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!”


About Jim Stewart

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

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