Thing

by toddfisk

Don’t know if this interests anyone, but I was digging in my yard today and found a thing. Why was I digging in my yard, you might ask? Don’t ask me, I just do that sometimes. Call it a hobby. Anyhow, I had just hit bedrock next to my oldest beech tree at a depth of about 25 meters. There was a metallic clink, and when I cleared the residual filth from the bottom of the hole, I beheld a thing. It was big. At least ten by twelve. I think its solid oak, judging from the metallic clink. It seems to have zippers sewn into its fabric, in an odd pattern that reminds me of a cereal bowl on an ancient Spanish galleon. Once I had unzipped all the zippers, I realized that they were nothing, and stopped worrying about them. The thing also has eyes. Not normal human eyes though, more like the eyes of a leprous skunk I saw once in Yemen. They are about 45 inches across. They’re looking at me. I hate them. By carefully excavating the soil away from the thing, I found that it seems to be shaped like a formless blob, possibly from the Jurassic period, but almost certainly dating to early 1985. Music comes out of the thing. Mostly Bob Dylan, but a little bit of Mozart, and an overwhelming amount of Sting. Maybe Sting knows what the thing is. I decided to conduct some experiments. Using my yard crane, I lowered a horse down onto the thing. The thing didn’t care. Its eyes barely moved. Out comes the horse. Next, I sprayed water on the thing’s eyes. Nothing. I asked the thing if it wanted some cheese. The eyes blinked twice. I dumped a bag of fresh cheese on it, and the cheese is still there. The thing didn’t even touch it.  After that, I went in the house and drank a couple bags of bland table wine. The more I thought about the thing, the more I resented it. Not just for occupying the subterranean portion of my property, but because it seemed to be rude. Its diseased Yemeni skunk eyes seemed to mock me. My resentment soon gave way to real and actual rage, and i went back outside, hell bent on making the thing pay for its insolence. I threw rocks and pieces of antique truck stops down the hole, yelling insults, and generally causing a confusing scene for the neighbors. When I was completely exhausted, I stuck my garden hose down the hole, turned it on, and went inside for a nap. When I awoke, I looked out the window. Water was running out of the hole, and across my yard. It was full. I went out and shut off the hose. I launched my ripe yellow canoe, set myself adrift, and started writing this post. As we speak I can sense the crinkled gaze of the thing, looking up through the murky waters, fixated on the hull of my gelatinous watercraft. What a fantastic and productive day this has been!

The End

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