Kirby Superstar

Parents screamin': "Johnny, go and call the police Tell 'em there's a crazy blob disturbing all of the peace!"
Parents screamin': "Johnny, go and call the police Tell 'em there's a crazy blob disturbing all of the peace!"

Let me tell you about this Kirby guy. He’s been around for a while now, but I’ve never really had anything to do with him; running in different circles, you know? I’d always heard that Kirby was a mean sonofabitch—the word on the street was that he’d killed people. A lot of people.

Now, I don’t usually pay much attention to these kind of rumours since they’re usually BS pumped out by some punk looking for more attention than he’s worth. You make the guy in your story a real bad ass and maybe people think you’re one for hanging out with him. It’s easy to rest on someone else’s laurels since you ain’t gotta do shit.

This is important to the story I’m going to tell you since I don’t want you to think I’m trying to associate myself with Kirby, ’cause I’m not. I don’t want anything to do with the guy—he’s totally insane. All I’m telling you now is what I saw in front of me a few months back. It’s also what I see every time I close my eyes. I dream about it. Probably not healthy for me to keep talking about what happened, but I need to warn people, you know? Gotta help keep the community safe or some shit like that. Fuck, here we go.

It was one of those summer nights that the sky was just about pregnant with rain and any second its water is gonna break and we’d all be drenched. Smells like ozone and clean laundry, which is a pleasant change from the stink you normally get around here. I’m walking down D street near that bagel place with the sad clown mascot and I hear screams. Screams like when you know someone is bleeding out or getting beaten real bad.

I turn the corner and glace down an alleyway and there’s this little pink fucker with a human foot—shitty-looking chucks and all—sticking out the side of his mouth and he’s smiling at me. Smiling. He swallows the foot and slurps up the shoelace like he’s eating spaghetti and he smiles wider and the corners of his pink mouth are just fucking covered with blood. He blushes for a second and then opens his mouth all the way and spits something at me. I still don’t know how I managed to get out of the way in time but whatever it was he spit (the foot?) just fucking destroys the newspaper box behind me. Huge metal clang and then the rustling of paper as everything goes quiet.

“Do you like tomatoes?” he asks in this creepy reverberating falsetto. His black little eyes are locked on mine, unblinking. I tell him yeah, I guess so. Doesn’t even sound like my voice I’m so scared. He smiles a bit and flutters his tiny nub arms and I swear to Jesus he starts floating. Just floating in mid-air, smiling at me with blood still dripping off his face and spattering on the ground. He starts singing and he’s so off-key. Even though I’m completely terrified I notice just how off-key he is. It sounds like a cat screaming into the blades of a fan. He floats past me and lands on the sidewalk. He looks both ways like he’s trying to make up his mind which direction he’s going to go when he spots some poor kid delivering a pizza. He bounces over and opens his mouth again and I can’t stop watching as the kid folds in half and just flies right into his mouth. I can hear the bones snapping and there’s a watery gurgle. Kirby starts floating again and then spits out this big yellow star. He touches it and jumps on it and fucking just takes off into the sky without another word.

Yeah, Kirby’s game is fun to play. Sure it is. But if you ever see that spherical holocaust floating your way, fucking run.

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