Evil Space Monster
Part One
This is a story about an evil space monster. This specific evil space monster lives with his parents in a periwinkle house on 140 Cherrywood Ln. This particular lane just so happens to be down the road from the Robison County Landfill. This Landfill is patrolled each night by a security guard. This specific security guard just so happens to be the evil space monster’s dad.
The evil space monster’s dad doesn’t like to talk much. He is afraid that if he speaks, he won’t be taken seriously; most likely due to the high-pitched tone of his voice. There are only two things in this world that the security guard loves: his family and his books. His book collection consists mainly of obscure science fiction and predictable mystery novels. His family consists mainly of the evil space monster, the security guard’s wife and a baby on the way. The security guard’s name is Ellis Pinopolis.
Ellis’ wife used to be a kick boxer. In other words, she used to kick people in the head for money. If she missed and got kicked in the head first, she would walk away empty handed. She didn’t like that. Her fighter alias was Shelby “The Pine” Pinopolis. Her real name is Shelby Pinopolis. “The Pine” won two championships while an active member of the Women’s International Kickboxing Association. These days she sells home security systems by telephone.
The security guard and the former kick boxer met in a dumpster.
Pay attention: you see in school, Ellis was routinely assaulted by bullies and mocked by jocks. On the particular day of the couple’s meeting, in a spurt of naive bravery, Ellis refused to give his cheesy poofs to Richie Blacksburg. Richie Blacksburg always took the cheesy poofs, whether Ellis liked it or not. Needless to say, Ellis’ valor was quickly squelched as Richie relocated him to a rusty dumpster behind the school; inside a rusty dumpster to be precise.
I wish I could tell you that Shelby came to Ellis’ rescue; that she saw what Richie had done, kicked him in the head a few times, and pulled skinny little Ellis from the heap of trash. The true story, however, is a bit less romantic.
Understand: Richie Blacksburg and Shelby Minton had been dating for three months at this point in the story. In fact, Shelby had helped Richie lift Ellis over the rusty blue walls and onto the leftover lasagna surprise from lunch a couple days before. This was not the first time Richie and Shelby had done this either. What made this time different was a providential hole torn in the breast pocket of Shelby’s denim jacket. Stowed in this pocket was a chrome cigarette lighter with the initials “ABS” inscribed on it. Shelby didn’t know what “ABS” stood for, though she often tried to figure it out: “American Bad Sisters,” “All Boys Stink,” or “Always Being Sexy.” The reality was that she had found the fire-maker in the mall parking lot last summer. “Finders keepers, losers weepers,” she thought. Shelby didn’t smoke. She had tried it once but couldn’t stop coughing. That wasn’t going to stop her from looking cool though.
Later that afternoon Shelby realized that her precious lighter was missing. She noticed the torn pocket on her jacket and realized that it must have been ripped during the struggle to get Ellis into the garbage receptacle. This was a terrible ordeal. Though virtually useless, the lighter was Shelby’s and it meant the world to her.
Ellis’ arrival time in the dumpster was exactly 12:23 PM. At precisely 2:35 PM Shelby realized her precious lighter was missing. At 2:51 PM Shelby arrived back at the dumpster determined to retrace her steps and retrieve her lost ticket to popularity.
Side note: You need to realize that at Lincoln Junior High School, where this part of our story takes place, smoking was a sign of popularity. If you didn’t smoke, you obviously were not hip enough to hang around the other pop-smokers. No one cared what you smoked, as long as you could smoke it. This spawned certain creativity among this specific clique of Sand Gnats [Lincoln Junior High School’s frequently mocked mascot]. Stories would seep through the fresh sixth grade class at the beginning each school year of outlandish attempts to smoke things that should never be smoked. For example, in 1996, an 8th grader named Carlos Perez tried to smoke Gill, the 8th grade homeroom goldfish. Remember, this is a legend. Carlos never admitted [to anyone that would tell anyone of consequence] that he smoked Gill. All they know is: one day Gill was in its tank, the next day it was gone. Mrs. Trebuchet, the 8th grade homeroom teacher, thought that maybe it had jumped out of the tank and was discarded by the night janitor; that is until the charred remains of a gold fish were found behind the gym a week later. I guess no one will ever know for sure. Shelby wanted to be cool, but hated to smoke. That lighter was her ticket to popularity.
Shelby’s olfactory senses convulsed as she approached the dumpster; the stench emanating from it was worse than she remembered it being earlier that day. As she climbed up the amber colored side of the dumpster she heard what she thought was something moving around inside. At first, she thought it was an animal: raccoon, rat, etc. Then she remembered the cheesy poof ordeal from earlier that day. “Hey!” She yelled in a whisper so not to evoke an attack if there really was an animal inside. The rustling stopped abruptly; “Hey Pinopolis, you still in there?” No movement, no answer. She climbed back up the wall and peered over the edge into the foul bedlam. At first she didn’t see anything but trash.
A disgusting trash monster from outer space with eyes as black as coal lunged at her and sunk its sharp, fang-like teeth into her neck. Okay, that last part was a fabrication. There is no such thing as an evil space monster. Well, at least not at this point of our story.
She did, however, spy scrawny Ellis Pinopolis curled up in the back corner of the dumpster thumbing through an old Oriental Trading Company catalogue. He looked up at her as if she were the evil space monster. With eyes as wide as golf balls and trembling lips he stayed very quiet, very still. Everyone knows that monsters have poor vision, and can smell adrenaline; so Ellis hoped that if he stayed perfectly quiet and still, Shelby might not see him. Shelby saw him.
“Why are you still in here? Are you stuck or something? Need your mommy?” She asked accusatively. Ellis’ eyes shut like clams. He said nothing. He didn’t breathe.
“Hello? Hey! Are you deaf or something?” Beneath her apathetic façade, she was ever-so-slightly worried. Ellis was turning blue. Realize: Ellis’ blood likes to eat oxygen. When his body has plenty of O2, his blood is a deep red color. This makes his skin warm and pink. However, when Ellis’ blood doesn’t have enough oxygen to eat, it turns a bluish-purplish color. This is why Ellis was turning blue.
“Pinopolis! I don’t have time for this! Shelby was miffed. How could she see him? He thought.
“Do you need help or something?” Sympathy made Shelby sick.
“I don’t need help.” Ellis squeaked. His face was turning pink again.
“Then why are you still in here?”
“You are a freak man. Look, can you help me find something while you’re in there?”
“Yes. Look, I’m sorry about earlier. Richie thinks he owns the world sometimes. I lost a lighter; it is silver with letters engraved on the side. Have you seen it?”
Shelby rolled her eyes. “ABS,” she told him. “Come on, just help me find it.”
“It stands for ‘American Book Society’.” Shelby liked that one. She made a mental note to write it down later.
Ellis’ eyes widened. “You like books?” He said while opening a book he created by opening his hands and holding them together.
“Uh yeah, sure; books are swell. So have you seen the lighter?”
Ellis dug his hand into his left pants pocket. He pulled out something that shown brilliantly in the sunlight: the lighter.
“You’ve had it this whole time!” Shelby couldn’t decide whether to be excited or annoyed. She ended up presenting a clumsy concoction of both. “I can’t believe—- give it to me! I—I mean, could you please hand it to me, Ellis?”
Ellis had a goofy grin on his face. He was lost in thought.
“What? I—-Oh! Yes. Here you go.” He managed to say. He fumbled with the lighter as he handed it to her.
Ellis was shaking. But this time it wasn’t fear that caused these involuntary muscle spasms. No, it was love.
Remember: Ellis was and still is an avid reader. At this notch in the timeline of our story, books are the love of Ellis’ life. Nothing (and no one for that matter) makes Ellis feel like he feels when holding a new book in his hands; the distinct aroma as he flips through the pages, the crackling of a virgin binding. He could, and often did, spend a whole weekend reading without ceasing. That is, except for the occasional trip to the loo and a grand total of six hours of sleep.
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