Brock Sticks the Landing
I saw this prompt by Alicia and gave it a shot. Enjoy the fever dream!
Down the aisle, past the weed whackers and hedge trimmers and rototillers, idling in front of the lawn mowers, stands a gently swaying Brachiosaurus.
From the pruning shears section, Jim Stoops, lead sales douche, eyes his mark. He checks his smile in the reflection of a plastic clamshell—the kind that’ll earn you stitches if you try opening it without tin snips and PPE—and licks a prehensile tongue over artificially white teeth. After popping a handful of breath mints, he walks confidently toward the potential customer who’s eyeballing a budget model.
“That one’s pretty good,” Jim sidles up, slick as oil, “but if you really want to get the job done in style, a ride-on is the only way to go.” Jim pats the side of a premium lawn mower with a big price tag. “This baby’s the real deal. She’ll do five Olympic-size lawns a day if you push her.” He winks.
All he gets for his efforts is a grunt and a huff. The dinosaur’s breath is thick with the smell of chewed cud and grain alcohol. It makes Jim’s eyes water and he staggers backward a little.
“Look, Brock…do you mind if I call you Brock? You look like a Brock…”
No response, just an annoyed look.
“I’m gonna call you Brock. Maybe yellow is more your style,” he motions at a different, but equally expensive cluster of ride-on mowers and leans in close, like he’s filling Brock in on a well-kept secret. In a low voice, he says “And if you buy today, I can get you a massive discount…”
Brock gives Jim a look usually reserved for when someone smells dog shit and finds it on the bottom of their shoe, then belches in the sales jerk’s face.
Jim’s hair ruffles in the rush of warm, humid air. Something wet hits his cheek and sticks. He chokes back a gag, swallows, takes a moment to catch his breath, and goes on like a trooper. “Look, all I’m saying is that before you make up your mind, you should at least give it a test drive.”
The dinosaur grunts again. Or maybe sighs. Anybody else would have left Brock alone by now. Not Jim. He really wants that bonus. Instead of backing off, he pulls a ratchet tie down out of one of his pockets, whips it out like he’s been practicing in the mirror after hours. “Let’s get you into one of these things…”
Brock watches, mesmerized for a second, smiles stupidly, sits with a crash that shakes the foundations, and sticks out a leg.
Jim eagerly straps one of the larger models onto a foot the size of a piano.
Brock runs the mower back and forth a few times and holds out another leg. Jim straps on a second. Soon, there’s one attached to each foot, like roller skates. Brock stands, looks down, runs his feet back and forth, and starts laughing.
Jim can’t help it. It’s too fucking ridiculous. He laughs, too.
The dinosaur guffaws.
Jim snorts.
The dinosaur bends its neck down, nudges Jim toward the ignition. Jim goes along, laughing so hard his guts hurt and his face cramps. He reaches out, twists the key, hits the starter switch, all while he clutches his mid-section and tries to catch his breath. One by one, the ride-on mowers roar to life.
The noise is deafening, even in the large open space of the department store. Other customers stop and stare.
Jim is braying uncontrollably, shaking, tears streaming down his face, when Brock lifts his foot up and brings the spinning blades down on Jim’s head, turning him into thick red paste and bone splinters. He’s still laughing when the blades get to his ankles.
So is Brock as he skates out of the mall and into the parking lot. The four mowers whine and drone and change pitch in subtle ways as he moves, providing a dissonant soundtrack as he performs an asphalt ballet on wheels and blades. Brock glides along with a grace that defies his size, pulls off a series of silky figure eights, twists, and spins, all while aiming for pedestrians.
When he finishes his routine and takes his bow, there’s nobody left to cheer for him.
Oh well…
Brock kicks off the mismatched skates and looks over his shoulder at the crumbling old building.
It’s nicer on the inside.
—
End
🤯🤯🤣🤣 This is amazing, Aaron!! Freaking hilarious. I love it!
This belongs in the literary halls right alongside the Iliad, Finnegans Wake and Moby Dick...