My words are: pinecone, path, sun, patch, and evolve
They were submitted by: https://Bakinginatornado.com
This is part two to a story I did for my last UYW. I know these are hard to keep up with in multiple segments like this, so I'm probably going to end it here as far as blog challenges go, but I'm not sure I've seen the last of these characters. I kind of love them both.
here is part 1 if you need a refresher or didn't catch it last time: Granny Candy Part 1
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The two of them headed back to the Overlook, the hub—whatever it was—each with a Werther’s still tucked in their cheek. Well, whatever he had. She still wasn’t sure what he had going on under that hood.
I have word it begins in about 5 minutes or so. Your wake was last night. Closed casket as you requested, I believe. We did find that gem of a quote when we did our investigation. ‘I don’t want no [ahem] creepos staring at my dead body.’
“Well, it’s a little morbid. Don’t you think? Beyond weird wanting to look at lifeless bodies. I’ve seen one. It did NOT look like the person it was supposed to be, and I just really don’t know why people want THAT to be their last memory of someone.”
I will not argue that.
“But also, like, how the hell is my funeral in 5 minutes when I’ve been here like 5 hours or something.”
Time is different here. You will become accustomed, but it is much slower than what you experienced in life. It has been nearly a week since your accident there.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?”
Pardon?
“Did you really just say ‘pardon’ while I am in freak out mode over how dead I really am? You are infuriatingly adorable, ya grandma. So, can we, uh, blip on over to my funeral? I bet it’s gonna be lit.”
What is this ‘lit?’
“Poppin’, wild, people crying and shit and saying I was too young. Plus, I want to see how many people I didn’t like show up.”
I am thinking perhaps there will be many people who did not like you.
Lizzy paused a minute staring into the shadows of his hood then stuck out her tongue and crossed her hands over her chest. “You’re getting a little too good at roasting. Fast learner, I see. So, can we go or not?”
Go where?
“To my funeral, ya walnut. Where else? I want to see who shows up. Like, come on, that has to be better than what we were about to have to spend the next gazillion hours doing!”
Perhaps. I do have to admit I am not fond of visiting the Eternal Gardens.
“Wait.”
What now, child?
“Who in the ever loving fuck named them Eternal Gardens?”
She could feel his frown. He was aghast, embarrassed. “oh, shit… it was YOU!”
I thought it was quite fancy. Catchy, even.
“Oh, honey, no.” She doubled over laughing in her way, funeral almost forgotten until he cleared his throat loud enough to vibrate her chest.
Go ahead and laugh. Let’s see where this gets you.
“Grimmy! No! It’s adorable, but, uh, if you take me to my funeral, I’ll help you give the place a name that really works for the new kids coming in, evolve your style. And I’ll help you learn about all the candy.”
There is more than one candy?
“How has no one ever taught you about candy? Either way, do we have a deal?”
Are there even better candies?
“You bet your ghoulish ass there are.”
Then, yes, we do have a deal. The dead can wait. We do have a queue, after all. It shouldn't be long enough for the line to get too long.
“Well, it’s a little morbid. Don’t you think? Beyond weird wanting to look at lifeless bodies. I’ve seen one. It did NOT look like the person it was supposed to be, and I just really don’t know why people want THAT to be their last memory of someone.”
I will not argue that.
“But also, like, how the hell is my funeral in 5 minutes when I’ve been here like 5 hours or something.”
Time is different here. You will become accustomed, but it is much slower than what you experienced in life. It has been nearly a week since your accident there.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?”
Pardon?
“Did you really just say ‘pardon’ while I am in freak out mode over how dead I really am? You are infuriatingly adorable, ya grandma. So, can we, uh, blip on over to my funeral? I bet it’s gonna be lit.”
What is this ‘lit?’
“Poppin’, wild, people crying and shit and saying I was too young. Plus, I want to see how many people I didn’t like show up.”
I am thinking perhaps there will be many people who did not like you.
Lizzy paused a minute staring into the shadows of his hood then stuck out her tongue and crossed her hands over her chest. “You’re getting a little too good at roasting. Fast learner, I see. So, can we go or not?”
Go where?
“To my funeral, ya walnut. Where else? I want to see who shows up. Like, come on, that has to be better than what we were about to have to spend the next gazillion hours doing!”
Perhaps. I do have to admit I am not fond of visiting the Eternal Gardens.
“Wait.”
What now, child?
“Who in the ever loving fuck named them Eternal Gardens?”
She could feel his frown. He was aghast, embarrassed. “oh, shit… it was YOU!”
I thought it was quite fancy. Catchy, even.
“Oh, honey, no.” She doubled over laughing in her way, funeral almost forgotten until he cleared his throat loud enough to vibrate her chest.
Go ahead and laugh. Let’s see where this gets you.
“Grimmy! No! It’s adorable, but, uh, if you take me to my funeral, I’ll help you give the place a name that really works for the new kids coming in, evolve your style. And I’ll help you learn about all the candy.”
There is more than one candy?
“How has no one ever taught you about candy? Either way, do we have a deal?”
Are there even better candies?
“You bet your ghoulish ass there are.”
Then, yes, we do have a deal. The dead can wait. We do have a queue, after all. It shouldn't be long enough for the line to get too long.
He snapped his fingers again, and the two of them were standing in the entrance to the cemetery near her old elementary school. The sun shone on the path that lead to the heart of the place. The path itself was dirt, but it was peppered with patches of grass here and there and pinecones from the trees that provided shade and shadows all throughout the property. They could hear voices up ahead—the boom of a preacher especially. Which was odd. That wasn’t at all what she wanted.
Maybe Grimmy sensed her agitation because he stopped her from moving forward with a hand on her shoulder, are you certain you want to do this? It could be…difficult.
“Sure as fuck am. I want to see how much my drama queen of a mother made this about herself and not me.”
The two of them followed the path towards the sounds of the voices winding in between trees with headstones both old and new lining the land as far as she could see. “They won’t be able to see us will they?”
Not at all. We are not of this realm.
“Spooky.”
It IS rather ‘lit,’ is it not?
She turned to him in shock feeling his sassy pride wave over her. “I’ve created a monster. And I l o v e it.”
The two of them were a few yards off from the actual funeral at this point. The crowd was pretty huge like she figured. People she’d gone to school with that had been awful. People she’d been awful to…aunts, uncles, cousins, and family member she couldn’t remember when she saw last. Her mom was there in this huge black designer dress with a set of huge shoulder pads and an even bigger veiled hat sitting on her head. The thing was gaudy. Like, seriously, someone should have yeeted it straight into a toilet. It would have been doing her mom a favor. The woman was wailing of course, throwing her self on whatever man she’d brought with her, the boyfriend of the week, and sobbing loud enough to make the people next to her cringe. And in the front seats right up near the casket were all her mom's bougie ass friends.
“See, this is her show. This is nothing to do with me.”
Your mother seems rather anguished.
“For attention. Trust me.”
Lizzy heard a giggle then and shifted her attention to sift out the misplaced sound from the sea of tears and sniffles. When she found its source, she stopped in her tracks, mouth agape, face reddened beyond the shade of a ripe tomato. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. Who does this Post Malone lookin’, body odor havin’, no job holdin’, whole bitch think he is?”
To whom are you referring, child?
“Do you see that bum ass motherfucker over there with the matted hair wearing that Rastafari shirt?”
The young man with black hat?
“No, the one next to him with the ICP neck tattoo of the little ax guy holding a dildo, the one with the lion on his shirt. That, sorry as it makes me to say, is my ex.”
X? What is an X? Like the letter of the English alphabet? Is it some sort of abbreviation? What is an ICP?
“No, my dude. That’s E-X as in my ex boyfriend, someone I used to be in a relationship with but can no longer stand the sight of because he doesn’t have all his teeth and still lives with his mom. And no one really knows what ICP is. Don’t worry.”
Was he not a good partner?
“Does cheating on me with my best friend count as good? Or how about the time he stole my rent money out of my purse while I slept and spent it at a strip club with his loser ass friends?”
’Cheating,’ I assume, is a way your era discusses extramarital affairs? If so, he is a terrible human being, and his visit with me will be deliciously terrifying.”
The Cheshire cat grin that she felt coming from him absolutely felt every bit as terrifying as he made it sound.
“That’s my cousin he’s flirting with right now. At MY funeral. This waste of oxygen knows I would never want him within 10 miles of my funeral. I had to file a restraining order on him because he kept showing up at my work harassing me with his stunted vocabulary and weed stench.”
How do you know he is attempting to court her?
“Bet.”
Bet? But I do not gamble, dear.
“Oh Jesus Murphy Lynn. Let’s move closer and you’ll see.”
Okay, but I feel I must inform you that is not Jesus’ correct formal name.
Her eyeroll was magnificent. “Grimmy, sweaty, that is not the point.”
I do not sweat.
“Oh my god, if I wasn’t dead, I would stroke out right here just trying to have a normal conversation with you. Let’s go over there already.”
They moved the short distance to close the distance between them and the ex ending up directly behind them in the crowd. It didn’t take long for Grimmy to pick up what Jeremy, the ex, was attempting to lay down. He complimented her figure. He talked about his car. He talked about his newfound dj fame. DJ Lickalotapus. He played in a t-rex costume. (And he would). He touched her hair, said he felt sparks the same exact way he did when he talked to Lizzy the first time. AND HE INVITED HER TO HIS SHOW THAT NIGHT AT CLUB SERENITY.
The longer Grimmy listened the more intense she could feel his disgust. Lizzy, I see what you mean. He is, as you would say, a creepo.
“We are going to that show. We are going, we are haunting the fuck out of his set, and we are ruining his chances at putting another woman in my family through the shit I dealt with.”
My services may be needed sooner than that, Lizzy. I cannot leave you here, but I cannot desert my post. I also need your decision.
“…”
You need to know I do not think leaving this girl in any way the right decision.
“Wait. Listen. Time goes slower there, yeah? So it’s only been a few moments we were gone?”
Correct.
“Okay, so let’s snap back, leave a “back in 15 minutes sign”, and blip back over to the club. By the time we get back, any people that need you won’t have had to wait too long, and I’ll help you out with it.”
And we will get more candy after?
“Bet.”
The two of them did their blipping rather rapidly. Lizzy scribbled out the sign and hung it on the door to the hub, and even in those few moments, by the time they snapped through space to the club, it was nearly time for DJ Lickalotapus’ set to begin. And her little cousin was standing right up front grinning and waving at him.
Lizzy was in a rage. Grimmy was determined. That dino didn’t stand a chance.
“How do we do this?”
Do what exactly, my child?
“Haunt his shit! Can we interact with things here? What can I do or not do?”
Our energy is very limited here, but if you have enough emotional output, it is possible to interfere with objects or make others aware of your presence.
“Oh, I think I am topping the gd charts on emotional output. Let me at this sentient premature ejaculation.”
She was, topping the charts on emotional output that is. She pushed her hands into the turntables he was using. Sparks flew alright. But not the kind he was looking for with her cousin. She ripped her arms through his records sending them flying in all directions across the room crashing into walls and making the audience scream. In the haze and smoke from the failed machinery, she was so full of desperate anger that she took form, the smoke clinging to her features. That sad, smelly t-rex saw her. He saw the culprit, a puddle forming on the floor beneath him as he screamed. The lights of the club blinked out from the power surges sending even more people into a panic.
Grimmy stood amidst the chaos, and even though she couldn’t hear it, she felt his laughter, and before long, she was laughing right along with him while people rushed by them for the exits.
So, is this what you mean by ‘popping?’
“Indeed, it is.”
I must admit I have never had so much enjoyment.
“And we haven’t even gotten to the candy, yet.”
I may be starting to like you yet.
“Partners?”
I absolutely cannot imagine you anywhere else
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Here are the rest of the submissions:
Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com
On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/
The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com
The Blogging 911 http://theblogging911.com/blog
Cognitive Script https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/
