by Sirloin Furr
Within the borders of Awful, Ohio, there was a fragment of land that occupied by an individual who engaged himself radically within the economic gauntlet that stimulates Awful, Ohio. Built on top of this fragment of land was a wooden structure, simulated into the shape of a cabin, housing the individual. The cabin was coated in fertile moss, with drapes of ivory curling around each log that formed the cabin’s structure.
Inside the cabin’s walls sat the individual with two other men that were considered his cohorts. None of these individuals had allowed themselves to become victims to the mandates of the business owners that controlled Awful, Ohio, as none of them had jobs. But they did not have freedom, as they were all victims of the economy’s mandates. They needed money, often desiring it perversely, using radical methods to achieve these goals, often illegal.
As they sat inside of the log cabin, each individual had within his mind complex structures of ideas that were designed to yield large amounts of wealth. They had all devoted the purpose of their existence to earn fortune. However they weren’t sure why. To obtain these goals, each individual amalgamated their ideas with the other ideas in order to see what other ideas would birth from these mental copulations. Hours of deliberation had occurred, but progress began to succumb to mental exhaustion. The incumbents of the wooden barrier, although originally determined to discipline themselves until they discovered the grand idea that they were searching for, had been depleted of the energy needed to uproot this discovery. They were ready to give up, but these subtle words had granted them their relief and salvation from their exhaustive thinking:
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
These were the words that spilled from the mouth of Doink McTriggers. The three members exhaled in relief, leaning back in their seats, separating themselves from the ideas that brewed before them. Doink McTriggers was one of the three individuals that were inside the wooden structure. However, he was not the chronic resident, and neither was Chuck Splatter, who was the other individual that was within the contemplation rink. Although not chronic resident, Doink McTriggers and Chuck Splatter were routinely inside of the log cabin, attempting to conjure up new methods to earn the money that they desired. The condition of chronic resident belonged to Sammy Ammo. Sammy Ammo had often invited his cohorts into the wooden chamber, where they would sit, reflect ideas, and exchange wisdom that would hopefully sprout into a steady stream of financial security.
“That’s a good idea, Doink,” said Sammy Ammo. That was the first time those words were said all day.
Doink McTriggers rose from his sitting position and pointed his portable body towards the rest area, relocating it to the rest area that was in the back hallway. Sammy Ammo also stood up, not only to stretch, but to remove Chuck Splatter’s unsightly face from his sight. The geometrical outlay of Chuck Splatter’s face was not constructed with precision or care. His eyes were separated very far apart from one another, both bulging like the open mouths of hungry dogs in different directions. He had a floating nose, in that it would never sit center on his face, regardless of the angle it was being observed from. And he had a hair line that was off center by 45 degrees. It was regularly questioned whether or not Chuck Splatter was artificially assembled in a laboratory.
Sammy Ammo walked towards the window with an upright posture that wouldn’t bend for a hurricane. His arms folded behind his back, as he continued contemplating, attempting to figure out a conceivable plan that would harness what it was that he desired. Doink McTriggers’ and Chuck Splatter’s restless thoughts wondered off into unprofitable territory, leaving Sammy as the sole proprietor of their destiny. Sammy Ammo’s arms returned to his sides, slinking against his body. He then raised his left hand to the frame of the window to support his leaning body weight. He stared out the window from his log cabin, squinting his eyes, refocusing his vision that broke through the window panes like swinging crowbars. The clarity exposed all of Awful, Ohio, where Sammy Ammo observed everything; power plants and manufacturing warehouses, all brooding production with humans mindlessly entering in and out of the production structures like products from an assembly line. His eyes engulfed everything that was Awful, Ohio, swallowing it deeply into the abysmal crevice of his stomach, where it inflicted harm upon his body, churning into a cramping knot. Sammy Ammo continued staring out the window, engulfing more of the mechanical system, feeding the knot until it amassed into self-destructive doubt of disbelief.
The sun oversaw Sammy, seeping through the window pane, desiccating the skin on Sammy Ammo’s face, crinkling each cheek like a ruffled potato chip. Sammy Ammo compressed his lips, locking every muscle, preventing the growing knot of disbelief from unraveling from his bowels and out of his mouth in a painful howl. His entire situation was hard to swallow. The juvenile acts of illicit debauchery with two of Awful, Ohio’s most outlawed debasers were very unrewarding, as Sammy Ammo often wondered why he spent his time with Chuck and Doink, rather than conform.
But Sammy knew that his situation was true, and that denying his current condition was only counterproductive. He would force feed it upon himself, to assuage the inflating knot. But the knot of disbelief grew larger, fighting feverishly, rejecting his current disposition. It attempted to filter through Sammy Ammo’s mind, wanting to release through his mouth into chants of support for the economic gauntlet, converting Doink McTriggers and Chuck Splatter from their renegade behavior, into mindless meat lockers, serving for the benefit of store owners. But Sammy Ammo locked his jaw, knowing what was true, as he confined his tongue, forcing his mind to regress back into his genesis, when he had originally entered Awful, Ohio, justifying his renegade purpose to flush the truth of his purpose through his resisting body.