Snippet Wednesday: A Just His Luck Snippet

I know. If you’re in my part of the world, this is already Thursday. So, I’m sorry I’m just putting this up. But my internet connection was terrible last night. So terrible that I headed off to bed. When I woke up this morning and saw that the internet had fixed itself, I figured, it’s still Wednesday in some parts, so why not just go ahead and post my snippet :).

Today’s snippet is from a novella I started about two years ago and never got around to finishing. Hopefully, I would be able to finish it this year because I have written about 20k words of it, and it would suck if I just let the story die out like that. So many things to write, so little time :).

My usual refrain: this is a first draft so forgive me the typos and grammatical inconsistencies. Just read and enjoy. It’s an unusual story so tell me if you like it:

“I dare you to try coming any closer. I’ll slam your face in until I see cracks and hear sparks,” Kevin said, brandishing a frying pan in one hand.

If anyone had happened to look into his house at the moment, he was fairly certain that they wouldn’t have seen anything surprising in the sight of him with his trousers and shirt unbuttoned, no shoes on, carrying a frying pan and waving it in the direction of the television set. Everyone in the neighbourhood thought of Kevin Summers as that weird boy that moved into the MacGallagher house two months ago. He had no family or friends and his neighbours couldn’t understand how a man could keep solely to himself and cherish that separation. He had even made a casual acceptance of the Lone Ranger nickname that the people of Resford had given him. Whenever anyone called him L.R, he would shrug, answer them, then continue with whatever it was that he had been doing initially. Of course, none of them remembered that when he had first gotten into town, he had insisted that they call him Kevin. When he realised that they were always going to call him L.R, he made up his mind to accept it. It wasn’t like he could force them to call him by his given name now, could he?

It was also a usual thing for Kevin Summers to have random conversations with himself and his household appliances sometimes. Nobody at Resford would have seen anything strange into the matter.

Unless of course, they walked in to face the television set that Kevin was presently in front of. Then they would have noticed that is anomaly of a T.V had sprung legs and arms.

He had been eating his bowl of cereal with the Resford Chronicle in front of him when he had heard the grinding sounds. That had made him shoot to his feet and straight across the other side of the room, where right before his astonished eyes, the television had walked to where he was.

The television had fucking walked! The one phrase that still echoed in his head was a big WTF?! Shit like this didn’t happen, except in movies or books. His fucking T.V had grown arms and fucking legs and had bloody walked from one end of the room to another with its hands stretched out towards Kevin. Kevin had immediately grabbed the object next to him, which turned out to be the frying pan he now held in his hands. He had absently wondered when he had reached the extreme end of the room which he used as a small kitchenette, but had immediately shaken it off. This required his undivided attention.

As Kevin warily tried to maintain the distance between both of them while the television consistently tried to close the distance, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe his television set was actually a zombie, risen up to eat him. If shit like that was going to happen, it was most likely that such crap would happen to him. He could just see it in his mind’s eye. The front page news of the Resford Chronicle: Local man disappears. Only shoes found. Because of course, they would be the only thing left of him.

He was fairly certain that his zombie Plasma would eat every inch of him, except his shoes. They were old, disgusting and worn-out, and his T.V wouldn’t want to eat those. Even the shoes devourer his mother told him about as a child, would have stayed away from those shoes. Unfortunately, he still loved them. So on his feet they would remain until they literarily fell apart. Okay, away from the shoes and back to his T.V turned zombie.

Immediately he had that thought, his T.V cocked its head and stood contemplating him. This just got weirder. The thing was probably considering that maybe he didn’t want to eat Kevin raw. It was probably imagining that if it could electrocute him, it would have one fried Kevin, extra crispy. Asshole T.V set. There was no way Kevin was going down without a fight.

He tightened his grip on the frying pan, raised it high over his head, and was about to take leap forward and smash his killer telly into bits when a thought stopped him cold.

This was the only television he had. If he ruined it, how would he watch his favourite shows and movies? Especially considering the fact that he couldn’t afford another one at the moment. There were a few things he loved and his favourite television shows were a part of that group. There was no way he would survive the loss. His decaying body would be discovered days after he’d died of boredom.

Kevin lowered the frying pan and gave a deep sigh. Looks like there would be no destruction of the zombie television today.

The telly made to move towards him again, and Kevin immediately raised the frying pan. Just because he couldn’t destroy it didn’t mean he wanted to be eaten.

So, how to get out of the house without killing or being killed?

And like an answer from the heavens, a gently breeze wafted its way into his living room, brushed against his legs and reminded him that he had an open door that led to freedom a few feet from where he was.

Holding his weapon in front of him like a shield and using his other hand to feel his way to the door, he kept his eye on the zombie telly.

Kevin held his breath as he gingerly walked backwards, praying that he wouldn’t walk into anything that would trip him, and that the television would not give chase.

Just as his heels touched the edge of the door, the telly sprang forward and Kevin turned neatly on his heel, grabbed the door knob and bolted it after himself. That done, he released a loud sigh, went down on his knees and placed his cheek against the tarmac,

Hallelujah! I made it. I shall live to see another day. The sun looks so beautiful, and hot! Scalding hot!

Kevin let out a yowl, pushed himself off the ground, rubbed his burning cheek and glared at the cause of the burn.

An expletive had him turning around and locking eyes with the blue-greens of Rae Kristensen. Gorgeous Rae with his perfect blonde hair, magnificent twin dimples, amazing teeth, soft-looking lips and five-foot-nine frame that was just the perfect complement to Kevin’s five-ten.

Rae was perfect. If only their meetings didn’t always involve Kevin acting like a total idiot. What the hell was he thinking placing his cheek on the pavement? How the hell would anyone take him seriously when he kept acting like a moron?

He watched Rae raise a single eye-brow and incline his head in greeting. Kevin gave a short wave, brushed his cheek and headed in the direction of the bus-stop.

He had some suppliers from the next state coming into the store at nine, and he was already running late. Since he couldn’t expect them to believe his excuse that he was delayed by his T.V turned zombie, he would have to put some speed to it and hope he got on a bus early enough.

As he continued with his fast-paced trek, it occurred to him that strange happenings like a television coming to life most likely never happened to Rae. Nope. Strange things like this only happened to Kevin August. It was just his luck.

Just as he turned the corner, he looked back at his house and saw metallic hands pull back his curtains. Not only were they strange, some of the things that happened to him were fucked up as well. That was simply his luck.

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