by A.A. Garrison
Care instructions for Eyeball Chewer:
- Keep a steady supply of fake eyeballs for him to chew. Remember: he does not discriminate between fake and real.
- He may suckle his own eyeballs from time to time, and this his fine. Despite the discharge, they are very strong, and his eye stalks, stronger.
- Do not anger Eyeball Chewer. His teeth are as sharp as they appear, and there’s another row behind those.
- Don’t freak out if his penises go erect. He will not mount you, usually.
- His back-tentacles do a thing. Ignore it, but don’t get too close.
- He drinks only water. Do not feed him beer. Do not feed him beer.
- He’s very needy, so give plenty of attention. The slime washes right off.
- The staring and growling are normal. It just means he loves you.
- The flatulence also.
- I’m leaving a taser to use at your discretion, but please, only do so in love. He may be 200 pounds, but he’s quite sensitive.
- Keep his nails trim, on all eight feet. He gets scratchy sometimes.
- There’s a spot just behind his left ear-slit. You’ll know it when you rub it. But, again, mind the tentacles.
- Don’t let him in bed with you, unless you want him there every night.
- Make sure you are first through a doorway. It’s a long story.
I’ll only be gone six months, so don’t get too attached! I want him back when I get home.
Your grateful neighbor,
About The Author
Fast-Paced Author Interview (at high speeds! risking dire consequences!)
- The Squid: Who would you invite for roadtrip on SHIELD’s hovercarrier?
- AG: I would invite David Lynch as possessed by the ghost of Frank Zappa, the world’s last hope.
- The Squid: Now, say you’re a freaking science fiction/fantasy action hero, tell us which one you are most like, and why:
a) Conan the Barbarian
b) Han Solo
c) Captain James Tiberius Kirk
d) Buckaroo Bonzai
e) Rick Deckard
- AG: I’m Conan (though I prefer “C.B.” or Mr. Barbarian; too many damn people confuse me with that guy on TV). Why? Pecks, pecks, pecks. You never know when you’ll need to crack a walnut with a flex of the chest, after all (I get requests at parties all the time). As for which version, movie, definitely definitely movie, because heroic pose-striking just doesn’t translate to paper (furry loincoths are hard to draw).
A.A. Garrison is a thirty-year-old man living in the mountains of North Carolina, where he writes and works comfortably above sea level. His short fiction has appeared in dozens of zines, anthologies, and web journals, as well as the Pseudopod webcast. He is the author of the druggy post-apocalyptic horror novel, The End of Jack Cruz (Montag Press).
You can find him at synchroshock.blogspot.com.
About The Artist
Joolie Bracken is an Austin-based artist. She blogs about gardening and art at starsandgarters.blogs.com.
More by A.A. Garrison