Author Information
Mr Ben
Mr Ben
Jfarrell
(inspired by old children’s cartoon series)
I’m down my local Marks&Sparks;
Trying out new clothes, need a new look;
Take my selection of trousers and shirts
Into the changing cubicle.
In khaki shorts and shirt,
I emerge onto a beach being heavily bombed;
Deafening thunder all around;
Actual people, with legs missing, dying in front of me.
I run like hell; dodge here, jump and roll there….
Screaming like a girl all the way;
And land in a hole;
With a soldier handing me a rocket launcher.
“Fire!”
No time to ask questions,
I lean over the side
And hope this thing works like it does in the films.
Yay! It does.
As my little group duck and run across the street;
I see a Marks&Sparks
And dive into the first changing cubicle I see…
I pull the curtain slightly aside, and take a peek;
All is trees, birdsong and bright, warm sunshine;
What the hell……?
And I emerge, dressed in a grass skirt, and nothing else.
I look behind me for my curtained cubicle,
To see a big bloody dinosaur headed my way;
Scary looking giant thing with sharp claws and big teeth
Can run faster than Lewis Hamilton can drive.
I run,
Still screaming like a girl;
And run, smack into a tree.
Lights out. Night, night.
I awoke with a very bright blue moon shining down on me
And some furry slimy thing, with very bad breath,
Licking my face,
Wetly.
I sit up in disgust, it runs away in fear;
And I see a shadow flickering in the the light breeze
With a bright neon Marks&Sparks sign behind it;
It’s there… it disappears… it’s there….
I stand
And immediately fall to my hands and knees,
In blinding, nauseous pain;
I crawl to the shadow.
Ahhhhhhhhh….
Back in my changing cubicle;
Nylon, plastic smell; plastic coldness;
No monsters, with big teeth.
I lay there I don’t know how long;
Everywhere hurt;
I’m covered in disgusting gunk;
And I still haven’t tried the trousers on.
It’s been a really weird day,
But, at 30 quid, I gotta make sure them trousers fit;
Wearily I remove my grass skirt
And get into something more manly.
They fit so snugly, the perfect length…
But an inner lining of web
Envelopes me
And some irresistible force draws from the safety of my cubicle.
To float in space.
Blackness… distant stars all around me….
And this big 2,000 metre tall baby beside me…
Sorry, embryo… wasn’t this in a film?
I float helplessly,
Looking at my pre-born self;
“Trust me, dude, it’s not worth the effort” I say
And the embryo explodes into a million shards of light.
And I find myself back in my cubicle;
In Marks&Sparks, on Walworth Road;
Still dressed in dirty jeans and sweatshirt;
I don’t know what they put in their coffee…
But it’s got some kick!
;-)
