Weirdo Alley

Guys, it’s worse… way worse… I am under my head, no, no, that’s not right; I am way under my foot; my, my, foot is over my face, ugh! You get the picture; I have been captured and held against my will; forced to complete in a series of deeming and questionable challenges; you knew what I was trying to say. My captors, I don’t hear you ask but presume, a group of terrorsome mystics. Ewww… *Shudders*

This all began as most things do, curiosity, although this time lacking cats and death. The ice cream fiasco of yesterday banned me from any stores, that had common sense, for an indefinite period. Common sense, I do not get you, you are a lot less common then people make out, and people make-out a lot. How I avoided court due to mass arsonary was a miracle; I suppose after hearing my testament they determined me deranged, after all who has ever out burned a fire? This guy, that’s who and yet I decided to let my ego go just this once; it’s better for the court to drop my charges and put up a ban. Stupid ban, where else is there to go in the world if not shopping? Not only are the stores a promise land which hold my latest obsessions with the ability to grant me instant gratification, but they also house all the girls that ever learned to compete. A complete blood bath of shoe flinging and hair iron thwacking and all on display for my perusal after a successful indulgence of the soul. Well, at least it was. I wish the city were like the clichéd old west with those cool tumbleweeds blowing round instead, in Melbourne, we just have plastic bags drifting through the wind, and I do not know why but I cannot help feel like one.

There is nothing to do and nothing to see, except for bizarrely dressed business tycoons brawling over pizza while chickens place bets and old grannies casting explosive cookies at delinquently attired boys. Man, this is boring, I pray something fantastical will happen. And it did, a grate started to grumble, whilst garbage cans danced in their fixed places; they knew someone mystical was approaching, someone I did not know. “Alacasham!” A flash, followed hastily by a screen of smoke blinded my eyes but opened my minds vision of imagination; also, it kinda hurt my lungs. At the clearing of my throat and parting of the cloud, appeared a snow bearded man of purple gown; warts protruded his face like barnacles to a ship, and his teeth were as rich as any hip rapper; this hobo man had a grill, and I rapped his style. “Ooo!” He gave an unchacteristic ghostly howl as he sprinkled pixie dust upon my unsuspecting shoulders; hang on, that’s not pixie dust, it’s… glitter. Atop his head sat a purple safety cone with a white star stencilled at its centre. “Are you are a wizard or a ghost?” I marvelled at the confusing man who presented himself before me. “Neither.” He wallowed, “I am a GHASTLY Wizard. Ooo.” Upon his eye protruding introduction, the sun appeared to flicker speedily followed by tinny sounding thunder. So many questions entered my realm of consciousness, could he do magic, could he transform me into KFC, is he immortal, but none would be answered as quickly as his question. “Hey kid, do you like matches?” He wriggled his fingers as he spoke, and flames extended like nails from his tips. With a closer look at his hat, I determined that it was purple paper taped to form a cone with a white star glued on, but how did he do the light flicker, the tinny thunder and what caused his nails to glow? His robe cried wizard, matching his paper hat with many stars scattered across; he’s either a wizard or a very clever sham. “Oh boy do I!” I begged as a response; not knowing what I was begging for, yet realising he was the man to beg.

“Follow me…” He hissed as his person glided backwards with only a single flick of his right leg, he disappeared into an alleyway shrouded by mist and mystery. “How is he doing that?” My curiosity was evolving and evolving too fast; where did that aforementioned common sense disappear to? Sure, he did not own a white van with ‘Candy’ sprawled across its face in rainbow graffiti, but this must have been the closest correlation. My mother taught me better, yet as my favourite saying goes, “What momma don’t know, don’t hurt her.” I ventured after him. Before having my vision impaired with an overwhelming sea of mist, my eyes detected a wobbling piece of tin that when hit could create a thunder like noise, also this illusive mist was oozing out of two high functioning smoke crafters, but how did he glide, and the fire fingers, ah, I am a sucker for mystical weirdoes. Also, I just want to pause and disclaim I am not a pyromaniac; I can imagine the city blaze that the ice cream caused and now the obsession over an old man’s fire nails may lead you to believe so but don’t. I am just a curious George named Sam.

The deeper I ventured, the less I knew or thought; reason with memory had partnered in an affair to leave me, when I needed them most. This mist reminds me of my Grandma’s ‘special’ brownies, like a certain Danger, ‘Feels good.’ No clue to where that wizard is but right now, I have no care, my fingers are doing there only little trick by expanding and contracting. Oh no, the visions are coming, a gigantic dingo appears with mouths where the eyes should be and an eye where the mouth once went. “Weary traveller, you are deemed a worthy challenger to participate in the wizards game. This is your first trial. Participation is not optional.” The dingo gruffed low and serious but a doggie’s a doggy, “Hello little big fellow, you are soo cute, you could just eat me up, yes you could, yes you could. What’s fluffy wuffy kins name.” The dingo stepped away from my hands powerful charms, “Stop, this is demeaning and creepy, and like super uncomfortable for me. You’re a grown man speak properly. I am Graxofilix the Depper of Hashmore, revered in the Sector of Seven Stars… Oh that is so divine.” The dingo overcome by my gentle pats fell to the floor with his tongue sticking out. “Everybody misses that spot.” The ground shook as his leg moved vivaciously, “Enough, you have bested me with your dark sorcery and proven your courage. This task is over, but the rest are not so easy, like escaping from this misty abyss. I am going back to my den, to wallow in shame.” I stood alone in the mist, sad without my dingo pal; I had deceived myself into thinking we were going to be friends, “Bye-bye doggy.” I sighed and waved.

Reunited with my sense, I focussed on the matter; somehow, I am currently part of this strange wizard challenge; and like what the heck, a giant dingo, in Melbourne, why was I not freaking out about this? I literally pat that thing; it could have had rabies or some form of giant dog-itis. Oh well, what’s an adventure for if not to bring back something that stays, even if that thing is a disease. The mist repeated its alluring ways, it’s futile… to…focu... backpack sized koalas, mah-jong, astral bananas, shinflinmingango…hub…a…bub bub. Myself is divorcing me from… me! Come back mind and sanity, dammit mist! It is impossible to think; like attempting to listen to a delivery man on a phone after not eating all day, the only words you can hear are, “…Food…Five minutes…Dinosaurs.” Like man I don’t want no excuses; I want my juicy, mouth pleasing, heart stopping burger, fries, and cow-liquid shake and if you can deliver that to my belly, I see no issues.

Oh man, directions were never my strong point, but this mist dials this baby up to level ten thousand difficulty; I am going to give up. I know, I know, what the heck Sam? You can’t just give up! You are supposed to be some sought of motivation for us, if you can defeat infinitely expanding mist, we can overcome our assignments and other hardships of life. Well, whatever guys, there are a few trials in life you cannot overcome and walking around only leads me deeper into trouble than sitting down does. What’s the point of heading the wrong way only to brag that you never stop moving? Sit and think, then when the right path reveals itself, move. So, I sit and wait, maybe forever, unbeknownst to you, I am pretty skilled at this waiting game, still waiting for my dad and the milk, and if I can endure that I can endure this. My eyelids become a TV screen for my active mind; I begin rewatching the series about a yellow cardboard box that lives in the Atlantic with a pink bubble-gum and a squid, or at least that’s how my imagination remembers the plot. “Yay!” A man squills and blows upon a party horn as the mist disappears. “You passed, you passed, completed it at last.” He chanted as the mist revealed his figure. Three hairs stood atop his head with a party hat Pisa-ring to his side, while the rest of his hair wrapped round his ears and neck. Despite the chilling weather he sported a magnetic pink speedo, a gold watch and roller blades, twirling shirtless around with his imaginary dance partner. He appeared to be a rare pair of the thrilling sweats a boy might receive after being terrorised in a nightly vision whilst also being a mid-sixties woman’s dream. “Go on through, Mystic Sage is awaiting you.” My musical blading guide extended his finger to a rapidly swelling death black door; it swung open after growing to human gate size. I stood between the realm of cruel destiny and magical dreams for within that gateway developed an infinite cascade of stairs descending into a perceived eternal abyss. If the dingo was spitting facts; the only way out, is through. I gotta descend these steps. Sometimes you have to suffer hell to get to Heaven.

To be elaborated…