Awful, Ohio

by Sirloin Furr

The blue hatchback pulled up in front of the yellow mustard house that resided in the outskirts of Awful, Ohio. Troy Slushy had managed to make it home without being relocated to the shelters by the Coercive Prevention Force, as they believed that no one would willingly drive a blue hatchback of such unsightly nature. The sun was still dangling in the west, exposing all of the poison that surrounded the area, creating unwarranted desire and need for unfettered objects that would yield misleading euphoria.

  Troy Slushy sat in the driver’s seat of the hatchback, alone, disinterested in the chopping noises that were produced by the Coercive Prevention Force’s helicopters surrounding center city of Awful, Ohio. Troy had returned Baltazar to the deeply planted, log cabin that rested in the dense coniferous surrounding Awful, Ohio. The dense coniferous protected them from the events inside of the center city of Awful, Ohio, preventing them both from the exposure of the news of the invasive extraterrestrials that sought to exterminate the Awful, Ohio population.

  Troy had returned Baltazar, informing him to gather his possessions. Troy had led Baltazar to believe that while he was gathering his possessions, Troy would head back to his home to do the same. Half of what he told Baltazar was true, as Troy did return to his home to collect the necessary belongings for a trip to Hollywood to begin his acting career. But he never intended on returning to the dense coniferous to pick up Baltazar, leaving him permanently embedded in the coniferous of Awful, Ohio, knowing that Baltazar would be unable to find his way out.

  Troy Slushy stared at his house. The shutters carelessly dripped from the broken windows, as soft patches in the roof engulfed the sinking shingles. The concrete pathway, connecting the driveway to the front door, was lined with cemented dirt, imprisoning shriveled daisies into the lifeless, sun-scorched ground of Awful, Ohio. The home was a wreckage, unworthy of housing a being bearing the residual talent that Troy possessed.

  “Thanks for everything,” mocked Troy Slushy from the torn seat of his blue hatchback, thinking of the years wasted in the unworthy structure that prevented his stardom. He was staring at the ignoble structure that could barely keep itself together. He grabbed the completed script, gingerly rubbing it with his thumb, treating it with care and devotion, expecting salvation in return. He flipped through the pages, reading through some of the lines, admiring the authentically rich content that was extracted from the authentic citizens of Awful, Ohio. He sat in the hatchback, gloating in the conquest of what he lauded to be a solitary accomplishment, dismissing Baltazar’s intervention, applauding his performances that single-handedly injected the award-winning credentials that would grant Troy with the acting career that he was unabashedly qualified for.

  Troy Slushy stepped out of the blue hatchback, walking past the motionless flowers that lined the walkway. His mobile body pushed a breeze past the brittle flowers, shattering them into tiny pieces. Troy’s plan was to pack his suitcase with clothes and toiletries. He wanted to leave Awful, Ohio for Hollywood immediately. He stepped into his home, greeted by two piles. One pile was large, full of the possessions that he had accumulated throughout his life, and the other pile was small, filled with the toiletries and a few clothes that he was needing for his trip.

  Troy walked towards the small pile to grab everything. But the figure of a being appeared from the corner of his eye. He feared that it was Baltazar Garcia, seeking proprietorship of the script. Troy rotated his head to collect the rest of the predicated image of Baltazar’s disgruntled appearance, planning his excuse. But instead of a misshaped figure of an unkempt man, the figure pieced together in winding curves of elegance and beauty. It was a woman, standing in the doorway, stretching her arms towards the ceiling, yawning like a hippo rising from a tranquil sleep, displaying her molars and cuspids. It was Troy’s wife, Lacy, standing as innocent as a dream. She had just woken from the peaceful sleep that Troy had induced upon her. Her eyes were squinting like little lines on a graph, as her face was covered with wrinkles pressed from the folds of her pillow.

  “What’s going on, Troy?” she asked, dressed in the same clothes that she was wearing when Troy put her to sleep.

  Troy had forgotten about Lacy. He had forgotten about the ether and the original plan to acquire the Behicle so that they could travel west into perpetual darkness, protected from the exposed. He stared at Lacy with disappointment, thinking that she was going to interfere with his acting career.

  “Lacy, things have changed. I have completed the script,” recited Troy defensively, submerged by his own guilt.

  “That’s wonderful!” Lacy interrupted, excited that the completed script would bring them closer to their dream-bred lives. Troy had induced Lacy with such a heavy dose of ether that the excess fumes seeped into her memory, erasing the apprehension that Troy had subjected her to. But she remained strong and focused, not allowing the noxious surroundings of Awful, Ohio to affect the dream that she and Troy had concocted together, anxious to sell the script so that they may purchase the Behicle with the proceeds, and forever travel west, rotating on the dark side of the earth, to live together in the perpetual darkness of their dreams.

  “So now we can acquire the Behicle!” Lacy continued, smiling erratically, leaning towards the small pile of belongings that she had separated for their westward journey to avoid the damning sun. But Troy’s discovery of his new talents had redirected his intentions.

  “Lacy, there has been a change of plans,” Troy repeated, fearing that Lacy’s short term memory may have been permanently damaged from the ether.

  “What do you mean, Troy?”

  Troy walked towards the large bay window in the living room. He leaned, resting his body on the frame, staring out of it. The shutters could be seen swifting like handkerchiefs in the gentle wind. He looked further out, staring at the center city of Awful, Ohio from a distance. The mocking city was swarming with Coercive Prevention Force helicopters. From the bay window, they appeared to be the size of hornets, chopping through the sky with their punishing wings, orchestrating something with what appeared to be deliberate maneuvers. Troy wasn’t paying heavy attention to the helicopters, or to the objective “Operation Blackout,” that the Coercive Prevention Force helicopters were attempting to deploy, issued by the mayor. Troy’s eyes remained fixed and unfocused on the window pane, indirectly absorbing the contents from outside. But his thoughts were focused on Lacy, and how to explain to her that he was going to Hollywood to start his acting career.

  “Lacy,” Troy said, turning around to face her. He grabbed her by her little shoulders, staring in the eyes, struggling, but confessing, “as it turns out, I am a great actor. It turns out that I am possessed with unmatchable talent that has never been seen or witnessed by any other before. It is my responsibility to utilize this newly exposed talent, as I am the drama society’s chosen one.”

  Troy stared heavily into Lacy’s eyes. He was nervous that she wasn’t going to understand, and that the support he was going to need wouldn’t be offered. But Lacy stared right back, breaking her eyes free from the encapsulating crust of shit that her protective eyelids were able to withhold from her submissive mind. She dreamed luscious fantasies while sleeping, depicting majestic worlds with beautiful surroundings, structuring the elements that pieced together her soul into a utopia of perpetual bliss resting in the coffin of her dreams. Troy had been seduced by the exposed, by the deceiving rays of light that presented an undesirable world, dressed in an alluring manor. Lacy needed Troy, to pursue their dream together, to live peacefully in perpetual darkness, and to drive the Behicle. She had never desired Troy so badly.

  “Troy,” Lacy lifter her arms, grabbing a hold of his gaunt shoulders. She rubbed his skin through the fabric of his shirt, hoping to rejuvenate some of those previous libidinous thoughts that had launched their salvation.

  “Troy,” she repeated, “remember your message.” She spoke calmly. “All of these material surroundings are nothing worth living for. And this acting career will only result in more of these th
ings surrounding us, more things with fabricated meaning distilled into the nothingness of what they are. The misery of the exposed is something that we want no part of. You can see through all of their translucent pretension and ostentatious appearances, Troy, exposing the nothingness that is inside all of them! But you and I, we do have something inside.” Lacy grabbed Troy’s hand, rubbing it against her chest. Troy felt the heart beating softly beneath her sternum, pumping her with life and consciousness, impaling her body with desires of truth and meaning, and she wanted to share all of them with Troy.

  “This acting career,” Lacy continued, “is only going to repeat this empty life that we are already a part of, returning us to the things that we are attempting to break free from, eternally reoccurring. We need to break free from this eternal reoccurrence, Troy. We need to sell this script, we need to acquire that Behicle, and we need to forever travel westward, into perpetual darkness, so that we can remove our selves from the exposed world of the enduring damnation of the sun!”

  Troy had listened deeply to everything that Lacy was saying to him. His hand was still placed on her chest, absorbing all of her heart beats, believing everything that she had said. The pumping beats of faith transferred from Lacy’s chest, into Troy’s hand, traveling throughout his arteries, restoring his relapsed mind with the same faith that he had originally delivered to Lacy. Troy began to remember the hot sauce warehouse, the conveyer belt duty, Lou Stooles, Mad Ted, his blue hatchback and everything else that the sun had exposed to him, every day, manipulating him into accepting a worthless existence. Troy remembered the imagined thoughts of him and Lacy, mounted on the Behicle, directed westward, enjoying their travels through mountains, canyons, deserts, and oceans, protected from the fear of the exposed with an everlasting shield of darkness. The image fended off all acceptance that had overpowered Troy with asinine ideas of acting in Hollywood. Troy could feel Lacy’s thin fingers stroking the bones protruding from the shoulders of his shirt. Her touch was warming and honest, and fully committed to his best interest. She was offering him love, something that had been void during the creation of the script, and he greatly enjoyed it.

  “Lacy, thank you,” said Troy Slushy. He lifted his hand, stroking the soft red curls that bounced off her head. His innards were cleansed from the cancerous exposure by the curing words of Lacy. Thin liquid released from the crevices of his eyes, dripping over the mounds of his puffy cheeks.

  “I had relapsed, Lacy, and almost accepted the exposed world of Awful, Ohio. I thought I was strong, and could prevent my submission, but the exposed world of center city of Awful, Ohio swallowed me whole, removing everything that bore meaning and importance. I lost focus on what I was actually out there for, discovering something that I never meant or wanted to discover. I was deceived by the exposed world, and I’m sorry, Lacy.”

  Troy Slushy pulled Lacy Slushy into his chest, wrapping his arms around her so that she would never have an opportunity to leave. Lacy Slushy’s body pressed hard against the frame of Troy, wrapping her arms just as tightly, fusing both beings into one perfect entity.

  The helicopters of the Coercive Prevention Force could be seen from the large bay window, swarming, uniforming in the center city of Awful, Ohio. They formulated a circle, with each helicopter pointing outwards, facing in different directions. Attached beneath the body of each helicopter was the fringe of a large, black tarp. Each helicopter hovered steadily, purposefully, anxious with trembling motors, ready to receive the signal to execute their destinies.

  The signal was made. All the helicopters disbursed into their pointed directions, each one traveling away from Awful, Ohio, evenly blooming, spreading the black tarp across the enter city of Awful, Ohio like an opening flower. They persevered with strict intentions, guided by the intentions of their purposes, as the tarp stretched over the center city of Awful, Ohio, reaching the outskirts. Their plan was to blot Awful, Ohio with a large black tarp, concealing them from any aerial view, to prevent invasive extraterrestrials from discovering the Awful, Ohio location, so that invasive extraterrestrials would never be able to locate Awful, Ohio.

  The helicopters steadily pounded through the air, reaching the coniferous, which connected to the end of the Awful, Ohio boundaries. Simultaneously, the helicopters released the tarp from the underside of their bodies. Each helicopter disbursed into separate directions in the empty sky, leaving the black tarp. The black tarp, in a free fall, floated from the sky, parachuting with pure intentions, gracefully falling from the heavens like a protective, black angel, ready to deliver peace to the fear-ridden society in protective darkness.

  Troy and Lacy Slushy remained in each other’s arms, facing the window. Their eyes were closed, blocking out the exposed, allowing their loving hold to be the only thing that could influence their vulnerable bodies. And as they remained in the living room, in front of the large bay window of their mustard colored home, holding one another with closed eyes, envisioning a dream-filled world that engineered everything according to their desires, the tarp landed like a black, dead cloud, covering their home and all of Awful, Ohio. Awful, Ohio removed itself from existence, blotting itself from the map, hiding from the assumed aliens that were believed to be invading their precious town.

  Troy and Lacy Slushy remained standing in their living room, in front of the large bay window, as all of Awful, Ohio was coated in perpetual darkness from the preventive layer of the black tarp. They opened their eyes, exposed to nothing, unable to see anything, believing they were still resting in the peace of their dreams, protected in their desired world of permanent darkness.

  The End.