BEAKS
Michael A. Kechula
Harry woke with a start. “Where the hell am I?” he yelled when he looked up from the ground and saw a huge, black, iron snake coiled on a concrete pedestal, as if ready to strike. “Why are my wrists and ankles tied to stakes? Help! Police!”
“Save your breath,” somebody said. “Nobody can hear you.”
“What am I doing here?” Seeing lots of trees, he figured he was in a large park.
“You tell us what you’re doing here, and why you egged the sacred statue of Jaxil, our most beloved and holy God.” The voice came from a man wearing a mask that make him look like a weird bird. A long, jagged beak protruded from the mask.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“See this egg carton? It held eighteen eggs. You brought it here and threw every one of them at God, striking him eighteen times. You’ve committed horrible, multiple sacrileges!”
“Look. I don’t know anything about eggs, or your god. Last thing I knew I was driving home from a bachelor party in Mill Town. Am I still in Mill Town?”
“It doesn’t matter where you are. You were drunk and raged at our God. You called Him an ugly monstrous bastard. How dare you! That’s not only blasphemy but also a dastardly hate crime. Now you must pay.”
“I’m positive I didn’t do anything to your god. You got the wrong guy. I wouldn’t do anything to offend anybody’s religious beliefs or insult their god.”
Harry heard screeching birdcalls. When he strained to see where the sound came from, he saw six others wearing bird masks heading his way. All carried supermarket shopping bags.
The masked men surrounded Harry. The one with the largest beak said, “Time to pay for your heinous crime.”
They tore off Harry’s clothes. Standing a few feet away, they made shrill bird noises, as they removed egg cartons from their shopping bags, and pelted him with eggs.
“Ow! That hurts! Please stop!” he hollered, as eggs crashed against his body. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. I swear!”
They threw the eggs with more force. Soon Harry’s entire body was covered with slimy yolk, egg whites, and shell fragments. His face was so saturated, egg goo flooded his nose each time he inhaled.
Before long, streams of muck ran down his throat and into his lungs. Straining to breathe, Harry turned blue and convulsed. Still the eggs came.
When they ran out of eggs, someone felt Harry’s pulse.
“He’s dead.”
Cutting the ropes that bound Harry, they dragged his slimy corpse closer to the statue. Removing six bags of grated cheddar cheese from their shopping bags, they offered it to their Snake God with high-pitched bird squawks. Then they sprinkled the cheese all over Harry’s corpse.
With outstretched arms they cried, “Accept this human food offering, Great and Mighty Jaxil.”
Hopping like birds and chanting, “May this sacrifice ascend as an odor of sweetness to propitiate for this man’s most horrendous and grievous evils,” they circled the statue three times. Then their leader poured charcoal fluid over Harry and struck a match. When his cheese and egg covered corpse caught fire, their hops and squawks became more frantic.
Suddenly, they fell on their knees.
“Almighty Jaxil has spoken to me,” their leader said. “He has graciously accepted our sacrifice and is appeased. Now he invites us to commune with him by partaking of this sacred omelet.”
Frenzied beaks tore into the mass of toasted eggs, cheese, and human tissue.
- - -
Michael A. Kechula's fiction has been published in 123 magazines and 33 anthologies. He’s authored 2 books of flash fiction stories: “The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales,” and “A Full Deck of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” Both eBooks available at www.BooksForABuck.com. Paperbacks available at www.amazon.com.
Michael A. Kechula
Harry woke with a start. “Where the hell am I?” he yelled when he looked up from the ground and saw a huge, black, iron snake coiled on a concrete pedestal, as if ready to strike. “Why are my wrists and ankles tied to stakes? Help! Police!”
“Save your breath,” somebody said. “Nobody can hear you.”
“What am I doing here?” Seeing lots of trees, he figured he was in a large park.
“You tell us what you’re doing here, and why you egged the sacred statue of Jaxil, our most beloved and holy God.” The voice came from a man wearing a mask that make him look like a weird bird. A long, jagged beak protruded from the mask.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“See this egg carton? It held eighteen eggs. You brought it here and threw every one of them at God, striking him eighteen times. You’ve committed horrible, multiple sacrileges!”
“Look. I don’t know anything about eggs, or your god. Last thing I knew I was driving home from a bachelor party in Mill Town. Am I still in Mill Town?”
“It doesn’t matter where you are. You were drunk and raged at our God. You called Him an ugly monstrous bastard. How dare you! That’s not only blasphemy but also a dastardly hate crime. Now you must pay.”
“I’m positive I didn’t do anything to your god. You got the wrong guy. I wouldn’t do anything to offend anybody’s religious beliefs or insult their god.”
Harry heard screeching birdcalls. When he strained to see where the sound came from, he saw six others wearing bird masks heading his way. All carried supermarket shopping bags.
The masked men surrounded Harry. The one with the largest beak said, “Time to pay for your heinous crime.”
They tore off Harry’s clothes. Standing a few feet away, they made shrill bird noises, as they removed egg cartons from their shopping bags, and pelted him with eggs.
“Ow! That hurts! Please stop!” he hollered, as eggs crashed against his body. “I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. I swear!”
They threw the eggs with more force. Soon Harry’s entire body was covered with slimy yolk, egg whites, and shell fragments. His face was so saturated, egg goo flooded his nose each time he inhaled.
Before long, streams of muck ran down his throat and into his lungs. Straining to breathe, Harry turned blue and convulsed. Still the eggs came.
When they ran out of eggs, someone felt Harry’s pulse.
“He’s dead.”
Cutting the ropes that bound Harry, they dragged his slimy corpse closer to the statue. Removing six bags of grated cheddar cheese from their shopping bags, they offered it to their Snake God with high-pitched bird squawks. Then they sprinkled the cheese all over Harry’s corpse.
With outstretched arms they cried, “Accept this human food offering, Great and Mighty Jaxil.”
Hopping like birds and chanting, “May this sacrifice ascend as an odor of sweetness to propitiate for this man’s most horrendous and grievous evils,” they circled the statue three times. Then their leader poured charcoal fluid over Harry and struck a match. When his cheese and egg covered corpse caught fire, their hops and squawks became more frantic.
Suddenly, they fell on their knees.
“Almighty Jaxil has spoken to me,” their leader said. “He has graciously accepted our sacrifice and is appeased. Now he invites us to commune with him by partaking of this sacred omelet.”
Frenzied beaks tore into the mass of toasted eggs, cheese, and human tissue.
- - -
Michael A. Kechula's fiction has been published in 123 magazines and 33 anthologies. He’s authored 2 books of flash fiction stories: “The Area 51 Option and 70 More Speculative Fiction Tales,” and “A Full Deck of Zombies--61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” Both eBooks available at www.BooksForABuck.com. Paperbacks available at www.amazon.com.
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