a human. for now.
Something died in this car. An animal or a dream. An animal’s dream. Some young raccoon will never be able to save up enough raccoon money to move out of my engine block. I believe there was a Broadway musical inspired by a similar event. They all had AIDS. I need to buy an air freshener.
The Mad Lady snored on the recliner. The crocheted blanket hung off her big toe. Behind her stood The Phantom Replica brushing her hair. The Man entered the room and stared at him. The Phantom Replica stared back. A book of matches appeared in The Man’s hand. He took his time removing a match. He lit it. The Phantom Replica’s mouth opened as he watched the flame flicker. It went out. The Man lit another one. He smiled and set it on the floor. He placed another lit one in front of that. The Phantom Replica dropped the brush and shuffled over to the first match. Gulp. Into his belly. The same with the next.
The Man continued the trail of lit matches through the kitchen and out the back door.
The Mad Lady sat up.
A glowing trail extended deep into the woods. The Phantom Replica consumed every inch of it.
The Mad Lady pulled the blanket up and fell back asleep.
The Man rushed back in the house and barricaded the doors.
One last burning match fell to the bottom of The Phantom Replica’s stomach. His head turned in every direction. He stood motionless. Lost.