Zippy the Flying Unicorn Man
Glasses Sucks. (Intentional grammar lapses! Yay!)
"Glasses sucks," I think as I drag myself out of the optometrist's office. Really. Eyewear and me are the best metaphor for oil and water that you can find: we don't mix. Ever. And if anyone ever tries to make us mix, it screws up EVERYTHING.
I mean, literally. I'm so miserable that I didn't even bother to correct my mental grammar error.
Anyway, I'm wandering down the bustling Wal-Mart when something very ordinary happens: I become bored. So a giant flying unicorn man named Zippy crashes through the ceiling and crushes a few aisles of television sets. I think I saw what looked like the remains of a shopper, but I'm not sure.
"Hi, Ariana!" Zippy says. "I've come to rescue you from your eyewear-induced misery! Care to join me?"
Now, at this point, any rational person would have run screaming out of the building ages ago. And most irrational people would leave (or at least lose consciousness) upon being asked a question by a giant flying unicorn man. However, I'm a hardy breed.
I am a member of a breed best described as a Crazy, Bored-Out-Of-My-Skull Loser(TM).
And when I see Zippy offering me freedom from my daily woes, what could I possibly do but follow him?
I snag an iPod touch off one of the shelves (I was always a quick thinker) and hop on Zippy's back. "Mush!" I cry, sure that's the most cliche thing in the world to say but too euphoric to care.
"A'right, mate!" Zippy cries, and lifts off through the Wal-Mart ceiling.
Riding on the back of a giant flying unicorn man is pretty indescribable. Like a lot of things. People say that having an Out Of Body Experience is indescribable. Lots of people think music is indescribable, at least through words. (Some famous guy that I don't remember said, "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture", which is where I get the right to make that statement.)
Well, being propelled around one's humble hometown astride a giant flying unicorn named Zippy is one of those indescribable things. Even now, sitting at my writing desk with all these adventures behind me, I can't think of any suitable comparison to make.
I'd compare it to a helicopter ride, but I've never been on a helicopter, and Zippy doesn't make as much noise as a helicopter. I'd compare it to gliding across the sky in Apollo's chariot, but that would be far too poetic and pretentious and whatnot for my tastes. I could compare it to riding atop a dragon, but that doesn't help anybody understand since nobody's ever ridden atop a dragon, anyway. (At least, no more people than those who have ridden on a giant flying unicorn man.)
So, I'll just say that it was exhilirating, zooming all over the blue sky that smelled like tapioca pudding and had freaky yellow dots on it and made me roll my eyes and this is the biggest run-on sentence ever but i'm too bored to stop and i'm going to actually stop now because i'm a big hypocrite and why do i keep un-capitalizing my i's okay i'm done now the end.
With the sentence, that is.
Oh, and you know what? Zippy didn't have wings. But he could fly. I asked him why on the journey, and he said that it was all very simple, really, and it had to do with the slight odor I could smell in the moments where he wasn't flying as fast.
By then, I'd already received way, way too much information. I tried desperately to halt my mental processes before it was too late, begged the gods of innuendo for mercy...I even would have lit some incense and shoved rusty squid tentacles up my nose, but I didn't have enough time.
But it wasn't enough to halt my brain. None of it worked.
I knew.
Zippy the Flying Unicorn man was powered by beans and propelled by farts.
Luckily, there didn't look to be any people below us at the point where I puked.
Now, I've pretty much finished the tale of Zippy The Flying Unicorn Man...but, wait. I still have 4 minutes left and I haven't told how we landed.
So, after an hour or so of flight, Zippy The Flying Unicorn Man screeched (I don't know how Flying Unicorn Men screech, exactly, but that's what he did) to a halt and landed back in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I was at that point very dizzy from all the commotion, and I would have stopped to complain about that if it weren't for the fact that another, far vaster inconvenience made itself known to me right then.
Zippy's fart stench.
Now that he wasn't flying, the (quite commendable) remainder of his fart stench was swarmed around us like bees around a beehive.
He was nice enough to provide me a Q-tip to lose my lunch in. I gave him a perplexed stare when he told me that, but just then the Q-tip morphed into a Magic 8-ball, and everyone knows that it makes perfect sense to lose your lunch in a magic 8 ball. So I lost my lunch yet again in a magic 8 ball and that was that.
And then...then I noticed something. My hands flew to my face, and I didn't feel any dreaded plastic frames.
"They're--they're--"
But no. It was impossible. My glasses did appear to be gone, but...I could see perfectly, too. Could it be...I dared not hope, for I had done that so many times before and had seen my dreams smashed into nothingness the way a mustard bottle can get smashed into a slippery and life-threatening mess of yellow and plastic.
Then, Zippy the Flying Unicorn Man turned right at me and smiled. "YES, Ariana!" he cried. "They're gone! And replaced with See-Right Brand CONTACT LENSES!!11"
I couldn't believe my ears. "See-Right? But..I could NEVER afford those...they're so expensive..."
Just then, I noticed a group of four people dressed in business attire behind me. "You have won, Ariana. Won the See-Right Lenses competition! And Zippy has been so kind to award you your prize!"
I was speechless and weeping with gratitude. Zippy had rid me of the eyewear I loathed so much, and given me a gift that would last a lifetime! I looked lovingly in Zippy's bile-colored eyes. "Thank you," I whispered.
"ANYTIME! EAT BROCCOLI SALTS!!!" Zippy bellowed, and, after letting me off his back, charged headlong into the air, miles and miles above Earth.
When I looked behind me, the four people were gone. I looked forward and saw no trace of Zippy.
Even here, even now, it would be easy to think it was all a wonderful dream, a fantasy, a product of an active imagination. If it weren't for one thing.
My blessed See-Right contact lenses.
May the love of pencil sharpeners stabbing people with artichokes be with you, always and forever.
I mean, literally. I'm so miserable that I didn't even bother to correct my mental grammar error.
Anyway, I'm wandering down the bustling Wal-Mart when something very ordinary happens: I become bored. So a giant flying unicorn man named Zippy crashes through the ceiling and crushes a few aisles of television sets. I think I saw what looked like the remains of a shopper, but I'm not sure.
"Hi, Ariana!" Zippy says. "I've come to rescue you from your eyewear-induced misery! Care to join me?"
Now, at this point, any rational person would have run screaming out of the building ages ago. And most irrational people would leave (or at least lose consciousness) upon being asked a question by a giant flying unicorn man. However, I'm a hardy breed.
I am a member of a breed best described as a Crazy, Bored-Out-Of-My-Skull Loser(TM).
And when I see Zippy offering me freedom from my daily woes, what could I possibly do but follow him?
I snag an iPod touch off one of the shelves (I was always a quick thinker) and hop on Zippy's back. "Mush!" I cry, sure that's the most cliche thing in the world to say but too euphoric to care.
"A'right, mate!" Zippy cries, and lifts off through the Wal-Mart ceiling.
Riding on the back of a giant flying unicorn man is pretty indescribable. Like a lot of things. People say that having an Out Of Body Experience is indescribable. Lots of people think music is indescribable, at least through words. (Some famous guy that I don't remember said, "Writing about music is like dancing about architecture", which is where I get the right to make that statement.)
Well, being propelled around one's humble hometown astride a giant flying unicorn named Zippy is one of those indescribable things. Even now, sitting at my writing desk with all these adventures behind me, I can't think of any suitable comparison to make.
I'd compare it to a helicopter ride, but I've never been on a helicopter, and Zippy doesn't make as much noise as a helicopter. I'd compare it to gliding across the sky in Apollo's chariot, but that would be far too poetic and pretentious and whatnot for my tastes. I could compare it to riding atop a dragon, but that doesn't help anybody understand since nobody's ever ridden atop a dragon, anyway. (At least, no more people than those who have ridden on a giant flying unicorn man.)
So, I'll just say that it was exhilirating, zooming all over the blue sky that smelled like tapioca pudding and had freaky yellow dots on it and made me roll my eyes and this is the biggest run-on sentence ever but i'm too bored to stop and i'm going to actually stop now because i'm a big hypocrite and why do i keep un-capitalizing my i's okay i'm done now the end.
With the sentence, that is.
Oh, and you know what? Zippy didn't have wings. But he could fly. I asked him why on the journey, and he said that it was all very simple, really, and it had to do with the slight odor I could smell in the moments where he wasn't flying as fast.
By then, I'd already received way, way too much information. I tried desperately to halt my mental processes before it was too late, begged the gods of innuendo for mercy...I even would have lit some incense and shoved rusty squid tentacles up my nose, but I didn't have enough time.
But it wasn't enough to halt my brain. None of it worked.
I knew.
Zippy the Flying Unicorn man was powered by beans and propelled by farts.
Luckily, there didn't look to be any people below us at the point where I puked.
Now, I've pretty much finished the tale of Zippy The Flying Unicorn Man...but, wait. I still have 4 minutes left and I haven't told how we landed.
So, after an hour or so of flight, Zippy The Flying Unicorn Man screeched (I don't know how Flying Unicorn Men screech, exactly, but that's what he did) to a halt and landed back in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I was at that point very dizzy from all the commotion, and I would have stopped to complain about that if it weren't for the fact that another, far vaster inconvenience made itself known to me right then.
Zippy's fart stench.
Now that he wasn't flying, the (quite commendable) remainder of his fart stench was swarmed around us like bees around a beehive.
He was nice enough to provide me a Q-tip to lose my lunch in. I gave him a perplexed stare when he told me that, but just then the Q-tip morphed into a Magic 8-ball, and everyone knows that it makes perfect sense to lose your lunch in a magic 8 ball. So I lost my lunch yet again in a magic 8 ball and that was that.
And then...then I noticed something. My hands flew to my face, and I didn't feel any dreaded plastic frames.
"They're--they're--"
But no. It was impossible. My glasses did appear to be gone, but...I could see perfectly, too. Could it be...I dared not hope, for I had done that so many times before and had seen my dreams smashed into nothingness the way a mustard bottle can get smashed into a slippery and life-threatening mess of yellow and plastic.
Then, Zippy the Flying Unicorn Man turned right at me and smiled. "YES, Ariana!" he cried. "They're gone! And replaced with See-Right Brand CONTACT LENSES!!11"
I couldn't believe my ears. "See-Right? But..I could NEVER afford those...they're so expensive..."
Just then, I noticed a group of four people dressed in business attire behind me. "You have won, Ariana. Won the See-Right Lenses competition! And Zippy has been so kind to award you your prize!"
I was speechless and weeping with gratitude. Zippy had rid me of the eyewear I loathed so much, and given me a gift that would last a lifetime! I looked lovingly in Zippy's bile-colored eyes. "Thank you," I whispered.
"ANYTIME! EAT BROCCOLI SALTS!!!" Zippy bellowed, and, after letting me off his back, charged headlong into the air, miles and miles above Earth.
When I looked behind me, the four people were gone. I looked forward and saw no trace of Zippy.
Even here, even now, it would be easy to think it was all a wonderful dream, a fantasy, a product of an active imagination. If it weren't for one thing.
My blessed See-Right contact lenses.
May the love of pencil sharpeners stabbing people with artichokes be with you, always and forever.