The floor bubbles and rolls. The tiles rise and fall, out
of rhythm as if heaving and gagging. The employee behind the counter quivers
and begins to seep into her uniform, staining everything as she turns to a
ghoulish purple. Her face transform from containing features to containing one
feature: her mouth. She has no teeth, no tongue, just a dark little hole surrounded
by tight puckered flesh that makes her look like she’s sucking at
nothing. Her clothing sinks into her and disappears within the thick substance
coating her body. Slowly, the goop renders her translucent and I peer inside.
Her
organs are riddled with tiny little holes, pores with rotten rims, deep enough
and large enough for me to see everything inside is trying to
get out. The acid spilling from her stomach looks clouded and white, like
watered down milk. It pools around her pelvis that is steady loosing form. Her
spine is the next to go. I watch as it softens, like caramel left between couch
cushions, and melts into the rest of her.
I tug on my dad’s hand. I want to leave.
He ignores me and fixes his eyes on the backlit menus
mounted above the oozing purple thing. “Do you want to share a large fries or get one of your own?”
My fingers tighten around his plump, calloused palms. I feel
myself wanting to sob and yell, to cower but also to flee out the door and with
my dad in tow; he can start the car and drive us all the way back home, away from here, and mom would meet us at the door and I can tell her how I am scared and how I have to sleep with her tonight.
"Hey, bud, ya’ there?"
A second passes, then two, then seven. My mouth remains shut and my feet remain planted. He doesn’t seem
to notice at all the blobs behind the counter or their decomposing bones, and
in a flash, no longer did I.
“Ahh, just give us a large.” Dad pulls
his hand from mine and ruffles in his pocket for a handful of bills neatly
folded in half. He pays the pimply brunette behind the counter and compliments
her on her glasses.
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