Hot Naked Chicks
by Mike Philbin
First published online on 2007 January 01.
SFFH: Article
I don’t even know why I’m telling about the dream I had. Hot,
naked chicks dancing about in the infernal flames, laughing and
joking.
* * *
My fiancée and I were due to be married in less than a week and
it was our Wednesday tradition to settle down on the couch after
our evening meal to enjoy a bottle of Rosé and our favourite TV
show. Nothing seemed amiss. In fact the drink went straight to
my head. I am not a heavy drinker at the best of times but...
there was a knock at the door.
“We’re not expecting anyone, darling.” it was a statement of fact.
This was our night in, together. Nothing (and no-one) disturbs
it.
She smiled and bounced off the couch to answer the door. I tried
to follow after her but only succeeded in sliding face-first off
the couch and cracking my nose on the corner of the oak coffee
table. Our drinks went everywhere. Blood cascaded into my mouth.
My wife-to-be was very good with first aid, being a nurse, so
I knew I would be well looked after.
There was laughter–wretched, taunting laughter I would never forget
for as long as I lived.
It was a hen party to end all hen parties. Brenda’s work mates
were in attendance. No family members. I thought that was funny
until I started to recognise every one of Brenda’s work mates.
And there was a reason I recognised every one of them. A very
intimate reason. Clearly my wife-to-be had found out about my
insatiable urges and the girls had come to seek cruel revenge–teach
this old letch a lesson.
They started to carve off my right arm. Pain exploded along my
body. Blood burst out into the living room carpet. I was face
down on the coffee table. It separated from the shoulder and hit
the floor, making a heavy thump that made some of the girls dance
even harder while some stood around looking at it as the nerves
expired. One of the girls, I think her name was Rita or something,
Rita Fairhouse, I called her the screamer because she did. She
picked up this arm, my right arm, the one I’d had all my life,
and smacked me across the face with it. I felt one of the chunky
gold rings on my ex-hand strike me across the eye socket, causing
more blood to spill.
I was totally de-limbed. The girls lifted my body. I floated on
a sea of pain into the kitchen. I was laid on a greased baking
tray. Fingers pulled my nose back and an apple was stuffed into
my mouth for creative flair...
* * *
In the dream I’d neglected to remember that there was a kitchen
table and kitchen chairs also crackling away in the flames–as
if the view of the dancing inferno was from INSIDE the oven.
Damn my human weakness in all its forms...
Mike Philbin is the man behind the surrealist writing entity Hertzan
Chimera. Mike is the editor of the
Chimeraworld anthology (now in its fifth year). In 2008,
Silverthought Press of New York will release his two new novels
Bukkakeworld and
Planet of the Owls.
Color illustration by Matthew Laznicka of Basement Productions.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
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2005 November 28
Ever have one of those dreams where you’re naked, only it wasn’t really a dream after all?
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