âTeacake and Naomi stared in horrified fascination. From this closer perspective they could see the deer had numerous gunshot wounds to its head, and one hindquarter appeared to have been completely crushed and then reinflated, somewhat off-shape, The deer's belly seemed to expand as they watched, and its once-spindly limbs had taken on the shape of piano limbs.
Naomi held her hands out, one toward the deer and one toward Teacake. "Just- just- just"
Teacake looked at her, his voice an octave higher than usual. "Yeah?"
"Don't- don't- don't"
"Are you talking to me or to the thing?!"
She wasn't sure.
The deer took another few steps forwards them, and they, in turn, took a few steps back. They continued to back away, moving toward the T-junction of the hallway.
(...) The deer kept moving toward them, and Teacake and Naomi continued to back up until they reached the cinder block wall at the end of the corridor. They could have turned and run in either direction, but that would have meant tearing their eyes away from the unnatural spectacle that was unfolding in front of them, and that they could not do.
The deer was still swelling, its body creaking and groaning and snapping on the inside. It was puffing up like a water balloon at the end of a hose; there were just a few seconds left before its gut let go. Naomi and Teacake were directly with in its spatter radius and didn't realize how close they were to a certain and painful death.
But at the very last moment, Naomi's four-year-old daughter, Sarah, stepped in and saved both of their lives.
For the last three months, Sarah had been deep in the throes of a Willy Wonka obsession. Sarah, and therefore her mother, had watched the 1971 version of that movie, in whole or in part, more times than Naomi cared to count. (...) Naomi knew every line, every lyric, every part of it by heart, and the parts she knew best were the parts that scared Sarah. The parts where she needed her mama to come over and sit down and pull her onto her lap and stroke her hair and tell her it was all just pretend.
Naomi didn't mind. She actually liked her kid best of all in those moments, because those were the times she felt like a halfway-okay mother. The scary parts of Willy Wonka were some of the most peaceful moments of Naomi's life, which of course, made her feel guilty. Does my kid have to be terrified and clingy in order for me to be happy? Well, no, but sometimes it helps.
What mattered now was the part of the movie that scared Sarah the most: when Violet Beauregarde stole the Three-Course-Dinner Gum and began to swell and blow up into an enormous blueberry. Sarah would cover her eyes and scream in panic, "She's going to pop! She's going to pop! Mama, she's going to pop!"
The deer was going to pop.
Naomi grabbed Teacake by the arm and hauled him to the side, pulling him around the corner and slamming them both up against the wall, hard, just as the deer's overtaxed frame gave out. It isn't accurate to say that the deer burst, like Mr. Scroggins and Enos Namatjira's uncle had. This was different. One second the deer stood there, swollen nearly to round, like Violet Beauregarde. And the next second, the deer was not standing there, but the ceiling, floor, and walls of the hallway were painted with thick, foamy green fungus. Naomi held Teacake pressed firmly against the wall, inches out of the line of fire, safe behind their blast shield when the goo flew.â
origamiaround
ellievsbear
vaporwave
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
