Today we have a new contributor to showcase. Greg is the 38th writer to submit work to this Substack, which speaks to the depth of the roster that we have at our disposal here. And in keeping with the ethos of creative freedom here
has submitted something that is as weird, memorable, unique and dazzling as the ultra-garish illustration that accompanies it. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.Enjoy.
No one knew what time the chickens would be doing their performance, but considering that all of the guests at the show were currently trapped in a wall of frozen karate sauce, it really didn’t matter.
In the distance, a bell tolled. No one was going anywhere.
“Barbados,” came a shrill cry from the inside of a banana. Again the bell tolled, this time in Portuguese, and this time it did so a total of eighty-seven times, making it both the most extravagant and longest bell toll in the history of the particular section of volumetric space - nine cubic cubits, to be precise - where the bell in fact resided in this instance of the universe.
“What?” responded a fruit fly. It hovered just a few feet from the banana, the wall of frozen karate sauce blocking him from feasting upon it.
“Barbados, I said,” cried the first voice again. It belonged to a famous Italian marmalade baron, a one Mr. Stromboli Barzal Freddigucci. He wiggled around a bit, trying to free himself from the frigid encasement, wrinkling his fine, hand-tailored suit in the process. The fruit fly buzzed around like an elastic helicopter. It zizzed and zagged and zoomed and then it landed on Mr. Freddigucci’s nose.
“What about it?” The fly asked.
“It’s just that I’ve always wanted to go there,” Freddigucci said. He had a sad look on his face, like a stuffed animal that had just been ripped apart by a puppy. Then he cried tears of remorse into his expensive Italian mustache. It was a Lamborghini mustache, with sleek, elegant handles that stuck out, dangling over his jaw like melting diving boards. If he twisted his tongue a little bit while farting, he could make the mustache handles swing up just like the doors on the cars. It was a great mustache and he loved it but the insurance was costing him a fortune. Also, every time he parked, he would stress out about it getting dinged.
The fruit fly scoffed. “You’re a marmalade baron. A gelatinous citrus tycoon. One part grapefruit, one part Rothschild. Why can’t you just take a personal day and fly down there on one of your private jets?”
“Well, for starters, I’m trapped in a nylon banana partially embedded in a frozen wall of karate sauce.”
“I can see that being a blocker,” the fruit fly said. Time passed and day became night. Then the chickens finally arrived and a beautiful thing happened. The karate sauce slowly began to melt. It was because of the chickens, because they were so hot. Really attractive chickens can have that effect.
Freddigucci and his banana began sliding out of their confines, the slushy condiment punching and kicking at him as they did.
“Hi-yah…Aiyah…Eeeeyah!!” the sauce cried.
Freddigucci didn’t care, it was nothing compared to some of the rough stuff he had encountered in the marmalade business. Besides, he was free, not like Juneteenth free, but really free, like oh-wow-there’s-no-IRS-anymore free.
Finally Freddigucci tumbled out from his banana and lay on the floor. The fruit fly resumed its triumphant flight path. Trumpets played in the background, and Mr. Freddigucci’s personal shoe shiner arrived to buff up his kicks.
“Well?” The fruit fly said, chewing on the nylon banana.
“Barbados!” Freddigucci cried. He sent his shoe shiner away, and then summoned his private jet. It was stupendous. It was lime green and had six wings and a beverage section featuring a blender that told jokes. Good ones too! Even the flight crew was fantastic - the pilot was an ocelot wearing a chrome sweater!
Mr. Freddigucci and the fruit fly got on board, but not before Freddigucci made the wings of his mustache go up and down several times.
Barbados is a long flight, you know.
Wild! I loved this.
Love it. The difficulty of absurdist humor is keeping it going without it breaking down to dullness or self-destructing via self-justification, and this pulled through and stuck the landing,
especially after a long flight ;)