Exceptional A Short Story Of Intrigue and Chicanery A Lovely Day In Dean's Neighborhood by michaelcahill Inside the mind of Dean Kuch contest entry

Generic Neighbor: "Boy oh boy, Dean. That's a beautiful candy apple red motor vehicle you've got there. Yuck, yuck, yuck."   Dean: "Well, thank you, Generic Neighbor, I love the color." …yes, painted in the blood of that reviewer who dared give me… MEEEE, a four. Yes, you ARE sorry now, aren't you?   Generic Neighbor: "That was some strange noise I heard last night, Dean. Was that some kind of four A.M. woodshop project you couldn't wait to finish? That saw was loud… not that I minded, of course, I think it's good, REAL GOOD, that you're making noise at four A.M., yep, a real good thing."   Dean: "You never know when you might need a pine box. How tall are you? About a hundred eighty pounds I'd say… well, no need to think about funerals and untimely death now. That's the last thing on my mind." TIMELY death, that's what I think of, the perfect implementation of surprise to chill the bone. For you, Generic Neighbor, that could be tonight when your chilledrun are asleep and your wife is in her usual drug induced coma. Heh, heh, heh, I'd hate to know what I'm really thinking… Is that your head on the bedpost or are you just glad to see me?   Dean: "Hey, Wackydo, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" A conspiracy, no doubt. Tom is in cahoots with the corpse of Edgar Alan Poe rigging a 5-7-5 bird lover's contest. Hmmm   each egg cracks--eyes peer out in evil glee will one grow up to be a bane to me she'll one day cut me causing guts to spill which devil bird, born here, will have its fill   Yes, very uplifting. "I see you're armed."   Wackydo: "Yes, you can't be too careful. A flamethrower or grenade launcher can come in handy. Poetry is one thing, but I'm writing novels now. Better safe than sorry." Just make your move buddy… say hello my little friend… dive! dive! Ten degrees down bubble. Hey! Am I alone here? TEN DEGREES DOWN BUBBLE!   Superfluous Mailman for comic relief: "Hey, I gotta letter for ya Dean. It's marked, URGENT. It's from the Contest Compliance Committee."   Dean: "Oh, let me see it. An apology, no doubt. They dare question my genius. HAHAHAHAHA! Insects! I will have them for dinner. Get it? They will BE my dinner! I will consume their pathetic essence adding it to my own. I will grow ever stronger. HEHEHEHEEEEHOOOOOOO. Gooble, gooble, gooble."   Wackydo: "Don't you mean, gobble, gobble, gobble?"   Dean: "Not after they've been in a blender. HEEEEEE HEEEEE HEEEEEE, a blender! Get it gooooo-ble."   Script Editor: "I know I'm supposed to be invisible in this process. However, are you aware you said all of that out loud? It's supposed to be italicized thoughts. Ya know, thoughts INSIDE your mind. Saying it out loud makes you seem a little crazy. Dean? Are you listening to me?"   Wackydo: "Did you hear that?"   Dean: "Hear what?"   Wackydo: "What's in the letter?"   Dean: "We're sorry to inform you that your piece, "I ate Father Rafferty's Kidney's, Thus Indirectly Killing President Obama (Who Needed Them) As A Protest To Obamacare", has been disqualified from the 5-7-5 funny animal contest. We are just anticipating your entry in advance, you're getting predictable." Damn, maybe they're right, I am getting predictable. I should be writing about the joy and beauty in the world. The delicate petals of a red rose blushing like the cheeks of a freshly kissed young woman in love, impaled on a rusty spike, having dove from the precipice of captivity in the ghouls tower, preferring a grisly death to a heinous life of degradation and horror… yes, that is much more uplifting and positive.   Wackydo: "Hey, Mikey, what's up?"   Dean: "Yeah, what brings you around here? You need some Kleenex to sop up the tears over your latest love poem? Ha!" Little sissy britches. Entering MY horror contests. Horror to him is a wilted petal on his soul mate's corsage…   Mikey: "Yep. You got me there, Dean. I guess I just don't have the knack for scary." But, I will as soon as I extract it from your brain. Hee hee hee haaaaa hooo aaaaahhhh arrrrrgggghhhh! Damn fly!   Dean: "Why are you winking at Mikey, Wacka Dacka Do? You two have a date?" I've often suspected a romantic connection, Mikey with his pouty lips and piercing hazel eyes… Wacky, here, with his virile animal magnetism. Hmmm. They do make a darling couple…   Wackydo: "No. I do not have a date with Michael Cahill. I am merely standing here surprised that he has unexpectedly arrived in our presence." Oh crapola Ayatollah. He's on to us. The plot is foiled. Curses rhymes with verses. Solomon disperses wisdom as a cookie he immerses in the milk.   Mikey: "Grab him!" Grab him!   Dean: "What the gggrrrggg aaahhhhh bllllgggghhh." This is most curious. I wonder what nefarious scheme these gentlemen have plotted?   Mikey: "Hold him down. Watch his claws, they're dipped in poison! I've got the syringe. Now, hold him still." Yes, through the ear canal. Right there, the horror center of the brain. I've got it. Now to inject it into mine. Ohhhhh. Yeah. Oh my! I can feel it already. Perhaps I'll remove a little sissiness from my brain for him to enjoy. Yes! How diabolically ironic. I'll be the horror master and he'll be the big panty-waist, girly-man that I once was. There ya go, Deano. Enjoy crying over Fried Green Tomatoes, see how you like it."   Dean: "Wha… what happened. For a moment, I thought you were attacking me. I feel woozy. But, a dear caring man like you would never harm another. Eww, eww! That would make a great poem.   The horror of the helper   He had nothing but good in his heart his love flowed from the very start he pulled a knife from behind his back the birthday cake he began to hack   from deep within a reddish goo strawberry filled for me and you his soul was lost to peace and joy he was a dandy joyous boy!     Whaddya think, Mikey? Pretty scary, huh?"   Mikey: "Yep, that's terrifying alright. Shocking I'd say." Haaaaaaaa HOOOOOOOO wwwhhhoooooo! It worked. Now he's the prissy fairy boy who'll be laughed at behind his back. I'll be the revered master of horror striking fear into the masses. …the trick was to not cut too deep. Always draw the razor gently across the body, let it do the work. If you cut too deep the flow will be lovely, but it won't last. The screams will be loud, but they won't go on endlessly and deliciously. Death should be savored. OMG! Did that come out of my brain? IT DID! I'M HORRIFIC! I HAVE THE HORROR FROM DEAN'S BRAIN INSIDE OF MINE! I know exactly what's inside Dean's mind because it is now inside mine!   Dean: "I think I'll plant some daisies by the walkway. A little color would add some cheer as people approach my doorway. Oh, oh, that would make a great horror story: Dean Defends his Daisies! A bunch of scary gardener's approach Dean's yard with weedwackers, but Dean stands in their way. He cites noise abatement code number 345D stating that gardening is not to be conducted before nine AM on weekends and they walk away defeated. Oh YESSSSSS, it's perfect. I have to go, boys, I've got some horror to write!" Daisy, daisy, give me your answer true. I'm half-crazy over the love of you…   ~~~~~~~Two weeks later at Starbucks   Dean: "Ya know, Mikey, I love the new direction my work has been going in. I don't know what I was thinking with all that dark scary stuff I was writing." The world is really a beautiful place. Even worthless Mikey here has his good points. He's ah, well… and his buddy, Wacky, he's a great ah…     Mikey: "Yeah, Dean. You are on a roll. I can't believe you won that horror contest with a tale about a cute puppy curing all the vampires. People really liked that, very uplifting." Crap! I wrote the most hideous, horrific, tale of woe and terror I've ever written and he still beat me. Where did I go wrong?   Wackydo: "Well, there'll be other contests, Mikey. Dean is hard to beat." You should have listened to me, Mikey. I told you, it isn't the subject matter you need from his brain, it's the talent.   Recognized Author Notes Of course, I would never seriously consider such a course of action as depicted in this piece. This is all strictly made up stuff for entertainment purposes ONLY. I DIDN'T cry watching Fried Green Tomatoes and Wackydo wouldn't just as soon shoot you as look at you. It's all for the sake of art. And as always, thanks for reading. Pleasant screams. heh, heh, heh.

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