.

So the story ends with the Eddie G. waking up in his new home, opening the fridge and finding it not empty anymore. Just as he’s about to go back to sleep, swearing and cursing, the phone rings.


“Ah hello. Justin Etiquette here, Proper Job’s brother.” The voice sounded full of jelly doughnuts – like how a civil slave, I mean servant would sound like.

“Ah yes, Justin.”

“I just want to congratulate you for a job well done. You handled it… professionally.”

“That goes without saying,” the Eddie G. crooned, “I AM a professional.”

“Your cheque will arrive in the mail soon,” said Justin. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The phone clicked

Five minutes later it rang again.

“Hello? Yes. Yes. No. Yes. No. $30000. No. Yes. Yes. OK. Thank you. Goodbye” said the Eddie G. and hung up.

He put on some nice clothes, wore his favourite sneakers, opened the door and went shopping.

He bought an empty refrigerator, an alarm clock, a crystal ball, a turban, an altar, a trench coat, a pair of sunglasses, a myriad of fruits (including a durian) and a potted plant.

He did not like the idea of “re-using”. It was too unprofessional.

“That will be $3727,” said the cashier.

He handed her a MasterCard.

“What are all these for anyway?” the cashier asked.

The Eddie G. smiled.

–The End–


What we learnt from this story…

• The civil service cannot function alone, and desperately requires the assistance of the civil served (or in most cases, civil unserved)

• Anything that bears the name “Vision 20-20” is probably doomed to failure.

• There really isn’t a Fruit Goddess called Vitamin C, and throwing fruit out of your window every 20th of the month won’t save you from constipation.

• Driving people crazy is a recognized profession. Consult your nearest Eddie G. for more details.

• In Australia, Sheilas are a good thing. Everywhere else, well…

• Old Chinese Proverbs never make sense, but we love them anyway.

• “Just in etiquette” is not good English, nor is it a good name.

• Potted plants cannot talk or point. (Just in case you’re still wondering)

• Mary-Kate Olsen gives REALLY good hickeys.

• All lame stories begin with “once upon a time”, but the lamer ones end with “and they lived happily ever after”. Stories that end with “The End” should be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature Redundancy.

• But not many stories really end with “The End”.

• Except really lame ones.

• And there is no Nobel Prize for Literature Redundancy. The Nobel Prize for Literature already takes care of that.

• And that means this story should be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

• And there is no spoon.

Ye who seek for audience, let ye speak now!

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