When mimes get mean |
The same troupe of Mimes was in the public park every day when Peter walked through on his way back home from work. The Mimes didn't bother him so much as the reported increase of violent crime in this park. Well, to say that the Mimes didn't bother is not a true statement either. Every day they would surround him and play out their antics whenever they were not harassing some other unlucky stroller. More times than not Peter would be the one person they picked on. When Peter was the target there would be 5 to 6 mimes placing themselves in his path playing out the usual mime scenarios. Peter would have to run an obstacle course of these white clad fools. One would be flying a kite another would plant themselves in the middle of the sidewalk trying to figure out how to get out of an invisible box, another would constantly make him reroute his course as some unseen wind would invariably blow the mime in Peter's path. Peter had learned long ago that it was useless to try and reason with the mimes. He had asked them to let him be, but being mimes, they never answered and didn't even acknowledge that Peter had spoken. It was getting to the point that Peter was starting to hate the mimes. Not hate them personally but, hate the Mime population in general. Peter used to make this walk with Dan. He and Dan had struck up a friendship because they shared the same commute, walking to and from their apartment building to the bus stop on the other side of the park. Dan wasn't making this trip anymore. A couple days ago because of a late workday Peter had to take a later bus home. After making his way through the mimes again he had found his buddy dead in the underpass tunnel that led out of the park. It was a gruesome sight. Dan had been stabbed several times and it looked as if the perpetrator had cut out Dan's tongue and gouged out his eyes. Peter still had trouble sleeping at night thinking about it. Dan used to hate the mimes too. They talked about it all the time. Hell, the last time Peter had seen Dan, he had shoved a couple of the mimes out of his way and actually punched a third mime to get him to stop his harassment. The mime that had been punched didn't say a word but he had shot Dan a look of murder. Peter was in no mood for the mimes today and felt sure that if they got in his way he was going to rough some of them up also. Of course, as soon as Peter started into the park, here came the mimes. First, he made his way around two groups of them in an imaginary game of tug of war; then the wind-blown guy again. But then he approached the underpass he came upon a new scene he hadn't seen before. He recognized the one mime as the one who Dan had punched. The odd part is this fiendish fellow had a realistic looking prop. He had never seen the mimes use any props before. It certainly appeared to be a wicked looking hunting knife. Another mime came up to the first and a struggle ensued. Then the one mime seemed to punch the one with the knife in the nose that's when all hell broke lose as the mime with the knife went berserk. Peter hoped that the knife was only a rubber prop because it looked as if everywhere he struck the mime that through the punch a red bloom erupted on his white outfit. At that point Peter had seen enough, he scrambled to one side, then the other and finally managed to get around the dueling mimes and made his way into the underpass. As Peter entered the tunnel he glanced back to see that both mimes had ended their skit and were following him into the tunnel. He quickened his step. When he glanced back to the tunnel exit he saw another four mimes side by side running towards him and blocking the way out. With two steps further on there was a collision of mimes and man in the middle of the tunnel. Peter was screaming bloody murder when he was punched in the solar plexus and lost his breath in a rush of air. Gasping for breath several of the mimes pinned his arms and legs to the ground as the one with the knife stabbed him twice in the chest. Another mime grabbed his lower jaw, then reached into his mouth and grabbed a hold of his tongue as the knife welding mine sawed through it with his blade. Gagging on his blood from his mutilated mouth the last thing he saw was a mime swinging his severed tongue around just before they gouged out his eyes. |