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Carpet, 03.17 A.M.
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TITLE (EDIT)
Carpet, 03.17 A.M.
DESCRIPTION
From a series of stories about the town of zurich in the tradition of black humour. And horror.
[673 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Horror
AUTHOR
Maurice Codourey
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Swiss Author, Text Teacher/Coach (german), Advertising Professional with own small publishing office - www.editionvirgule.com.
Writing since many years about the unusual, anger and point of no return - the anti-happy end - www.zoori.ch
[May 2005]
Carpet, 03.17 A.M.
Maurice Codourey

I was sitting on the sofa. The movie of the finnish movielegend Ari Kaurismäki couldn’t cheer me up. I got a blunt mood. So I decided to keep on munchin these mexican burrito crackers. It seemed, that the uncountable crumbles formed a kind of wave on the carpet. At that evening i didn’t like the movie, the crackers nor the book I was reading about nanorobotics. The remote control did a "klonk" when it hit the wall. I starred at the bookshelfs, the dusty edges of the living room. I focused some of my comic books. That could be a help for this unexpected, bad and somehow sad evening.

The story in the comic book was about the daily life of a brutal group of outlaws and robbers in the vast mongolian desert during the 8th century. Following the coloured pictures and textbubbles I heared some strange noises. The broken heating? Something in the kitchen? Guess not. Two pages later, the same noise. Now what the hell is that? It must be something in the living room.

I went to my private lab downstairs to get the microscope. Now I was ready to trace the unkown. Like a radar, my ears checked the room, whenever the noise was on I could get closer to it a little. Finally I was standing in front of the sofa, looking down on the carpet. This old, green, filthy thing. The crumble sea... what is going on in there?

I was laying on the carpet, adjusting the microscope several times. With the factor 150 i was finally able to see through the woods of carpet hairs. To discover the bizar forms of the cracker crumbles. And at last to spot the origin of the noise. Some tiny guys with longhair, looking like the first men on earth, were running through my carpet! White faced, I looked around my living room. What? The microscope reveiled this unbelievable scene. About five prehistoric guys runned through the carpet, hacking off pieces of my cracker crumbles, stuffing them into primitiv backpacks. And yelling something to each other. "Thats the noise", I said and the hackers freezed. They looked up to me, talking to each other and runned away.

The next day I came home with a rented carpet cleaning machine. With a lot of shampoo and cleaning liquids I gave my old carpet a full blast of chemistry. May these robbers, gangsters, weard creatures die! No more crumbles here!

Two weeks later, in the middle of the night. I woke up with a dry mouth – it felt like a piece of leather of the last century. Without putting the lights on, I tumbled to the kitchen, looking for something to drink. Then I felt a terrible pain on and under my feet – it really burned. So, first to the bathroom. The clock showed 03. 12 a.m. At the door of the living room, something disturbed me in the eyes. I was shaking the head, looking again. There was a little light coming out of the carpet. What? With eyes wide open I jumped into the living room, taking the microscope, laying down, checking this strange light. There were these carpet criminals again. The hacked a whole in my carpet, made a fire and were doing a barbecue. I shaked my head again. Cool down, now again. This must be imagination. In this moment, another wave of pain rushed through my feet and my body. I screamed, turned around, putting the lights on. There were strange stains all over my feet. I looked again, these were no stains. No – endless bloody wounds. I screamed again...turning around, falling with my head right in front of the barbecue party of the tiny ones. I couldn’t move and saw now a lot of these guys, some bringing fresh stuff with the backpacks for the fire. They sang, laughed, looked at me with a smile, showing me something looking like a injection. The last I heared at 03.17 a.m. was the song: "Feet crumbles, feet crumbles, oh yesss!"

      

 

READER'S REVIEWS (2)
DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.

"Not a great story and kind of weird.'runned away?'Dude, that's not proper english.Next time you have little men in your carpet get a can of bug spray and then spray some of it on this story you wrote and burn it." -- D.
"I think that what caught my attention was the # of hits this story has recieved...wow! But the story was not so impressive. For me it lacked the visual aspect...try to put me there. Look forward to seeing more from you." -- mattie.

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2001 Maurice Codourey
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
May 2005
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
3924
 

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