NickServatiua
12-10-2014, 06:53 PM
'A light rain and a donut,' engraved across Phillip's grave. He preferred 'donut' to 'doughnut.' Some thought it was because he was too cheap to put three extra letters on his headstone. Those who knew Phillip knew it was because 'donut' was visually more appealing than 'doughnut.' Out of all the people who knew Phillip, few got to join him on what he considered his serenity; a light rain and a donut.
Oh, it was a beautiful rain that morning. They were on the verge of spring, so a good rain to stave off white stains uplifted all. Phillip pulled his large Chrysler 5th Avenue right up to the door, snatching his usual parking spot and a half. He stepped out of his car with no umbrella and no hood, because he liked the way cold rain trickled through his thinning hair. He happily strolled the five feet to the bakery door. One of his favorite parts of visiting the bakery is the rush of baked love that floods your nostrils when the door opens. To his right, a fridge filled with milk and sodas, and to his left were the goods. Now, out of the rain, he ran his fingers through his fading follicles. It was 32 degrees, warm enough for rain, and cold enough to freeze.
He had choices. Well, he had many choices, but he knew which goods he preferred. All donuts are good donuts, but Phillip loved honeymooners the most. That day they had all been eaten. This felt strange to Phillip, honeymooners were a popular pick on Thursdays, not Mondays. "Oh well," he thought, shook off his discomfort, and politely asked for a twist.
“It's fifty cents with the Phillip discount!”
Blushing, as he did every time, he gave the nice lady two-fifty. Usually he would stay and chew the fat with her, but he could hear the light taps on the window; fingers from the clouds dancing on glass seducing Phillip.
A lustful smile filled Phillips face when he got his hands on the white paper bag. “It's almost too tempting to wait until I get to my car! I'd hate to make a messy fool of myself though.” She giggled politely, and wished him a pleasant day.
As he got one foot out the door he turned and asked, “Wendy, I know you have a job to do, but would you care to join me? You know I love the light rain and how it comforts me the same way your donuts do.”
“I'm terribly sorry, Phillip. No pun intended, but can I get a rain check? Maybe Thursday? It's supposed to rain, and I'll make extra honeymooners that day,” she replied.
Without embarrassment, he accepted the rain check and thanked her kindly. On the five foot jaunt back to the car he could feel it in his stomach. The way the donut would glaze his tongue as the wind shield wipers waved at him. This made him put a bit of pep in his step. Phillip swung open the car door, hopped in, and took off.
On the edge of town he took his first bite, he melted. As if he were a wicked witch driving a convertible, he sunk in his seat. With every bite he was reminded why this bread burned holes in his pockets. Soon the tranquility of his spotted windshield, where the drops had splashed, consumed him. He took another bite. A good giant bite! One that overflowed his mouth so he had to chew with his mouth open.
“Thank god Wendy can't see this,” he tried to say, while spitting little chunks of donut onto his steering wheel.
Reaching for his napkins he kept in his glove box, he jerked the wheel. His car violently fish-tailed making a perfect roadblock for the oncoming semi-truck. The roads slicker than a bowling alley, and his tires balder than he. Phillip didn’t stand a chance. The last thing Phillip ever heard was shattering glass. His last thought: a rain check left uncashed.
It was a small funeral service. Wendy was there, and that would have been enough for Phillip. She's the only person he's ever wanted to join him. At last, he had all her attention. The coffin finally hit rock bottom. As the people trickled off, and the fickle rain fell from the sky, Wendy remained. Tapping her foot above the grave, she watched the rain cause ant-size landslides. Reality finally sunk in; Phillip was truly dead.
“You were so excited and alive just a couple days ago,” she bewailed. The joy of a light rain and a donut, now locked in a box to rot. Tears chased the rain drops down her face as she reached into her purse. She pulled out a honeymooner wrapped in wax paper, and placed it on top of Phillip's headstone. It smelled better than all the flowers in the cemetery.
PHILLIP'S GRAVE
PART II
“Why don't we make that fat ****er Charlie do it!” Exclaimed Jared as he wolfed down a piece of pizza he got for lunch. He and his chum pal Aaron were too chicken **** to steal the honeymooner off of Phillip's grave. So instead they thought it'd be easier, not to mention funnier, to make Charlie do it.
“GIRTH!” Roared Jared before he wailed Charlie in the back of the head with his palm, causing him to stab his tongue with his fork.
Needless to say, he had had enough for the day. Quickly, he spun in his seat, his fist clenched tighter than his waistband. His inertia resulted with a swing and a miss for the big man. Not a lot of people had seen him lose balance and fall from his tiny circular seat. While Jared was further being an ******* laughing at fatty's fall, Charlie stabilized himself.
Once Jared noticed Charlie was back off the floor he swiftly approached him, and spoke very sternly, "Meet us above the dam by the picnic table at 4pm. If you don't show up we'll kick all 400lbs of **** out of you.” To seal the deal Jared punched Charlie in the gut sending him *** first into his seat. He tried to break his fall, but ended up spilling the remainder of his chocolate milk. Almost as soon as Jared had come, he had left, leaving Charlie to convince himself to cry later where no one could see him.
The dam, usually smelling of dead fish and sewage, was frozen over. The ice, inching its way to a warmer day, was so thin the green scum that laid upon the pond shined through. Clad in flannel jackets and tennis shoes, Jared and Aaron sat waiting. Perfecting the spooky tale of Phillip's grave wasn't an easy task. Both of them acting tough, knowing Phillip frightened their adolescent bones. Jared claimed he stole the donut off the grave last year, but everyone thought that was bull****.
The two boys were roughing around in the sticky snow when Charlie came lugging his stomach up the hill. He knew he was a few minutes late, and hoped they wouldn't notice. He knew better than that though. He could have showed up ten minutes early and he'd still be late. Snowballs bombarded him. It was either fate or bad aim, but Charlie dodged two and received a third straight to the ear. He dropped to his knees holding his head.
'****ers,' he thought, 'how foolish of me to show up here. Why did I even come?' He knew why, hopefully to put an end to seemingly endless harassment. A pocket knife waited next to his wallet. Charlie was good with his hands, and used it to carve wooden treasures. It was sharp and he trusted it. Jared and Charles both engulfed with intentions of horror. One with the upper hand and that hand held a blade.
“I almost placed a bet on you not showing up. You're lucky I didn't, or I would have gotten my moneys worth.”
“You, uh..better not try anything..” stammered Charlie. He had more trust in the blade than himself, like it would jump out of his pocket and wield itself.
“Like you would ****ing try anything, you fat ****” sneered Aaron.
“Alright,” moaned Jared, “Let's get this on the road we don't have a lot of time.” He was more excited than he tried to lead on. Thinking about seeing a real ghost gave him jitters, but the jitters aroused him rather than frightened.
Jared led, trudging back to the picnic table. Charlie sat down last, and rested his arms on the table. A sense of strange behavior was in the air. You could feel it in the silence before Jared started his story.
“It's been a mere five years since his accident. My grandma says his dead wife must have stopped watching over him when he started sleeping with the bakery lady.”
“How does your grandma even know something like that?” Interrupted Charlie.
“Listen to the ****in' story, Charlie,” demanded Aaron with a cold glare.
“So, five years ago today,” continued Jared, “Phillip visited the old woman at the bakery, bought a donut, probably kissed her good bye or some ****. My granny said, the roads were slicker than a thief that day. The accident happened on the west side of town, by the hospital. His car slid in front of an oncoming semi. Must have had a diabetic seizure, and lost control of his car.
“But every year since his death the bakery woman places a donut on his headstone honoring his memory. I stole it off his grave last year. I had to run for my life after though.”
“Did some one see you?” Asked Charlie becoming enthralled in the story, assuming soon he'd be robbing Phillip's grave. He could see the passion and belief in Jared's eyes as he spun his story.
“I wouldn't say someone, but something,” Jared paused like he was recalling a near fatal battle, “I went there after dark, and looked up the plot. You have to be very quiet, and make sure your flashlight doesn't shine everywhere.
“I found the grave and sure enough, on top was a ****ing donut. A good one too, topped with raspberry jelly. I snatched it, and started walking away. It was so soft and sweet, even after being left outside all day.
“Then, I wasn't more than a few feet from the grave and started hearing loud grumbling sounds from nowhere. The sound was similar to a stomach that's been hungry, and was eating itself. It went quiet for a very silent second. After that, the snow started crunching, crunching like bones, like footsteps packing ice.
“I took off. Only got one bite out of the donut before I tossed it.” Jared 's starry eyes seemed aflame after recounting the final part. Aaron had heard the story many times in the last year, listening with resentment. By stories end, there was always a flicker of wonder before his wits returned on waves of disbelief.
Charles never bought into the paranormal, and certainly wasn't going to put his belief in Jared. It was undeniable though, the details, his vibrant voice narrating, the way Jared seemed to honestly believe he got away, away from something. Charlie recognized that, and saw an opportunity to prove himself without violence. Maybe if he were to get his hands on the donut Jared would put the torment to rest.
“Is that why I'm here?” Charlie asked rhetorically.
“We're going to use you as bait, Charlie. I want to see him.”
“Then go do it yourself,” suggested Charlie in a sarcastic tone.
“It's not like I really believe in this ****,” Jared back peddled, “but if I had the choice I'd like to watch you get ravaged.”
A knot formed in Charlie's stomach like he was about to **** his pants. He put his hand in his back pocket searching for assurance.
Charlie, hoping to put the nail in the coffin, promised to meet at the cemetery gate an hour after dusk.
An hour early, Charlie planted himself on the curb before the cemetery gate. He was eating the lunch he asked his mother to pack. It was still light out, and he told his mother he was meeting friends at the park. The park sat behind him. He hasn't played there since he seen kids pissing down the slides.
Charlie thought getting there early had its advantages. The first was, not being late. He didn't want to get beat to death in a cemetery. Second, he could find the grave and the donut in the daylight. This was his big chance to prevail so there had to be precautions. He packed up the litter from his delightful dinner, and stepped through the gate.
Being lured in by an appetite of curiosity, he found the plot board. His fingers traced the deadened alphabet. It took him a few tries to find the correct Phillip since his last name had been a mystery to Charlie. Soon enough, he found the right Phillip. How did he know it was the right Phillip? On top of the headstone perched a donut like a crown of cholesterol.
'I could just steal the donut now, and wait by the gate if I wanted to,' thought Charlie. The thought quickly vanished. Jared would never believe Charlie went in and stole it, even in the daylight.
Charlie went up to the grave, and read the quote, 'A light rain and a donut,' was written. Ignorant of the significance he moved closer to the donut. Even though he had no plan to steal it yet, lifting it off the stone felt guilty. He put it close to his nose and took a long intoxicating drag. The brain triggered his saliva and gave into desire. Charlie stuck the tip of his finger into the jelly, which replicated red roses, and cleaned it off with his tongue. He felt guilty before, but now he really did. How could someone steal something so delicious and delicate? Putting the donut back Charlie thought, 'I'd rise from the dead too if someone stole my donut.'
Back on the curb Charlie was trying to conjure the last bit of jelly left in his teeth. He heard Jared. It was time.
“Hey, dip****!” Charlie's head jerked up and his chins followed. He wasn't nervous as he had been. Taking the trip to the plot desensitized him.
“About time you show up,” Charlie spoke with an odd confidence.
“Get your fat *** off the curb,” lazily suggested Aaron. Charlie took a breath and rocked to his feet, stumbled and stood steady. The moon like a spotlight brightened the confrontation.
“You gonna go in the dark?”
“I have a light on my phone,” Charlie took the phone out of his pocket to prove it. Jared batted the phone out of his hand landing it in a puddle of slush.
“Now you can find it by moonlight, retard,” taunted Jared with a smirk.
Charlie stood in a trance, not being able to move his legs forward. The scratch of a lighter snapped him out of it.
“****ing go,” Jared had lit a cigarette while Aaron rummaged a camera out of his pocket. Across the gate Charlie looked back, and Jared flicked his cigarette at him. The embers burned on the road, hissing in the silent snow.
Charlie played it cool and clumsy going to the directory. He didn't want it to seem obvious he had already been there. He fingered the board sporadically. Then carried on, stopping occasionally to eye up a headstone to play the part of foolish fatty.
There it was, the raspberry seeds like stars in the filling. Charlie stretched his hand out with a slight red stain on his finger.
“Why the **** is he taking so long?” Frustrated, Jared snatched Aaron's camera and went tracking Charlie.
Maybe a breeze blew, but Charlie brought the pastry back to his nose. As if the sound traveled up his body he heard the stomach rumblings, but to be fair they were his own. He couldn't believe he resisted eating the donut previously. Couldn't he take a bite now? A small one, a bite to quiet the cravings.
CRUNCH!
Charlie dropped to his knees as if being plummeted by snowballs. He realized he was squatting on Phillip's grave and pounced to his feet. After rushing to the neighboring grave he ducked down, and heard it again, louder and approaching.
CRUNCH!
'My only option is to make a break for it and escape,' Charlie thought. He put the donut into his left palm, and slipped out the knife from his back pocket. He took a bite from the honeymooner, a good giant bite. After that he flicked out the blade. As soon as he turned to run for his sanity the sillouette of the man on the moon stood before his exit plan. A light flashed, Charlie thought he lost his life. Then in a gravely manner Charles drove the blunted blade into Jared's lung. His juices bursted like a sliced pomegranate.
Before removing the weapon, Charlie released it and tried to flee out of fright. Only to slip, driving his face into the demon donut which landed on the dampened lawn. Charlie wailed as Jared gasped for air.
Slowly time passed
Charlie stood above Jared hysterical
As blood dripped from his nose
Jared wiggled and slapped
At air he could not grasp
It appeared as though he had seen a ghost
There was a plea for peace
Jared slipped, a life slightly greased
And finally he let go
Audio version here, https://soundcloud.com/nicholas-servatius/phillips-grave
Oh, it was a beautiful rain that morning. They were on the verge of spring, so a good rain to stave off white stains uplifted all. Phillip pulled his large Chrysler 5th Avenue right up to the door, snatching his usual parking spot and a half. He stepped out of his car with no umbrella and no hood, because he liked the way cold rain trickled through his thinning hair. He happily strolled the five feet to the bakery door. One of his favorite parts of visiting the bakery is the rush of baked love that floods your nostrils when the door opens. To his right, a fridge filled with milk and sodas, and to his left were the goods. Now, out of the rain, he ran his fingers through his fading follicles. It was 32 degrees, warm enough for rain, and cold enough to freeze.
He had choices. Well, he had many choices, but he knew which goods he preferred. All donuts are good donuts, but Phillip loved honeymooners the most. That day they had all been eaten. This felt strange to Phillip, honeymooners were a popular pick on Thursdays, not Mondays. "Oh well," he thought, shook off his discomfort, and politely asked for a twist.
“It's fifty cents with the Phillip discount!”
Blushing, as he did every time, he gave the nice lady two-fifty. Usually he would stay and chew the fat with her, but he could hear the light taps on the window; fingers from the clouds dancing on glass seducing Phillip.
A lustful smile filled Phillips face when he got his hands on the white paper bag. “It's almost too tempting to wait until I get to my car! I'd hate to make a messy fool of myself though.” She giggled politely, and wished him a pleasant day.
As he got one foot out the door he turned and asked, “Wendy, I know you have a job to do, but would you care to join me? You know I love the light rain and how it comforts me the same way your donuts do.”
“I'm terribly sorry, Phillip. No pun intended, but can I get a rain check? Maybe Thursday? It's supposed to rain, and I'll make extra honeymooners that day,” she replied.
Without embarrassment, he accepted the rain check and thanked her kindly. On the five foot jaunt back to the car he could feel it in his stomach. The way the donut would glaze his tongue as the wind shield wipers waved at him. This made him put a bit of pep in his step. Phillip swung open the car door, hopped in, and took off.
On the edge of town he took his first bite, he melted. As if he were a wicked witch driving a convertible, he sunk in his seat. With every bite he was reminded why this bread burned holes in his pockets. Soon the tranquility of his spotted windshield, where the drops had splashed, consumed him. He took another bite. A good giant bite! One that overflowed his mouth so he had to chew with his mouth open.
“Thank god Wendy can't see this,” he tried to say, while spitting little chunks of donut onto his steering wheel.
Reaching for his napkins he kept in his glove box, he jerked the wheel. His car violently fish-tailed making a perfect roadblock for the oncoming semi-truck. The roads slicker than a bowling alley, and his tires balder than he. Phillip didn’t stand a chance. The last thing Phillip ever heard was shattering glass. His last thought: a rain check left uncashed.
It was a small funeral service. Wendy was there, and that would have been enough for Phillip. She's the only person he's ever wanted to join him. At last, he had all her attention. The coffin finally hit rock bottom. As the people trickled off, and the fickle rain fell from the sky, Wendy remained. Tapping her foot above the grave, she watched the rain cause ant-size landslides. Reality finally sunk in; Phillip was truly dead.
“You were so excited and alive just a couple days ago,” she bewailed. The joy of a light rain and a donut, now locked in a box to rot. Tears chased the rain drops down her face as she reached into her purse. She pulled out a honeymooner wrapped in wax paper, and placed it on top of Phillip's headstone. It smelled better than all the flowers in the cemetery.
PHILLIP'S GRAVE
PART II
“Why don't we make that fat ****er Charlie do it!” Exclaimed Jared as he wolfed down a piece of pizza he got for lunch. He and his chum pal Aaron were too chicken **** to steal the honeymooner off of Phillip's grave. So instead they thought it'd be easier, not to mention funnier, to make Charlie do it.
“GIRTH!” Roared Jared before he wailed Charlie in the back of the head with his palm, causing him to stab his tongue with his fork.
Needless to say, he had had enough for the day. Quickly, he spun in his seat, his fist clenched tighter than his waistband. His inertia resulted with a swing and a miss for the big man. Not a lot of people had seen him lose balance and fall from his tiny circular seat. While Jared was further being an ******* laughing at fatty's fall, Charlie stabilized himself.
Once Jared noticed Charlie was back off the floor he swiftly approached him, and spoke very sternly, "Meet us above the dam by the picnic table at 4pm. If you don't show up we'll kick all 400lbs of **** out of you.” To seal the deal Jared punched Charlie in the gut sending him *** first into his seat. He tried to break his fall, but ended up spilling the remainder of his chocolate milk. Almost as soon as Jared had come, he had left, leaving Charlie to convince himself to cry later where no one could see him.
The dam, usually smelling of dead fish and sewage, was frozen over. The ice, inching its way to a warmer day, was so thin the green scum that laid upon the pond shined through. Clad in flannel jackets and tennis shoes, Jared and Aaron sat waiting. Perfecting the spooky tale of Phillip's grave wasn't an easy task. Both of them acting tough, knowing Phillip frightened their adolescent bones. Jared claimed he stole the donut off the grave last year, but everyone thought that was bull****.
The two boys were roughing around in the sticky snow when Charlie came lugging his stomach up the hill. He knew he was a few minutes late, and hoped they wouldn't notice. He knew better than that though. He could have showed up ten minutes early and he'd still be late. Snowballs bombarded him. It was either fate or bad aim, but Charlie dodged two and received a third straight to the ear. He dropped to his knees holding his head.
'****ers,' he thought, 'how foolish of me to show up here. Why did I even come?' He knew why, hopefully to put an end to seemingly endless harassment. A pocket knife waited next to his wallet. Charlie was good with his hands, and used it to carve wooden treasures. It was sharp and he trusted it. Jared and Charles both engulfed with intentions of horror. One with the upper hand and that hand held a blade.
“I almost placed a bet on you not showing up. You're lucky I didn't, or I would have gotten my moneys worth.”
“You, uh..better not try anything..” stammered Charlie. He had more trust in the blade than himself, like it would jump out of his pocket and wield itself.
“Like you would ****ing try anything, you fat ****” sneered Aaron.
“Alright,” moaned Jared, “Let's get this on the road we don't have a lot of time.” He was more excited than he tried to lead on. Thinking about seeing a real ghost gave him jitters, but the jitters aroused him rather than frightened.
Jared led, trudging back to the picnic table. Charlie sat down last, and rested his arms on the table. A sense of strange behavior was in the air. You could feel it in the silence before Jared started his story.
“It's been a mere five years since his accident. My grandma says his dead wife must have stopped watching over him when he started sleeping with the bakery lady.”
“How does your grandma even know something like that?” Interrupted Charlie.
“Listen to the ****in' story, Charlie,” demanded Aaron with a cold glare.
“So, five years ago today,” continued Jared, “Phillip visited the old woman at the bakery, bought a donut, probably kissed her good bye or some ****. My granny said, the roads were slicker than a thief that day. The accident happened on the west side of town, by the hospital. His car slid in front of an oncoming semi. Must have had a diabetic seizure, and lost control of his car.
“But every year since his death the bakery woman places a donut on his headstone honoring his memory. I stole it off his grave last year. I had to run for my life after though.”
“Did some one see you?” Asked Charlie becoming enthralled in the story, assuming soon he'd be robbing Phillip's grave. He could see the passion and belief in Jared's eyes as he spun his story.
“I wouldn't say someone, but something,” Jared paused like he was recalling a near fatal battle, “I went there after dark, and looked up the plot. You have to be very quiet, and make sure your flashlight doesn't shine everywhere.
“I found the grave and sure enough, on top was a ****ing donut. A good one too, topped with raspberry jelly. I snatched it, and started walking away. It was so soft and sweet, even after being left outside all day.
“Then, I wasn't more than a few feet from the grave and started hearing loud grumbling sounds from nowhere. The sound was similar to a stomach that's been hungry, and was eating itself. It went quiet for a very silent second. After that, the snow started crunching, crunching like bones, like footsteps packing ice.
“I took off. Only got one bite out of the donut before I tossed it.” Jared 's starry eyes seemed aflame after recounting the final part. Aaron had heard the story many times in the last year, listening with resentment. By stories end, there was always a flicker of wonder before his wits returned on waves of disbelief.
Charles never bought into the paranormal, and certainly wasn't going to put his belief in Jared. It was undeniable though, the details, his vibrant voice narrating, the way Jared seemed to honestly believe he got away, away from something. Charlie recognized that, and saw an opportunity to prove himself without violence. Maybe if he were to get his hands on the donut Jared would put the torment to rest.
“Is that why I'm here?” Charlie asked rhetorically.
“We're going to use you as bait, Charlie. I want to see him.”
“Then go do it yourself,” suggested Charlie in a sarcastic tone.
“It's not like I really believe in this ****,” Jared back peddled, “but if I had the choice I'd like to watch you get ravaged.”
A knot formed in Charlie's stomach like he was about to **** his pants. He put his hand in his back pocket searching for assurance.
Charlie, hoping to put the nail in the coffin, promised to meet at the cemetery gate an hour after dusk.
An hour early, Charlie planted himself on the curb before the cemetery gate. He was eating the lunch he asked his mother to pack. It was still light out, and he told his mother he was meeting friends at the park. The park sat behind him. He hasn't played there since he seen kids pissing down the slides.
Charlie thought getting there early had its advantages. The first was, not being late. He didn't want to get beat to death in a cemetery. Second, he could find the grave and the donut in the daylight. This was his big chance to prevail so there had to be precautions. He packed up the litter from his delightful dinner, and stepped through the gate.
Being lured in by an appetite of curiosity, he found the plot board. His fingers traced the deadened alphabet. It took him a few tries to find the correct Phillip since his last name had been a mystery to Charlie. Soon enough, he found the right Phillip. How did he know it was the right Phillip? On top of the headstone perched a donut like a crown of cholesterol.
'I could just steal the donut now, and wait by the gate if I wanted to,' thought Charlie. The thought quickly vanished. Jared would never believe Charlie went in and stole it, even in the daylight.
Charlie went up to the grave, and read the quote, 'A light rain and a donut,' was written. Ignorant of the significance he moved closer to the donut. Even though he had no plan to steal it yet, lifting it off the stone felt guilty. He put it close to his nose and took a long intoxicating drag. The brain triggered his saliva and gave into desire. Charlie stuck the tip of his finger into the jelly, which replicated red roses, and cleaned it off with his tongue. He felt guilty before, but now he really did. How could someone steal something so delicious and delicate? Putting the donut back Charlie thought, 'I'd rise from the dead too if someone stole my donut.'
Back on the curb Charlie was trying to conjure the last bit of jelly left in his teeth. He heard Jared. It was time.
“Hey, dip****!” Charlie's head jerked up and his chins followed. He wasn't nervous as he had been. Taking the trip to the plot desensitized him.
“About time you show up,” Charlie spoke with an odd confidence.
“Get your fat *** off the curb,” lazily suggested Aaron. Charlie took a breath and rocked to his feet, stumbled and stood steady. The moon like a spotlight brightened the confrontation.
“You gonna go in the dark?”
“I have a light on my phone,” Charlie took the phone out of his pocket to prove it. Jared batted the phone out of his hand landing it in a puddle of slush.
“Now you can find it by moonlight, retard,” taunted Jared with a smirk.
Charlie stood in a trance, not being able to move his legs forward. The scratch of a lighter snapped him out of it.
“****ing go,” Jared had lit a cigarette while Aaron rummaged a camera out of his pocket. Across the gate Charlie looked back, and Jared flicked his cigarette at him. The embers burned on the road, hissing in the silent snow.
Charlie played it cool and clumsy going to the directory. He didn't want it to seem obvious he had already been there. He fingered the board sporadically. Then carried on, stopping occasionally to eye up a headstone to play the part of foolish fatty.
There it was, the raspberry seeds like stars in the filling. Charlie stretched his hand out with a slight red stain on his finger.
“Why the **** is he taking so long?” Frustrated, Jared snatched Aaron's camera and went tracking Charlie.
Maybe a breeze blew, but Charlie brought the pastry back to his nose. As if the sound traveled up his body he heard the stomach rumblings, but to be fair they were his own. He couldn't believe he resisted eating the donut previously. Couldn't he take a bite now? A small one, a bite to quiet the cravings.
CRUNCH!
Charlie dropped to his knees as if being plummeted by snowballs. He realized he was squatting on Phillip's grave and pounced to his feet. After rushing to the neighboring grave he ducked down, and heard it again, louder and approaching.
CRUNCH!
'My only option is to make a break for it and escape,' Charlie thought. He put the donut into his left palm, and slipped out the knife from his back pocket. He took a bite from the honeymooner, a good giant bite. After that he flicked out the blade. As soon as he turned to run for his sanity the sillouette of the man on the moon stood before his exit plan. A light flashed, Charlie thought he lost his life. Then in a gravely manner Charles drove the blunted blade into Jared's lung. His juices bursted like a sliced pomegranate.
Before removing the weapon, Charlie released it and tried to flee out of fright. Only to slip, driving his face into the demon donut which landed on the dampened lawn. Charlie wailed as Jared gasped for air.
Slowly time passed
Charlie stood above Jared hysterical
As blood dripped from his nose
Jared wiggled and slapped
At air he could not grasp
It appeared as though he had seen a ghost
There was a plea for peace
Jared slipped, a life slightly greased
And finally he let go
Audio version here, https://soundcloud.com/nicholas-servatius/phillips-grave