Elephants in town

This one is something to do with zombies, elephants and the other side of town...

And then suddenly there was a herd of elephants stampeding through the town; they crashed here and they crashed there, and everyone shouted out loud to be heard in the din.

One man went down crying: “the déjà vu daisy will save us.

Another said something that couldn’t be heard.

Ten women screamed.

The violin was squashed flat as a blade of grass under a heavy foot, so another one was indentured from the choir and began a lively jig.

The earth rumbled.

“Quick, to the pub for one last beer before the end,” said the drunken bones whisper.

Gurgling Pete, over in Paris, looked at the stars that were almost incomprehensible to him at that moment, so he pulled his Indian dancer close to him for comfort and then he understood that some things were beyond knowing, at least in this lifetime, and it was all right not to know everything. But little did he know that his girlfriend was a zombie recently converted; and as she bit into his neck he gave out a gurgle and became zombiefied.

The Thing grinned from ear to ear.

The mushroom, stuck on a passage from the book was still staring out of the window as the elephants ran past and wondered if they were a sign to do something, like move before they came back again.

Bag-eye hung on for dear life on the back of one of the elephants and gave a wink to the empty sigh hiding in the bushes.

THE SHIFTING SANDS

“There are a lot of dead people coming here to the grave these days,” said Kafka most observantly.

“I can feel the sands shifting under my feet again,” said Dante, wondering what Kafka was on about this time.

“Metaphysically speaking of course,” said Kafka.

“Quite,” said Dante.

“Maybe it’s their time to come to the grave to be buried forever,” said Kafka on the verge of something profound, or maybe just something that was tickling his mind.

“Perhaps it was the stampede of elephants that ran amuck through the town last night,” said Dante.

“There were elephants?” said Kafka wistfully, wishing he’d seen them.

“There are always elephants somewhere.” And with that said, Dante turned out the light and went to sleep.

STARING OUT OF HIS EYES

Small change for a bus and incidentally empty with no place to go took a freight train into the future and arrived there early one morning carrying all he owned in a small bag over his shoulder.

Not much later and he was sitting in the side window of the coffee shop in snowflakes anonymous clutching a hot coffee and wondering where to go from there.

The mushroom, with nowhere to go was looking out of the window trying to see elephants but only saw ghosts in their death beds.

When Kafka arrived with 14 pages of book staring out of his eyes and took a seat on the edges of the border between them he was barely noticed until after a coffee had appeared.

And then the semaphore of an introduction began to flutter in the spaces of those winds that only seem to happen after the long road trip of a night barely surrendered to whatever gets you through it.

Not many ounces of this later, a belly-baby zombie came through the glass window and caused a stir when he knocked over the steaming pot of non-religious gravy.

“What have we here?” said Kafka rolling up his sleeves as the zombie approached with arms outstretched and gurgling.

With a mighty swing of his arm Kafka beat the zombie to death with his 14 pages of book and then went back to his coffee.

And with that the story fizzled out all the way to the End.

Image from Pixabay