Slob

Ron Koppelberger

SLOB

The possibility spoke of mongrel revolutions. A greasy shadow covered his wild growth of stubble. Consummated in the pasta and quickening stain of spilled bear, his recliner creaked as he moved his bulk. Chaperoned by the conventions of numerous pizza boxes and garlic butter stained foils his living space screamed for a maid, a loving touch.
The beige walls were stained with oily fingerprints and the remnants of smashed flies. He wiggled his toes in the remains of a half eaten bag of potato chips and belched. Empty beer bottles and soda cans littered the folding chair next to his recliner and the stain of dried vomit, milk and chunky chocolate covered the front of his shirt. He sipped a soda can and yelled, “ Six points booger men!” the doors were all locked and the dust caked windows were nailed shut, “Can’t get me booger men!” he whispered as a bubble of spit formed on his lower lip.
“Booger Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeecccchhhhhhhhh!” he screamed to the trash strewn apartment. The doorbell sounded an electric chiming promise, a promise of fresh supreme, absolutely supreme pizza and cold liters of frosty cola. He stood and shuffled through piles of wrappers, bags and food wrappers. Strangers, strangers and booger men he thought, “Booooooogggeerrrrrrrrr.”
He pressed his eye to the keyhole and peered out. The smiling face of a pizza delivery boy grinned back at him. Fumbling with the latch and deadbolt he unlocked the door and yanked it open. Terror and gibbering horror greeted him in screams of bound resonance. He stumbled, “Boooooooooooogggggggeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr, Booooooooooo…………..” he gasped as he passed gas uncontrollably.
The head of the delivery boy bounced among the plastic sacks and cardboard assortments of trash in a scarlet spray. “BBBBBBBOOOOOOOGGGGGEEEERRRRRRRR!” he gasped in breaths of hot suspiring fear. A fetid blast of air whooshed at him ruffling his hair and filling him with dread. The thing, a gelatinous mass of flesh and glistening Vaseline shimmer slid the pizza box into his shaking hands. “YIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Booooooooooggggggggeeeeeeerrrrr!” he screamed as he waited to die. The beast grabbed the door and swung it closed as it left. Peeking in through the closing crack in the door the creature growled “Booger indeed, booger indeed my man!”
Passing out he would wake later to cold pizza and warm cola. He shifted in his recliner and through a gulp of pizza whispered, “ooooggggerrrrr men.”