Free Weirder Than Weird by Francis Burger Page A

help,” he implored the voice. “I think I broke my neck!”
         “Is that so, fat boy!” came a sarcastic reply.
        Sal frantically rolled his eyes once more.
        “No Shamu, down here! Look down, you big bag of cookie dough!”
        Sitting upon his chest was a large black ant intently staring him in the face. “That’s right, I’m talking to you, bug killer!”
        Sal focused his attention on the little creature. “No!” he said to himself, “this can’t be… I must be dreaming!”
        “You think so, do you tubby? What do you guys think?” the ant cried out as it looked around the room. “Is this a dream my friends?”
        A clamor of small voices immediately broke out and soon fell into a steady chant of “BUG KILLER! BUG KILLER! BUG KILLER!”
        The entire room was awash with ants, grasshoppers, crickets, cockroaches, spiders and every type of insect imaginable, their families all having felt the merciless sting of Sal’s vile methods. The ant raised one of its legs and the crowed soon quieted.
        “Damn all of you creepy slinkers!” Sal screamed in protest, his face reddening, “If I could move I would squash each and every one of you into oblivion!”
        They all laughed mockingly at the impotent bug killer.
        The ant moved a little closer to Sal’s face. “Kind of plucky for a motionless fat man, don’t you think? How horrible it must be for you to be at the mercy of the tiniest of creatures!”
        Sal responded by attempting to blow the ant from his chest, only he was soon panting from his efforts.
        The ant laughed out loud. “How truly pathetic you are, old boy!” It turned to the crowed once again. “What do you guys think we should do with this beached whale of a bug killer?”
        “EAT HIM!” came a singular shout from the kitchen counter. The rest of them picked up on the words and a resounding chant was intoned once again. “EAT HIM! EAT HIM! EAT HIM!”
        The ant again turned to Sal, “We hold all the cards now, Sal! How does it feel, old boy? The shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it? Oh, that’s right!” said the ant, followed by a maniacal laugh, “My mistake… you don’t have a foot!”
        It then looked back at Sal’s foot and Sal followed its gaze. A grizzled look of horror suddenly flashed on Sal’s face. The ants had thoroughly picked his flesh clean and only a skeletal foot remained. He then let forth the mother of all screams… “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
        “Calm down Mr. Berringer,” said a soft and soothing voice floating on the periphery of his senses. “Please, just relax sir, you’re in the hospital and we’re taking good care of you.”
        Sal groggily awoke to a figure standing over him wearing a cap, mask and gown. “What… what happened? I can hardly see a thing!”
        “Are you having difficulty focusing, Mr. Berringer?” asked the nurse bending closer.
        “Yeah… you’re all blurry, what’s going on here?”
        “Well sir, your neighbor spotted you lying on your kitchen floor in a pool of blood and fortunately for you called an ambulance.”
        Sal tentatively wriggled his fingers and lifted his arms, a look of relief passed over his face.        
        “The doctor is pulling pieces of a plate from your foot right now.”
    Sal glanced down and a second later saw a masked face pop up from behind a tented apparatus at his feet.
        “Good to have you back with us, Mr. Berringer! I’m Doctor Tapinoma, I’m just taking out some plate slivers from your foot… it’s quite a mess down here. I’ve given you a local anesthetic so you shouldn’t feel a thing. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood, but you’ll be fine. As for your impaired vision and any paralysis you may have experienced…well… it’s the result of an overexposure of the chemicals you use in your work. Perhaps you should consider another line of