A meeting with Flat-Earther
Conspiracy? This guy believes it. A normal paper route turns into a cartoon-comical adventure with the old neighbor next door, and his interesting theories.
Quote from story: “The Earth is flat. No, I’m serious. You don’t believe me? Look at me, I go to church, you know I’m telling the truth! Okay, come inside and I will tell you.”
Read in to find out what happens…
I ride down the sidewalk with newspaper print against my hands. “The Daily News”. Throwing it at each front door, their windows are all black. My mickey mouse watch clicks 7am. Riding farther, my usual route takes a delay. The words of my boss keep ringing through my head,
“Look at your tiny thin arms. You call yourself a man? You are a boy! Here is a new paper route. This one will sure toughen you up”.
Pedaling faster, my cold breathe pains my front teeth. I turn the corner towards the coldasack, and slow down past the sign, “Dead End”.
Slowing down, one side of the street is grey. The morning sun does not shine down this alley. I keep glancing at my pen scribbled note, “Down the end of the coldasack, yellow door, 1586”. I get off my bike, and fix my glasses, to find the right house. Walking past 1584, a small little dog hides from the blinds as he sees me going farther into the street. At 1585, the windows are stabled shut, and bars cover the front door. A ratting shakes from the inside. Now, I step closer to 1586, the grass is brown with ice. The house is a candle yellow, with mold rusting on the edges, breaking the walls to fall in. I step onto the grass, my mickey mouse watch cracks. Warping, the watch melts and breaks off my wrist. I step on it, and it disentigrates into black dust that flies into the wind.
I throw my last newspaper against the yellow door. A sign at the end of the road in big red writing “DO NOT ENTER”.
With a tump, I hear a dog begin to howl. Rushing I try to get back onto my bike. My zip up sweater string gets stuck in my bike petals. I fall to the grass, with brown spikes poking into my back. I tugg at the string, trying to even bite it off. I hear a loud grunt inside, and tumping footsteps so heavy, the front door begins to shake. I pull tighter at my string, and breathe harder, with sweat falling off my forehead.
The front door swings open.
Swinging with the force of Chick-Fil-A grease, his giant stomach pops out the front door, barely squeezing through the panels. His belly button with a single hair sticking out in a curl. Wearing a t-shirt that reads, “Area 51 is real”, 5 sizes too small, his belly pops out of this. Bellowing over his shorts in the dead of winter, and high knee white socks the size of ducks flappers.
“Eyyyyy, whatta ya’ want?” He slurs, dropping to one side.
“I’m…I’m.,,” I studder,
“Get it outta ya, why don’tcha!”
` “I’m…I’m…the paper boy”.
“And what’da’ya think you’re doin’ in my front lawn?”
He grunts like an elephant in mating season as he waddles over to me. My heart beats in fear and disgust as he comes closer. A stench so rotten, heartburn falls in my neck, it makes my eyes water. Bending over, he towers over my small body. Opening his teeth to a malicious smile, fungus grows between his gums. His stomach is greased with newly-heated chicken skins. Smells like KFC. Pulling something out of his pocket, I screech. He stops and smiles at me once again, showing a black tooth in the back of his mouth. Out comes a knife, coming closer to my neck. His stench makes me gag, as I am chocked by the string still attached. Closing my eyes, I scream, “Dont hurt me!” I hear a scratching noise.
I open my eyes, and he holds the knife close to my eye, and my string is detached from the bike.
“Don’t be such a pussy. It’s just a bike, it won’t kill ya.” He holds out a grimy hand.
Wipint the sweat from my eyes, I hold his hand to pull me up relentlessly. Days of who-knows-what drenches on my hand. Now standing, I sneakily swipe my hands on my jeans while he is not looking.
“Umm…” I put my hand behind my head in dismay, “Thank you so much for helping me” I get my bike up, “Now..I must, I must go”.
“I wasssaaa, just-a getting the cookies ready!” He screams in anger. Bringing his nose so close it is touching mine, his double chins sway as he speaks, “You are not goin’ anywhere”.
Looking around in sweat, I am pulled by my white-t-shirt by this stranger. In locks the front door. Picking his ear wax he stands in front of the door. As we stare at eachother I wonder why I ever became a paper boy in the first place. Cat piss molds the green walls.
“I knew you would be coming”. He wraps his hands in glee, with a girly giggle. “I have something I want to tell you. Now sit on down!” He pushes my shoulders into a chair. The 90’s lamp above the kitchen table flickers, and goes black.
He sits down, almost cracking the chair. A white cat with one green eye and one yellow eye jumps on the table and stars me in the face, licking his paws.
“The Earth is flat”. I look at him in shock, and look away in embarassment.
“No, I’m serious. You don’t believe me? Look at me, I go to church, you know I’m telling the truth!”
“Okay…and why did you have to drag me in here to tell me that?”
He shoves a hot plate of cookies still on the baking sheet on the table, and pushes the cat, falling into my lap.
“Eat a damn cookie”. I feel the prickles of the cat’s claws in my thighs.