Oliver Benjamin
They agreed and hurriedly tried to pull Colin’s round body
through the square hole.
It was impossible. Furthermore, they got him so wedged in that
he could no longer get out. He was stuck in the gap, half-in, half-out,
a flying albatross paralyzed in time. Additionally, his body created an
airtight seal and the odor inside the room was getting worse with
each breath.
“Perhaps there’s a tool in here or something,” Izzy suggested. But
the meager amount of illumination trickling in from the other pane
of glass wasn’t enough. They felt around the walls for a switch and
then the room was bathed in hazy light.
Broken guitars, drums and beer bottles still littered the place.
Errant pot seeds coupled with patches of unidentifiable organic
matter had combined to turn the carpet into a tiny marijuana garden,
though the little plants had long-since dried up. Torn porno
magazines were strewn about like confetti spermaceti. Long-dead
rats had long-ago made nests in the kick drum and still-living bugs
scuttled about on the floor of what was for them surely a paradise
unparalleled.
For humans the conditions were far from delightful and Sprout
and Izzy could barely contain their screams. Even sturdy General
Heck cringed like a little girl.
“Oh, come on you guys. It’s not that bad,” Colin said. “Just
breathe through your mouth.”
“I am,” said Izzy, “I can taste the stench.”
“Hey look,” said Heck, “There’s some perfectly good sludge over
here. We could use it to lubricate the window frame and pull Colin
through.”
“Sludge?” said Colin, “What kind of sludge?”
“Yeah, and we can apply it with this mop,” Said Sprout.
“Mop?” Colin protested, “That’s not a mop. That’s a guitar neck
with something growing out of it.”
“It’ll do,” Izzy said. “Get ready to be anointed.”
“Wait!” Colin said, “What about the coffee paste? If I smell like
sludge then dogs will be able to track me.”
“If they smell this stuff, they won’t wantto track you,” Heck
pointed out. They all grimaced as he scooped up the horrible goo,
then liberally painted the window frame and Colin’s twitching body
with it. They then tied his arms and shoulders with guitar cables and,
with all their might and desperation, forced him gradually through
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