Gobs and Monsters
Yea, though it has been a day now since these events took pass, I finally feel that my weakened heart and madness-shattered mind may speak of them. This, friends, is a horrible and fantastic tale sure to scar the unsure of stomach and heart. Heed my warning: Read not this passage lest ye too dream my dreams of terror....
It all began innocently, as so many of these tales do. The last warm days of autumn were upon us, and I strode out to perform my yardkeeping duties one final time. I perused my vast third of an acre estate, seeking to assess how I could most efficiently mow it. However, my eyes immediately fell upon a great impurity in the long green grasses - leaves. Thousands of leaves great and small had fallen in the last few days, for the arboreal titans that stand sentinel along my street had shed their foliage like a suddenly bitter boot camp recruit watching his hair fall to the ground after paying some jerk five fucking dollars to do it, what the hell is up with this bullsh-- but I digress, my friends.
I had to trim the grasses, and to trim I had to move the leaves. Words of wisdom from my father on this very topic came to my head. "That lawn is a damned mess, you have to mow it. It's been weeks. And rake up the leaves first, or the acid in them will kill the damn grass. And stop procrastinating, dammit, or your neighbors will sue." The memory of his tender words warmed me, but a sudden fear stirred in me as I gazed upon the leaves. O Providence!, had I only been so wise as to flee the sight of them, then I would not be plagued so by these nightly terrors that I have had for a night now. But alas, I was not.
Rake in hand, I stode out to rid my lands of the little brown trespassers. My neighbors, lifelong and loving friends all, called words of encouragement to me as I began to drag the leaves into a pile in the center of my yard. "Hey Wilson, it's about damn time!" "Why don't you just hire some kid to mow for you weekly? Hell, property values!". Given strength by their praise, I raked. Despite the effort it took to move so many leaves, I had soon gathered the fallen foliage from half of the lawn into a great pile. Smiling and proud of myself, I was not detered in the slightest as I watched a few more leaves fall from a tree through the still air and onto a patch of now-cleared lawn. O Fate, why did you not warn me then of what was to come? Why was I to remain oblivious of coming events? But alas, I was.
I was beginning to tire and thirst from my exertions, but a darkening sky drove me on. I knew that once the rains fell, the task of mowing would be postponed and I had no more time for such things. I raked, and raked some more. A full three quarters of my lawn was cleared by me by then, when I felt ... something. Something was awry. I glanced over my shoulder and my fate was sealed. The winds began as I took that fateful glance. Shaken from their places by the zephyrs and ignoring that I used the word 'fate' twice, they fell. First in ones, then twos, even in threes and fours, ha! four falling leaves!, ha! Five! Five falling leaves!, they fell. I looked upon my handiwork and witnessed it being undone. Steeling my resolve, and with further encouraging words from the Smiths next door, "Great, now you'll never finish the damn thing.", I attacked the new menace to the order I had established between my porch and the sidewalk far below.
I drew the new leaves into the center pile as treetop gusts passed overhead, seeding my lawn like some kind of whooshy Johnny Appleseed. But these were no apples that he dropped, my friends. These were a menace, bleached of their chlorophyll and with malevolent designs upon my fair estate. I raked faster and faster, foolishly daring the wind to do its best. And it did, O it did. I would never have guessed that a mere pair of trees would harbor so many dead leaves and so much hatred for their yet green grassy brethren below. The beginnings of horror struck me and my watching neighbors. I cursed the winds above me and threatened them with my weapon, my proximate friends empathically cheering me on, "What the hell are you doing, Wilson? Are you crazy?" So did my ordeal begin.
I returned to my lawnsweeping task with abandon. I was a man possessed. Yet, possessed no longer by merely my steadfast adherence to my duties (evidenced by the six inch patches of grass that gaily tickled my ankles), I was possessed by something worse. I was possessed by fear, my friends. Possessed by fear and possessing a rake, I worked feverishly, even possessively. Then it truly began. I was gathering the falling leaves into the pile, focused only only their mocking presence and not the consequences of the now man-tall stack behind me. I felt something cold and evil on my leg. I looked down at my rather sexy extremity, yeah go me you sexy man, and gasped in alarm. The leaves! The very leaves of the pile had me! Reaching for me, they yanked my legs out from under me and drew me in. I was fast entombed by endless numbers of crinkly autumnal horrors. For a long moment, all the world was silent except for a brief and concerned neighbor "Honey, he's nuts. I'm done clipping these bushes, can we go inside now?"
Alone now and encased, I knew I had mere seconds to think and act. But what? What is this thing that I have summoned with my arrogant curses to the wind and my own posses-- ah, never mind that word -- my own mad devotion to mowing? The leaves began to stir around me as the answer popped into my mind. Not for nothing had I read the Fiend Folio as a young and geeky lad (available at fine bookstores where chaosvizier doesn't shop). My long studies of that timewasting tome had paid off, for I knew the name of my tormentor. I shuddered and knew I faced.... a Leaf Elemental.
Tendrils made of the leaves tightened around me, but I was faster than they. I leapt out and onto my feet. I turned to the beast and met it's roaring challenge with a salute from my weapon, my rake. It rose to the height of a roof, twirling tentacles of twigs lashing out at me. I parried the first thrust with my rake, then a second and ha! three! three parries! With a broad sweep, I struck at the front of my nemesis. A mass of the elemental's leafy, um... mass, was tossed into the wind. It bellowed in pain and hatred, and renewed its attack. I was adept with a rake and fast on my feet, but even my mad skillz could not entirely protect me. Stumbling backwards, I fell onto my posterior. My chest was lacerated by a twiggy whip. The leaf elemental loomed over me. It's ululating victory howl echoed off of the nearby houses in that peculiar way that only a crinkly sounding ulule can do. My life depended on these next few seconds.
Not for nothing did I watch Jet Li star in 'The New Shaolin'. Remembering his feats of kung-fu derring-do, I jumped to my feet and cried "Powerful Rake Stance!!" I thrust the rake deep into the bowels of the leaf-thing, and raked. I raked left, raked right, yea even up and down. Wounded elemental whines filled the air. Ever pluck a leaf from a tree and listen, really listen, to it's teensy little screech as you tear it in two? This was like that, but way louder. Refusing to catagorize myself as a man possessed, I spread the leaves across my lawn. Finally, after stomping one last stick into matchsticks, I was done. I lived, and my house was saved. I wiped the sweat from my brow, dropped my rake to the lawn and walked inside. It was time to celebrate victory as the great heroes of the past had done. It was time to be like unto Tamerlane, Beowolf, and mighty Ulukalu. It was time for pudding.
My friends, this story does not end here. Woe unto me, but my gauntlet of horrors had just begun. For, in my cabinet and in my fridge, vengeance stirred. But that is a tale for later. This telling has drained me and I must now go cry like a little girl.
It all began innocently, as so many of these tales do. The last warm days of autumn were upon us, and I strode out to perform my yardkeeping duties one final time. I perused my vast third of an acre estate, seeking to assess how I could most efficiently mow it. However, my eyes immediately fell upon a great impurity in the long green grasses - leaves. Thousands of leaves great and small had fallen in the last few days, for the arboreal titans that stand sentinel along my street had shed their foliage like a suddenly bitter boot camp recruit watching his hair fall to the ground after paying some jerk five fucking dollars to do it, what the hell is up with this bullsh-- but I digress, my friends.
I had to trim the grasses, and to trim I had to move the leaves. Words of wisdom from my father on this very topic came to my head. "That lawn is a damned mess, you have to mow it. It's been weeks. And rake up the leaves first, or the acid in them will kill the damn grass. And stop procrastinating, dammit, or your neighbors will sue." The memory of his tender words warmed me, but a sudden fear stirred in me as I gazed upon the leaves. O Providence!, had I only been so wise as to flee the sight of them, then I would not be plagued so by these nightly terrors that I have had for a night now. But alas, I was not.
Rake in hand, I stode out to rid my lands of the little brown trespassers. My neighbors, lifelong and loving friends all, called words of encouragement to me as I began to drag the leaves into a pile in the center of my yard. "Hey Wilson, it's about damn time!" "Why don't you just hire some kid to mow for you weekly? Hell, property values!". Given strength by their praise, I raked. Despite the effort it took to move so many leaves, I had soon gathered the fallen foliage from half of the lawn into a great pile. Smiling and proud of myself, I was not detered in the slightest as I watched a few more leaves fall from a tree through the still air and onto a patch of now-cleared lawn. O Fate, why did you not warn me then of what was to come? Why was I to remain oblivious of coming events? But alas, I was.
I was beginning to tire and thirst from my exertions, but a darkening sky drove me on. I knew that once the rains fell, the task of mowing would be postponed and I had no more time for such things. I raked, and raked some more. A full three quarters of my lawn was cleared by me by then, when I felt ... something. Something was awry. I glanced over my shoulder and my fate was sealed. The winds began as I took that fateful glance. Shaken from their places by the zephyrs and ignoring that I used the word 'fate' twice, they fell. First in ones, then twos, even in threes and fours, ha! four falling leaves!, ha! Five! Five falling leaves!, they fell. I looked upon my handiwork and witnessed it being undone. Steeling my resolve, and with further encouraging words from the Smiths next door, "Great, now you'll never finish the damn thing.", I attacked the new menace to the order I had established between my porch and the sidewalk far below.
I drew the new leaves into the center pile as treetop gusts passed overhead, seeding my lawn like some kind of whooshy Johnny Appleseed. But these were no apples that he dropped, my friends. These were a menace, bleached of their chlorophyll and with malevolent designs upon my fair estate. I raked faster and faster, foolishly daring the wind to do its best. And it did, O it did. I would never have guessed that a mere pair of trees would harbor so many dead leaves and so much hatred for their yet green grassy brethren below. The beginnings of horror struck me and my watching neighbors. I cursed the winds above me and threatened them with my weapon, my proximate friends empathically cheering me on, "What the hell are you doing, Wilson? Are you crazy?" So did my ordeal begin.
I returned to my lawnsweeping task with abandon. I was a man possessed. Yet, possessed no longer by merely my steadfast adherence to my duties (evidenced by the six inch patches of grass that gaily tickled my ankles), I was possessed by something worse. I was possessed by fear, my friends. Possessed by fear and possessing a rake, I worked feverishly, even possessively. Then it truly began. I was gathering the falling leaves into the pile, focused only only their mocking presence and not the consequences of the now man-tall stack behind me. I felt something cold and evil on my leg. I looked down at my rather sexy extremity, yeah go me you sexy man, and gasped in alarm. The leaves! The very leaves of the pile had me! Reaching for me, they yanked my legs out from under me and drew me in. I was fast entombed by endless numbers of crinkly autumnal horrors. For a long moment, all the world was silent except for a brief and concerned neighbor "Honey, he's nuts. I'm done clipping these bushes, can we go inside now?"
Alone now and encased, I knew I had mere seconds to think and act. But what? What is this thing that I have summoned with my arrogant curses to the wind and my own posses-- ah, never mind that word -- my own mad devotion to mowing? The leaves began to stir around me as the answer popped into my mind. Not for nothing had I read the Fiend Folio as a young and geeky lad (available at fine bookstores where chaosvizier doesn't shop). My long studies of that timewasting tome had paid off, for I knew the name of my tormentor. I shuddered and knew I faced.... a Leaf Elemental.
Tendrils made of the leaves tightened around me, but I was faster than they. I leapt out and onto my feet. I turned to the beast and met it's roaring challenge with a salute from my weapon, my rake. It rose to the height of a roof, twirling tentacles of twigs lashing out at me. I parried the first thrust with my rake, then a second and ha! three! three parries! With a broad sweep, I struck at the front of my nemesis. A mass of the elemental's leafy, um... mass, was tossed into the wind. It bellowed in pain and hatred, and renewed its attack. I was adept with a rake and fast on my feet, but even my mad skillz could not entirely protect me. Stumbling backwards, I fell onto my posterior. My chest was lacerated by a twiggy whip. The leaf elemental loomed over me. It's ululating victory howl echoed off of the nearby houses in that peculiar way that only a crinkly sounding ulule can do. My life depended on these next few seconds.
Not for nothing did I watch Jet Li star in 'The New Shaolin'. Remembering his feats of kung-fu derring-do, I jumped to my feet and cried "Powerful Rake Stance!!" I thrust the rake deep into the bowels of the leaf-thing, and raked. I raked left, raked right, yea even up and down. Wounded elemental whines filled the air. Ever pluck a leaf from a tree and listen, really listen, to it's teensy little screech as you tear it in two? This was like that, but way louder. Refusing to catagorize myself as a man possessed, I spread the leaves across my lawn. Finally, after stomping one last stick into matchsticks, I was done. I lived, and my house was saved. I wiped the sweat from my brow, dropped my rake to the lawn and walked inside. It was time to celebrate victory as the great heroes of the past had done. It was time to be like unto Tamerlane, Beowolf, and mighty Ulukalu. It was time for pudding.
My friends, this story does not end here. Woe unto me, but my gauntlet of horrors had just begun. For, in my cabinet and in my fridge, vengeance stirred. But that is a tale for later. This telling has drained me and I must now go cry like a little girl.