Day of the Blob, A right Wing, Rock and Roll Nightmare

RightWingConservativeNews.com ^ | August 10, 2015 | RightWingConservativeNews.com

[Reverend Saltine]

It began normally.

I woke up yet one more time after a night's sleep---"sleep:" the little brother of death. I'm seventy, so, I'm always surprised anymore when I actually wake up alive.

I confirmed I was still alive. I farted, long and loud. It went on forever; I felt my body shrink; I thought I might deflate like a balloon. It was an old man's relief.

But, yes, it proved I was still alive: I fart; therefore I am.

I managed to haul myself in a kind of situp onto the edge of the bed using both arms and my old gut, being careful of the hernia. I sat there a few moments waiting to see what would happen next.

Nothing happened.

I put on my glasses; I'm actually blind without them. Because of my eyes and my deafness, it's hard to walk. You wouldn't think that hearing mattered in walking, but it does. However, I was still sitting, so I wasn't walking.

Anyways...equipped for vision now, I checked my O'Phone but there were no messages. The French Empire was still at war with us, but stalemated thanks to the Thought of Dearest Leader.

Yup. A good day. The sun still shone upon the Holy City of Portland, and all was well in O'merica.

I strapped on my hernia belt while sitting on the bed. I put the back brace on over that. I pulled up my Joy knee braces. I inserted my hearing aids, and my dentals, got my cane from where it leaned against the night table, and I was ready to rock and roll.

I stood up, and didn't fall down. A good sign. I waited a few moments and then pushed off toward the kitchen. Next to my bed, the dog was pretending to be asleep in her cage.

I made my way through the living room, littered with dog toys where you could trip and get killed---a mine field. I swore she put those things where she knew I was most likely to walk. Sometimes she would sneak up behind me and put toys where she knew I might step backwards. I expected her to buy a gun one day; if there were any left.

I headed toward the kitchen.

I stopped. That was weird...the air in there looked thicker...maybe a little smokey. And still that smell from last night...the sink...garbage.

I made it to the kitchen outer wall and leaned my back there a moment. I turned my head and shoulder slightly and peeked around the corner at the kitchen sink.

It was still clogged. The brownish sludge that filled it halfway gleamed in the morning light.

I returned to resting my back against the wall. It was a hiding posture. Where the sink couldn't see me. I stayed there. Breathing.

I had thought, the night before, that maybe if I ignored the sink blob, it would just go away.

But it hadn't.

The motorized Insinkerator---the garbage disposal---had defeated my attempts to unclog it.

I had ordered the Dearest Leader's Own liquid plumber brand. It came right away by drone, but had failed to disolve the gunk stuck in the pipes.

I was afraid to report that, lest I be blamed for disparaging The Dearest Leader Herself and maybe get punished for that by the Department of Happy Security.

So I didn't call anybody about that. I had decided to handle this on my own if I could. Was that stepping out of Group? I didn't know; I didn't want to be out of Group and not fit in, because of the guilt, penalties, and censure, but I had to get rid of the thing in my sink.

You see, the main result I did not want, was a Wellness Check from the Department of Happy Security once they detected that I had purchased the liquid plumber. That spelled problem, and we were not permitted problem without government supervision of same. Everyone knew that. So I would have no excuse for the blob-thing being in my sink.

See, I should have called in to Group for help. But I didn't because I didn't want to be taken away in the night.

Old Harry, down the street---they came to see him one night, took him away, and he never came back. We couldn't find out where he was. We rescued his cat, but Harry never returned.

By the next day Group had already moved some Needful Visitors from Other Lands into Harry's house, where it was assured they could live for free and collect their many entitlements. This, of course, was kind and fair, and as it should be. It brought a real financial boost to our little street because the Visitors made more money than any of us. And with their complete line of O'Benefits they were free to spend their Fair Share of cash locally.

Anyways....

I had tried my toilet plunger on the stuffed up drain last night, but that only blew sludge all over the place out of this snorkel thing on the sink. It was a smelly mess and the dog had started to eat it and vomited.

Now, as I peeked at my blob from the around the kitchen corner, it looked bigger. A lot bigger. It was almost up to the edge of the sink.

From where I was, I was able to reach around and press the switch to start the Insinkerator. It snapped on with a whine, and the liquid mass in the sink boiled---a geyser shot out of the drain six feet into the air, coating everything in range with the brownish goop.

I pressed the switch to turn off the Insinkerator and the geyser collapsed. I was worried somehow about pyroclastic flow; but then I remembered that was volcanoes...Pompeii---my gods, we are all---every one of us---dying, and....

I peeked around the corner at the sink and sweated. My knees hurt. My Hernia ached. I was hungry and wanted coffee. The dog started her high-pitched dolphin shriek to find out if I was still there. I hated when she did that.

I felt dizzy from the vertigo between my ears. It was hot in the room. It smelled bad there.

Wait...What the hell was that? Did the goop just seem to flow---crawl back toward the sink?

Nahhhhhhhh. That was crazy. Tell that to anyone and I really would be carted off by the DHS.

Of course, I could still call Tender Loving Pumbers, but I guessed that by the time they finished with the job it would cost me about $175, give or take....

I didn't have $175. Give or take. I was down to eating my emergency food and cancelling everything else by which I could save money. Guidance of the markets by the Overgarchy had eradicated everything I'd saved in my lifetime for "retirement." But that was, of course, fair. They needed those funds. All was as it should be.

I guessed it was my own fault. Maybe I hadn't pulled hard enough to be a good member of Group or actually paid my Fair Share. Maybe if I had worked even harder and contributed even more money, then the Visitors From Other Lands would have been able to collect more reparations and relief and would have rioted less for their rights.

Or something.

I forget how it all works. I just know we are supposed to turn over most of our earnings to the Visitors, who---through no fault of their own---are not able to speak our language, or work.

They all come here to work and become English-speaking O'mericans, but they can't, because it would be unfair to them, and we have to respect that. And love them. The Pope said so; she even washes their feet as they come across.

Well, it's not actually the Pope, but it's her elves who dress up like her and do it these days. For a fee. To us, of course, because of our implicit guilt. In everything. As whites.

Anyways....

But, yeah---no; I couldn't call for help with this blob catstrophe; they would cart me away.

So, it was just me and the blob. I was on my own.

But I didn't know a thing about plumbing, fixing, or drains. Besides, I could hardly even walk, let alone crawl under the sink with a wrench or whatever they were called. I couldn't remember.

What to do?

The dog screeched like a dolphin again. I had to let her out of the cage soon or she would rip up her bedding and pee in it. That would mean extra expense of cleaning. My huge credit card debt was already in collection and I could barely manage.

The sink suddenly burbled---almost a growl. I glanced at the blob---it really did look bigger now.

The doorbell rang. The intercom said, "Department of Happy Security. This is a wellness check of male, hetero, white, Reed, Robert, 70---are you all right?"

Shit! DHS. I couldn't let them in. They'd see the stopped up sink and declare me incompetent. They'd check and find out about the liquid plumber failure---I'd be blamed and censured for insulting Dearest Leader. I'd be hauled away to join Harry somewhere---if he was even still anywhere. I'd disappear. Who would feed the dog? I'd be made into crackers or something.

What to do?

"Reed, Robert, white, hetero---are you all right?" DHS was getting loud and insistent now. I had to make my move.

"Make my move"? I can hardly freaking walk!

Who or what made me be like this? Ouch---that was outside of Group. It wouldn't be fair to have the least advantage over others. It would be hurtful and wrong. Sorry. I will watch my language.

I went to the bedroom, laid down, and opened a video chat from there. "I'm fine," I said, to the uniformed transgender person on the screens, "I'm just resting. I've chosen to watch a little teevee, that's all. Thanks for checking on me."

The inspector adjusted his or her green cap with a silver winged "O" on the crest, and said, "I have to come in and check on you. Open this door."

Fuck!

"All right, inspector. But could you come back in three hours? I've actually just given myself a high colonic yogurt enema. Unless, could you assist me right now and help clean the toilet and walls when it's over? Could you help me with that? It's hard for me to sop up the floor, too."

I watched the inspector back away from the screen a few steps. "All right, Reed, Robert. I'll be back in three hours."

I broke the connection.

Godd dammit! I only had three hours to solve the fucking blob problem. I looked at the clock. It was a little after 9:00 AM.

The dog screeched and started ripping apart her bedding.

## ## ##

I put the dog in the yard. I heard her digging up the sprinkler system. I heard stones and gravel shower off the sides of the house.

I checked on my blob; I adjusted my lenses. Blob looked even bigger now.

In fact, it had spread and had actually been climbing the base of the little island counter in the middle of the kitchen. No question about it now. Blob was active. Active blob---shelter in place...don't fight back....

Should I shelter in place?

Or, phone 911? Call the media? Go on Twitter? What to do? I couldn't remember what to do.

No, wait; yeah, but no---I had to kill Blob and get rid of it because DHS would be back here and take me away in just two and a half hours. It would be bye-bye moi.

I had no doubt that some Needful Visitors From Other Lands, who only came here to work and feed their families, would be moved into my little house and start collecting their much-deserved Fair Share. The house was the only place where I felt secure anymore...I didn't know what to do...the Visitors were so deserving...we were told. I didn't want to call anybody.

Besides, 911 might shoot the dog.

And me.

My old body had loosened up a little by now, so I was able to sneak into the kitchen with my vacuum cleaner. I rammed the hose up Blob's ass, and hit the switch.

Blob bucked, and shrieked like nails on a blackboard---or, maybe that was the vacuum motor.

I dunno, but Blob got sucked into the vacuum and was on its way to hell, when the sink erupted and the entire kitchen took a heaving blob-down of brown crap all over it. The door got slammed shut and the kitchen started filling up with Blob. It smelled like dog shit by now. It was getting in my ears and mouth---I would drown and die here! I had to do something fast.

But, "Fast," and I don't mesh....

Then the adrenaline hit me and I remembered something from 60 years ago. It was how sinks and drains work! My old Cub Scout handbook---the Scout Motto came back to me like a shot to the head:

"BE PREPARED. Be always in a state of readiness in mind and body to do your DUTY---by having disciplined yourself to think out beforehand any accident or situation that might occur, so that you know the right thing to do at the right moment, and are willing to do it."

I thought like crazy---review, review, review---I could do this thing! I was ready! I could take action here and now!

But wait---that was outside of Group. We aren't supposed to think outside of Group, or take initiative---it's bad. It's unfair to those who can't do it, those less fortunate, those equals of us all who were not dealt winning tickets in life's lottery, those who....

Fuck that. I was drowning in the roaring mass of brown crap boiling out of the sink. The DHS Inspector was coming back. The dog was excavating the entire yard. I had to do something on my own, and now!

But I had already thought it out sixty years ago. I was ready. I remembered what to do.

Here was the problem: I could never bend down under the sink where the pipes were. That was where I needed to be, but I could never manage it.

So, I laid prone in the mass of flowing crap. It washed around and over me. I held my breath.

I side-stroked to the sink. I rolled onto my back and floated to the pipes.

There was the Insinkerator---the garbage diposal---with a single pipe running out of it horizontally into the main pipe that then ran straight down.

That seemed simple! Garbage went into the disposer, and out the side pipe, and then into the down pipe and out of the house.

I tapped on the pipes with my arthritic, swollen knuckles---like ball peen hammers. I heard hollow pipe echo sharply and the stuffed pipe's dull, "thud."

The horizontal pipe was stuffed, but not the pipe that went straight down. That was the answer!

The doorbell rang---the fucking DHS Inspector was on the intercom. I had no time for that now---it was me and the beast. The blob closed up over my mouth and reached for my nose. I had trouble breathing.

My brain roared, "You are a nightmare, Blob! --But I'm the god damned wakeup call!"

That sounded really good; like in a movie. Yet, my strength was gone.

What little there had been of strength was washed away by Blob, who was killing me. My vision was blurred and I couldn't breathe. I was a mass of pain and the stiffness of having lived too long, they'd said---old age. I was guilty of old age, yes. It wasn't fair to Group. I felt ashamed of my age. I'd lived too long, they'd said.

The DHS Inspector shouted, "Hey! I'm Coming in right now! Ready or not!"

Great. I'd be caught en flagrant, with this goddamned Blob, and get sent to the ovens or something.

With my last conscious effort---as Blob closed over my nose---I reached out and rotated the ring-lock that held the two intersecting disposal pipes together.

I wrenched the pipes apart. I jammed an arthritically rigid finger like a steel rod into the plugged pipe, which exploded with filth and Blob and water and crap---and all of it drained in a wet roar down and away in the other pipe.

The DHS Inspector used a pass key to let him or herself in and looked around at the spotless kitchen and shining stainless steel sink. I was having a nice quiet tea at the island table. Blob was gone.

And so was my fear, uncertainty, and guilt.

I smiled and said, "Won't you sit down, Inspector? You're very young. Sit down, please. Sit here. I want to tell you about a time---a time not long ago---when men on a big silver screen carried six-guns, women wore satin that clung like paint, and there were movies and myths and dreams about heroes, heroines, mysterious 'letters of passage,' and things you could only imagine---oh...and about how to be human....

"Sit down, inspector? Please? Won't you please sit down?"

..................................

[Craftmore]

Praise Obama,”the wise and merciful”soon we may all enjoy this glorious future.Aloha Snackbar!Obama be praised”piss be upon him”

[Reverend Saltine]

i love that: "Piss be upon him." I wonder how you say that in muz lingo? Maybe this: ARABIC شخ عليكم Or: ARABIC قد يكون شخ عليك Who the HE|| can even READ that??

[Reverend Saltine]

Hahaha! Still laffin’

PISS Be Upon Him :)