Thursday, August 15, 2019

The Greatest Thud Never Heard

One of my unsold orphan short stories finds a home at Boppin' (Like The Hip Folks Do).



A giant fell alone in a forest, with no one to hear him. It was good that no one's ears were subject to the blistering string of obscenities that bellowed forth from the giant's lips as he tripped, collapsed, twisted grotesquely, and went all boom on his back and bottom; as he fell, the giant let slip a blue steak of creative curses that would have prompted a veteran hooker to blush, cover her ears, and exclaim, Honey, wash your mouth out with soap! It wasn't so good that the giant's mishap had demolished the equivalent of a city block of evergreens, dammed a crystal stream that had run true for centuries, broken the giant's right arm, and severely bruised his giant-sized tuchus. "Ouch! Darn.Ouch!" will serve as our euphemistic summary of the giant's pained, profane soliloquy.

The giant shook his head and groaned. His vision was blurred. His arm hurt. He tried to use his left arm to prop himself up, but all his effort was still insufficient to lift his colossal carcass from its prone state. He remained on the floor of the forest, no longer cursing, but now beginning to sob. He tried to control the sobs, but his growing desperation escalated the gulping and sputtering sound of his fear. He knew he would die there, sprawled among the devastation where tall trees used to be, alone in the forest, with no one to hear him or help him. 

His vision sharpened enough for him to see black shapes in the sky, growing larger as they grew nearer. He wasn't seeing spots, unless one or more of the vultures happened to be named Spot. The giant conceded the possibility, and let out a grim chuckle at the absurd notion of a vulture named Spot. The giant could also sense the cautious, opportunistic approach of jackals from his left. It would be a painful death for the luckless giant.

But the giant wouldn't go without a fight.

The three bravest jackals--"brave" being a relative term in this context--nudged within the giant's periphery. Too close for their own good. Even on his back, the giant was able to grab the ghastly trio and fling them into the air. The force of their impact with the circling vultures resulted in a technicolor POP that signaled the messy ends of four vultures as well as the three airborne jackals. A kick from the giant wounded two more jackals, who careened backward into their pack, causing three additional curs to fall like vicious, craven dominoes. A few of the remaining flying vultures swooped in, settling for the easier prey of the crippled jackals.

And still the scavengers outnumbered the injured giant. 

As the jackals switched to the giant's vulnerable right side, he snatched a jackal that was too slow to scurry away from the reach of the giant's good arm. The giant decapitated the jackal, used his own belt to create a slingshot, and fired the jackal's skull into the arc of the remaining vultures. The irony of a Goliath using a slingshot to take down smaller foes was not lost on the giant. Take that, Spot! The trajectory was perfect. All of the vultures fell, their bodies plummeting and crushing the jackals at the giant's right. The giant's carnivorous adversaries had been eliminated.

The giant remained on the ground. His victory over the scavengers had delayed his death. But it hadn't saved him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Overcome by despair, the giant pounded his left fist into the ground. THUD. Again and again and again. THUDTHUDTHUD. No one could hear. No one could help. THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD....

The earth trembled. The crystal stream rerouted again, its path altered by shifting faults. The water rushed over the giant, at first making him fearful of drowning. But the water gathered force, buoying the giant's huge and helpless form, lifting him and carrying him out of the forest. The giant knew the flow's direction. The stream would take him to the village. He had friends in the village. The giant was saved.

The ordeal had made the giant hungry. He reached out and grabbed a vulture gorging on jackal flesh. Hello, Spot. A spot of lunch seemed like a fine idea. A lunch of Spot was even finer.





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