Monday, March 14, 2011


Nancy had visited the hospital multiple times describing the same tightness in the chest. She felt suffocated. She felt like a tube of Pillsbury crescent dough was packed into her ribcage and with the twist of her torso, she might burst open oozing flaky goodness.

Being only twenty-five years old, the doctors didn't take her very seriously in the cardiology department. She tested in prime health and showed no signs of heart disease. So they would just give her a children's Tylenol, tell her it was stress, and send her on her way.

But Nancy didn't have a stressful life. In fact, her life was perfect. Her job was sufficient but enjoyable. She worked as a receptionist for a booming internet search engine, Whaazow; The sister company to the multi-billion dollar person search engine, Whoozow. It was a calm environment that practically ran itself. Even though work started at 10, she was often fifteen minutes to a half hour late and that was tolerated. Every Friday was luau day where everyone would wear Hawaiian shirts and tropical drinks were served at four.

She had a college degree from tech school and planned on moving up at Whaazow once she received her masters degree. But she really wasn't fueled by career or money.

She had a hairless cat that she loved very much. She named him Groucho Marx due to the patterns that blackened his pink skin below the nose and on the eye brows in the perfect resemblance to Groucho's characteristics.

She lived with her boyfriend, Randell, whom she loved in extreme amounts and he loved her equally. In fact, they were one of those couples who are sickening to be around because they loved each other so much. And it seemed like the more time passed, the more in love they grew.

One Saturday night, they were watching an 80s love comedy (their favorite film genre) when Nancy started to feel an awkward pain in her stomach. Randell was unaware. Other than pausing for a short moment, she ignored the sharp prodding feeling and continued to eat popcorn and laugh, hoping that it would go away.

The feeling went away momentarily and the 80s "getting ready for the dance" montage continued. But shortly after, the pain came back. This time, she clinched at the gnawing in her intestines. Randell noticed her uncomfortability, and turned away from the climatic moment at the dance (will she go with the nerd that she loves or the hunky jock that she's always fantasized about). "Are you okay?"

Nancy couldn't respond. The pain was too much. Holding her chest, she rolled off the couch onto the floor amongst the popcorn victims of suicide leaps. She tightened up into a vomiting ball like a potato bug diseased with insecticide. Green pea soup poured out of her mouth with chewed up popcorn kernels riding out on the rapids.

She rolled over onto her back and all was silent. Randell yelled for a response "Nancy!" Her lifeless body stared up at the ceiling with empty eyes. The only thing that came out of her mouth was a final green drop, sliding down the side of her cheek. Randell stood up and stared at the lifeless carcass of his sweetheart. What to do. What to do.

Then, with a burst of blood, her stomach popped open as a bloody muscular mass raised it's head out of the cavity. The mouth of the superior vena cava lashed for air with sharp pointy teeth of bone. The throbbing beast, the size of a mature badger, tumbled out of the empty shell and onto the floor. It had devoured everything inside her torso. It crawled towards Randell using aortas and arteries in movements resembling an octopus on the ocean floor.

Everything turned out okay in the 80s. The nerd got the girl, the girl discovered that beauty is on the inside, and the jock was extremely embarrassed to be rejected. Randell stumbled back against the wall, but he too would soon meet his fate to a monster that was created by the power of love.

Copyright © 2011 Gris Grimly


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