But Mother did not like the mega-machine. It took up too much room and it smelled, too, she announced during one of her visits, clutching her lime-green purse as she stared up at the purring, whirring, buzzing behemoth. Surely no woman would ever marry a man, no matter how rich, with such a godawful machine hogging up space. Lex just laughed and whispered, “With a machine like this, who needs a woman?”
Then a panel flew open and a thick flexing cable, topped with a pointy-eared head about the size of a ripe lemon, popped out of the machine. Some parts of the head were metal, while others were furry and still others glistened with either oil or kittyspit. From between its velvety cleft lips rumbled these words: “YOUR CAPPUCCINO IS READY YOUR DINNER IS HEATING UP I’VE SELECTED A VIDEO FOR THIS EVENING YOU HAVE MAIL WOULD YOU CARE FOR A PEDICURE AN ENEMA A FULL-BODY MASSAGE ALLOW ME TO LANCE THAT BOIL YOU HAVE MAIL THE REQUESTED INFORMATION HAS BEEN DOWNLOADED EVALUATION OF GLOBAL DEFENSE SYSTEMS COMPLETED CAN INITIATE NUCLEAR ANNIHILATION AT YOUR COMMAND YOU HAVE MAIL.”
Lex smiled, scratched behind cyberkitty’s ears, and said, “Don’t worry, Mother, I won’t blow up the world—it’s just nice to know that I can. Now please, get up off the floor.”
But Mother did not get up, did not even cry out, “Internet Schminternet!” She simply stared and stared. Her stiff white hands clutched her chest, not her tacky lime-green purse. Our busy boy began to cry. A silvery thread of drool spooled down from cyberkitty’s raspy pink tongue as the rumbling voice intoned: “THAT MEAT AIN’T GONNA EAT ITSELF, YA KNOW.”
XII. The Loathsome Charms of the Medusa
The Medusa. What a gal.
She was a descendant of the race of the animal-headed aliens who used to hang out with the ancient Egyptians. Ancestrywise, she was about two-thirds animal-headed alien, one-third human. She lived in ancient Greece, and looked like something that had been fried up in some ancient grease.
She thought human males were the sexiest things on two legs, but they all thought she looked like the ultimate bad hair day in Hades. The poor love-sick thing had lime-green snake-locks, owl eyes, piranha teeth and alligator skin—and those were her good qualities.
The Medusa had once spent a carefree summer with the Loch Ness Monster, back before he’d realized he was gay. He’d shown her a few magic spells, since he was a great dinosorceror, and from him she’d learned a spell for a visual aphrodisiac: you just put on a few drops, and anybody who looks at you will want to get it on. It only had an effect on males, but as it turned out, that was okay for the Loch Ness Monster.
When the Medusa returned to Greece, she brewed up a batch of the visual aphrodisiac, but unfortunately, she made the same boo-boo that Dr. Sakarna would make many centuries later—attempting to cross the freaky bio-chemical border between humans and cold-blooded critters. The reptilian oils and musks on her bumpy hide combined with the formula, changing the chemical compound and amplifying its effects.
You know what they say: be careful what you wish for. She wanted to make men hard, and by Zeus, that’s just what she got.
She ended up alone, refusing to see any more male visitors. She already had more than enough statues in the garden.
XIII. Who are You?
And there you have it. I have given you forbidden knowledge from the past, present and the future. Do what you will with the information. Just don’t hold me responsible.
One day, while I was in line at the grocery store, I overheard a bit of conversation between the clerk at the cash register and the customer she was helping. The customer, a sloppy, heavyset man with a bad complexion, had bought a tabloid because he was worried about the young starlet on the cover. Apparently the starlet was having relationship difficulties with her boyfriend, a handsome, lanky rock star with an expensive drug problem.
Do you know what I wanted to tell that man? I wanted to tell him, “Hey, mister. I think you have more important things to worry about. You obviously have health problems. So why are you buying those two tubs of ice cream? That bottle of vodka? That big package of sausages with cheddar cheese in them? Don’t waste your time thinking about celebrities who don’t give a crap about you. That pretty young starlet will get along just fine without your help. But you! You need all the self-help that you can get. So think about yourself for a change. Think about improving your health…your appearance…your job, your house, your relationships…your life!”
So you out there…yes, you, the one drinking in my words. I have one more bit of wisdom for you. It’s not forbidden knowledge. It’s just a suggestion, really. And here it is:
Be good to yourself.
That way, you’ll always have one person on your side, no matter what happens to you. No matter who opposes you. No matter how many fresh dog turds are plopped in your path on the treacherous sidewalk of life.
True, that one person—that one steadfast supporter—will be yourself. But still, that’s more than some people have.
Have a nice day.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARK MCLAUGHLIN’s fiction, nonfiction, and poetry have appeared in almost one-thousand magazines, newspapers, websites, and anthologies, including , Dark Fusions: Where Monsters Lurk!, Black Gate, Galaxy, Fangoria, Writer’s Digest, Cemetery Dance, Midnight Premiere, Dark Arts, and two volumes each of The Best of the Rest, The Best of HorrorFind, and The Year’s Best Horror Stories (DAW Books).
Collections of McLaughlin’s fiction include Best Little Witch-House in Arkham and Beach Blanket Zombie (Wildside Press); Motivational Shrieker, Slime After Slime, and Pickman’s Motel (Delirium Books); At the Foothills of Frenzy, with coauthors Shane Ryan Staley and Brian Knight (Solitude Publications); and Raising Demons for Fun and Profit (Sam’s Dot Publishing).
McLaughlin is the coauthor, with Rain Graves and David Niall Wilson, of The Gossamer Eye, which won the 2002 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in Poetry.
With regular collaborator Michael McCarty, he has written Monster Behind the Wheel (hardcover from Corrosion Press, ebook edition from Medallion Press); Partners in Slime (Damnation Books); All Things Dark & Hideous (Rainfall Books, England); Professor LaGungo’s Delirious Download of Digital Deviltry & Doom (Darkside Digital); and Professor LaGungo’s Classroom of Horrors (Bucket o’ Guts Press).
He is also a successful marketing and public relations executive who regularly writes articles for business journals, newspapers, trade publications and websites.
To find out more about his work, visit:
www.Facebook.com/MarkMcLaughlinMedia
and his blog,
www.BMovieMonster.com
Hideous Faces, Beautiful Skulls: Tales of Horror and the Bizarre Page 26
