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Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Weird O’It

May 13, 2014 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Ric Royer

By Ric Royer

There was a water fountain adjacent to the women’s lavatory– I liked to hang out there. I would take a gigantic water bottle and pretend to fill it but really I’d be waiting for someone to go in there so I could peep. There wasn’t much to see really, just a tiled wall and occasionally the sound of the paper towel dispenser, but I’d get wood anyway. And I would leer at the women as they came out.

One day, a redhead with swinging hips and a round gorgeous rump, waltzed in there and I just about followed her in. I could hear the sound of water running just as the door swung shut. And then, for the longest time, there was nothing.

A half-hour passed. I began to wonder what had happened to this redhead. I gently pushed open the door.

And I was face to face with the Weird O’It.

He was a gigantic green lumpen creature whose enormous height carried him all the way to the ceiling. He had a gaping, stretched mouth with one sharp brown tooth exposed– drool fell to the floor from this abominable orifice. His eyes were rolling, almost spinning in his slimy head and the smell was ungodly.

“Your peeping is very obvious to all those concerned,” he said suddenly in a clear, crisp, intelligent voice. Two arms appeared from the lump and wiped the drool clear to the wall.

“What happened to the redhead?” was all I could manage in response.

“We spoke for awhile– I explained my worldview, my take on things and she explained hers. There was a long moment of awkwardness and then she agreed that my opinion was within reason.”

“And then what?”

“She bared her ass for me.” The Weird O’It’s eyes suddenly stopped spinning and then began again. “It was great, man. Really great. Then, unfortunately, she expired. Everyone who views the Weird O’It dies. I am not from your dimension.”

That night, sleep would not come. I had no idea when or how I would die but the Weird O’It had convinced me of my ultimate demise. If only I had not peeped, had not lurked outside that lavatory, I thought. I would have survived. I would sleep a peaceful sleep.

But weeks passed and I felt no different. And then I saw the Weird O’It again.

I was crossing the street and he pulled up in a small rusted Island pickup. The cab could barely contain him– indeed, parts of his body spilled out the sides and oozed downwards towards the road. He waved and I walked over and leaned on the hood. He had the radio turned up real loud. The song Pirates Money was playing. It was a big hit.

“I’m not dead!” I announced gleefully. “What do you think of that?”

“Oh that,” he said, after a moment of confusion. He hadn’t remembered. “That was all horseshit. I just wanted you to stop peeping, that’s all. Nah, you can look at me all you want.”

The light turned green and he sped off.

And that was the last I heard of the Weird O’It.

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