A Symphony unto Oneself

Chapter 4

The Story The Authors

He retrieved his binoculars from the bedroom closet and set about taking a closer survey of the children playing in the schoolyard, determined to find the plumpest, tenderest one among them. Just thinking about it made Mr. Tickles salivate. He would roast the child with onions, strips of bacon, fresh black pepper and a pinch of rosemary. A bosc pear would go in the child's mouth, and cloves of elephant garlic in its ears and nostrils. A thin line of drool extended from his lips nearly to the floor! Yum-yum, he said again. He scanned the playground. His eyes returned once, twice, a third and finally a decisive fourth time to a chubby lad of about nine, who sat by himself near the jungle-gym and slowly ate his lunch from a lunchbox emblazoned with the colorful branding of those infernal Dextroids from the television. And weren't they just everywhere! Such shows ought to be put out of the public's collective misery. Why, they threatened the very moral foundations of our society! Well, they'd have one less captive consumer after tonight, that was certain. And so he congratulated himself on that, the little dwarf did, and poured himself a thimblefull (and what a mighty big thimble that was) of whisky. With the whisky ruddying his cheeks and burning down the back of his throat, he took one last look through the binoculars at the boy in the schoolyard, and then set about perfecting his Plan. Philip

After Much Thought And More Whisky He Decided That He Would Lure The Child Into His House With A Giant Can Of Pork And Beans, And Then He Would Kill It With Chloroform, Which Would Be Inside The Can. But For Starters, Mr. Tickles Turned On The Oven And Began To Toast The Bread With Which He Would Make The Stuffing He Would Stuff The Child With Before He Roasted It. It Would Be Chestnut Stuffing. It Would Be Really Good. He Scratched Himself. He Was Hungry. He Was So Hungry He Had To Be The Hungriest Dwarf In The Whole World...He Wanted To Phone His Friend Sophocles And Tell Him This, And Share His Joy, But Unfortunately Sophocles Was Dead. Jesse

When Mr. Tickles had finally decided, he went to find the boy. He had to get to that boy. The boy was the only fat one left in the whole school. All the others had either been eaten by him, or excercised, dieted, and lots weight until they were in the relatively safe crowd of skinny, athletic kids like Jenna. Mr. Tickles wanted to arf when he thought of eating Jenna. She was the ringleader, as well as the tallest and skinniest kid ever. Except maybe for those teenagers with eating disorders. Skinny kids were awful. He had tried one once and it was horrible and tough. Even with all that shrimp sauce. Mr. Tickles told himself to concentrate. He would be moving to a new city tomorrow morning, so he needed that boy for his dinner and tomorrow's breakfast. He emerged into the schoolyard. All the kids screamed and ran inside - all except for Jenna, who didn't seem to care, and the fat boy, who didn't seem to notice. Mr. Tickles stepped toward the fat boy. "Look out, Fatty!" called Jenna. "Wha-" said the fat boy, and then noticed Mr. Tickles. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Irlrt's thwe fat kisd waeatimng monster!!" Mr. Tickles stood there, stunned. The fat kid was a Dextroid! Dextroids tasted so bad, they made skinny kids seem appetizing. Mr. Tickles was about to go home when he realized what he had just thought. He looked at Jenna, swinging tauntingly on the monkey bars just out of his reach. Was she worth it? Jenna, meanwhile, was having her own thoughts. That stupid dwarf. She wished that there had been a better way to teach those fat kids to shape up. Well, she didn't need to worry. She was the skinniest kid in the whole school. And as for the fat boy, she hated him anyway. Jenna flipped over and jumped gracefully off the monkey bars. And suddenly Mr. Tickles caught her!!! Carolyn

Mr. Tickles proceeded to the bedroom and entered the cavelike empire of his giant, walk-in closet, looking for that giant can of pork & beans. It had to be in there somewhere, he just couldn't remember where. He'd received as a "Secret Santa" gift at an office Christmas Party, several years back when he used to work for the Post Office, before the 'accident' happened. He rummaged through the well-stuffed closet, among shoes and hats, a stuffed and mounted jackalope, boxes and boxes of the antique Kentucky Fried Chicken receipts he collected and preserved between panes of colored glass, a pith helmet, a night-cactus (ouch!), an unopened Ant Farm, a sweet potato autographed by Julia Child and now forever young inside a glass jar full of formaldehyde, and a great many pornographic video cassettes, sadly all in european PAL format, which meant he had no way of watching them. But no giant can of pork and beans. Now where in tarnation could he have put it? He glanced down at the luminous hands of his watch -- sweet mother of God, he had to hurry! School would be letting out in less than two hours, and he still hadn't rendered any fat from the last child he'd lured into his house. He stopped for a minute then. He shook his head. No pork and beans, then no pork and beans, and if that meant it had to be the goddamned cat suit against, so be it. Anyway you cut it, as long as he had that child to roast up for his supper, it was fine with him. He returned to the kitchen and began to sharpen his cleavers and his knives. Philip

The Story	The Authors
He retrieved his binoculars from the bedroom closet and set about taking a closer survey of the children playing in the schoolyard, determined to find the plumpest, tenderest one among them. Just thinking about it made Mr. Tickles salivate. He would roast the child with onions, strips of bacon, fresh black pepper and a pinch of rosemary. A bosc pear would go in the child's mouth, and cloves of elephant garlic in its ears and nostrils. A thin line of drool extended from his lips nearly to the floor! Yum-yum, he said again. He scanned the playground. His eyes returned once, twice, a third and finally a decisive fourth time to a chubby lad of about nine, who sat by himself near the jungle-gym and slowly ate his lunch from a lunchbox emblazoned with the colorful branding of those infernal Dextroids from the television. And weren't they just everywhere! Such shows ought to be put out of the public's collective misery. Why, they threatened the very moral foundations of our society! Well, they'd have one less captive consumer after tonight, that was certain. And so he congratulated himself on that, the little dwarf did, and poured himself a thimblefull (and what a mighty big thimble that was) of whisky. With the whisky ruddying his cheeks and burning down the back of his throat, he took one last look through the binoculars at the boy in the schoolyard, and then set about perfecting his Plan.	Philip
After Much Thought And More Whisky He Decided That He Would Lure The Child Into His House With A Giant Can Of Pork And Beans, And Then He Would Kill It With Chloroform, Which Would Be Inside The Can. But For Starters, Mr. Tickles Turned On The Oven And Began To Toast The Bread With Which He Would Make The Stuffing He Would Stuff The Child With Before He Roasted It. It Would Be Chestnut Stuffing. It Would Be Really Good. He Scratched Himself. He Was Hungry. He Was So Hungry He Had To Be The Hungriest Dwarf In The Whole World...He Wanted To Phone His Friend Sophocles And Tell Him This, And Share His Joy, But Unfortunately Sophocles Was Dead.	Jesse
When Mr. Tickles had finally decided, he went to find the boy. He had to get to that boy. The boy was the only fat one left in the whole school. All the others had either been eaten by him, or excercised, dieted, and lots weight until they were in the relatively safe crowd of skinny, athletic kids like Jenna. Mr. Tickles wanted to arf when he thought of eating Jenna. She was the ringleader, as well as the tallest and skinniest kid ever. Except maybe for those teenagers with eating disorders. Skinny kids were awful. He had tried one once and it was horrible and tough. Even with all that shrimp sauce. Mr. Tickles told himself to concentrate. He would be moving to a new city tomorrow morning, so he needed that boy for his dinner and tomorrow's breakfast. He emerged into the schoolyard. All the kids screamed and ran inside - all except for Jenna, who didn't seem to care, and the fat boy, who didn't seem to notice. Mr. Tickles stepped toward the fat boy. "Look out, Fatty!" called Jenna. "Wha-" said the fat boy, and then noticed Mr. Tickles. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Irlrt's thwe fat kisd waeatimng monster!!" Mr. Tickles stood there, stunned. The fat kid was a Dextroid! Dextroids tasted so bad, they made skinny kids seem appetizing. Mr. Tickles was about to go home when he realized what he had just thought. He looked at Jenna, swinging tauntingly on the monkey bars just out of his reach. Was she worth it? Jenna, meanwhile, was having her own thoughts. That stupid dwarf. She wished that there had been a better way to teach those fat kids to shape up. Well, she didn't need to worry. She was the skinniest kid in the whole school. And as for the fat boy, she hated him anyway. Jenna flipped over and jumped gracefully off the monkey bars. And suddenly Mr. Tickles caught her!!!	Carolyn
Mr. Tickles proceeded to the bedroom and entered the cavelike empire of his giant, walk-in closet, looking for that giant can of pork & beans. It had to be in there somewhere, he just couldn't remember where. He'd received as a "Secret Santa" gift at an office Christmas Party, several years back when he used to work for the Post Office, before the 'accident' happened. He rummaged through the well-stuffed closet, among shoes and hats, a stuffed and mounted jackalope, boxes and boxes of the antique Kentucky Fried Chicken receipts he collected and preserved between panes of colored glass, a pith helmet, a night-cactus (ouch!), an unopened Ant Farm, a sweet potato autographed by Julia Child and now forever young inside a glass jar full of formaldehyde, and a great many pornographic video cassettes, sadly all in european PAL format, which meant he had no way of watching them. But no giant can of pork and beans. Now where in tarnation could he have put it? He glanced down at the luminous hands of his watch -- sweet mother of God, he had to hurry! School would be letting out in less than two hours, and he still hadn't rendered any fat from the last child he'd lured into his house. He stopped for a minute then. He shook his head. No pork and beans, then no pork and beans, and if that meant it had to be the goddamned cat suit against, so be it. Anyway you cut it, as long as he had that child to roast up for his supper, it was fine with him. He returned to the kitchen and began to sharpen his cleavers and his knives.	Philip

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