DisperseMature

A story of zombies, video games, cake, and mothers.

In a forest, in a country, in a continent, on a planet, in a galaxy, in a solar system, there was a short, chubby, brunette haired woman with a crooked nose standing in a cave.

Behind her, water fell down just outside the mouth of the cave.  

 

The woman’s name was Kylene Potay, and she was an Archeologist.

Now, most Archeologists would rather go to a more interesting, less tourist filled area to look for fossils.

But Miss Potay thought different.

And so she chose the forest called ‘The Atherton Tablelands’ in Queensland, Australia to conduct her research.

What was she researching?

What was she looking for?  

 

Fossils.

Duh.  

 

“Hey, ho, diddly I

Diddly I de do

O’er the hillside

And the mountains we go…”  

 

Miss Potay sang quietly as she knelt down and inspected the brown substance that most humans simply call:

Dirt.  

 

Dirt Noun /dərt/  

1. A substance, such as mud or dust, that soils someone or something.

2. Loose soil or earth; the ground  

 

Archeologists live on dirt. They thrive on it. They crave it. If they could, they would eat it. And the creepiest of them all, some have admitted that if it were possible, they would have sex with the dirt and make little dirt babies, raise the dirt babies, then set them free into the wild.  

 

But only a very few have actually admitted to that.

Miss Potay being one of them.  

 

So as Miss Potay dug up the dirt she so longed to do dirty things to, (pun intended), she saw something slowly start to reveal itself under the hard packed earth. A small, oval shaped, stone. Nay, not a stone, she realized, as she inspected it closer, A fossil.  

 

“Come on, kids!”  

Now, the man who said this was just outside the cave Miss Potay was currently crouching in, inspecting the strange fossil she had found.

The man’s name was Fredward Garble. He was on vacation with his family of six kids, and two wives.

Regarding the two wives part, Don’t ask.  

 

Miss Potay spun around to face Mr. Garble, and in the process of doing so, dropped the fossil onto the ground.

A sickening, cracking, breaking sort of sound exploded from the fossil, and out of a rather large crack, there poured a strange green liquid onto the sandaled feet of Miss Potay.  

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, miss.” Mr. Garble said, but Miss Potay was more interested in the strange green liquid that was now eating away at her foot as if a million tiny parasites were chomping away gradually at her skin.  

 

“Um…Miss? Are you okay?”  

 

Miss Potay’s head snapped up, her eyes had become bloodshot, and out of the corner of her mouth, the tiniest bit of drool came rolling down her chin.  

 

And then Miss Potay ate Mr. Garble.

The End

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