And unlike the other “normal” toilets in the stall, no matter how many times Billy flushed, rinsed and scrubbed, the brown toilet (# 418 painted in red on top) still had a shit smell to it.
Not only that, but after fully washing it, it rarely tipped him, if at all. Where most of the others would make a buzzing noise(some actually inhaling before spitting them out, Billy had saw ,taking some steps back)then spat out many multi colored coins on the tiled floor, the brown one would spit out one, maybe two if at all. He wanted to take a fucking sledgehammer and bash that toilet in like he’d wanted to bash some of those fucking robots outside.
Day by day, he actually felt himself getting bigger and stronger - eventually, strong enough to do just that.
But he knew there might be consequences for doing that. Whatever god this world had and whatever jokes it played on noobs, it wouldn’t be too happy with him if he did something like that. Best to just tolerate the Ghetto toilet and collect his coins.
Then there was 213. It was a dark and light marbled blue, cracked in places, with red eyes and curly blond hair sticking out of the walls. If he’d had a choice, he would deal with 100 ghetto toilets than this one.
The first time he’d gone up to clean it, he screamed in horror. A dog’s head was in this toilet’s mouth. As he reluctantly grabbed the rottweiler’s head to put it in the nearby trash can, a giant blue tongue came out of the hole in 213 and licked him. Fucking licked him!
Billy fell to the tiled floor in horror and disgust. The snake like blue tongue went back into the porcelain beast, and he even thought he heard taunting laughter from somewhere in that hole.
Quite possibly, it was laughter.
213 then spat out 10 shiny gold coins. Billy regained his composure, greedily picking up the coins on the tiled floor. He then hurriedly finished washing
213, ready at any time to move out of there should the tongue come back. He’d then finish the day cleaning other giant toilets he actually enjoyed. One was a giant gold one who always gave him big tips. 777, that one was, in gold letters on the top.
Happy Herman as well, always happy to see him (and the boy the porcelain client as well) and also gave him big tips (not as much as the Holy Roller Toilet, but better than the Ghetto one by far).
Then there was the pink/white marbled porcelain toilet that always smelled good before and after he’d washed it (probably not even needed, but he wanted the tips). 433, this one was. Surrounding it were pink tiles, it had pink bristled hair, it’s cartoon eyes, painted eye lashes, and red lipstick painted on its beautiful shiny porcelain teeth. It always had a well-polished pink piss cake in its center as well, which he saw popped out each time he was finished cleaning, giving him a big tip each time as well of at least 20 gold coins. Once, there was even music coming from tiny holes in the walls on top of its(hers) number on the pink tiles. Golden Oldies, he thought - the same type my mother liked.
One day he even heard Christmas music coming from inside and smiled at this. It was the first genuine smile Billy had in this world since arriving here.
Sometimes he’d cry himself to sleep at night after putting his giant bristle against the wall and having his dinner (which was always waiting for him when he got back - how it got there he didn’t know, but it was always there).
He’d miss his family, miss his mother and wish he’d never taken his life back then.
This was his new life now: getting paid to clean giant shitters. Guess it could be worse, he’d thought.
Then, one night he’d had a dream that frightened him so bad he’d woke up screaming.
A troll with a giant nose dressed in a black trench coat with evil looking eyes and raspy voice was hovering over a helpless writer(his face was smashed in with a typewriter sitting on top of it and a giant butcher knife was in his stomach, blood covering his whole body).
The troll in the trench coat grabbed the manuscript the writer had been composing and started eating the paper. It then spat the pages onto the writer, who was gurgling and protesting for the troll to please stop.
The troll then threw the many pages that were left on top of the protesting writer.
“You’re not restoring balance to this world, you weak pig!” the troll was shouting. “Not anymore! I’m back now!”
It then drove the butcher knife further down into the writer’s heart. The protests stopped - The Writer was dead. And so, it seemed, was Restoring Balance.
Two people came into view now behind the troll. One was a woman in her 30’s that at one time may have been beautiful. Now she was mended up with many stitches covering her face and body. Her eyes were a blank black, her smile -once lovely at some point, now a sinister one that gritted in as her nose wrinkled with it. In many ways she looked like a female version of the troll save for her nose was a normal size.
The man beside her was also stitched up, looking more like a dumbfounded puppet, going along with the crowd and laughing with them but having a blank stare while doing it.
Like someone stitched him back up but forgot to put the soul in, Billy thought in the dream.
Suddenly, all 3 seemed to be aware he was watching him in the dream; they took their attention from the corpse of the writer to him looking on. Billy woke up in sweat, screaming aloud.
Outside, there was what sounded like a violent rush of water running. Thunder and lightning boomed outside.
He went over to his apartment window and looked out. A flood of water was coming in from the beach, water slithering down the street. Debris floated with it - furniture, broken bits of porcelain dolls (faded paint he saw chipped in places). Waves crashed somewhere in the distance, blocking out the sound of the robots shouting their bible verses. Soon, broken bits and pieces of the robots joined the porcelain dolls.
Billy saw furniture floating down as well, and also porcelain chunks of the toilets he cleaned every day. Among the debris, he also saw something that excited him.
Many, many shiny coins floated in the flood of the debris.
Don’t do it, Billy - don’t be stupid. Wait for the storm to pass, then collect.
He looked at the clock. It was 5am. He didn’t clean ‘til 8am.
He put on his nearby fan as a noise blocker, noting that the storm seemed to be fading out a little as he eventually went back to bed after emptying his bladder.
No dreams of the troll again. When he woke up, more robots could once again be heard from the beach in the distance. Breakfast was waiting for him downstairs - bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches - 2 of them with hash browns and a large iced coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. Someone out there knew he’d need the energy today.
He walked outside to see some of the debris in the road left over. He avoided the monstrosities as they came out (giant caterpillar - like and spider -like creatures that gave him the creeps). They came out, taking pieces of the debris and going away with it somewhere. They left him alone; someone needed to clean the stalls, so killing the boy would be a bad decision.
No more Balance in this world, Billy thought. Maybe killing him wouldn’t have been a bad idea for the troll, who’d been spotted in the dream. The troll and his goonies. Billy put the thought aside, going greedily over to the shiny coins left behind by the mini flood and picking up as many as he could. He then went on his cleaning business.
Billy made his way upstairs (laughing to himself as he’d cleaned Mr. Ghetto and heard old school rap music within the walls on the other side of the small holes on top of it).
Then he paused and looked. A dead woman’s corpse hung half out of a giant hole in the wall near the pink female toilet he looked forward to washing. The smell of death overpowered the smell of the female toilets perfume.
Billy hesitantly walked over to the giant hole in the wall. He looked on with horror at the dead corpse of the woman hanging half out of the hole in the wall.
Above the woman was
the number 213.
“213 is gone,” he said aloud, musing to himself.
Where it used to be is a giant hole and a dead corpse.
Where had 213 floated off to? In response to this thought, all the toilets in the stall flushed in unison. Water spilled onto the tiled floor from everywhere at once, soaking the boy’s shoes.
Billy hurried out of there. As he did, he heard violin music coming out the mini holes on top of each toilet in the stall.
“I’m coming for you, boy!” a familiar raspy voice said from the holes, on top of the violin music.
Billy hurried it out of there, running over to his apartment across the street locking his door and looking out of his bedroom window.
The shack he’d cleaned time and time again burst from within; the rusty windows smashed out as a flood of water flushed out violently onto the street. Debris of porcelain, piss and shit flooded out with it. He saw the corpse of the woman fly out from the second floor, onto the street. Moments later, the creepy crawlers came to take pieces of her away.
They also took pieces of the female toilet he so deeply loved away as well. Billy felt his heart sank as he held onto his large bristled brush. But then a moment later, another thought filled him. He opened the top drawer of his bureau and put the coins he’d managed to collect with the others.
There are other stalls to clean and other coins to collect elsewhere, weren’t there?
Did this chapter really have to be the end, just because one shack collapsed?
No, it didn’t.
Billy found a giant bag in one of the closets in his apartment.
He took all of his shiny coins, put them in the bag, then left the apartment.
He left the giant bristle behind; there would be another one waiting for him somewhere else.
Elsewhere. Yes- there would be another one waiting for him in this place called Elsewhere.
Chapter 10
Restoring Balance
Billy walked onward from the life here he always knew - clean the toilets and getting paid. He saw an abandoned carnival with a giant Ferris wheel that had what looked like blood stains on some of the parts of it. There was also an abandoned McDonalds.
To the left of him was what looked like the Ocean of Horrors - it was filled with debris of broken porcelain dolls, tv’s, robots and other atrocities that washed up on shore. Among them were the Bible thumping robots shouting their psalms, Revelation and John 3:16 verses.
Billy felt vulnerable; he had no weapon’s, and dying as a 12 year old and still being that way, wouldn’t know how to use one if he did.
He looked further into the ocean and saw what he thought were tall black ships approaching.
The Pirates of Armageddon draw near, he thought.
“The Pirates of Armageddon Draw Near!” one of the robots said, as if picking the thought from his head. And maybe it did. Or maybe it had already been saying that and that’s where the thought came from.
Either way, Billy didn’t like it. Something told him that somewhere out there, there was a writer that kept balance in this world, one that had a change of heart.
And that someone had been murdered by a sinister troll.
From somewhere behind him, he heard a loud whistle. It sounded like the horn of a train. It got nearer and louder.
As darkness approached, Billy walked onward, trying to find some solace place to stay.
The whistle got louder again; it had faded out before, but it was back now.
Billy looked back and gasped. 213 was only a mile behind him, floating in the air with another dead corpse in its mouth. Its blue snakelike tongue dangled like a dog’s on the cracked pavement. It regarded the boy with evil red cartoon eyes, its yellow curly hair blowing in the wind.
The angry whistle was attached to its back. It blew again, louder this time. From somewhere in the Ocean of Horrors, another horn blew far off in the distance, as if to salute it.
Then from behind him, someone - or something - grabbed him. Billy gasped and screamed. He turned and saw a black trench coat and hat. He knew who it was immediately.
The troll put its ugly hand on top of Billy’s mouth, putting the other to its mouth in a “shush” jester. Billy pissed his pants. The troll snickered at this.
“Boy -you are mine now!” it said to him.
“You are my gift - given to me by the bird! We will be having steak tonight
- all of us together!”
Billy saw the two zombie-like creatures with the troll that had once been human. Stitched up, laughing with the troll at this, then turning to him and laughing at him.
“Oh boy, we will all have such fun!” the woman said.
The man seemed too out of it to even say anything - he just giggled and nodded his head in agreement. But the woman - the woman was sinister. Probably more so than the troll.
Was it not the woman that ate the apple? Billy thought.
Something licked him from behind. It was 213. But the boy was helpless; the troll held him and kept his mouth shut.
The tongue started to curl around the boy’s waist like a snake. He pissed his pants some more, then his bowels totally loosened, and he shit himself.
More laughter from the troll and his 2 goonies.
The grip on his waist tightened. He was only twelve, but thought for sure he’d have a heart attack right there and then.
Then suddenly, the grip loosened.
A shot fired near his ear drum. Billy winced at this, thinking he might go deaf in that moment, but at the same time relieved the grip had loosened. He looked up to see the troll’s expression change from triumph to tragedy in that instant. Its black sinister beady eyes flashed a sign of recognition.
Then its head was blown off with a second shot. Green blood splattered across Billy’s face and the two goonies as well.
Billy turned and saw a man with glasses, clean cut hair and a checkered shirt holding a shotgun.
The man grabbed Billy in a loving fatherly way that brought another smile to the boy’s face.
“Out of the way boy - we have some business to take care of,” the man said. The boy looked to his left and saw a woman come over to him, giving him a hug. She looked about 5 months pregnant.
“Don’t worry, kid - we will take you in,” she said. “Right after Johnny takes care of business.”
Take care of business the man did. He blew the zombie woman and her boyfriend zombie’s head to smithereens. From behind them,213 was on the concrete, broken in 2 pieces. It’s blue snake-like tongue lay on the cracked pavement, writhing and dancing.
Billy winced as Johnny reloaded his shotgun and blew the porcelain beast into more pieces, killing the snake- like tongue as well in the process.
“Come on, boy - what is your name?”
“Billy.”
“Billy - I’m Johnny. This is my future wife Jenny. Come with us - we will get you some food and fresh clothes.” “Thank you!” Billy said, then looked down the road and gasped. What looked like a giant goat that banged a giraffe was coming slowly down the road from far away. With it were little goats - presumably it’s children.
And behind them, quilted beasts that stood tall made of porcelain as well. With the beasts, sad macabre looking clowns.
Johnny turned and saw them too. He reloaded his shotgun, then turned to the boy.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Johnny said.
“Agreed!” the boy said.” Let’s get the flying fuck outta here!” He then thought of how good it felt to swear. His asshole stepfather never liked him swearing. But it was okay to be a fucking alcoholic and abuse him and his mother.
Later on, when boy and man got to know each other a little more, they both chuckled at this commonality they both shared.
Time may move on, things may change, but hypocritical asshole stepdad
s never go out of style it seemed. Later on, the boy washed up and put some fresh clothes on, then came downstairs to join the couple. Immediately, the terrible sadness he felt so often disappeared in that moment. This was his new family - they would take care of him now. And when the future wife had the child, Billy would take care of him/her too.
As they ate dinner heartily, the couple explained how they came to be and what they’d also gone through at the troll’s house.
“He killed The Writer,” Johnny explained.
“Yes!” Billy gasped. “I just dreamt it last night as well.”
Billy then looked excitedly at the bag to his left. It was sitting in the corner of the room. It was his coins - Johnny had retrieved it after shooting 213 and had brought t with them as they’d headed back to the house. “Now balance is out of order in this world once again,” Johnny said. “It’s up to us to once again restore it.”
“Yes indeed hun!” Jenny said, kissing her lover in between bites of her steak.
“To do that, I must finish the book The Writer started. It will be a long process, but in the meantime, we must be on our guard and battle the horrors of this world.”
“The Pirates of Armageddon draw near,” Billy said, to which the couple nodded.
“The Pirates of Armageddon indeed draw near,” Johnny said.
Billy went over and opened the bag of coins after dinner.
“Someday you can cash those in like we did,” Johnny said.
“When you’re ready and you can find your house. Right now, you’re too young and it’s too dangerous.” “Yes indeed!” Billy said. Then: ”I like it here. I really enjoy your company!” “Likewise!” the couple said. They spent the night listening to music and talking about the horrors of the past.
Struggling With the Afterlife Page 10
