Snot Bubble

“It’s called a snot bubble alarm,” He said, scratching a red patch on his neck with his dirty nails.

“How do you make one?” The rookie asked.

He a grin spread over his face on seeing the rookie’s confusion,having expected that question.

“It’s easy,” He began with an air of authority and with a certain pleasure derived from it, “First you think hard, as hard as you can. Say you want to wake up at five in the morning, then you think of that number, Five – nothing else, for five minutes. And mind you, I say five minutes because I can do it in five but you may have to try harder. Might even take you a whole hour since you’re still a new, random character.” He said and bursts out into an uncontrollable laughter.

The rookie felt slighted, he swallowed hard and scoffed. “So you were saying?”

“Oh yes, yes, as I was saying, think of the time when you want to wake up, as hard as you can. After you’re done with that, comes the easy part. Make sure you have a runny nose when you do it, make sure it is thick enough to inflate and deflate as you breathe and even if you can’t do that, don’t worry. You’re a stupid character so I’m sure you’ll just get one anyway. Ha!” He broke into one of his laughters that took two or three panels to die down.

He eventually did and rubbed a tear from the corner of his eyes.

“If you follow all the things I’ve said then you’ll surely be able to make a Snot Bubble Alarm that pops and wakes you up at your convenience.”

He spread a stupid grin on his face after finishing his tutorial. A vein popped on the rookies forehead. The guy he was talking to had fifty seven chapters of experience, while he, our rookie, had been introduced in the plotline only three chapters ago.

The rookie quickly gave his thanks and headed to his spot, four panels away to the bottom. He jumped and passed through scenes and dialogues, once hitting his face on a big ‘!’ hanging in the air.

“Be careful” someone had commented.

He reached his panel and set himself down to apply what he had learned. He thought hard, for about a minute or so, and was quickly asleep with a snot bubble inflating and deflating as he breathed.

Stupid characters do pull it off easily.

The next panel was small. It showed the snot bubble of the rookie- transparent with a small whitish gleam on it. Two panels from where the rookie slept the snot bubble suddenly bursts.

Next page. Top panel. The rookie is weary eyed with fashioned bags under. He looks at the digital alarm clock drawn inside the room. It blinks steadily at 5:00. He yawns, moving on to the next panel.

Little Boys

Rieneir wanted to spent some time alone. Away from his mother telling him to clean his room before Mr Rabbot arrived, away from his father inviting him to leaf up a tobacco roll, away from his little sister nagging him to play tarot; away from all people. The reason for his sudden feeling for the need of seclusion was because of a)even if Mr Robbot arrived they were not going to entertain him in his room for christsake b) nor did he like the smell of tobacco, c) and he felt was too old to play with his little sister anymore but most importantly d) he wanted to spent time with me.

He escaped to the place only he knew. His secret base. But don’t let Rieneir know that I told you. He is touchy about this kind of things, he may consider himself a grown up but to the rest of the world he was only a young boy of twelve.

I am his uncle. His secret base is my room behind little Rieneir’s closet. Only little Rieneir and I know about this place, nobody else, not even his parents or his sister.

One of these days i might invite her too.

He comes to me whenever he wants to be comforted. And I do that quite well, he likes spending time with me and I like spending time with him.

Oh, little boys, full of tender youth. How I love little boys.

Paranoid: Killing my DoG. Short Story .

I woke up at 10 today and I’m bored. He has nothing to do. I have nothing to do. I realise holidays are such a bore. You’re so free you don’t want to do anything. Is it just me?

I know you too have those thoughts. I think i’ll kill my dog. I wonder how’d that go; Wringing the life out of that ball of happiness.

Keeper would never see it coming. He’d just come wagging his tail if i call out to him. Blind faith that. We love that shit don’t we?

Then i’d pin him down. Gently at first, then steadily, then slowly slide a sturdy grip on his neck. I’m sure his tongue would be out and his black eyes penetrating your soul.

So black and so innocent and so full of trust. Blind faith, i love that shit.

But will he know when my friendly grip on his neck turn doubtfully strong?

Will he still trust when it finally becomes abnormally hard to breathe?

Will he doubt?

Will he bark?

Will he cry?

And god forbid will it try to bite me as it gaspses for a drag of empty air?