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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > Feeny and the Sparkles (part 2)
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| Feeny and the Sparkles (part 2) | |
| By Emmuttmax | ||||||||||||
| 12 August 2008 | ||||||||||||
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As I said in the first part, this is a long short story, and it seems to be getting longer. There will be at least one more part, probably two or three, depending on how soon my medication runs out.
Part 2
Feeny and the Sparkles Comforted by the feel of the brain scrambler in her sweatshirt, Calliope used her left hand to swat at the glowing orbs like they were Mayflies. “Hey, back off,” she shouted, “you guys invading my personal space.” The sparkles retreated a couple feet. Irritated at the lack of respect shown her, Calliope stepped to her right, leaving one of her boots stuck in the sucking bank mud. “Shit,” she complained, and then retrieved the boot. After rebooting, she looked up and saw Feeny staring at her. “Hey you, what the hell is going on here, and why are you hanging out with that elk?” Without waiting for an answer, the Salmon City bartender closed the 20-yard gap between herself and the pair. Before she made another comment, Calliope studied the man before her. “Jesus,” she thought, “he looks like on of those war-vet survivalists with post-traumatic stress syndrome.” She made sure the stun gun was still in the sweatshirt before moving closer. As she was about to unleash more questions at Feeny, a voice said, “Actually, he’s not. I don’t think he was ever in the military. He likes to call himself a forest spelunker.” When Calliope heard the voice in her head she scanned the surroundings looking for the speaker. “Relax,” said another voice, “We don’t exactly know what is going on here either, but it seems these sparkles have given us the ability to communicate telepathically. The elk is right, I’ve never been in the service, and,” he glanced at Stella, “I am a forest spelunker.” Calliope opened her mouth to speak, but just thought about what she wanted to say. “So, you’re telling me, the elk can talk telepathically, and you can, too. And, these,” she motioned towards the hovering orbs, “things magically made it happen?” “Pretty much,” said Feeny and Stella in unison. “Fuck,” thought Calliope, “I must have had more Bushmills than I thought.” “Well,” thought-said Feeny, “we haven’t had anything to drink, and it is weirdness personified to us.” Calliope was about to ask what a spelunker was, but was distracted when the nine orbs that had been scrutinizing the humans and the elk began moving like balls being rotated by an unseen juggler. Finally, they settled, and one of them spoke-thought. “Excuse us, we need to confer with the rest of ourself. We request you remain here while we do so. Thank you.” With the polite request stated, the sparkles flew back to the center of the bog and joined the others. The low hum they’d been emitting evolved to an electric-razor whine as the sparkles morphed into a single, large ball and started to slowly revolve. “I say we get out of here,” said Calliope. “Those Christmas lights could be dangerous.” Stella stepped over and stood in front of the mini-skirted woman, lowering her head so she could look her in the eye. “Hi, I’m Stella,” said-thought the elk, “and I’d like to stick around and see what happens. So far, they haven’t been very aggressive, and besides, aren’t you packing heat?” Calliope took a tentative step closer to Feeny. “Uh, yeah, Stella, how are you doing?” she said warily looking at the elk and then at Feeny. “How’d she know I have a gun in my sweatshirt?” Fenny shrugged. “Listen you two,” said Calliope as she adopted the stance of an irritated grade-school teacher. “Have you considered these things could be aliens? They probably want to take us to some spaceship and probe us.” As Feeny watched her deliver her admonition, he couldn’t help but notice she was a fine-looking woman. Her pageboy haircut framed a face of cream skin, doe eyes, and lips that might have just been stung by a small bee. Despite the oversize sweatshirt she was wearing, it wasn’t hard to tell you could rest a beer on her chest. An ungentlemanly thought about “probing” flashed across Feeny’s mind. “I heard that you perv,” Calliope bark, pulling the stun gun from the pocket in the sweatshirt. “You better watch yourself, or I’ll be probing your gonads with 5,000 watts of electricity.” “Whoa,” shouted Feeny, backing away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m new to this thought talking and haven’t learned to filter out impulse thoughts generated by physical reactions. It’s just, uh, well, I’ve been living in the forest a long time, and I haven’t seen a woman in a while. It’s nothing more that animal mating instinct.” Calliope seemed a little disappointed but said. “Yeah, well just so we understand each other.” Feeny and Calliope stood in an uncomfortable silence while Stella pulled a clump of grass from the bank and began masticating. The humming of the sparkle mass quieted, and three orbs broke away, returning to face the the man, woman, and elk. “So,” Calliope demanded, “Are you going to tell us what the fuck is going on?” Stella spit out the grass in her mouth and said, “Excuse her, she’s drunk. However, we are interested in this scenario, and what part we are supposed to play, if any.” Calliope shot Stella a dirty look, but remained silent. The middle orb rotated, and when it finished its circuit, there was a face on its surface. A face that looked sort of like an elk. “We thought you all might be more comfortable talking with a symbol you can relate to.” Sarcasm seeped into Calliope’s thoughts. “Yeah, I talk to a floating moose face all the time.” Feeny became impatient and said to Calliope, “Hey, just shut up for a few minutes, and let’s see what they have to think. And, I think it’s supposed to be an elk, not a moose.” He turned back to the sparkles and said, “Look, I’m sorry about the interruption, please, tell us what’s going on.” Calliope pouted, but she withheld further comment. The sparkle-orb-moose looked as conspiratorial as a sparkle-orb-moose can look and said, “God sent us. His mom is pissed and wants him to clean up his room.”
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