The Camel Holocaust

angry camel

They are coming and they are angry. Running and spitting, making that awful sound, the humps like terrifying little mountains, their legs clanking together, keeping up the dust, it was all coming to an end, then the phone rang. It was John from the Testaments, he said simply turn the dial of my left ear and the station will change. What else is one to do, in an avalanche of hungry camels, being the situation that it was I turned the ear. Must of turned to far, because now Im really scared, hearing the voice, its Jung, Gustav The Great, but he not happy to see me. He said I must leave now, cussing me in swiss german, I was not supposed to be here. He was sitting by a table holding a battle axe, he looked drunk and enraged, his eyes where dark as death. Frantically I cranked the ear as far as I could until it clicked. There I was in Woody Creek, yet more of an amusement park, with insane mind bending physics, all the parts hovering together, yet slightly disjointed and separate. I heard a canon go off, I almost shit my pants, what came next was inconceivable, yet here it stood. Must of been fifty feet high, legs wobbling, wearing the trademark magnum pi white shorts, it was raining chivas, as a Giant Gonzo like creature stood over me. Hunter screamed down at me, did you bring any ice, he said there was no ice here, we got everything else just no ice. The dust was whirling around my face, soon to discover it wasn’t dust at all, pure cocaine powder. I feet my heart begin to beat like it was a bonham drum solo. Hunter said it really gets the blood pumping. I said what do I do, he said run, run as fast as you can you little son of bitch. Run where? Hunter said, better run south, I see a pack of mad camels coming up over the north ridge. I started to run, as I tripped over Hunters shoe lace, knocking myself out. When I came to, I was back in high school, a puddle of drool running over my desk, I sighed at first. But then I panicked, realizing I am thirty four, why the hell am I back in high school. As soon as my eyes began to adjust I saw that this wasn’t really the case.

To Be Continued.

– Josh Fleming

Inspired By: John Dies At The End, a novel by: David Wong

Image By: Maine Surfer

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