I sit on the beach looking out across endless ocean falling into the sky. Nothing out there. Nothing in either direction up and down the coat. Foam and waves washing up dead fish for the crabs to feast upon. Behind me roll yellow hills of sand and dunes reaching the horizon like a dry desert. Miles of emptiness.
Note: story contains adult language
“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Where the fuck am I?” Dry words creeping like spiders out my mouth.
“Definitely can’t stay here forever.” Said a familiar voice. “Or I guess you could, but it sure stinks bad.” A black wispy tail swished by me. “If you had a problem with me defecating in your shed, I’d think this place would drive you nuts.” I look over and see Kevin, my neighbor's black cat pawing and poking at a bloated fish.
“I am not eating that.” He said. “I have some standards.”
“Yeah, don’ t poke it too hard either.” I said, but it was too late and the putrid stink of rot exhaled from inside the fish followed by little white worms poking their faces into the daylight for the first time in their lives. Worms in ecstasy.
Kevin puked up a hairball, or something mixed in with a hair ball.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you! You shitting in my dream waste land now?”
“I shit where I please.”
“Fuck off Kevin!”
“Hey, I didn’t assssk to be here… and is that any way to treat your spirit guide?”
“You are not my spirit guide. Can’t I have something cool like a hawk or a lion. Not an overweight cat that doesn’t know the difference between a litter box and my tool shed and walks around with his ass hole shining for the whole world to see like his shit don’t stink.”
“Hey! I take offense to that.”
“Fine. Sorry” I said crossing my arms. “So what the hell are you doing here?”
“Since you killed your last guide and you’re currently spiritually anorexic I was the closest guide by proximity so I got nominated against free will by association for the job.”
“What job?”
“Your dumb ass and your dense attitude. Look around. This is what your soul looks like. Stinks real bad.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what the hell do we do? Can’t swim across the ocean.”
“Three choices the way I see it: left, right, or backwards.”
“There is literally nothing in any direction. It’s all empty hills and sand dunes, or eternal shorelines of dead fish and crabs.”
“Well, we better start walking in some direction. Sitting here isn’t going to get us anywhere fast.”
“Ah crap.” I said standing up trying to brush the pasted on sea weed off my pants. “These were my favorite pants.”
Artwork by Dim Media
Story by Charles Denton