Sandoval Perpetual Shortosis!; a Baby Man tale!

A Baby Man Tale!

                                             

     Shorty Sandoval picked up the Mammoth Buzz beer and practically threw it at his face; he was angry!   After years of working at Destucto's Circus he was so sick of 'sawed off freak' jokes, 'little man' jokes, 'sawed off little man-freak' jokes, ect.  He was considered a clown, a miniature clown.  He was desperate to quit, but he had to face it; there was nothing else for a 38 year old dude trapped in the body of a 9 month old baby.  Angrily, he set a cigarette free from the pack and fired it up.  As he inhaled and exhaled, blue smoke curled its way up to the ceiling, and he bitterly reflected on what he'd gone through up to reach this point. 

 

 

     He scratched his unshaven face and thought about being dependant on public transportation because, sure, he could probably pass the driving test, but with being trapped in this miserable body, he was unable to reach the pedals or even see out the window.  Hell, even as a passenger, it would probably take three or four phone books under his a*s to see out, and even that was iffy.  The fricking doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.  They just scratched their heads, threw up their hands, and said, "I can't figure it out, I've never seen the likes!"

 

     Well, a lot of fricking good that did him; they weren't the ones with a new disease named after them; "Sandoval Perpetual Shortosis'  Every time he went to a new doctor they'd simply say, "You have Sandoval Perpetual Shortosis; I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

 

     He could tell them what they could do.  It involved flying and procreating.  He looked around at the walls of his rental house; he saw the invisible bars of his wooden cage.  While it was true that when he'd knocked on the door of his landlord's place, looking to rent, he'd looked down at Shorty, then looked around looking for a parent, but once Shorty had flashed the cash, the greedy b*****d put it in his wallet and carried him up the stairs to his new, as he called it, 'The Baby Cave'. 

 

 

     Shorty used to take great pains to hide the fact of his peculiar affliction hidden from society but not anymore, f**k 'em!  He was so sick of gurgling and making goo-goo eyes at dumb s**t morons.  He knew these were the same dumb s**t morons who came to the circus and paid his salary, but he'd be damned if he'd put up with their amazed asinine comments.    

 

         

******

 

 

     He had boarded the bus, the humiliating bus; it had taken a herculean effort but he had worked his arms until they were Popeye-sized, and he'd pulled himself on board and up into the seat.  He saw everyone staring at the sight he presented.  Okay, maybe it was very strange to see what they thought was a baby striding down the aisle, but come on; it was rude! 

 

     "Okay, everyone laugh at the little freak baby; got it out of your systems yet?  Good, now you can get back to playing pocket pool or whatever; show's over!" he said, spitting venom.  He was also tired of these fricking doll's clothes he had to wear. But unless he wanted to pay up the a*s to have them custom made, he was stuck; and there was zero chance of that ever happening.  Fricking tailors; it was a rip off scam!  As his challenging gaze swept the almost-full bus, he saw that most everyone was at least pretending to mind their own fricking business; except one rude guy who seemed to be transfixed by him.

 

     "Hey pal, do you see me staring at the open sore you have for a face?  No you don't, because unlike you, I have manners!"  The dude quickly averted his eyes and Shorty collapsed into an open seat. 

 

 

******

 

 

     In a cloud of blue-gray exhaust fumes, which swirled around him in putrid waves, Shorty exited the bus.  When he glanced up at the departing transportation he saw people lining the windows, openly staring at him with judging eyes.  It pissed him off and he grabbed his crotch, screaming,

 

     "Ladies, I'm miniature in all respects but one; if you're going to stare, take a look at the lumber!"  S**t!

 

 

     After a short walk, even though it was a b***h and took him forever with his short, stubby legs, he entered the bustling grocery store.  He had plenty of food but he was running dangerously low on cigarettes and malt liquor.  He waddled his way to what he liked to call, 'The Fun Sin Aisle', and was perusing the choices for liver demons, as he called beer, when a little kid in the company of his slope-headed father, came up the aisle staring at him.  Shorty was immediately pissed, and blurted,

 

     "What are you looking at?  At least mine is a medical condition; what's your excuse?"

 

     The kid just kept staring, open mouthed. 

 

     "Dad, I'd seek help for your reject kid!" he then said.

 

     "I'm sorry, what did you say?" the startled father asked.

 

     "Oh boy, like father like son!"

 

     The father's face turned beet red with anger and he started towards Shorty, "Why, of all the rude assho--"

 

     His rank was cut short by an uppercut to his groin.  He immediately went from red color to white as the unexpected punch struck home on his man-pouch.  "Ahhhrg!" he gasped in a high pitched wail, grabbed his nuts like a drowning man grabs a life preserver, and collapsed in a whimpering heap on the floor. 

 

     Shorty simply looked at the father and the crying kid kneeling down beside him, yelling,  "Dad?  Dad?  Are you okay?"

 

     Shorty then added, "No, you should probably call him mommy from now on; your daddy's gone; look lot's of kids have two mommies now days!"  Then he waddled away, while behind him Daddy was still shrilly shrieking like a little girl who sees a weird bug.

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Marie]

At least this character has an excuse for being an a*****e.

[Michael Stevens]

I guess I never thought about that, but you're right!