The Monochromatic Mispronunciation

Detached from reality

Being chauffeured around in a grocery store by a human always makes the shopping cart I’m in feel like a BMW limousine. It’s easy to become detached from reality when you’re looking for peach cobbler. I make my way through the aisles. Donuts: scandalous bagels. Ranch: liquor of the gods. Worm burgers: my entrepreneurial demise. I pull up to a familiar voice box and startle him, Mr. Buttery. He’s whistling like O.J. Simpson. He’s buying attention. He’s Mr. Buttery. He’s missing. He’s bowing out politely.

When did you learn that you’re not going to live forever?

I see a dust bunny named Caliber Q. He works six blocks away in a bakery that specializes in making artificial flavors and mental pregnancies. Caliber Q. is a twin. He says that while he was in the womb, he knew he was so great that he felt the world needed more than one of him. He built his twin out of an educational blackmail and garden variety sand paper. The wheel on his shopping cart jams and he tumbles out into cognitive dissonance.

It smells like burnt cloud. My pixilated vision vomits and I wonder what life inside a pokeball is like. This is not my first barbeque. I’m stuck here looking for peach cobbler; meanwhile Morpheus is back at the lab. He has the opposite of OCD. My search for the elusive peach cobbler continues. I check my phone and inform Vienna that her idea to host a wedding/funeral mashup is a horrendous idea.

Living a gambler’s fallacy where future is just a concept. Rejecting happiness like some sort of Freudian slip. He didn’t have a name until he was two. No one thinks they’ll die soon. I let go of a balloon and watch as it flies south for the winter. The wharf is overflowing with turtlenecks.

Kill them with kindness. Kill us with kindness. Kill me with kindness.

Pipe dreams accompanied by a rubber plumber. Dead men don’t talk. What’s it like to eat bread under water? Aisle twelve has visible free associations on sale if you have a reward’s card. What I find strange is that there has been a steady decline since the 1800’s of humans mentioning the word reward. We’re slowly moving away from the grocery store, as well as the sun, and a pair of phantom limbs try to halt my movements. Mr. Buttery isn’t missing anymore and he hands me peach cobbler. It’s the last one he tells me. I don’t make the proper movements to respond to his actions and it falls to the ground.

© 2015 Gaston Villanueva

Author's Note

Comments are appreciated

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Featured Review

Rana

A bizarre shopping trip, chunky with witty treats signed in your special Gaston style. I instantly loved the first line, the narration's really great, the pace too and minds are thoroughly churned by thoughts and the imagination. The shopping dust bunny would be my favorite character, among paragraphs it would be the one ending with turtlenecks. The ending, the last line flashes the torch on analogy, makes one see more meaning. Sometimes we devote much time to seek things and then we give up and then we find it offered and then we lose it before we could own it. I don't know, there may be many interpretations. It's a totally well-written piece and the 'detached from reality' is a totally apt description. Admire the work! :)