Boogie

Stuck on the wrong side....

Maybe not...

My eyes bore into a lovely sight, I don’t think anyone in the entire world had the pleasure to experience. Directly across from me was it, a boogie.

Of course, seeing and being within touching distance of a boogie wasn’t an exclusive experience just for me. Basically, the entire world had this experience.

No, the experience which I was sure was solely mine, and something I was currently trying to wrap my mind around was the boogie was reading a magazine but not any magazine. It was pornographic in nature. I was awestruck.

However, I’m sure you are deeply confused like why is a boogie reading a pornographic magazine. Don’t worry, I’m still working on that one, I’m conflicted about the answers myself.

Mmhhh..... Could you possibly be wondering how I am still alive with a boogie in front of me? The answer is easy, I’m no one special, but I could be called lucky though definitely not fortunate in my eyes.

Iron bars separated the boogie and I; I was in the county jail. I was in the cell safe, and the boogie was outside, but my luck runs out here because to get to exit A or B, you need to get past the boogie. Impossible feat if I say so I mean just look at me.

I was overweight, and I was being nice. More precisely, I was a fat pig, big cheeks, stubby little legs, fat which jiggles underneath each arm. A disgusting picture I’m painting for you, but I’m not done..... A belly which protrudes further out than my breasts and also has more bounce too. I have a butt I been told which can accommodate as a small table.

Does Porky ring any bells? If it does you know who I am. It’s my nickname, I wasn’t even Miss. Piggy not that I wanted to be compared to a Muppet. Depressing but depressing is what I’m seeing with my own eyes.

I was stuck inside a cell with a boogie outside reading a porn magazine. It was doing a bang-up job of filling the Sheriff’s shoes. No job application needed to be filled out, there was plenty of vacancies, it was a shoo-in for the job.

After all, it had found the sheriff’s magazine and by the magazine I mean the one it held in its hand, the pornographic one. I found it first. Don’t.... I am completely normal, tv doesn’t exist anymore so so whatever.

Moving on to food, it wasn’t a problem looking at my emergency stockpile in my cell, Twinkies, Slim Jims, Laffy Taffies, and etc. Perhaps not so great of a food stockpile though I wouldn’t starve of starvation if you recall my description of myself.

However, I would die of dehydration...... The thought not pleasant and looking at the alternative the boogie wasn’t a pleasant alternative either. Boogie or dehydration......

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Jesus.... Are you stuck on my stockpile of food, how am I fat, and how I survived. Everyone knows in this town, I’m Porky.

The boogie grunts, it even knew.

“Shut up,” I murmur out loud, annoyed at it.

If you want something or someone to blame everything was its fault, the boogie, and I glared hatefully at the boogie which was engrossed in pornographic images. Before I tell you how and why I am in this awful mess, I am going to answer those two questions I hate being asked.

How am I fat still and still being the keyword?

Well, I don’t have to share food with anyone, those in the town are boogies, dead, or gone. Apocalyptic tv shows, movies, and books describing the end of days survivors will become skinny and sickly are lies.

You will not become skinny, the apocalypse is not a miracle weight loss program. I think I gained weight... Okay, I confess I can’t help it. You can’t blame me because no one is here but flesh eaters. They don’t want the food.

Next hated question.

How did the unfit and fat person survive?

The answer is I stayed inside and being fat meant I had kept food in my house. I’m not one of those people that grabbed food from the grocery store every day.

Honestly, who does that? Okay, let me rephrase. Is there anyone besides old people?

I mean the old people are just desperate to talk to anyone. They wait for the postal worker each day and call the post office when he or she is 10 minutes late. They are only people who talk to a cashier doped up on marijuana who can hardly process any words spoken to them.

I have been behind them before, the cashier nodding their head here and there pretending to care. It goes on forever, I once stood behind an old lady for 25 minutes as she just ‘chewed the rag,’ with a pimpled face pothead boy.

Mind out of the gutter, ‘chewing the rag’ is not chewing feminine products you gross pigs. Go educate yourselves and look the saying up instead of taking another puff from the magic dragon.

Nevermind I’ll just tell you, ‘chewing the rag,’ means chatting. There you go, I bet you learned something new. But anyway back on the topic of how I survived.

I watched from the safety of my house seeing people fleeing, revving their cars and peeling out of their driveways and parking lots when the boogie disease reached our town. The non-believers who didn’t believe in the disease found out it was real when boogies were chasing them down.

I covered my eyes for that part, but Mr. Smiley cross my heart deserved it. Karma I’m telling you and no he wasn’t Smiley, he was the complete opposite.

Wait.... Awww I forgot you have no idea what a boogie is. Simply a boogie is is is.... a zombie except for the dead part and not everyone calls them a boogie it’s my special word for them.

Some of them looked like giant boogers, so that’s why. They had the works, snot, mucus, and saliva running down their faces. They were gross. The one in front of me didn’t look like that, and he appeared somewhat intelligent behind the occasional boogie grunt. I shouldn’t say ‘somewhat intelligent’ after all its intelligence, one corralled me into here and then to the magazine he seemed to like a little too much.

I once knew him. I actually loved him, but we broke up or perhaps we were never together in the first place before this all happened. The frustrating part, a piece of me still loved him. A tiny piece, it never fully extinguished after everything he did to me, and I was angry with myself over it.

I let loose a few... a lot of strings of unfavorable words directed at him since I been here earlier this afternoon. It made me feel better though not a whole lot.

Earlier this afternoon means I been here ahhhh maybe 4 hours maybe 5 or 6. Who knows and no one cares, it was night right now, a hot August night.

The cicadas, crickets, and all of the insects buzzing, chirping, and strumming songs undisturbed by the boogies, and the sound of nonexistent human life. I sit down on the cell’s dirty cement floor, getting comfortable for the long night ahead.

A romantic two person date, a boogie and I. For our romantic date it wasn’t a candlelight dinner or lights casting a lovey-dovey glow from spiraling chandeliers in a five-star restaurant.

No power existed here or anywhere near here, the only light was from my battery powered lantern, the dull illumination bouncing off the concrete walls making the place eerie. The glow made him look like a demon.

Though he was always a demon then and now, long horrifying black claws and wicked sharp fangs for teeth were the only change, and I guess a few other things. As I said before he was different, some were..... I’m not a scientist, so don’t ask me why there are different classifications of them.

He drops the magazine on the ground, and the sound possibly would have me jump if I was alone. Yes, I’m afraid of ghosts even when I have an actual demon right here in front of me.

Though the magazine part made me believe he was still in there somewhere. I said somewhere, I’m not dumb, just fat.

Back to the magazine, I had yet come to a conclusion why he was ‘reading’ the porn or if he was at all. One answer is residue or leftover behavior from before the boogie change, and again I’m no scientist I heard about this crazy stuff on television. He was staring at it a long time, and I couldn’t ask him so who knows.

He creeps close to the bars his claws clinking against the iron when he curls his hands around them and next he presses his head against the bars, his nose barely fitting thru the small space as stares at me with red eyes.

No white of the eye existed, there was only red and the black dot of the dilated pupil. Their eyes were frightening, and it was a shame because he had such pretty blue eyes before the boogie change.

The changing of the eyes was a sign of the boogie change, though I’m sure you know that already. The television and the radio blared the symptoms of boogie change for months. The take over of planet boogie slow and also quick.

I could list the order of the symptoms and could recall the order the robotic woman said them in. The symptoms were that of any common illness which caused panic and confusion in the general public also means it caused panic in the whole town I lived in.

The red eyes were a tell-tale sign that the human exited and the boogie took center stage. If you could see their red eyes, you have to be pretty close, and if you were that close, it was a death sentence if you weren’t already infected.

I was the exception to the rule, I was in a jail cell. I wasn’t entirely safe.... It was so easy to get the boogie disease, just one drop of any bodily fluid. A cough or sneeze could pass it to you and then you were a boogie.

Boogie disease wasn’t as catchy as a cold but was still very contagious though. Sex was one of the ways it spread and believe it or not; people were still smashing, humping, sexing it up, or what not during the outbreak.

Would you still smash if a potentially fatal and irreversible disease was rampaging through the world?

If yes, then you are stupid. See one of the benefits of being fat, you get laid less.

I stare at him narrowing my eyes having a gut feeling how he got the boogie disease, and I say loudly stating it as a fact, “You smashed a boogie.”

It was what he did, I just know it. He was disgusting trash. Although.... as I glared at it or him, I missed his blue eyes.

They were an ice blue a color which could be taken straight from a picture of an arctic scene, but now his eyes could be taken straight from art depicting the fiery depths of hell.

“You should have lived there, either one,” I scoff to the boogie no one here but it, you, and I.

The ‘you,’ was just a figment of my mind, I just needed a friend at the end of the world.

His claws scrape down the bars as he slides down, the sound equal to scratching a blackboard making me cringe. Do they even use those anymore?

I remember having to clean the eraser heads at recess for Mrs. Murphy. No, I wasn’t a teacher’s pet, she was one of the few who treated me good, and I returned the kindness.

Stupid, but I was a kid. I wonder if she was dead... No, not a boogie attack, but from old age, she was already an old hag when she taught me in elementary school. If she was alive something like this here, this boogie would have gobbled her up or turned her by now.

Jesus, did he have to make sliding down the iron bars of my cell sexual, the damn deviant boogie.

Sexy boogie, I was going crazy.

Well... I haven’t seen a normal and healthy human man, let me rephrase that any human. I was lonely and sexually frustrated hence the porn magazine if that answers one of your questions.

I continue watching the boogie, he stoops to my level, continuing to try to push his head through the bars but failing. He flicks his tongue out, licking the bars of my iron cage growing frustrated, low grunts and growls emanating from his mouth.

I didn’t feel like I was in the ‘end of the world,’ scenario but a bad porno. I could see his v-line, his shirt tethered scraps hanging around his neck. I turn my head away, feeling my cheeks flush. Jesus.

This wasn’t good for my heart, it was starting to beat faster, the attraction still there. Crazy because he was a boogie, but he was good looking, maybe a shower, fresh clothes, hair and nail trim and he be good... Crazy....Crazy what a word I been using lately, no one to talk to except you.

Okay so let’s go back to the actual start of the story. No, not the beginning when I was born but when I had the indecent luck to meet him. Never was a lucky person.....

A masquerade ball, I was running late in my princess ball gown with overflowing lace and sparkles. He was the handsome and striking prince I had stolen my heart and had me swooning.....

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Hahha....

I had you going, well what is wrong with you, this isn’t the 1600s or whatever time period they did those weird dances or even some weird generic story you find on Wattpad. If you are somewhere, someplace that does masquerade balls please please tell me......

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Hahaha so nothing like that exists, does it?

I didn’t think it did.

Now for the real story..... It was a bar I met the stupid piece of trash. A trashy bar so let’s begin... Wait you need to flip the next page, chapter 1 is where my story starts.