Awful, Ohio Read online

Awful, Ohio

  authored by

  Sirloin Furr

  An unfilmable story:

  Copyright © 2011 by Sirloin Furr

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 “Let’s blow it up” – Lacy Slushy

  Chapter 2 Perseverance is much more eminent

  in accomplishing a goal than feasibility.

  Chapter 3 “The colors” – Theodore Sphinctor

  Chapter 4 We are here,

  because we live in fear,

  and being in here

  brings us

  peace and cheer.

  Chapter 5 Deliver hearts to those who are lacking,

  until they begin to ripen with hearts of their own.

  Chapter 6 “I’ll write a script.” – Troy Slushy

  Chapter 7 “I love you, Lacy.” – Troy Slushy

  Chapter 8 A script needs to be authentic and accurate

  with its story, exposing the plot and characters honestly.

  Chapter 9 Your purpose in life is to discover the purpose of your self.

  Chapter 10 The Merger.

  Chapter 11 Peace is Anti-Action Batter.

  Chapter 12 This is Art.

  Chapter 13 The Aliens are Coming to Destroy us all!

  Chapter 14 As fate would have it.

  Chapter 15 “Clearly, none of this is a coincidence.”

  Chapter 16 “Mad, can I call you Mad?”

  Chapter 17 Operation: Blackout

  Chapter 1

  “Let’s Blow it Up” – Lacy Slushy

  What once was a vacant, humanless land, housing nothing more than tumbleweeds and grazing mammals, quickly erected into a worldwide enterprise of distributable and collectable goods that would be exchanged for government printed monies. All of the government printed monies increased with every transaction, which created a pulsating economy. The lively economy attracted a plethora of humans that exponentially increased with every passing year, indirectly causing the land and wealth to expand. And with every passing year that would earn more government printed monies, attracting more plethoras of humans, more collectable goods would be created and distributed, increasing the amount of exchanged government printed monies.

  All of this exchanging and creating and manufacturing of goods helped create wealth for those who ran the industries. But the more wealth that was earned by the individuals running the industries, the more jobs the industries had that needed to be completed. These jobs would be granted to the plethora of humans who were unable to create their own goods. In return, the plethora of humans would be given government printed monies that was earned by the individuals running the industries. There were a lot of monies being earned, and there were a lot of jobs being done. The concentration of wealth and jobs rose quickly in this consolidated area, endowing the thriving land with reputations of “amazing,” “marvelous,” “prodigious,” and “exceptional.” The land’s amazing success would overwhelm the dwellers and the governors with so much bewilderment, and fill them with so much awe that the land’s epithets had enriched the land with the title of Awful, Ohio.

  Awful, Ohio was a birthing place of factories, industries, warehouses, and plantations that provided occupations for the residents that honored their town. The job sector was plenty and the work force was strong, building a strong heart that pumped life from the center of Awful, Ohio, into the surrounding land. The workers would disband from their jobs, scattering through the surrounding land in the evening to their spouses and homes. This became known as their lives. The routine would continue daily, with the sun leading the way, emitting rippling wakes that would whip everyone from their slumber, unionizing them in the morning, back into the city where their jobs awaited them, then returning them home to their lives during the evening time. It was industrial and banal. Of the thousands upon thousands that made up the work force, most of them resided on the surrounding areas of Awful, Ohio, with the few exceptions of those who grew so connected to their careers in the warehouses that they used the conveyor belts as resting units.

  However, the wonderful sound to all of this glory and conveniences was not attractive to every member dwelling in Awful, Ohio. For Troy Slushy, he had found nothing but limping banality. Day after day, his soul-enriching rest would end, as his job would demand his attention and time. There wasn’t any freedom in Awful, Ohio. Troy Slushy couldn’t do what he wanted to do. He was forced from his peaceful slumber, entering into a concentration camp of productivity and profit. His life was reduced to imitating a peg, posted in front of a conveyor belt, handing out his time to every manufactured good that moved past his being. He despised his job, loathed his home, and resented every pathetic paycheck that was supposed to be a fair trade for his god given time and energy. He experienced liberation five times a week, when his shift would end, as he would return to the home that sheltered him, sharing it with his wife, whom he loved dearly. Her name was Lacy Slushy. They were high school sweet hearts, each desperately holding on to one another for purpose. But this disheartening routine suppressed every attempt to muster any kind of excitement for one another.

  She was Lacy Boiler before becoming Lacy Slushy. She was a thin girl, standing upon the earth like a newborn tree, thin and limber, with crimson hair that ignited Troy’s mind with wild dreams of their first romantic encounter that occurred in a pile of raked October leaves. She reminded him daily of autumn, his favorite season. She too had become a victim of the false advertisements that suggest that the American dream would lead to a wonderful life, that Awful, Ohio was a wonderful place to reside. She had fought gravity every day by getting up to provide support to Troy. But all the fighting had brought wear to her body, as it was turning into a one sided victory. What used to be tight, firm skin, began to drag from her upright flesh, stretching closer to the floor. She had developed cellulite, bags, and jowls. This become understood as aging, and was considered normal. The only things that Troy and Lacy wanted to do was lay with each other on the beach, listening to the ocean. They wanted to fill their heads with knowledge of personal interests, pursue their existential purpose, and drift further away into the abyss of personal enlightenment. They wanted to go to sleep knowing that they had nothing to wake up to. But instead, their lives were obediently structured into minutes, hours and days for Awful, Ohio, and its industrial purpose. They subliminally begged for liberation, but their time was running out, as the exalting flesh that encapsulated their beings was crumbling away.