Puppy Meat

I remember the day when the world turned itself upside-down, and I mean that quite literally. It all started on a routine Tuesday afternoon shopping trip. I had just gone to pick myself up some organic eggs and organic cheese from my local health food store, you see. I had decided about a year before that only ignorant people would ever consume the terrible, processed filth that is force-fed to us by our nation. I also had to go pick up some food for my dog, Jerry. The health food store was the only place I could buy my dog his food, because he was a vegan. I know it is awfully peculiar for a dog to be a vegan. I told him this myself. In fact, vegans in general are quite peculiar. I told Jerry that he should stop this vegan business, that only pretentious egomaniacs choose to be vegans, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He refused to eat any dog food that had any animal product in it. So here I was, picking up my dog’s favorite variety of Vega-Chow.

 

For some reason, however, the Vega-Chow seemed to be nowhere in sight. I searched and searched the pet food aisle, even among the regular groceries (some people have some awfully weird habits �" poor uneducated fellows), but the Vega-Chow was nowhere to be found. As I got closer and closer to the back of the store, the place seemed to get more and more unusual. It seemed to be a lot larger than it had been in the past, but then again, I never have gone this far back. There wasn’t any food anymore, there were only mirrors. All sorts of different mirrors, modern, Victorian, any mirror imaginable. All of them had printed on them in large, bold print: “LOOK AT YOURSELF.” I did just that. I was a handsome chap: Tall, just like my father, blue eyes, just like my mother. I adjusted the collar on my button down shirt, and fixed my tie. I always make a point of looking my very best.

 

I finally came upon what appeared to be the back of the store, only there was a curtain. It appeared to lead to some sort of other room: something secretive, but enticing. I was not sure that a knowledgeable young man like myself could learn anything new from a trip to a health food store, but I was sure about to be in for a surprise.

 

Behind the curtain was a room so blinding white, it almost looked as if there weren't any walls at all. Now that I think about it, I never inspected to see if there were any walls. I just assumed that it would be rather foolish to design a room without any walls, if it were even possible. In fact, I took a course in architecture and a course in philosophy, and both of these courses said that there was no such thing as a room without walls. Then again, I never paid much attention to philosophy, because I always liked my philosophy the best.

 

"Hello," whispered a mysterious voice. I looked around until my eyes stumbled upon the source of the voice, an old, skinny man standing in front of a strange box that looked almost like an elevator.

 

"There aren't any more floors to this building, isn't an elevator rather foolish?" I joked, laughing at how extremely clever I was.

 

The man laughed also, only in a way that insinuated that I was the foolish one, and not some elevator. "This is not an elevator at all," the old man chuckled, "Not in the slightest."

 

"All right," I said, "Then some futuristic cupboard?"

 

He laughed again. "It's what one might call a portal, a portal to a different realm."

 

"A portal to a different realm?" I said, "Impossible, those only exist in trashy science fiction and foolish children's stories."

 

"Watch your mouth," the old man told me. "You're an intelligent chap, you have some very strong opinions, and a very good sense of when somebody’s trying to fool you," he said, laughing once again. "And I can respect that. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you aren't always right? That right to one person could be wrong to another?"

 

"Have you taken your medicine today?" I inquired, unsure of whether I was joking or not.

 

"Don't be so condescending," the old man remarked, as if it were a piece of grave advice. "If you don't believe me, just take a step through here." He pressed a button on the outside of the door. "Once you're in there, press the green button inside. It will be very obvious; it is the only button inside."

 

"Okay," I said sarcastically, stepping inside. This man was off of his rocker, I thought, but I decided to humor him.

 

"Once you press that button, and the doors open once more, you won't be in the same world,” he continued, leaning against the box. “You will be in a world where right is wrong, and wrong is right, where the conventional becomes non-conventional - and vise-versa. A place where intelligence becomes unintelligence, and even more importantly, the other way around."

 

I pressed the green button, and the doors closed. Everything around me swirled, and a mist filled the air around me. I laughed to myself, thinking, what a clever practical joke this was. Put me in an old broken elevator, tell me to press a button, and convince me I'm in another dimension. How very clever.

 

The doors opened, and as I walked out, I realized that I actually was in a different place. I walked through the curtain into the other room, and it was as if I was in the back of the same store, only it was not the same store at all. I didn't know what to make of all this Twilight Zone nonsense. It was as if I lived in a science fiction movie, strange rooms, portals to different realms, even a mysterious old man saying a bunch of ignorant hogwash about some lesson that I was supposed to learn.

 

As I examined the store, it became even more apparent that my life had become a science fiction movie. There were a variety of dead animals hanging from the ceiling: cats, dogs, polar bears, pandas, mostly domestic or endangered animals. This was completely beyond belief.

 

"Hello," interrupted a young man with ginger hair in a red uniform, obviously an employee. "Could I interest you in a fine cut of puppy meat? It's our special today."

 

"Puppy meat? What sort of sick person..."

 

"Don't worry. We get our puppies from the best sources. This puppy right here," he said, indicating a golden retriever puppy hanging from the ceiling, "was raised locally. We just stole him today from a little boy who lives in a neighborhood only five miles from here."

 

"Stolen?" I replied, shocked and appalled by what I was hearing.

 

"Of course," he laughed. "All of the best things in life are stolen. Haven't you ever stolen candy from a baby or something?"

 

"What?" I asked.

 

"Candy from a baby," he repeated, as if I were the crazy one. "I've done it so many times. A few times a day, actually. I just like doing the right thing sometimes, you know?"

 

"What? No, I've never done that," I said, confused.

 

"You, sir, are a sick person," he said, with a disgusted look on his face.

 

"What's going on here? Why are you selling me puppies?" I thought about my sweet little Jerry being sold as meat, like he was a cow or pig or something, and shuddered.

 

"Why wouldn't I sir? Oh, I'm sorry, you must be from a different moral background," he said, as I sighed with relief. "Maybe I could interest you in some fine Siberian tiger? We just got some more in stock. They're almost extinct, you know."

 

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

 

"Well, of course it is," he said.

 

The sight of the dead animals around me made me sick. All I could think to do was run. I ran and ran all the way to the front of the store. "Sir, are you going to buy anything?" I heard behind me, but I kept running, and ran straight out of the door.

 

When I stepped outside I realized I was in an outdoor mall. The mall seemed normal enough, so I decided to walk around and see what type of stores there were. Maybe that store I left was just some sort of sick joke, and those animals weren't even real. Maybe it was just a Halloween store or something. I knew, however, that the store was no Halloween store, and those animals were as real as could be.

 

The next store I came to was a quaint little book store called Bookingtons. My first thought was, what a horrible name for a book store. Bookingtons? Do they have absolutely no creativity? If it were my job to come up with a name for a book store, the name I would come up with would be far more clever than Bookingtons. At first glance, Bookingtons appeared to be an average book store: sofas and seating areas for reading in, books of all shapes and sizes, new and old, and of course expansive amounts of mahogany book shelves. It wasn't until I looked at some of the books that I realized that there was something extremely wrong. For one thing, none of the books had any organization or order to them, which frankly drove me insane. However, the content of the books was what really raised my concern.

 

I picked up one small, pink, cheery looking paperback with the title "100 Tips to Stay Unfaithful to Your Spouse." The next book was a blue hardcover book with several stickers on it noting it as a best-selling, award-winning novel. I opened up the book and saw that there was nothing in it, besides occasionally some sporadic spurts of random, nonsensical letters. The next book was a green book that appeared to be a science textbook. I flipped through the pages to see some of the subjects it covered. It covered proof that the world is flat, that when you drop two apples at the same time they fall upwards and then immediately start interpretive dancing with each other, and of course that tomorrow, extraterrestrial monkeys are to come to earth and consume all of our children and overthrow the government. This book was published five years previously. However, my personal favorite book was one with the title "Giving my Soul to Satan, The Day I Finally Ate My Babies, and Other Insightful, Religious Tales." It became clear to me that this world had gone completely insane.

 

Right as I was about to give up any hope of there being any scrap of sanity in this world, I came across a book. By a book, I mean an actual, respectable book. It was hidden among a variety of cook books (which, I must add, were the most gruesome literature I could have ever imagined). Hidden among those cook books was a lone copy of the Great Gatsby. Seeing this book instantly filled me with joy and gave me the slightest bit of hope for this new version of humanity. I decided I would buy this book, and if I ever saw that old geezer with the magic portal again, I would rub it in his face to prove that there was something normal in this world. I had no idea that buying this book would pose such a problem.

 

I went up to the check-out counter, where there was an extremely ugly adolescent boy with greasy black hair standing there. “I would like to buy this book,” I told him.

 

“What?” he replied, as if I spoke some sort of blasphemy.

 

“I said, I would like to buy this book.” I was beginning to get very frustrated.

 

“I can’t allow you to do that,” said the ugly boy.

 

I could feel the anger boiling inside of me, as cliché as that sounds. I never get violent, but I can say that right at that moment, I wanted to punch that boy’s face so hard that his head broke off and flew across the room.

 

“For once, just let me do what I want to do. I want to buy this book, and you will let me buy this book, if it is the last thing that either of us do. Do you hear me?” I could feel the intensity in my voice.

 

The boy was obviously terrified of me. He picked up the phone and dialed. “I’m calling the cops,” he said to me. He talked desperately on the phone. “There’s a man here at Bookingtons who refuses to steal. Yes, refuses to steal. He’s trying to buy a book. Yes, he’s getting violent. Please, get here as slowly as you can.”

 

“Seriously?” I muttered. Once again, I ran as fast as I could out of the store. I was beginning to get so tired of running out of stores. Seriously, all of this running was starting to make my feet hurt. I was not wearing the proper shoes for this.

 

I ran for about a block until I realized that there was really no reason to be running. The police would take forever to show up, if they ever even did. I stopped running and sat down on a bench, fighting the urge to start sobbing right then and there. I had never felt so extremely dim-witted in my entire life. It was as if I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think. I had no idea what was normal and what would get the cops called on me. I held in my hands the book that I had against my will, stolen. I had found the Great Gatsby, one of the great books of my old realm, among all of the nonsense of this world. I thought, at least they had one thing that reminded me of normality. I opened up the book to see that the words had been blacked out. Every single word had been covered up by strips of black ink. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pulled a lighter out of my pocket and did the only thing that made any sense to me at the moment. I lit the book on fire. The smoldering flames filled me with a mixture of joy and rage. I felt joy because I was destroying a relic of this terrible world. I felt rage because the thing I was destroying was also one of the most normal things in this world. I started to cry.

 

When I looked up, I saw a woman staring at me. “You are an honorable man,” she said.

 

“What?” I asked her.

 

“Book burning. It’s a sacred act here.”

 

I was as filled with frustration and confusion as ever. I looked around at all of the stores around me: Child Beating R Us, Hepatitis Me, Prostitution Mart, McDonalds…McDonalds! Yes, I thought, I'm probably safe to go in there.

 

Naturally, walking inside I found out that everything on their menu was made out of 100% puppy meat. I guess I was too quick to get my hopes up. As I was about to leave the store, I spotted a very familiar face walking out of the Men's Bathroom.

 

"Glenn Beck?" I inquired.

 

"No, my name isn't Glenn Beck," responded the man, apparently very offended. "My name is Ben Gleck. President Ben Gleck, that is."

 

I could not believe it. During the entire time I spent in this world, this moment was the only moment I felt pure terror.

 

"If you're President," I said, "then what are you doing inside a McDonalds?"

 

"I'm proving the link between the manager of this restaurant and Hitler," he responded proudly.

 

"Hitler?" I said, frankly not very surprised.

 

"Yes. Here's what I've come up with so far." He pulled a napkin out of his pocket. It was written on with ballpoint pen, with several names, lines, and poorly drawn pictures on it. "So here we have Mr. Christopher Joseph, the manager at this here McDonalds," explained Ben Gleck, referring to the napkin. "His cousin had an illegitimate son named Harold, who had a girlfriend named Lisa." President Gleck pointed to a picture of two stick figures, one wearing a little skirt. "Lisa was a prostitute. You know who else was a prostitute? Mary Magdalene. Mary Magdalene was a prostitute." I am much too squeamish to describe the picture he had drawn here. "Mary Magdalene was in the Bible, and you know who else was in the Bible? Jesus. And you know what Jesus was? Jesus was a Jew," President Bleck continued, referring to a picture of a man with a beard, on a cross and with a Star of David hanging from his neck. "This guy I met once was Jewish. His last name was Regman. And if you unscramble Regman, you know what you get? You get German. And you know who was German? Hitler. He also hated Jews." He pointed to a picture of Hitler, captioned with Regman = German. "So therefore, Christopher Joseph is Hitler," he concluded.

 

"That made absolutely no sense!" I exclaimed. "What is going on?"

 

"I'm running out of politicians to make ridiculous accusations about, so I have moved on to tearing apart the reputations of innocent civilians."

 

"I'm tired of this place," I cried. “I feel like this whole world is against me and there's nowhere I can escape to. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do…"

 

I sat on the ground and covered my face, rocking back and forth. I felt ashamed and embarrassed to be seen like this. But yet, I didn't care anymore, I just didn't want to see anything around me. I did this until all I heard was silence. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw that I was sitting inside the mysterious box that brought me to this other realm. I stood up, and pushed the door open to find that I was back in the white room. I saw the old man and I was relieved.

 

"Am I back?" I asked urgently. "Am I back home?"

 

The old man cracked up. "Oh, that's a good one. You really fell for it."

 

"What? What are you talking about?"

 

"You see," said the old man, "that machine never actually sent you anywhere. When you pressed that green button, it misted the air with LSD." The old man cracked up laughing once again. "Oh man, I really got you."

 

"So none of that was real?" I said. "Oh thank God, it was so horrible there. They ate puppies and tigers, and everything was stolen, and their libraries were so disorganized, and Glenn Beck was president..."

 

The old man cut me off. "Glenn Beck was President?" he said. "That is very frightening. I am so sorry you had to be put through that."

 

"You better be sorry," I said, "it was horrible."

 

"Man," said the old man. "I feel incredibly guilty now. Well, have a good night," he said, pushing me out of the room.

 

It felt nice to return home, even if the "other realm" was only a bad trip. What did I learn, you ask? Well, I learned that eating pandas is sick, and that Glenn Beck…I mean, “Ben Gleck” is truly insane. I guess that I also learned what it was like to be an outcast, and what it was like to have unpopular ideas and all that rubbish. I also learned that the old man in the health food store was a total jerk. Who on Earth drugs people like that? All I know is that the day the world turned itself upside-down was a terrible day, and when I got home, I fed my dog his Vega-Chow with no argument, because frankly, at least he didn't want to eat other dogs.

Reviews

[Willy P]

This is brilliant. Great lines throughout and wonderfully told.

[Coyote Poetry]

This is my kind of story. Always can be worst then we think. I like the detail and the description of the store and the library. A very good ending to a outstanding story. This was a fun story to read. Thank you.
Coyote

[Mark]

A really nifty tale, Breezie! Social commentary becomes you! It rather reminded me of Swift's "Gulliver's Travels", in its unabashed confrontation of the generaly accepted status quo. No fan I of the CNN bubblehead brigade, or all those ninnies who, lacking facts, substitute conjecture. Have just finished reading two Allan Drury novels, chock-full of reporters who see it as their holy duty to attack the establishment by any and all inference and innuendo they can muster. Very engaging read!