Escape from Prime Time

There were only three ways out of this mess. Unfortunately, two of them were blocked. One way was barred by a grandmother screaming at a large paisley obelisk and another by a fiercely burning skateboard. Mute with trepidation and trembling, I rolled up my pantlegs and prepared to wade. My foot’s protest was abruptly silenced as I plunged it into the stinking mire. The other foot, heaving a long shuddering sigh, gave in to the inevitable and soon followed.

Soon, I was stepping over bat entrails and found a broad chair in a dank cave at the doorstep of reality. I sat, not without gratitude. Maybe, just maybe, as the horror of my escape subsided, I had finally come to the right place.

A wizened man appeared from the shadows and held out to me a large flat box of exquisite and cunning design. I took it reverently and placed it on my lap. The old man stepped back and stood expectantly. The vision of a quiet tumbling waterfall appeared behind him.

I carefully lifted the lid of the box. My voice was unnaturally loud in the surprised cave’s confines.

“This pizza is COLD!”

 

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About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Absurd fantasy and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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