Kermit

         Clarisse stood maybe an inch in front of me. At the most. I’m not trying to be vulgar or anything like that, but close enough that her breasts were up against me. They were wonderful, but that’s not really germane to, well, anything, unless of course you’re a horny bastard, in which case I’m sure you’d like a more thorough description of her body. Well you won’t get it. I’m not like that, or at least I don’t make myself out to be. I’m no Hugh Heffner, so don’t count on me for your paraphernalia.

What I will tell you, then, is that she was rather beautiful. I mean gorgeous. I mean the kind of sight that bends every neck within a ten mile radius, men and women alike.  Stunning. She had on this green dress, fitting and what not, and long, curly brown hair. I don’t normally like green, but hell, there’s no man that wouldn’t love green after seeing her, all decked out. So green it would make Kermit lose his mind. Well I guess not, since puppets don’t actually have sentient minds, but you get the metaphor.

Anyways, she’s there all beautiful and drop dead gorgeous and what not, and I’m all stupid with adolescence trying to play it cool, using lines from every movie I’d ever seen. I’m pretty sure I dropped in one from Inception, but then again I don’t really remember much of what I said. Like Clarisse’s ridiculous beauty, my words aren’t much to this narrative. Well then again I could be wrong, and, after all, it is my duty as your narrator to go into detail with background and other nonsense, so forgive me while I try to recoup lost time. 

I remember I asked her if she was having a good time. Maybe she said yes or maybe that’s just my memory trying to make me feel good by deceiving. I’m not sure why it would single out this event, since the later events are, well, just far worse, but that’s a mile and a half ahead of the narrative, and I’d like to do my job well and all so I’ll just slow down. Her one friend, Daphnia, came over to conversate and what not about whatever girls care about, and so I had a second to go wander. Personally I hated Daphnia. She was, in my humble opinion, a downright terrible human being. But she was dating, and likely sleeping, with Clarisse’s twin brother, Terry.

So I got away and wandered over to the refreshments area and downed a glass of punch. Schools are really bad when it comes to punch. It’s always mixed wrong and never tastes good and is really just a waste of time, so guys can act like we need a drink when really we’re just getting the hell away from the music we can’t or won’t dance to. You know those times. When some loud rap song comes on, it is inevitable that white guys all leave the dance floor while black guys begin to perform ridiculously impressive spins and flips and all manner of impressive moves. It’s not meant to be racist. It happens with both sides, too. Soon as the DJ plays the obligatory classic rock song, the black guys disappear to the punch while the white kids violently gyrate and act like we know what we’re doing.

So I’m standing by the punch, and drinking and pondering the meaning of life when I come to a life altering realization: I really needed to relieve myself. Okay, so it wasn’t in itself life altering, but I still went out of the gym, and, being the sly bastard that I am, made it the bathroom without being caught by the evil spirits which I’m convinced want me dead. Spirits or ninjas, either way, something wants me dead.
         
I’ll spare you the details, but to make it blunt I went in and relieved myself. Well I guess some details are necessary. It was a large bathroom, but it felt larger than usual. And colder, and quieter, and just overall more like some hellish nightmare scene from a bad batch of opium. As I walked towards my favorite urinal, I passed a slouching figure I knew could only be one kid: Terry himself. As I relieved myself I made some lame joke about that thing where either the black kids or the white kids leave the dance floor, because after all he was my girlfriend’s twin and I should probably make nice with him.

When I was finished, I went to wash my hands. My eyes met the cold gaze of the mirror, and I nearly dropped dead, right on the bathroom floor in the puddles of urine left behind by the kids who thought it was funny to urinate in the sink. Behind me, over my left shoulder, I could see Terry. But something was wrong. His feet weren’t on the ground. I heard this creaking noise, like a rope, and he began to turn. It was the most hideous monstrosity I’d ever seen.

The rope was attached to the ceiling and hung down to his neck, where it was tied just beneath his chin. Above it was the most scarring face I’ve ever seen. It was pale, and bloated. His neck was bleeding from where his pale fingers had tried helplessly to claw the rope away. It was desperation blood, the kind the bleeds freely from a man who will not accept his inevitable, often brutal demise. His eyes were yellow, and rolled back. A thin stream of scarlet blood ran from the side of his limp mouth. His head tilted to the left. The creaking of the rope continued as he dangled there.

I stumbled madly backwards, till I hit the lip of the sink behind me. But then it all went to hell. The sink, solid porcelain, shattered against my back. I felt no pain, but I looked down and could see blood collecting at my feet. I put my hands on my back and could feel tears in my tuxedo. I panicked, and turned around to look at the sink. There was no sink behind me. In fact there was no wall. There was a ledge, just a ledge. It dropped down into an abyss of nothingness. I literally cannot describe the nothingness. It was just a void, an empty void. No color, but not black nor white. No depth. Just nothing I spun away from it to get to the door, and, lo, the worst surprise came. There were two bodies.          

They hung from two ropes, each the same length. Both looked about the same, except one wore a sack over his face. I walked up to it, a sense of dread growing over me. I reached up, over the tuxedo clad cadaver, and grabbed the sack. I held my breath, and pulled. I met an empty gaze, and know nothing more of that evening.

I came to in meadow, at sunrise. Cliché, and boring, but beautiful. Amber waves of grain pulled straight from the book of patriotism moved like tides across many acres, interrupted only by a tall oak. I looked at the tree. It was large, wide with many branches. Then I saw it. A large member hanging down that looked nothing like the rest. In a flash of sun, I noticed it. The shape was green. Turn-Kermit-on green.