Ass Goblins of Auschwitz

by Cameron Pierce

  “Three,” I say.

  “Two,” Otto says.

  “One,” Frannie says.

  Frannie 2 yelps and blasts the toad toward the door. The toad leaves nothing more than a four-legged dent. It falls to the floor and twitches. Frannie 2 picks it up and reloads it in her ass.

  “Wait,” Otto says. He leaves his corner and crawls to the door. He reaches his right front leg through the toad-shaped hole and latches onto the outer door handle. “Locked,” he says.

  Frannie coughs up a goblin ass. “Stop coughing up asses,” I say. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “I can’t help it,” she says. She kicks the ass. It sails across the cell and splats KABOOM! against the door, blowing it to smithereens.

  Otto hisses. One of his front legs twitches in the rubble. He shakes all over and takes off. The rest of us cheer and jet after him, out of the cell.

  The alarm blurs the corners of my vision as the four of us run through the red-flashing hall, searching for any indication of an exit. Otto is swifter than the rest of us. He runs in spirals . . . floor to right wall to ceiling to left wall, leaping and bounding from one surface to another, distancing himself from us slowpokes. “Otto,” I say. I can hardly hear myself call his name. I hope his arachnid senses pick up on it. Frannie 2 lags behind. So small and frail, I want to wait for her, but I never fooled myself. I lack the desire to save others. Otto vanishes around a corner to our right.

  At the corner, I pause and see that Frannie 2 is having another fit. Frannie holds her down as she foams at the mouth. Behind them, an ass goblin who must have stayed behind opens a door and morphs into Shit Slaughter mode.

  I run around the bend, but Otto has left us all behind. Dread pulses through all the pieces of my heart. I turn back.

  Frannie hasn’t noticed the ass goblin yet. He jiggles his ass behind her, gloating over this easy, unassuming kill. Then he catches sight of me. The goblin points a claw and steps past Frannie and her sister. She never saw the ass goblin coming. At least the goblin doesn’t lay a finger on her. It’s me he wants. I’m the kid with the pink wings.

  I crack my knuckles, pocket my eyes, and transform into Shit Slaughter mode. The only fights I was ever in were against Otto, so a battle against a separate entity is entirely new to me, but after all they've done to us, I’m more than ready to butt heads with a goblin. I refrain from hooting. War cries are a waste of energy if the foe can’t hear them.

  The ass goblin squares off, fists raised. I wriggle my left claws and make a sudden swipe. The goblin ducks and my hand catches in his crown of teeth. Four fingers on my left hand are ground into dog meat. The pain and sudden blood loss throws my perceptions even more off kilter. The red sirens flutter from black to green and the walls begin to bleed.

  I shake it off in time to dodge a wild roundabout punch for my ass. I flap my wings and rise above the ass goblin, dumping a crap on him. He shakes a fist at me, so I flap backwards for a second fly-by shitting. He flaps his tiny wings but quickly realizes that his are no match for my pink furies.

  The ass goblin’s eyes flash over to the Frannies, where Frannie 2 still convulses. This seizure might kill her even if the ass goblin doesn’t tear them both apart. I fart as he lumbers toward them. He’s outwitted me. I fly after the ass goblin. Three feet away, I twist my body and pile drive my butt onto his. The goblin's ass splats like a swollen pimple.

  Now to help Frannie and Seizure Girl. My head flips inside-in. Leaving S.S. mode relieves me of an oceanic pressure. Shit Slaughter is a wreck on the nerves. I take my eyes out of my pocket and pop them in place. Frannie nods at me and tucks her twin into her mouth. She runs a lot slower that way, and considering how long the sirens have been blaring, anything might await us outside. This could be the end of Auschwitz.

  Back at the bend in the hallway, I notice a silky strand that Otto started. So he never intended to ditch us for good. He may have even gone ahead because he believes his chances of fending off ass goblins or securing the cavern housing Dead Kid Hill are better if he goes alone.

  We run down another hallway, following the web strand.

  This one ends in a fork, but the strand ends and there’s no way of knowing for sure which way leads out of here. Frannie points at the wall between the two passages. A ladder is welded to the wall. I nod. She grabs for the highest rung she can reach and pulls herself up. I follow, uneasy about being on a ladder with all the weight in my lower half, but remember that the ladder is designed for ass goblins. I curl my eye stems upward, gluing my sight on Frannie’s skeletal legs to prevent myself from looking down.

  The ladder takes us to a field one hundred yards behind the mess hall.

  Gunfire and goblin hoots clatter in Auschwitz Square.

  I squint at the hazy, swirling desert beyond the field. There are outposts out there, miles away. If we ran for it, they would pick us off. "We've got to get to the bicycle factory,” I say. I hope the underground cavern actually leads out of Auschwitz.

  The Frannies nod. They know the drill.

  Frannie 2 takes my hand and we hurry to the mess hall, sliding along the back of the building and around the corner.

  Two apple-shaped spaceships have landed on the apple platter. The ships' stems folds back and ass dolls storm out, swastika-shaped guns jammed in their rectums.

  We take off, knowing the ass dolls must have us in their sight. Where did they even get ships? I need to forget that we’ve got little chance. It’s murder to think our flight is hopeless. We scurry as close to the Toy Division factory fronts as possible. To get to the bicycle factory, we have to run by the apple platter’s rounded shoulders.

  I turn the door of the bicycle factory and find it locked.

  Frannie coughs up her twin and with her, a goblin ass. “Get back!” she says. She kicks the goblin ass. On impact, the door explodes into rusted shrapnel.

  We step inside, scanning for ass goblins, but the factory is abandoned. I rub my right testicle as we hurry to the guard station door. “What are you doing?” Frannie says.

  “Just get the door open!” The bicycle grows inside me.

  Frannie 2 pokes her butt out of Frannie's mouth and shoots her toilet toad at the door. The swastika handle goes flying. I get on my bike and turn to Frannie. “Climb on the handlebars and don’t let your sister out of your mouth!”

  She nods. I pedal into the tunnel.

  The added weight of the Frannies makes pedaling difficult, but my legs have grown stronger with my mutations.

  The hoots of ass goblins resounding from wherever the green path leads fill the space around me with gelatinous noise-matter. I speed down the yellow path.

  I pull out of the second loop . . .

  . . . the third.

  The wall of foam bricks has been rebuilt. Frannie wobbles the handlebars, tottering the bike left and right. She screams. Inside her body, her sister screams.

  I hit the wall.

  She flips over the handlebars and spits Frannie 2 onto the corn road. I sail ass over head after them.

  Frannie 2 stares at her hands, disbelieving and coated in her sister's saliva.

  “Foam,” I say, picking myself up. I toss a brick into her lap. “The bricks are made of foam.”

  I help Frannie to her feet. She crouches over her sister and swallows her. “I want to find Otto,” she says.

  I shake my head impossible, impossible. “With dolls and goblins at war? Even if we found him alive, how could we help? He’s my brother, not yours. I say we leave him behind.”

  “You're a Judas,” Frannie says.

  “I had a chance to leave before, but I resisted because of you and him." In reality, the toads prevented me from leaving. "There is no going back this time. Come on, we’ve got to move. The toilet toads are around here someplace.”

  “I won’t leave without Otto.” She walks in the direction of the green and yellow divide. Frannie 2 waves at me from between Frannie’s parted lips.

  I plop down cross-l
egged. “What if Otto is waiting for us on Dead Kid Hill?”

  Frannie turns. She says nothing.

  “We should at least climb the hill,” I say, “then we can decide what’s best.”

  Frannie and Frannie 2 fold their arms.

  Maybe I am a Judas.

  Frannie caves. I suppose she realizes that I’m not above leaving her. I stand as she walks toward me. “We’ll be safe soon,” I assure her, maybe the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

  I grab her hand. She growls to let me know that she does not want me touching her.

  “I’m scared,” I say.

  Frannie 2 pokes her head out and says, “You can hold my hand. I don’t mind.”

  I brush her off like a placid nightmare and hike to the skeletal base of the hill.

  Side by side, we walk in darkness. Frannie 2 swipes at my shoulder every so often. I fart to keep her away, regretting the double effect of repelling Frannie.

  They gasp when the glowing peak of Dead Kid Hill comes into sight. Depending on the state of decay, the children glow a different color. Most are just skeletons. The ass goblins must have gotten lazy and stopped dragging corpses down here.

  Frannie steps in front of me halfway up the hill and turns. Frannie 2 presses her hands against my chest. “We can’t go up there,” she says.

  “We've got to go beyond the hill. This cave might lead us out of Auschwitz,” I say. “Besides, we’re not little kids anymore. We can handle the toilet toads.”

  “But this mountain stinks.”

  “Of course it stinks. It’s rotting.”

  “We’ll go back if we don’t find Otto,” Frannie says.

  I shove her hard. She launches Frannie 2 out of her torso and falls on a dead boy whose eyes are still open. Baby cockrats squeal in the sockets. Frannie 2 starts crying. A cockrat, disturbed by her mewing, leaps out of a girl’s sunken ribcage and claws at the air, landing on Frannie 2’s bald head.

  I huff over to her and yank the cockrat from her skull. I fling it off the hill. The creature licks pieces of her scalp from its claws as it sails to the bottom.

  “Are you ready to go on?” I say, limping past the Frannies.

  Frannie 2 whimpers but nods.

  "This was our plan," I say, "and we're sticking to it."

  We continue our struggle toward the peak. I really hope we find Otto up there. Otherwise, they’ll want to search the green path. I cannot go there with them.

  We pass a body who reminds me of 1000. I run my claws along its teeth. A molar pops loose. I wedge the tooth up my asshole.

  “Why would you do that?” Frannie says.

  “I thought it was someone I knew,” I say.

  We reach the top of Dead Kid Hill. I look out at the chocolate cake stretching half a mile in every direction. My brother, the spider, is nowhere.

  “We've got to go back,” Frannie says.

  I open my mouth to protest, but someone grabs my shoulder. I try to jerk away, assuming Frannie 2 is making another advance, but the gripper holds me in place.

  Spider limbs . . . Otto is here after all. I guess he’s always been a little sneaky.

  “Otto!” Frannie says.

  I wrench away from his furry legs. “Where have you been?”

  “I came straight here,” he says. “To scout out the cavern.”

  Frannie dances around him.

  “Can we get through?” I say.

  Frannie pets his limbs. Otto jerks away, repulsed by her. “I inspected the entire cavern,” he says. His gangrenous lips droop into a frown. “The toilet toads are gone, but there’s no exit from Auschwitz. This cave is a dead end. I believe we must return and fight.”

  I’m appalled. “No way,” I tell him. I will sooner abandon my friends than fight for my enemies.

  "We fight for the children," Otto says.

  “I’m with Otto," Frannie says.

  “Can't we just escape? We'd be able to climb the main gate now. I bet the ass goblins aren’t even guarding it.” I say this hoping Frannie 2 will side with me. She remains quiet.

  “First we fight, then we round up as many children as possible. We can led them out of Auschwitz.” He flexes his spider arms. Every tiny hair of his insect-grimy flesh bulges with muscle. His legs slide beneath his torso and shape into a perfect sphere. He’s like a bowling pin standing on top of a bowling ball. He yells, levitating in the air as an arachnid sphere.

  His upper form -- what used to be his torso -- melts into a waxen bubble that coats the lower sphere. The wax hardens, forming a protective layer. “Stay here if you want,” he says, his voice emanating from the core of his being. “I’m going on. There are goblins to crush.”

  “Where did you learn that?” I demand.

  “Pushups get you far,” he says.

  “Can we go now?” Frannie says, smooching Otto the Goblin Crusher.

  Otto’s magical body drops from its levitating position and spins past us. “Come if you want,” he says. He rolls down the hill.

  Frannie 2 restrains her sister from leaping off the peak. She looks at me and pleads, “Come with us. Look at Otto. He can protect us.”

  “If he fails?” I say.

  “Isn’t it better if we die together?”

  “Only if death makes all the difference to you.” I grab my right testicle and the bicycle sparks into growth.

  From the bottom of the hill, Otto hollers for us hurry.

  “So what do you think?” Frannie 2 says, struggling to restrain her sister.

  Full-sized, the bicycle falls out of me. “You and Frannie take the bike.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “I want to know if my wings can take me down from here.”

  Frannie slips her sister’s clutches. She picks up the bicycle and mounts it. “Let’s go!” she says.

  Frannie 2 climbs into her mouth.

  They careen down the hill the way I did when escaping from the toilet toads, but they aren’t evading any danger. They’re heading right for it, into the mouth of our killers for a final conflict.

  I force myself to forget that escape might be possible if we head straight for the main gate. We’ll probably end up Shit Slaughtered for this stupid flight of bravery. I suppose childhood was never anything more than a dream piss that dampened the sheets and dried, but it lingers on as an ammoniac disgust, tainting everything. It’s the only thing worth saving. “You’re no longer a child,” I say to myself. “You have nothing more to lose.”

  I jump off Dead Kid Hill, flapping my pink furies.

  At first, my wings don’t hold me up. Corpses swallow everything in my periphery. I rise and flip sideways, eyes scanning the roof high above. Finally, I level out.

  We fly or ride or roll to the point where the two roads become one and start down the green trail.

  Otto leads since he is virtually a boulder. Swastikas made of apple-scented gelatin drip from the ceiling. I flap harder to catch up with Otto and the Frannies. I cry to the clatter of the bicycle chain as the Frannies plunge after the spider ball. “Wait!”

  I fly close to the ground. The green trail is a ninety percent downgrade. Just thinking about the horror show we’re stepping into makes me sick. I can’t hold back. I vomit.

  Otto crashes through something in front of us. The Frannies follow. Ten seconds after them, I flap into a cluster of giant apples that explode into confetti upon impact.

  No, not confetti. Toenails and fingernails. The nails of children.

  We swerve around corners and up/down turtle-humped dips. Ass goblin laughter grows louder every second. The four of us are approaching something big. I worry that Otto’s new ability will be insufficient against the ass goblins, and if we find ourselves in the midst of a brawl between the S.S. and Adolf’s ass dolls, we are totally doomed.

  Otto comes to a sudden stop. Too slow to brake, the Frannies slam into him. Fortunately, his wax layer is still warm and soft enough to lessen the impact. I settle on the path, wings exhausted, and approach
the crew.

  The Frannies squeeze through a gap on my testicle bicycle. I follow close behind, my wings scraping Otto as I pass between him and the wall. Frannie 2 almost falls into a white, black, green, and red spiral racetrack. We are at the edge of a fifty foot drop.

  Rather than leading into another cavern with a hill of bodies and floors of chocolate cake, the green path leads into a moldy labyrinth. I guess this is where they move the cake when it goes bad.

  Ass goblins hoot and ride bicycles on the glowing track, zooming through the corridors of mold. Either they don’t give a damn that Auschwitz is being invaded, or else they’re preparing for war.

  "Told you we're screwed," I say.

  “I’ll kill as many goblins as I can,” Otto says. “If they take me down, get out of here. Go help the children.”

  The entire cavern shakes and Otto slips forward, knocking the Frannies and I off the cliff. We scratch at the air for any object to reunite us with solid land.

  I hit the floor, indenting a cake angel into the surface.

  Otto leaps off the edge of his own volition as we brush mold and cake from our bodies. Frannie 2 spots my bicycle and prances to its crooked form. She raises the bike and checks for damage. She strokes the ruined brain tires and hugs the skull seat.

  “You broke my testicle,” I say.

  “I’ll just ride on the bones,” she says.

  I gaze around the space we’re in. It’s kind of a bullpen separated from the actual maze. Otto rolls over to the wall. He is almost the same height as the labyrinth.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I say.

  Otto rolls over to me, but he doesn’t say anything.

  While I wait for him to speak, Frannie gobbles her sister and gets on the bike. She rides toward the wall. I look over, too late to stop her. She crashes though it.

  Otto tumbles end over end toward the opening left by the bicycle. He destroys a massive section of the wall.

  Exhausted as I am, I flap my wings and take to the air. I sway over the labyrinth, swept up by an air current created by the cycling ass goblins. They’re all hooting, all in Shit Slaughter mode. On a platform across from the place we fell, the White Angel makes hand and face gestures. He appears to be putting on a drama of some sort. A tragedy, I venture, the way he shoves a fist up his ass.