ImExpendable
06-05-2009, 09:16 PM
Hey there. This will be my first post on this website; I'm looking for people to read what I write and to see what they have to say about the writings. I do post stories elsewhere, but people tend not to read them, or at least not comment on them. I'm hoping this website will change that!
This story I wrote a little while ago, one of my few "not-very-funny" stories. I briefly edited it, but it's not perfect. I'm sure there are several grammatical errors within it, as well as some continuity issues. It's definitely not flawless.
Anyway, if you're going to read it, don't stop in the middle!
Ted
“Hey! Hey, Tosh! Hey! Look at me!” Ted said, jumping up and down for Tosh's attention.
“What the hell do you want?! I'm trying to do my work.” Tosh replied, trying not to disturb the office.
“I'm balancing a pen on my finger! Yeah! Check it out!” Ted said, producing an undeserving smile of unprecedented success.
“That's nice. Real nice. What are we, ten? Come on, let me finish this.”
Ted shook his head and sat back down, still balancing the pen on his fat finger. He seemed to be gaining some weight, perhaps due to his terrible diet of only hot pockets, fast food, and T.V. dinners. Tosh could never understand why he refused to eat anything containing some sort of nutrition; Ted's diet was the complete opposite of what any human being looking to live past twenty-five's was. In fact, everything he did seemed to be void of reason and any influence of societal normality. Clothing choice was no exception. Ted did not seem to understand the meaning of “casual attire.” On this fine afternoon, he wore a dashing outfit consisting of a blue t-shirt with a shark on it, green cargo shorts, sandals and some odd, red socks. The mere fact that it was roughly ten degrees outside didn't seem to impact his wardrobe decision, not in the least. This was expected of Ted, though. He always came to work dressed like the guy parents try to keep their kids away from, the creepy one riding the tricycle at forty-years-old. Just like the parents of most children Ted passed, Tosh always tried to keep his distance, but Ted seemed to have an uncontrollable fondness for Tosh.
“Hey, Tosh, I'm hungry. Lets go eat.” Ted asked, the same as he did every day, regardless of how busy Tosh was. For all Ted cared, Tosh could be on fire, but lunch would still be a marvelous idea. Just before Tosh replied with his daily, “No,” a brilliant thought came to his mind.
“I'll eat lunch with you, for today, if you make me a deal.” Tosh said, staring directly at Ted who was spinning in his swivel-chair. The damn chair Ted constantly spun in always bothered Tosh. Ted brought his own chair into work, just so he could spin around in it. It seemed as if no one ever even noticed the chair or said anything about it, just like they did with Ted.
“One sec brosef, I'm tryna beat my spin record. How many you think I can get in one push? Four? I'm not going to do it, though, 'cause I might throw up. You said something about an eel?”
“Close, I said 'deal.'” Tosh replied, putting his palm to his face. “Once more, 'cause you're an idiot, I'll repeat myself. If you make me a deal, I will eat lunch with you.”
Ted, who was visibly surprised by Tosh agreeing to go to lunch, replied, “Oh, ma bad. Whats the deal, homeslice?”
“If I go to eat with you, for today, you can not talk to me during work for the next week. Also, you can't say 'homeslice' anymore.”
“A whole week of not saying homeslice?!” Ted gasped as if his life had just ended.
“No, a whole week of not talking to me and never saying 'homeslice' again. And, yes, that's a whole week.”
“Can I use sign language?” Ted replied, still spinning from his last push, but appearing increasingly nauseous.
“No, you can't use sign language. You can't even look at me.” Tosh said, smiling at the thought.
“Can we go to tha T-Bell to eat?”
“What? Did you really just abbreviate Taco Bell? You're such a retard -- no. We'll go somewhere that serves food.”
“Okay, deal, homeslice.” Ted said, seeming to have forgotten everything Tosh had said.
Tosh immediately began to regret his unplanned decision, but decided that a week of blissful silence would be well worth an hour of Ted. Slowly, he stood up, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the door. Ted, who had forgotten to bring a jacket to work, got up and followed after Tosh, briefly stopping to admire a plastic flower.
The sun was shining harder than normal, but the air was cold, way too cold for shorts. Somehow, though, Ted did not seem to mind. He was too caught up with his own thoughts to pay any attention to his surroundings. Tosh walked next to Ted, watching him from his peripherals, but trying to keep him out of his blurry mind.
“Where are we going, by the way? T-Bell? I'm so hungry for some tacos.”
“No, I already said we're not getting fast-food. We'll get some pizza.” Tosh replied, trying his hardest to be friendly.
“Oh, super-sweet. I love me some 'za! You think they got any hot pockets there? You know, just maybe.”
“No, they have no hot pockets. Unfortunately, you're going to have to eat like a normal human being, at least for now.” Tosh replied, finding it harder to be friendly when faced with such outrageous responses.
“Oh, that's pretty fresh.” Ted said, waving at a passing taxi that completely ignored him.
They continued walking down the crowded city streets. Each time they passed a fast-food restaurant or 711, Ted would attempt to dash into store, but was stopped by Tosh each time. After each attempt, Tosh tried, to no avail, to lecture Ted on the necessity of good nutrition, but Ted didn't seem to know what nutrition was. As they walked and talked, people started at Tosh, which caught him off guard. Perhaps they were questioning why someone like Tosh would be talking to a forty-something-year-old dressed in his summer attire, reformatted for use in January. Why wouldn't they just stare at the man who looked like a flock of rainbow-colored seagulls? Maybe the whole world was going crazy and Ted's choice of clothing was the new fashion craze. Even a homeless man, perhaps assuming Ted was also homeless, asked Tosh for money, paying no attention to Ted.
“Aren't you cold? It's like fifteen degrees outside, but you're dressed like it's ninety.” Tosh said, finally caving into the curiosity.
“Nah, I'm pretty warm right now. This is all I got, anyway. Plus, I make it look good. Don't you see all these people checkin' me out?”
“Umm-” Tosh stuttered, unprepared for blatant stupidity, “Yeah, I sure do. You've got like every person, I guess, checking you out?” Tosh lied, still trying to figure out why no one paid any attention to Ted.
“Yeah, happens to me all the time. I'm just a stud-muffin, as they say.”
“Who says that?”
“They. They say it. You know, those guys. Come on, welcome to America!”
Tosh resisted the urge to turn around and run, but just barely. Instead, he decided to ignore Ted for a little while, perhaps let him speak only to his mind, rather than embarrass himself to an audience.
Ten minutes of attempted silence passed before Tosh was forced to break his mental vow of ignorance, they had arrived at the pizza restaurant. It was a big, black building with large fluorescent red letters spelling, “Dreaming Pizza.” Tosh had been coming to Dreaming Pizza for months, despite its rather strange name. He felt it was fine as long as he did not eat the pizza, perhaps everything else was awake. Besides, pizza was rather unhealthy. Instead, Tosh would get a salad, for the health benefits.
“Okay, we're here. I'll go order real quick, it's faster if you do it up front. What do you want?”
“Uhm, you said they didn't have hot pockets, right?”
“Oh man, come on. No, they don't have hot pockets.”
“Oh, okay. I'll get some 'za.” Ted replied, disappointed.
“Just one regular slice or a pie?”
“What? Of pie?”
“Wait? What? No, dammit. Do you want one whole pizza or just a slice of it.”
“I'll have two slices of pie, please.” Ted responded, clearly confused.
“I'll take that as your way of asking for two slices of pizza.” Tosh said, no longer caring to listen. “I'll be right out with it. We'll go around back to eat, after.”
Tosh wandered into the store, stopping before the black marble counter that bore no reflections. The seating portion of the restaurant was closed for renovation, giving an eerie and forbidding appearance, as if Tosh was completely alone. The ordering counter, though, was crowded with people demanding their food, barely breaking from their daily routines. Tosh stood in line underneath the mockingly bright neon sign, attempting to read a menu. Slowly, the line inched forward. His mind wandered and eventually settled on trying to figure out what Ted would be doing. Probably something stupid, of course. There was a part of him, though, that made him want to join in on the stupidity; to feel freedom from his caged in world. Then again, it was just a waste of time. He decided that he would be better off doing his work, rather than balancing pens on his various limbs. A large man in white suddenly yelled at Tosh, snapping him back to a confusing reality.
“W-what?” Tosh said, trying to figure out what was going on before slipping back to his reality.
“Whaddya want, pal? Come on, I gotta move this line along.” the man barked.
Tosh ordered a large cheese salad and two slices of pizza, laughing to himself after almost asking for “two slices of pie.” The food only cost him five dollars, so he decided to treat Ted, considering he'd never eat with him again.
Back outside, Tosh found Ted sitting in a chair, simply tapping his feet on the ground. The cool air stung Tosh's face, but, even still, Ted seemed to pay no attention to the temperature, only to the sun.
“I got you your pie slices.” Tosh joked, trying, one final time, to be friendly.
“Thanks homie. See, I didn't say homeslice. I'm really pretty good at this thing.” Ted said, staring at the cheese on his pizza.
“Yeah, you're incredible at whatever thing you're talking about!” Tosh sarcastically replied, trying to decide whether Ted made a joke or not.
Tosh fiddled with his salad uncomfortably, while Ted watched his pizza. He did not take a bite of it, perhaps afraid that the pizza would bite him first. At this point, Tosh wouldn't have been surprised if that was his real reason for watching it.
“You ever notice that the cheese on pizza is always covered in sauce? Do you think they meant to do that? Or did the sauce attack the cheese?” Ted asked, finally giving reason for his staring.
“No, that's completely an accident. Maybe we should run in there and let them know!” Tosh said, hating everything around him.
“Yeah, that might be the smart thing. Maybe we'd get an award. I don't know, but I prefer my cheese to not have foreign contamination. In fact, I don't even think this cheese is Americanese cheese.”
“First of all, it's mozzarella. Second of all, there is no such thing as 'Americanese.' Third of all, you're dumb.”
“Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. To all of your comments.” Ted said, holding his hand out to the sky, as if he had made the greatest comment of all time.
“That only made sense for one of my statements,” Tosh signed. “and it absolutely isn't real.”
“Your face isn't real.” Tosh exclaimed, giving himself a high-five.
“I can't take this, anymore. You're just hurting my head, the more you talk. Are you even thinking about what you're saying? I mean, come on, of course the cheese on the pizza was supposed to have sauce on it. That's how they make it!” Tosh said, giving in to his inevitable emotions.
“Oh, okay. I guess that makes some sense. But, I gotsta know, are you flirting with me? 'Cause, you know, it's cool with me.” Ted asked, genuinely curious.
“What!? No! Of course I'm not! What is wrong with you!” Tosh said, standing up, “I am done. You can make it back alone. I ate with you, that's the end of the deal. Now, do me a huge ****ing favor, and never speak to me again! Go die or something!” Tosh turned around and left, walking as fast as he could without running. What is wrong with him? He has no mental problems, no age problems, he grew up fine. Nothing explained why he couldn't understand anything.
“Hey! Listen! I think I figured out how this whole cheese thing works!” Ted yelled, running up behind Tosh.
“Go away! Just leave me alone! I don't care that you have the completely wrong idea in your mind! You're a moron!” Tosh said, then ran off into the city streets with Ted close behind. People, shrouded in the darkness of the city's shadow, watched him as he ran by. Clearly, they were curious why a man was being chased by a multicolored blur in sandals. Tosh kept running, turning whenever he could trying to lose Ted. To his dismay, Ted followed each turn, keeping directly in step.
“Wait! I don't know why you're running! I usually don't run after I eat! Sometimes I like to take a shower, though! Are you running back to get in the shower! Can we shower together!?” Ted yelled, not struggling to catch his breath. Tosh was now running as fast as he could, dodging traffic to get away from Ted, but to no avail. Each corner Tosh turned, Ted turned. Each car Tosh ran around, Ted ran around. No matter what he did, Ted followed him. Ted followed exactly what Tosh did, to the same step; Ted wasn't breathing heavily, he just kept running after him and celebrating common-knowledge.
“Why are you running from me, Tosh! I just want to hang out with you forever!” Ted yelled, grabbing an object off the side of a car as he ran by.
“Go away! Please! Leave me alone!” Tosh responded, suddenly afraid for his life.
“I'll show you a magic trick!” Ted yelled. Before Tosh could respond, a hubcap hit him in the back of the skull, knocking him onto the floor. Ted had thrown the hubcap and was now cheering from his success. Tosh struggled to stand, but the throbbing pain in his head was overpowering.
“Did you like my magic trick? I made you fall!” Ted smiled, then kicked Tosh in the back of the skull. “Do you want to see another? I don't get to practice them much, but they're all good!” Ted reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.
“No! What are you doing?! Stop it! Please, don't do this!” Tosh cried, struggling to hold Ted away from his body.
Ted smiled. “Don't do what? I'm just going to make something disappear!” replied Ted, laughing manically.
“Help! Help me!” Tosh cried, but no one seemed to hear him. Ted stood over him, spinning the knife in his palm.
“Check this out, homie! It's pretty sick nasty. Which finger don't you like? I'm gonna make it go away! It's so funny!” Ted laughed, “Heck, I'll even show you how I do the trick! It's real easy--kind of like carving a pumpkin!”
Tosh tried to scream, but he was unable to make a sound. His voice did not respond. He tried to move his legs, but they too did not work. Tosh was unable to move.
“Hey! I know, lets do the trick with your eyes! That way you can see the magic up close! Oh, it'll be so fresh!” Ted said, moving the knife towards Tosh's eye, then slowly pushing it into the tear-glazed socket. Tosh tried to scream again, but he still couldn't. The blade caused no pain, just the sound of a knife scraping the back of his skull.
Ted stood back up, holding his bloody new prize in his palm. People stopped and watched, but none of them helped. They were laughing, laughing at Tosh's blood-soaked body. Each person was dressed like Ted, like a sea of multicolored murderers. Why weren't they helping; why were they laughing?
“Wow, this is squishy. Kinda like it, do you think it tastes good? Hey! Can you see through this still? Oh man, I'm gonna go throw this somewhere and you tell me what it looks like. I bet it'll be like you're flying!” Ted said, but stopped and opened his eyes wide, “NO! WAIT! I'm going to tie a string around it and WALK IT LIKE A DOG! Oh my God. This day can not get any better!” Ted got up, threw the eye in the air and caught it, than walked down the street, joining the crowds of people, pointing and laughing at Tosh. Each person was Ted; each person believed that clouds were actually made of mushrooms; each person was going to kill Tosh.
Tosh lay on the ground as darkness took over his mind and the laughter blocked out the sound. He was paralyzed and unable to move.
“Okay, enough. Lets go, get up.” Said a strange voice. Who was that? Where did that voice come from? “Come on, enough sleep.” the voice spoke again. Tosh opened his eye. A blinding white light invaded his mind.
“W-where am I?” Tosh said, finally able to speak.
“You're in bed, of course.” Replied the voice. It was clearly a man's voice that he had heard before, but Tosh could not make out a face.
“Where is my bed? What is going on? Where is Ted?” Tosh said, fearfully remembering the recent events.
“Oh, not him again. Look, Ted was killed years ago. We've gone over this. Please, don't make this hard for us. We got him out of there, don't let him take it back over.” the voice replied. Tosh's eye was refocusing and he could now make out the black hair on the man. He wore a white shirt and a lab coat. His room was all white, except for a few silver instruments and some tubes connected to his arms.
“D-dead? But, I was just with him. He was attacking me and everyone was laughing at me! Where am I!? What is going on!?” Tosh screamed, suddenly panicking.
“Calm down, pal! You're in the hospital, where you've been for years! It was just a dream! You were not with Ted, he is not alive and you never left here. I told you a hundred times before, the police killed him after he took you. You're safe, you don't have to worry anymore! The pain he caused you is over!”
Tosh didn't know what to believe, his mind was racing in every direction. “Took me? Pain? What do you mean? Please, I just need to go back to work! If it was a dream, that's okay--I'll talk to Ted when I get back there! I'm sure he isn't as bad as I thought.”
“Oh, dear. Listen to me. You don't work anymore.” The man sighed. “Okay, let me try to go over this, quickly. A few years back, you went out to lunch with Ted, as you clearly dreamed. He was one of your best friends, from when you were young, but no one else liked him. He was the odd-guy, as you've told us so many times. Anyway, he kidnapped you after you had lunch and chained you to his basement for almost a year. By the time the police found you, he had carved out one of your eyes, cut off your legs, removed several fingers, and kept you alive through a feeding tube. He tried to kill the police that raided his home, but they shot him first. That was thirty years ago, dear. Please, don't let this affect you, now! It's all over, you're safe. He can't hurt you, anymore!” Tosh didn't know what to believe. He was at work, just a few hours ago, writing up the charts for his presentation Friday. What was going on here? Why was he lying to him?
“I know the truth, this isn't it! Please, just let me go back to work!” Tosh shouted, turning his body to stand up. He pushed himself off the bed with his hands, so that he could walk out the door, but he fell right off the bed. Tosh's legs were gone.
“What the ****!? Where are my legs! This can't be real!” Tosh screamed, now realizing that he could only see out of one eye, as well, but could finally make out the face of the nurse. It was the man who had taken his order at the pizza place, the voice belonged to him.
“Oh! Please, don't!” the nurse shrieked, bending down to help Tosh. “Help, someone!” he yelled, “Wake up!”
“Get away from me!” Tosh cried, unable to cope with his new reality.
“I said wake the **** up, you little ****!” Ted screamed, then slapped Tosh across his still-sore cheek, violently waking him. “Enough of your god damn dreaming. I want you to watch this new trick I learned, or would you rather me cut another finger off?” Ted laughed, then spun in his swivel chair. “Pretty cool, eh? Six spins and I didn't even throw up! I'm getting so good at this!” Tosh glared at Ted, unable to think or speak. He was chained to a metal pipe in a damp, dark, room. It appeared to be a basement. Out of the corner of his only eye, he saw a picture of himself and what he assumed to be a young Ted, playing in a backyard on a sunny day. Underneath it was a hacksaw and several other bloody and rusted tools. Tosh's clothes were covered in blood and seemed as if they hadn't been changed in months.
Tosh suddenly remembered everything. The day he went to lunch with Ted. The argument they had gotten into. The rusted old hubcap Ted had found and used to knock him out. The damp, dark basement he was tied to--it was Ted's. The police never saved him, the nurse never helped him up. He was never safe. He was still in the basement, still being tortured. Ted, dressed just as he was in his dream, sat and laughed at Tosh, as tears flowed down his bruised cheeks. Tosh was helpless. He was still trapped in the basement; he was still going to die. Ted was still laughing. Tosh closed his eyes as a tear cascaded down his face and thought to himself, “Wake up. Please. Wake up.”
This story I wrote a little while ago, one of my few "not-very-funny" stories. I briefly edited it, but it's not perfect. I'm sure there are several grammatical errors within it, as well as some continuity issues. It's definitely not flawless.
Anyway, if you're going to read it, don't stop in the middle!
Ted
“Hey! Hey, Tosh! Hey! Look at me!” Ted said, jumping up and down for Tosh's attention.
“What the hell do you want?! I'm trying to do my work.” Tosh replied, trying not to disturb the office.
“I'm balancing a pen on my finger! Yeah! Check it out!” Ted said, producing an undeserving smile of unprecedented success.
“That's nice. Real nice. What are we, ten? Come on, let me finish this.”
Ted shook his head and sat back down, still balancing the pen on his fat finger. He seemed to be gaining some weight, perhaps due to his terrible diet of only hot pockets, fast food, and T.V. dinners. Tosh could never understand why he refused to eat anything containing some sort of nutrition; Ted's diet was the complete opposite of what any human being looking to live past twenty-five's was. In fact, everything he did seemed to be void of reason and any influence of societal normality. Clothing choice was no exception. Ted did not seem to understand the meaning of “casual attire.” On this fine afternoon, he wore a dashing outfit consisting of a blue t-shirt with a shark on it, green cargo shorts, sandals and some odd, red socks. The mere fact that it was roughly ten degrees outside didn't seem to impact his wardrobe decision, not in the least. This was expected of Ted, though. He always came to work dressed like the guy parents try to keep their kids away from, the creepy one riding the tricycle at forty-years-old. Just like the parents of most children Ted passed, Tosh always tried to keep his distance, but Ted seemed to have an uncontrollable fondness for Tosh.
“Hey, Tosh, I'm hungry. Lets go eat.” Ted asked, the same as he did every day, regardless of how busy Tosh was. For all Ted cared, Tosh could be on fire, but lunch would still be a marvelous idea. Just before Tosh replied with his daily, “No,” a brilliant thought came to his mind.
“I'll eat lunch with you, for today, if you make me a deal.” Tosh said, staring directly at Ted who was spinning in his swivel-chair. The damn chair Ted constantly spun in always bothered Tosh. Ted brought his own chair into work, just so he could spin around in it. It seemed as if no one ever even noticed the chair or said anything about it, just like they did with Ted.
“One sec brosef, I'm tryna beat my spin record. How many you think I can get in one push? Four? I'm not going to do it, though, 'cause I might throw up. You said something about an eel?”
“Close, I said 'deal.'” Tosh replied, putting his palm to his face. “Once more, 'cause you're an idiot, I'll repeat myself. If you make me a deal, I will eat lunch with you.”
Ted, who was visibly surprised by Tosh agreeing to go to lunch, replied, “Oh, ma bad. Whats the deal, homeslice?”
“If I go to eat with you, for today, you can not talk to me during work for the next week. Also, you can't say 'homeslice' anymore.”
“A whole week of not saying homeslice?!” Ted gasped as if his life had just ended.
“No, a whole week of not talking to me and never saying 'homeslice' again. And, yes, that's a whole week.”
“Can I use sign language?” Ted replied, still spinning from his last push, but appearing increasingly nauseous.
“No, you can't use sign language. You can't even look at me.” Tosh said, smiling at the thought.
“Can we go to tha T-Bell to eat?”
“What? Did you really just abbreviate Taco Bell? You're such a retard -- no. We'll go somewhere that serves food.”
“Okay, deal, homeslice.” Ted said, seeming to have forgotten everything Tosh had said.
Tosh immediately began to regret his unplanned decision, but decided that a week of blissful silence would be well worth an hour of Ted. Slowly, he stood up, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the door. Ted, who had forgotten to bring a jacket to work, got up and followed after Tosh, briefly stopping to admire a plastic flower.
The sun was shining harder than normal, but the air was cold, way too cold for shorts. Somehow, though, Ted did not seem to mind. He was too caught up with his own thoughts to pay any attention to his surroundings. Tosh walked next to Ted, watching him from his peripherals, but trying to keep him out of his blurry mind.
“Where are we going, by the way? T-Bell? I'm so hungry for some tacos.”
“No, I already said we're not getting fast-food. We'll get some pizza.” Tosh replied, trying his hardest to be friendly.
“Oh, super-sweet. I love me some 'za! You think they got any hot pockets there? You know, just maybe.”
“No, they have no hot pockets. Unfortunately, you're going to have to eat like a normal human being, at least for now.” Tosh replied, finding it harder to be friendly when faced with such outrageous responses.
“Oh, that's pretty fresh.” Ted said, waving at a passing taxi that completely ignored him.
They continued walking down the crowded city streets. Each time they passed a fast-food restaurant or 711, Ted would attempt to dash into store, but was stopped by Tosh each time. After each attempt, Tosh tried, to no avail, to lecture Ted on the necessity of good nutrition, but Ted didn't seem to know what nutrition was. As they walked and talked, people started at Tosh, which caught him off guard. Perhaps they were questioning why someone like Tosh would be talking to a forty-something-year-old dressed in his summer attire, reformatted for use in January. Why wouldn't they just stare at the man who looked like a flock of rainbow-colored seagulls? Maybe the whole world was going crazy and Ted's choice of clothing was the new fashion craze. Even a homeless man, perhaps assuming Ted was also homeless, asked Tosh for money, paying no attention to Ted.
“Aren't you cold? It's like fifteen degrees outside, but you're dressed like it's ninety.” Tosh said, finally caving into the curiosity.
“Nah, I'm pretty warm right now. This is all I got, anyway. Plus, I make it look good. Don't you see all these people checkin' me out?”
“Umm-” Tosh stuttered, unprepared for blatant stupidity, “Yeah, I sure do. You've got like every person, I guess, checking you out?” Tosh lied, still trying to figure out why no one paid any attention to Ted.
“Yeah, happens to me all the time. I'm just a stud-muffin, as they say.”
“Who says that?”
“They. They say it. You know, those guys. Come on, welcome to America!”
Tosh resisted the urge to turn around and run, but just barely. Instead, he decided to ignore Ted for a little while, perhaps let him speak only to his mind, rather than embarrass himself to an audience.
Ten minutes of attempted silence passed before Tosh was forced to break his mental vow of ignorance, they had arrived at the pizza restaurant. It was a big, black building with large fluorescent red letters spelling, “Dreaming Pizza.” Tosh had been coming to Dreaming Pizza for months, despite its rather strange name. He felt it was fine as long as he did not eat the pizza, perhaps everything else was awake. Besides, pizza was rather unhealthy. Instead, Tosh would get a salad, for the health benefits.
“Okay, we're here. I'll go order real quick, it's faster if you do it up front. What do you want?”
“Uhm, you said they didn't have hot pockets, right?”
“Oh man, come on. No, they don't have hot pockets.”
“Oh, okay. I'll get some 'za.” Ted replied, disappointed.
“Just one regular slice or a pie?”
“What? Of pie?”
“Wait? What? No, dammit. Do you want one whole pizza or just a slice of it.”
“I'll have two slices of pie, please.” Ted responded, clearly confused.
“I'll take that as your way of asking for two slices of pizza.” Tosh said, no longer caring to listen. “I'll be right out with it. We'll go around back to eat, after.”
Tosh wandered into the store, stopping before the black marble counter that bore no reflections. The seating portion of the restaurant was closed for renovation, giving an eerie and forbidding appearance, as if Tosh was completely alone. The ordering counter, though, was crowded with people demanding their food, barely breaking from their daily routines. Tosh stood in line underneath the mockingly bright neon sign, attempting to read a menu. Slowly, the line inched forward. His mind wandered and eventually settled on trying to figure out what Ted would be doing. Probably something stupid, of course. There was a part of him, though, that made him want to join in on the stupidity; to feel freedom from his caged in world. Then again, it was just a waste of time. He decided that he would be better off doing his work, rather than balancing pens on his various limbs. A large man in white suddenly yelled at Tosh, snapping him back to a confusing reality.
“W-what?” Tosh said, trying to figure out what was going on before slipping back to his reality.
“Whaddya want, pal? Come on, I gotta move this line along.” the man barked.
Tosh ordered a large cheese salad and two slices of pizza, laughing to himself after almost asking for “two slices of pie.” The food only cost him five dollars, so he decided to treat Ted, considering he'd never eat with him again.
Back outside, Tosh found Ted sitting in a chair, simply tapping his feet on the ground. The cool air stung Tosh's face, but, even still, Ted seemed to pay no attention to the temperature, only to the sun.
“I got you your pie slices.” Tosh joked, trying, one final time, to be friendly.
“Thanks homie. See, I didn't say homeslice. I'm really pretty good at this thing.” Ted said, staring at the cheese on his pizza.
“Yeah, you're incredible at whatever thing you're talking about!” Tosh sarcastically replied, trying to decide whether Ted made a joke or not.
Tosh fiddled with his salad uncomfortably, while Ted watched his pizza. He did not take a bite of it, perhaps afraid that the pizza would bite him first. At this point, Tosh wouldn't have been surprised if that was his real reason for watching it.
“You ever notice that the cheese on pizza is always covered in sauce? Do you think they meant to do that? Or did the sauce attack the cheese?” Ted asked, finally giving reason for his staring.
“No, that's completely an accident. Maybe we should run in there and let them know!” Tosh said, hating everything around him.
“Yeah, that might be the smart thing. Maybe we'd get an award. I don't know, but I prefer my cheese to not have foreign contamination. In fact, I don't even think this cheese is Americanese cheese.”
“First of all, it's mozzarella. Second of all, there is no such thing as 'Americanese.' Third of all, you're dumb.”
“Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. To all of your comments.” Ted said, holding his hand out to the sky, as if he had made the greatest comment of all time.
“That only made sense for one of my statements,” Tosh signed. “and it absolutely isn't real.”
“Your face isn't real.” Tosh exclaimed, giving himself a high-five.
“I can't take this, anymore. You're just hurting my head, the more you talk. Are you even thinking about what you're saying? I mean, come on, of course the cheese on the pizza was supposed to have sauce on it. That's how they make it!” Tosh said, giving in to his inevitable emotions.
“Oh, okay. I guess that makes some sense. But, I gotsta know, are you flirting with me? 'Cause, you know, it's cool with me.” Ted asked, genuinely curious.
“What!? No! Of course I'm not! What is wrong with you!” Tosh said, standing up, “I am done. You can make it back alone. I ate with you, that's the end of the deal. Now, do me a huge ****ing favor, and never speak to me again! Go die or something!” Tosh turned around and left, walking as fast as he could without running. What is wrong with him? He has no mental problems, no age problems, he grew up fine. Nothing explained why he couldn't understand anything.
“Hey! Listen! I think I figured out how this whole cheese thing works!” Ted yelled, running up behind Tosh.
“Go away! Just leave me alone! I don't care that you have the completely wrong idea in your mind! You're a moron!” Tosh said, then ran off into the city streets with Ted close behind. People, shrouded in the darkness of the city's shadow, watched him as he ran by. Clearly, they were curious why a man was being chased by a multicolored blur in sandals. Tosh kept running, turning whenever he could trying to lose Ted. To his dismay, Ted followed each turn, keeping directly in step.
“Wait! I don't know why you're running! I usually don't run after I eat! Sometimes I like to take a shower, though! Are you running back to get in the shower! Can we shower together!?” Ted yelled, not struggling to catch his breath. Tosh was now running as fast as he could, dodging traffic to get away from Ted, but to no avail. Each corner Tosh turned, Ted turned. Each car Tosh ran around, Ted ran around. No matter what he did, Ted followed him. Ted followed exactly what Tosh did, to the same step; Ted wasn't breathing heavily, he just kept running after him and celebrating common-knowledge.
“Why are you running from me, Tosh! I just want to hang out with you forever!” Ted yelled, grabbing an object off the side of a car as he ran by.
“Go away! Please! Leave me alone!” Tosh responded, suddenly afraid for his life.
“I'll show you a magic trick!” Ted yelled. Before Tosh could respond, a hubcap hit him in the back of the skull, knocking him onto the floor. Ted had thrown the hubcap and was now cheering from his success. Tosh struggled to stand, but the throbbing pain in his head was overpowering.
“Did you like my magic trick? I made you fall!” Ted smiled, then kicked Tosh in the back of the skull. “Do you want to see another? I don't get to practice them much, but they're all good!” Ted reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.
“No! What are you doing?! Stop it! Please, don't do this!” Tosh cried, struggling to hold Ted away from his body.
Ted smiled. “Don't do what? I'm just going to make something disappear!” replied Ted, laughing manically.
“Help! Help me!” Tosh cried, but no one seemed to hear him. Ted stood over him, spinning the knife in his palm.
“Check this out, homie! It's pretty sick nasty. Which finger don't you like? I'm gonna make it go away! It's so funny!” Ted laughed, “Heck, I'll even show you how I do the trick! It's real easy--kind of like carving a pumpkin!”
Tosh tried to scream, but he was unable to make a sound. His voice did not respond. He tried to move his legs, but they too did not work. Tosh was unable to move.
“Hey! I know, lets do the trick with your eyes! That way you can see the magic up close! Oh, it'll be so fresh!” Ted said, moving the knife towards Tosh's eye, then slowly pushing it into the tear-glazed socket. Tosh tried to scream again, but he still couldn't. The blade caused no pain, just the sound of a knife scraping the back of his skull.
Ted stood back up, holding his bloody new prize in his palm. People stopped and watched, but none of them helped. They were laughing, laughing at Tosh's blood-soaked body. Each person was dressed like Ted, like a sea of multicolored murderers. Why weren't they helping; why were they laughing?
“Wow, this is squishy. Kinda like it, do you think it tastes good? Hey! Can you see through this still? Oh man, I'm gonna go throw this somewhere and you tell me what it looks like. I bet it'll be like you're flying!” Ted said, but stopped and opened his eyes wide, “NO! WAIT! I'm going to tie a string around it and WALK IT LIKE A DOG! Oh my God. This day can not get any better!” Ted got up, threw the eye in the air and caught it, than walked down the street, joining the crowds of people, pointing and laughing at Tosh. Each person was Ted; each person believed that clouds were actually made of mushrooms; each person was going to kill Tosh.
Tosh lay on the ground as darkness took over his mind and the laughter blocked out the sound. He was paralyzed and unable to move.
“Okay, enough. Lets go, get up.” Said a strange voice. Who was that? Where did that voice come from? “Come on, enough sleep.” the voice spoke again. Tosh opened his eye. A blinding white light invaded his mind.
“W-where am I?” Tosh said, finally able to speak.
“You're in bed, of course.” Replied the voice. It was clearly a man's voice that he had heard before, but Tosh could not make out a face.
“Where is my bed? What is going on? Where is Ted?” Tosh said, fearfully remembering the recent events.
“Oh, not him again. Look, Ted was killed years ago. We've gone over this. Please, don't make this hard for us. We got him out of there, don't let him take it back over.” the voice replied. Tosh's eye was refocusing and he could now make out the black hair on the man. He wore a white shirt and a lab coat. His room was all white, except for a few silver instruments and some tubes connected to his arms.
“D-dead? But, I was just with him. He was attacking me and everyone was laughing at me! Where am I!? What is going on!?” Tosh screamed, suddenly panicking.
“Calm down, pal! You're in the hospital, where you've been for years! It was just a dream! You were not with Ted, he is not alive and you never left here. I told you a hundred times before, the police killed him after he took you. You're safe, you don't have to worry anymore! The pain he caused you is over!”
Tosh didn't know what to believe, his mind was racing in every direction. “Took me? Pain? What do you mean? Please, I just need to go back to work! If it was a dream, that's okay--I'll talk to Ted when I get back there! I'm sure he isn't as bad as I thought.”
“Oh, dear. Listen to me. You don't work anymore.” The man sighed. “Okay, let me try to go over this, quickly. A few years back, you went out to lunch with Ted, as you clearly dreamed. He was one of your best friends, from when you were young, but no one else liked him. He was the odd-guy, as you've told us so many times. Anyway, he kidnapped you after you had lunch and chained you to his basement for almost a year. By the time the police found you, he had carved out one of your eyes, cut off your legs, removed several fingers, and kept you alive through a feeding tube. He tried to kill the police that raided his home, but they shot him first. That was thirty years ago, dear. Please, don't let this affect you, now! It's all over, you're safe. He can't hurt you, anymore!” Tosh didn't know what to believe. He was at work, just a few hours ago, writing up the charts for his presentation Friday. What was going on here? Why was he lying to him?
“I know the truth, this isn't it! Please, just let me go back to work!” Tosh shouted, turning his body to stand up. He pushed himself off the bed with his hands, so that he could walk out the door, but he fell right off the bed. Tosh's legs were gone.
“What the ****!? Where are my legs! This can't be real!” Tosh screamed, now realizing that he could only see out of one eye, as well, but could finally make out the face of the nurse. It was the man who had taken his order at the pizza place, the voice belonged to him.
“Oh! Please, don't!” the nurse shrieked, bending down to help Tosh. “Help, someone!” he yelled, “Wake up!”
“Get away from me!” Tosh cried, unable to cope with his new reality.
“I said wake the **** up, you little ****!” Ted screamed, then slapped Tosh across his still-sore cheek, violently waking him. “Enough of your god damn dreaming. I want you to watch this new trick I learned, or would you rather me cut another finger off?” Ted laughed, then spun in his swivel chair. “Pretty cool, eh? Six spins and I didn't even throw up! I'm getting so good at this!” Tosh glared at Ted, unable to think or speak. He was chained to a metal pipe in a damp, dark, room. It appeared to be a basement. Out of the corner of his only eye, he saw a picture of himself and what he assumed to be a young Ted, playing in a backyard on a sunny day. Underneath it was a hacksaw and several other bloody and rusted tools. Tosh's clothes were covered in blood and seemed as if they hadn't been changed in months.
Tosh suddenly remembered everything. The day he went to lunch with Ted. The argument they had gotten into. The rusted old hubcap Ted had found and used to knock him out. The damp, dark basement he was tied to--it was Ted's. The police never saved him, the nurse never helped him up. He was never safe. He was still in the basement, still being tortured. Ted, dressed just as he was in his dream, sat and laughed at Tosh, as tears flowed down his bruised cheeks. Tosh was helpless. He was still trapped in the basement; he was still going to die. Ted was still laughing. Tosh closed his eyes as a tear cascaded down his face and thought to himself, “Wake up. Please. Wake up.”