and forth, while simultaneously
breathing in a Luciferian gasp and letting loose with another scream.
Geraldo had to do everything possible to not panic, to not cry out.
The monster leaned over from its jagged, mountain perch, grabbed Geraldo
up in its serpentine hand like King Kong.
The massive, other-worldly vermin brought Geraldo close to its mouth. Its brimstone breath and
giant, bloody incisors had great hunks of meat dangling from them. There seemed
to be the remnants of a man wedged in between two bicuspids. Geraldo
could make out his head and arm with the arm still holding onto a phone
receiver. The Iceman cometh, the
Iceman goeth away echoed in his head. Geraldo shook as it breathed
out a deadly plume of dead air. It spoke. Softly,
at first. A deathly growl, sounding like a
deep-baritone instrument, hell-bent on creating a cacophonic symphony of
destruction. “WORSHIP ME... ” There was a moment
of pause. Geraldo closed his eyes but could not get away from the image.
“BOW DOWN, Geraldo...and I will provide.” Geraldo calmed down
a bit. Trying to not squirm within El Ratone’s grasp, he opened his eyes.
El Ratone continued. ”I am everywhere, Geraldo. I am
all-powerful, all-knowing, endorsed, contractually locked-in, picked up for the
new season, all meals included, syndicated. Let’s do lunch and grab it in
post, have a union break ....stay with me always.
Where are you going? I thought we had a relationship?
We still have time on your contract...you won’t see a dime ....how about a pilot?...I love you. “ Geraldo was in shock.
El Ratone loosened his grip. He let his wisdom sink in.
Then he resumed. “Serve me well, Geraldo...now...pay tribute...go
and buy a TV at the Best Buy that has just opened up near you. I hear
they are having a sale...don’t get the warranty...it’s a riiiiiipoff ..... ”
The ride had freeze-framed. El Ratone gingerly
placed Geraldo back into his seat, using his claws to
gently strap him back in. “Safety first...” whispered El Ratone .
Geraldo was paralyzed as he watched the creature retreat back up to the
summit and place himself back within, leaving not a
trace of himself behind. The clouds immediately dissipated, the sky’s
orange hue turned back to blue, the sun returned, the pause button was released
and Geraldo was hurling through the Matterhorn at fifty miles per hour, the
sounds of screaming tourists all around him. A pale, overweight, out of
work, roofing salesman wearing a T- shirt with a picture of Hillary Clinton
with an X through her had a caption underneath that read AMERI-CAN not
AMERICUNT! sat behind him screaming with his arms
raised. Geraldo blacked out.
“Sir, you have to exit the car so that others
can get on,” said the talking Zit who ran the ride. It was actually a
pimply-faced teenager, but to Geraldo it looked like a huge Zit with pus
emanating from an over-exagerrated proboscis. They had pulled into the
station. The ride had ceased nearly five minutes ago yet Geraldo was
catatonic. He could not move. Julio, who had been
in the car in front of Geraldo, looked back at him and began to chuckle. He then walked over and helped Geraldo out of the rollercoaster.
“Sorry, that’s my cousin. ” explained Julio to the Zit as he grabbed up Geraldo from the car. “He’s
like totally retarded an’ shit.”
“No problem,” said the Zit.
“ Como estas, Geraldo ? Did you meet
our friend?” whispered Julio, as he pulled Geraldo to safety. “There’s a
Best Buy right near my apartment building.”
Geraldo spent the rest of the afternoon hiding
behind a garbage can next to the Haunted House in New Orleans Square,
shivering, laughing, crying . Occasionally
vomiting as the toxins inside his body began to purge themselves. He kept
repeating a mantra as his lower lumbar ached and kicked: “This is a
better life, a better life, a better life, ” he
breathing in a Luciferian gasp and letting loose with another scream.
Geraldo had to do everything possible to not panic, to not cry out.
The monster leaned over from its jagged, mountain perch, grabbed Geraldo
up in its serpentine hand like King Kong.
The massive, other-worldly vermin brought Geraldo close to its mouth. Its brimstone breath and
giant, bloody incisors had great hunks of meat dangling from them. There seemed
to be the remnants of a man wedged in between two bicuspids. Geraldo
could make out his head and arm with the arm still holding onto a phone
receiver. The Iceman cometh, the
Iceman goeth away echoed in his head. Geraldo shook as it breathed
out a deadly plume of dead air. It spoke. Softly,
at first. A deathly growl, sounding like a
deep-baritone instrument, hell-bent on creating a cacophonic symphony of
destruction. “WORSHIP ME... ” There was a moment
of pause. Geraldo closed his eyes but could not get away from the image.
“BOW DOWN, Geraldo...and I will provide.” Geraldo calmed down
a bit. Trying to not squirm within El Ratone’s grasp, he opened his eyes.
El Ratone continued. ”I am everywhere, Geraldo. I am
all-powerful, all-knowing, endorsed, contractually locked-in, picked up for the
new season, all meals included, syndicated. Let’s do lunch and grab it in
post, have a union break ....stay with me always.
Where are you going? I thought we had a relationship?
We still have time on your contract...you won’t see a dime ....how about a pilot?...I love you. “ Geraldo was in shock.
El Ratone loosened his grip. He let his wisdom sink in.
Then he resumed. “Serve me well, Geraldo...now...pay tribute...go
and buy a TV at the Best Buy that has just opened up near you. I hear
they are having a sale...don’t get the warranty...it’s a riiiiiipoff ..... ”
The ride had freeze-framed. El Ratone gingerly
placed Geraldo back into his seat, using his claws to
gently strap him back in. “Safety first...” whispered El Ratone .
Geraldo was paralyzed as he watched the creature retreat back up to the
summit and place himself back within, leaving not a
trace of himself behind. The clouds immediately dissipated, the sky’s
orange hue turned back to blue, the sun returned, the pause button was released
and Geraldo was hurling through the Matterhorn at fifty miles per hour, the
sounds of screaming tourists all around him. A pale, overweight, out of
work, roofing salesman wearing a T- shirt with a picture of Hillary Clinton
with an X through her had a caption underneath that read AMERI-CAN not
AMERICUNT! sat behind him screaming with his arms
raised. Geraldo blacked out.
“Sir, you have to exit the car so that others
can get on,” said the talking Zit who ran the ride. It was actually a
pimply-faced teenager, but to Geraldo it looked like a huge Zit with pus
emanating from an over-exagerrated proboscis. They had pulled into the
station. The ride had ceased nearly five minutes ago yet Geraldo was
catatonic. He could not move. Julio, who had been
in the car in front of Geraldo, looked back at him and began to chuckle. He then walked over and helped Geraldo out of the rollercoaster.
“Sorry, that’s my cousin. ” explained Julio to the Zit as he grabbed up Geraldo from the car. “He’s
like totally retarded an’ shit.”
“No problem,” said the Zit.
“ Como estas, Geraldo ? Did you meet
our friend?” whispered Julio, as he pulled Geraldo to safety. “There’s a
Best Buy right near my apartment building.”
Geraldo spent the rest of the afternoon hiding
behind a garbage can next to the Haunted House in New Orleans Square,
shivering, laughing, crying . Occasionally
vomiting as the toxins inside his body began to purge themselves. He kept
repeating a mantra as his lower lumbar ached and kicked: “This is a
better life, a better life, a better life, ” he
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