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Roy Janik

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maybe I could be a writer [Nov. 22nd, 2000|06:58 pm]
Roy Janik
Here's the ending to a story I'm writing, called "Fat Grackle". A grackle is sort of a nasty blackbird. Like most of my projects, I never finished this one. The ending was one of the first (and only) things I wrote.

* * *
The boy with the golden eyes rounded the corner of 2nd and 5th street, seemingly lost in a child's daydream, when suddenly he stumbled across it. It was monstrous, bulging, sleek, oily... fat. It was a fat grackle, and it was blocking the sidewalk with its immense, revolting, unnatural bulk. There was no doubt that this creature could not fly. Chances are it could not walk, or even roll ever. It was an abomination, and it hurt the boy with the golden eyes just to look at it.

For a few moments the fat grackle and the boy with the golden eyes stared at each other. Drool spilled freely from the grackle's beak, and a glaze of cloudiness swam over the creature's eyes.

Then the bird began to giggle. A high-pitched, gut-wrenching, disgusting little titter. The eyes of the boy with the golden eyes widened a bit. He took a step back, and the giggle turned into a laugh. Flowers began to wilt, and the cement around the fat grackle's rolling body started to crack under the creature's weight. A nasty breeze started up, as if the air itself were trying to get away from the beast (lest it be tainted). The boy with the golden eyes stood still in sick anticipation.

The laugh turned into a cackle.

The boy with the golden eyes blinked.

And the world ended.

* * *
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