Bewildering Stories

The Aisle of the Ductile Moron

Part One

Aerin Drek

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a psychologically perturbed humanoid by the name of Robert Andrew Gonzalez, commonly referred to as Bob Gonzo. Bob worked at a Booger store. One day something happened....

***

"Gonzo! Cleanup on Aisle 2048! Gonzo! Cleanup on Aisle 2048!" screamed a voice on the loudspeaker.

Bob was hanging invertedly in the freezer.

"Eh? What? Oh, no! Not cleanup again!" hollered Bob.

He climbed out of the freezer. His glasses fogged over.

"I can't see nothing!" said Bob.

He stumbled to Aisle 2048. It was "his" aisle.

By then his glasses were not fogged over anymore.

"Look fine to me!" said Bob. "This don't need cleaning!"

The aisle (the processed cheese aisle) was filled with rotten eggs, opened and damaged packages of processed cheese, old boots, dirty socks, year-old "fresh" fish and other perishable foods, and 24 cans of cheese spray. Everything was mixed with everything else and all over the place. Very few customers ever visited the aisle. It was Bob's home.

Bob belched, expelled intestinal gas, and slapped himself with a year-old slab of meat.

His clothes emitted an audible and visible odor.

"Don! Come to Gonzo!" yelled Bob.

His pet rat, Don Ogbor, stuck its head out of a pile of filthy clothes.

"Good boy!" said Bob.

Don was a fat rat. Very fat. With an odor more horrible than Bob's.

Don leapt at Bob and knocked him over.

"Good boy! Want some mustard?" said Bob.

Don expelled tremendous amounts of intestinal gas.

"Good boy! That be a mighty strong odor you've got!" said Bob.

He gave the rat some expired mustard. It rolled over in it and started slapping mustard under its armpits.

Bob jumped into the pile of packages of processed cheese. He held up a package. Flies buzzed around it.

"This be mighty fine stuff!" said Bob.

His tongue flickered out and snatched all of the flies. He devoured them.

"Dee-licious!" said Bob.

Then he devoured the cheese, package and all. His rat ate some cheese spray, can and all.

Then they relieved themselves of gas by belching and posteriorally expelling vast quantities of carbon dioxide and methane deposits. It blew the processed cheese off the shelves.

"I be pooped!" said Bob.

They went to sleep in a large pile of extremely expired fish.

They dreamed about visiting the ultimate dyshygienic utopia, a place filled with discarded clothing, expired comestibles, bodily wastes, parasites, and other swamp muck-like muck. They were swimming in the trash and dancing on the expired butter.

Suddenly, they were awakened by a customer.

***

"Hey, excuse me! I, like, really need to get some processed cheese for my mommy. She, like, really needs processed cheese!" said a customer by the name of John Bravo, commonly referred to as Johnny Bravo.

Bob and the rat were red with anger. No one interrupts their dyshygienic dreams and gets away with it.

"Ig, bibble bibble ig! Zum vlom vlom hak! Elrwak Bob-ob G-g-gonzo vvvloom! Znebog! Echard! Zlom!" mumbled Bob.

"I'm sorry. Me no speak español," said Johnny.

"Erg! You cue ball! Why do you wake us up from our dream?!!!" screamed Bob.

"Who is we?" asked Johnny, somewhat confused.

"Who be we? We be me and Don Ogbor!" said Bob. He held up the rat. The rat expelled intestinal gas.

"Talk about odor! This place gives me the creeps!" said Johnny. He ran away.

"Stupid fools! Always disturb us from our dream! Hate stupid fools!" said Bob.

Next came a short red-haired humanoid by the name of Dexter, last name unknown.

"After briefly observing the condition of your primitive habitat, I have concluded that it is extremely dyshygienic and insanitary and unacceptable. I shall have to report this to the authorities," said Dexter.

"Ig? What 'dyshygienic' mean? Bob too moron to understand big long ununderstandable words," said Bob.

"Appalling behavior! This is beyond repair! I must find psychological help for you freaks!" said Dexter, running away.

Then came a peculiar character by the name of Penrod Pooch, or Hong Kong Phooey, or Penry, or whatever.

"My Hong Kong Book of Kung Fu says that I need some processed cheese," said this peculiar character, "and I require some processed cheese. And what's that smell?"

He looked up.

<sound effect: breaking window>

"Egad! What do you do with your lives? This is disgusting!" said the peculiar character and ran away.

"Dung! We lose another customer. We be morons!" said Bob.

The rat snickered. It was evil.

To be continued...



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Copyright 2002 by Aerin Drek and Bewildering Stories.