Article: 178537 of talk.bizarre
From: Zed <>
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: while my keyboard gently weeps
Date: 1 Dec 1994 12:46:46 -0500
Organization: Liars for Truth -- to eff the ineffable
Lines: 178
Message-ID: <3bl266$>
Summary: failing to suck, thank you.  And you?
Status: RO

That night would be the new moon, and the National Guard stood ready
at the waterfront.  They strained to listen above the low splash of
the waves and the high creaking of the docks.  A corporal thought he
heard something and opened fire.  He was reprimanded and much

It was very early in the morning when most of the soldiers were asleep
on their feet that he finally arrived.  The splashing grew a little
louder, a little more irregular.  The water's surface seemed broken by
more than waves, something a little darker, a little greener.

Suddenly he appeared. "HWRRMNNMMNNCHH!"  He looked sort of like a
crocodile if it were built like an ape and the size of a house.
Seaweed and trash clung to his scales.  His eyes flashed beneath thick
brow ridges.

The soldier on watch sounded the alarm, feeling she had been late but
knowing that was the price of avoiding countless false alarms.  They
began their rifle fire, which only seemed to annoy the monster.

"HWWWUUUURRRMMMLLLK!" he roared, thrashing forward, the bullets
hurting him not more than a pinpricks would us, but hundreds of
pinpricks, thousands of them.  One struck his eye, bringing to it,
unseen by the soldiers amidst the smoke and muzzle flash, a tear.

"Keep pouring it on!  Hurry with those bazookas!" a lieutenant roared.

The monster pushed forward, swinging wildly, demolishing a dock with
one backhanded punch.  He was almost on the soldiers.

"Fire! FIRE!" the lieutenant yell, and the rockets were launched.  One
struck the monster in his arm, two in his chest, one in his leg.  One
missed entirely, exploding in the sea behind him, momentarily casting
his monstrous shadow upon the Guard.

"Hwrrrrrrnn!"  he moaned as he fell backwards, and began to drift to
sea, and the drama ended in stalemate as it had each time before.


He was miles out when he really woke up.  It was the crack of dawn and
he would have to submerge soon.  As he turned he noticed an old man in
a fishing boat.

"That's no way to go about it, you know," the old man said.


"Storming up the waterfront, growling, coming on like gangbusters,
trying to impress her like that.  It's no wonder she pushes back."


"Don't get upset.  I know you love her.  I love her too, in my own

"HHHRRRNNMMBMMMKKKLLLN!!!!" the monster roared, raising up his good
arm as threateningly as he could muster.

"No, no, not like that, don't worry.  You see, I'm a part of the City
myself, really, so it's not like that at all. And besides," the old
man smiled. "I am an old man."


"Yes, I know, sometimes that's easy to believe, but you mustn't give
up hope."


"Well, here's what I'd do.  Stop trying to rush things.  Become
friends with her.  Give her flowers, bring her sweets.  Bide your
time.  Let her make her own choice.  In your heart I think you know
that that's what's right, that it's the only way you'd really want


"No need to thank me.  Seeing things work out would be thanks enough.
And good luck."

The sun had been becoming too much for the monster, and so he exhaled
and began swimming down.


That night would be the new moon, and the National Guard stood ready
at the waterfront.  They were scared, though so far they had escaped
the monster's attacks intact.  Finally, he appeared, getting a little
closer before the alert was sounded for foregoing his usual roar.

"Open fire!  Aim the bazookas!" the lieutenant yelled again.  As
before, though the gunfire clearly hurt the monster, he pressed on,
but this time without thrashing.  As he got closer, the lieutenant
could see he had something in his hand. "What in hell is he up to?" she
asked, heard only by her sergeant.  "BAZOOKAS! AIM! NOW!"

The monster approached a dock, deposited a black pulpy mess, then
quickly turned and submerged, barely ducking the bazooka fire.

The Guard just stared.  "Sergeant, take two men and investigate that,"
the lieutenant ordered, feeling obliged to do something.

"Kowalski, Esfahani, follow me," the sergeant ordered and approached
the dock carefully.

The lieutenant saw them walk up to it, Kowalski laughed, they seemed
to argue briefly and finally Kowalski took a pinch of the stuff and
tasted it!

"Sergeant! Report!"

The sergeant and the others quickly marched back. "It's kelp, ma'am."


"Kelp. Seaweed."

"I knew that."

"Lieutenant?" Kowalski asked.


"Could I take some home?  I make sushi, and this looks like pretty
good stuff."

The lieutenant stared at Kowalski. "Yeah.  Sure.  Whatever."


That night would be the new moon, and the National Guard stood ready
at the waterfront.  The monster's head broke the water, and the alert
was sounded.  "Hold your fire!" the lieutenant reminded them while the
bazookas were still being aimed, just in case.  This time the monster
had something cupped in his hands.

He walked to the dock, emptied his hand, and this time stayed to face
the Guard. "Hwwwrrrrnnnll," he roared softly, and only then swam away.

"Oysters, ma'am! Oysters!" the sergeant shouted.

"Yes, I can see that."

"Lieutenant?" It was Kowalski again.

"What is it?"

"I happen to know the mess has ingredients enough that I could make a
pretty mean butter sauce. But you'd have to sign a requisition."

"Prepare the form."


That night would be the new moon, and the National Guard stood ready
at the waterfront. The lieutenant and the sergeant were at the end of
the dock, ready to greet the monster.

"Hwwwwrrrrrnnnk," he said as he emerged. 

"Fish! Cool, he brought fish this time!" the lieutenant could hear
Kowalski shout behind her.

"C'mon," she said.  "Let me show you around town."


And so it went for several more new moons, as the monster courted the
City.  Finally, people would evacuate downtown once a month, only
partly to give them some privacy, but mostly just for safety's sake,
for they were a part of the city too.  Only the bitterest of
curmudgeons begrudged the inconvenience.  After all, they were so cute

--                         And send your damn birthday.
Edward Lopez PO Box 698 Piscataway NJ 08855  I've only got a couple dozen.