Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Beast - Short Story by Richard Porter

Chapter 1

 “It is in the hours between night and day when the decision to revolt is made. From out of the dawn the bird rises up in rebellion. And flies toward the rising sun.”

The Beast rose from her lair casting a large shadow on the wall. Stood upright, lifted one leg, squeezed hard and let out a fart so loud and powerful that dogs for miles around began to howl. And a lamp sitting on a nearby table did burst into flames.

Her bladder and bowels full from the day before she slammed down hard the toilet seat and straddled the commode.

Her diminutive husband and maid stood quietly outside the bathroom door – cowering, waiting, as had become their morning custom.

Then, with what can only be described as the sound a sperm whale might make upon being harpooned or what fire fighters describe as a back blast did the Beast release her bowels causing the very foundation of the house to shake at its very core.

Next came what sounded like a clydesdale pissing which to the husband and maid seemed like an eternity. And then came quiet.

Then with what sounded like a battle ship releasing its anchor did the toilet paper begin to unravel as if there were to no end in sight.

And next the Beast cleared her throat and hocked up a hocker and did catch a lowly mouse creeping along the baseboard and knock it unconscious.

And with an operatic aria playing in the background and the cracking sound of a lightening bolt did the Beast greet the dawn. And to the untrained eye might appear to be Kirstie Alley, but plus–sized, did appear before him - naked - Tom’s wife!

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