Cheese-a-saurus Rex came to me in a dream.

“Chuck,” Rex said, “You have been chosen to receive a wonderful gift.”

“An X-Box 360?”

Rex frowned. “No,” he said, “immortality.”

“What good is immortality without video games?” I asked.

Rex twiddled the fingers on the ends of his unusually short arms.

“Didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a gift-a-saurus in the mouth?”

“No,” I said. “But someone did tell me once that a life without video games is like an ocean without fish, a sky without birds, a...”

“Enough of this nonesense!” Rex roared, baring his pointy, cheese-colored teeth. “Do you want this gift or not?”

“I suppose I could buy my own X-Box 360,” I said. “Sure. What do I have to do?”

“Eat one box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese a day,” Rex explained, “and you'll live forever.”

“I have to eat the whole box myself?”

“Yes.”

“I can't share it with anyone?”

“No,” Rex said, growing angry. “The gift is for you, not the macaroni and cheese-eating public at large!”

“So if I share the mac and cheese, anyone who eats it will live forever, too?”

“No, only you,” Rex said. “The magical power of immortality is within you, not the macaroni and cheese.”

“So why do I have to eat the macaroni and cheese at all?”

In an instant, Rex's face was inches from my own.

“I don't have time to explain every little nuance of how this works to you!” Rex's breath blew the hair back from my forehead as he screamed. The smell of macaroni and cheese filled my nostrils. Cheese sauce spattered my face. “You either accept the gift now, or I'm outta here!”

I gave it a moment's thought. It was clear that Cheese-a-saurus Rex expected a more immediate response, but he waited, wringing his tiny hands.

“Is there anything I'm required to do in exchange for the gift of immortality?”

“One thing, and one thing only,” he said. “Many children mistake me for the dinosaur actor in the movie 'Toy Story'."

“There is somewhat of a resemblance,” I said.

Rex was not amused. “You must actively help me quash the misunderstanding that he and I are one in the same. If another child who says he loved me in 'Toy Story' asks me for my autograph, I may not be able to contain my rage.”

“Have you thought about getting help for your anger issues?”\

The Cheese-a-saurus' eyes narrowed to slits. “Do we have a deal?"

“Yes, we do.”

Rex's face broke into a huge, toothy grin. “Excellent! You'll want to get started first thing tomorrow.”

The next thing I knew, I awoke in my bed. That was a little over five years, two additional “Toy Story” movies and countless boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese ago. Kids still mistake Cheese-a-saurus Rex for the dinosaur in the movies (he hasn't killed any of them yet, as far as I know), and I'm still alive. I weigh 450 pounds now and my doctor says eating so much macaroni and cheese is going to kill me. But I know better.

"Imortality"

Copyright: © 2011 Robert C. Eccles

----------------------------------

“No, no, you're going about it all wrong,” Vlad the Impaler said, chastising John Wayne Gacy. Gacy was rolling a body into a trench he had dug in his basement crawlspace.

“You're going to run out of room,” Vlad said. “You have to dislocate the major joints first, like this.”

Vlad pretended to dislocate his elbow. He pushed his dangling forearm back and forth like a pendulum. “See? See?” Vlad burst into a gale of laughter which didn't subside until tears were flowing from his eyes. Gacy wasn't amused. He shook his head began shoveling dirt onto the body in the trench.

Vlad seemed to sense the inappropriateness of his outburst and fell into a subdued silence.

“I'm terribly sorry,” Vlad said. “I know this is serious business, but sometimes I can't...hey John, or should I call you 'Pogo'?” Vlad poked John Wayne Gacy in the side. “Who's on first? Huh? Who's on first?”

An increasingly irritated Gacy pushed his shovel into the dirt and leaned on the handle. “What are you talking about?”

“No, What's on second!” Vlad blurted, howling laughter once again. Gacy slapped Vlad's face, and The Impaler fell silent.

“Now look,” Gacy said. “I know you're a legend in this field, but if you're not going to help you might as well leave.”

“A thousand apologies,” Vlad said, wiping his eyes. Gacy turned back to his work.

“I'm honored that you'd consult me on a case as large as this one,” Vlad said. “By the way, have you considered cremating some of your victims and burying their ashes in a Grecian urn?”

“What's a Grecian urn?” Gacy asked.

“About two thousand drachmas a day!” Vlad fell to the floor laughing, rolling and holding his stomach. Gacy took the shovel and used it to separate Vlad's head from his body. He dug another trench and buried Vlad's corpse.

Gacy brushed the dirt from his hands as he went back upstairs. “There's only room for one clown in this basement,” he muttered, turning off the basement light and closing the door behind him.

"Clowning Around"

 
Copyright: © 2011 Robert C. Eccles

 
---------------------------------

Robert C. Eccles is a radio news reporter and anchor who enjoys writing short horror and sci-fi stories.

Bill pulled up to the red light and stopped. Moments later a Mercedes-Benz 500 series pulled up next to him, all tinted windows and black paint. The Benz driver had the music cranked, and the boom from the sub woofer shook the windows in Bill's car. Bill frowned at the driver's dark window.

“Hey,” he hollered at the Benz, “you're gonna go deaf, ya know!”

The music's volume increased as the driver's window rolled down. Behind the wheel, Bill saw a skeleton in a black hooded robe. It had gold chains draped around it's neck. Sitting in the car with the skeleton were scores of people with broken and bloodied bodies. Their heads (those that had heads, anyway) bopped in time to the music. The skeleton turned to face Bill and began to rap.

“Pay attention to the road, don't try to be sly! Mind your own damn business or you're gonna die!”

Bill was livid.

“Is that some kind of a threat?” The skeleton ignored him and kept rapping.

“Distractions kill, that's what I'm tellin' you! Hey, the light is green! Better check your rear view!”

Bill glanced up at the light which had, in fact, turned green. He looked in his rear view mirror just in time to see a speeding semi slam into the back of his car.

The next thing Bill knew he was covered in blood, sitting in the back seat of the skeleton's Benz. The music was incredibly loud, but Bill thought he could get used to it. He joined the other corpses in bopping his head to the beat.

"Grim Rapper"
Copyright: © 2010 Robert C. Eccles

----------------------------------

Robert C. Eccles is a radio news reporter and anchor who enjoys writing short horror and sci-fi stories.

Jackie, Dean and I sat in the car, waiting for the funeral procession to pass. I was behind the wheel. Jackie was up front with me, Dean was in the back.

"Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three..." I counted as the cars drove past, headlights on, little brown flags magnetically attached to their roofs waving.

Jackie punched me in the shoulder. "Don't do that!" she said. "Haven't you heard the saying, 'Count the cars as they go by and you will be the next to die'?"

"I had not heard that," I answered, rubbing my shoulder. I looked out the windshield and couldn't identify the last car I'd counted. She'd made me lose track. I fumed as the rest of the procession went by and squealed the tires when it was finally our turn to go.

At the next red light, Dean spoke from the back seat. "Got a light?" He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Sure," I said, reaching into my shirt pocket for a box of matches. I struck one against the side of the box and it flared to life. I turned around and lit Dean's cigarette.

"Me too," Jackie said. She was holding a smoke. I lit hers and used my free hand to shake a cigarette out of the pack on the dashboard. I put the cigarette in my mouth and brought the match up. Julie leaned toward me and blew the match out.

"Do you have a death wish?" she asked. "'If three on a match you light, you won't survive the night'".

"You just made that up," I accused.

"I did not," Jackie said. "It's a well-known phrase".

I frowned and shook the matchbox. It was empty. I reached forward to punch in the dashboard lighter. It was gone. I stuffed the cigarette back into the pack.

We arrived at our destination and climbed out of the car. Dean and I walked in front of Jackie.

"Watch your step!" she warned. "Step on a crack..."

A grand piano fell out of the sky onto Jackie, pulverizing her.

Dean and I stopped and looked back at the sound of the crash. I shrugged.

"Evidently," I said, "Jackie never heard the phrase, 'Three dumb sayings shared with friends will bring you an untimely end'."

"Superstition"
Copyright: © 2010 Robert C. Eccles
---------------------------------

Robert C. Eccles is a radio news reporter and anchor who enjoys writing short horror and sci-fi stories.

My love is like a sunlit flower
That grows more pretty by the hour.
If she should...

There's that meowing again. I stand up and walk over to the open window that looks out on the alley behind my house. The meowing has stopped, and I don't see a cat. I close the window and return to my desk. Let's see, where was I? Ah, yes...

If she should fade or whither I
Would be her water from the sky.

My love is fragrant and...

What the hell? The cat is back, and meowing loud enough that I can hear it through the closed window. I walk over, throw the window open and stick my head out. I see a shadow dart behind a garbage can. I consider going downstairs and chasing the cat away, but instead decide to return to my poem. I close the window, walk back to my desk and pick up my pencil.

My love is fragrant and petite
She has the cutest little feet.
I love it when she smiles at...

Damn it! More meowing!

I'm gonna kill that FUCKING CAT!

My pencil lead breaks and I run to the window, throw it open, stick my head out and holler at the top of my lungs. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” The cat runs down the alley and out of sight. Finally! I stomp back to my desk and erase the last line I had written.

I love it when she smiles at
Me and gives me a loving pat.

My love is gentle and she's kind
She always calms my troubled mind.

There's nothing better on this earth...

“MEEEEEOOOOOW!”

I reach into the desk drawer, pull out my .357 Magnum, run to the window, aim and pull the trigger. The cat explodes, sending bloody smoking bits in all directions. Fifteen minutes and a trip downstairs and back later, I'm ready to get back to my poem.

There's nothing better on this earth
Than CAT GUTS COOKING ON THE HEARTH!

"Poet Interrupted"
Copyright: © 2009 Robert C. Eccles

----------------------------------