[Glenn Epic]

#3 The Inquisitor

Bobby Ferdinand sat, staring at his sandwich. The crusts had been removed, as per usual. It was served on whole grain bread, also as per usual. Bobby hated sandwiches. Problem was, being two years old, and a late bloomer, he’d had a hard time informing his mother of this.

Bobby wondered what was on the sandwich as he delicately inserted it into the VCR unit. With inquisitive eyes, he was greeted by static.

Bitter defeat in his heart and legs devoid of luster, he focused his limbs and took-to a hallway. Slipping silently into his brother’s room, he fashioned a sloppy seat on a less-than-immaculate rug.

There was a hint of shit in the air. Bobby checked his diaper but found nothing of consequence. Casting aside the pungent aroma, he doodled out a masterpiece on a wall.

“Nice,” he farted.

After a brief moment of topsy-turvy, Bobby braced himself on his brother’s fish tank and, throwing it to the ground, launched himself back into the hallway.

“Mom?” He asked, via a series of taps.

His mother was nowhere to be seen, so he headed toward the medicine cabinet.

The medicine cabinet was the proverbial ‘no-no’ of fun-time. Who knew what mysteries lay behind its misleading palate of reflection, and its sharp, booby-trapped corners of visual rupture?

With quivering legs and heightened awareness Bobby braced a chair against the banister and scrambled toward his prize.

“Jackpot!”. He informed the mirror via a series of abrupt eyebrow movements

Bobby opened the cabinet, removed a brightly colored bottle, and fumbled with the lid.

“Drat, child lock!” He indicated via a brief leg spasm.

He threw the bottle to the floor and grabbed a second. Longing for the delicious nectar, he battled with the lid.

Bobby had almost given up when a sharp, bionic-ear inducing scream caught him off guard. It was his mother. She approached rapidly. Spitting out indiscernible commands, she ceased him, and locked up his contraband.

Several bone shattering punishments later Bobby was aware he’d done something wrong. As to what it was, he couldn’t say.

# 4 The Pineapple Aficionado

James Macaroy ate pineapple for frolics. Be it a lazy, by-the-pool Sunday, or a what-to-do Wednesday, he’d eat pineapple. “Pineapple”, he would say “Is the cornerstone of any good day”.

Today, however, James was not having such a good day. You see, it was November, and the pineapple was out of reach, out of stock, and out of season. James hadn’t had a hit in weeks. He could feel it in his loins. He could feel it in his buttocks. But most of all, he could feel it in his tear glands.

“Gotta get some pineapple” He cried, slapping an elderly passer-by on the bald spot.

And so, down the rabbit hole James went, in search of the elusive fruit.

“I’ll burn this fucking store to the ground!” He threatened in ‘Mr. Partridges Grocer’, “Sod that!” He hollered in ‘Gocerie72’, and “What a cute baby!” He screamed in ‘Toys R Us’.

Aside from a pineapple flavored lollypop and a book with a picture of a pineapple on page 3, the search turned in nothing.

“Sod that!” Cried James, “with the smite of a thousand gazelles, sod that!”.

James burnt Mr. Partridges Grocer to the ground and subsequently spent the next 12 years in lock-up. Actually, an insane asylum… Guess they don’t serve pineapple in prison.