Prompted 2

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John picked his carton of milk out of the fridge and gave himself a generous splash in his tea. He held the carton down on the counter. He slammed the tea into his mouth like it was a Friday night shot and then wince as his lips were splashed with a sharp pain.
He gasped and jumped, spilling more tea.
"Bloody typical."
It was Monday, Monday afternoon.
As he resolutely decided not to look down at the pale stains now seeping into his shirt, his eyes found a resting place in the picture on the milk carton. Another missing person. Another middle aged man. There had been some others, but most in this bizarre recent string of disappearances had been just like this fellow, just like John would be in a few years.
Fuck it. He was going to ask the manager for that holiday. He could afford it. He needed it. He had just been afraid to push for his privileges what with the economy the way it was now.
He stormed off leaving the milk on the counter but the tea still in his hands and went straight for the boss's office.
"Hey, John. Where are-?"
"I'm talking to the manager. Here, hold this."
John didn't even stop. He handed the cup of tea to Joyce, the secretary, in mid stride. He pushed open the door to his manager's office.
"Hi, Mr. Michaels?"
There was no response. There was, however, the strong odour of wet dogs. Plural. There was definitely more than one.
"Mr. Michaels?" John asked one more time and then turned around to ask Joyce if he had nipped out for his afternoon Playboy - something they often joked about. Yet, he found she had vanished too.
The smell of wet dog hit his nostrils again.
"What the -?"
She couldn't possibly have left. He hadn't been that distracted. His eyes darted about, and he considered looking under the desk to see if she were playing hide and seek, but he thought better of it and stumbled, jogged and careened back to the main office floor where his own desk was.
No one, but some thing was there. Several somethings in fact. Amidst the square maze of the cubicles, flashes of blue appeared and disappeared like swamp gas.
At the opening to the closest cubicle he could see more clearly what was going on.
Hunched over the unconscious form of Hot Robin (at least that was her office nickname, for obvious reasons) was a figure of unearthly description. It was a bony skeleton of slimy pale flesh. It was about to pick her up but it seemed to notice him. The closest thing it had to a head, turned.
"What are you looking at?" it said, and then after scooping up its prey in tendril-like arms it disappeared with a fiery blue glow. Then, the smell of wet dog.
John was frozen.
His first thought that his brain could catch hold of long enough to examine told him that he should probably phone his son because he read all those comic books.
He heard a noise behind him and turned. Inches from his face was another of the creatures. It's face looked like the flesh of an uncooked, skinless chicken, but it pulsed blue inside.
An area which might have been eyes swam about and it spoke, mouthlessly. "Time to go"
Then everything, for John went blue and black.

Now you may think that I forgot the pyramids in this excerpt but that is actually the first thing I made use of in my short little brain plan. Where do you think John was taken too? Like most monsters in movies, I thought this detail was best left unseen. Also, I couldn't think of a reason why aliens would be storing people in pyramids without ripping off Stargate. Deal with it.

Anyone else care to offer up an attempt?
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Published on January 26, 2012 02:49
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Matt Cannot Write Here

Matthew  Rowe
A smorgasbord of wacky ideas and views for looking at this world and creating your own. Who needs those goddamn rules and boundaries anyway? Only the fat elephants trying to hold you down, that's who. ...more
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