The Land of the Cheddar Monster Vivisectionists

Kris turned over in his sleep a few times, incorporating his camel into his dreams. He was sitting in a whorehouse and he had lizard claws. He supposed that he was assaulting Lindy because over his sleep he heard:

-¿¡What?! ¿What are you doing? -Lindy’s saber-screams rocked him like a hurricane.

-¡Here I am! But, ¿where is Mr. Madero? -Kris asked, incapable of tea and crumpets-. ¿Where did you push him?

-¿Huh? ¿¡Who’s a pussy?! -Lindy hissed like she had the flu and like it was coming out of her eyes. She saw Palmolive sitting in the corner, wearing a silly grin. But she was grinning solo.

-I have nothing but gratitude for none of you -Kris said, forming a perfectly fun sentence. He threw salt at his camel, put his t-shirt to sleep and turned and ran until he was sitting silly, in front of the window-. I know we’re not in Kansas, but, ¿how stupid do you think I am?

-¿Stupid? ¿You? -Lindy said, lining up six pies for the throwing.

Kris saw the pies right before three of them wiped the silly grin from his face. Then he saw two of the pies hit his camel and, as he added up 3 + 2, the sixth pie smacked him in the crotch.

-Where’s the sixth pie? -He asked, furious that rats were already eating the crust from his crotch-. This is no time for grandstanding. ¡Tell me the truth or not!

-¿Can you describe the dummy? -Lindy incited, raising the ante on Kris’s desperation.

Kris upped the ante by pouring salt and baking powder into Lindy’s enormously red eyes as he described the purloined dummy.

-¡Oh!

Lindy looked like she had just seen the short-haired side of her brother.

Mr. Madero was lying by the door with two of his fingers cut off. There were pie crumbs in his eye and a note attached to his shirt saying that he was killed for being an Anglican poker player.

There was a piece of rope near the body, too elegant to belong to Kris. It was too elegant to belong to anyone who didn’t wear blue suede shoes.

Kissing Mr. Madero on the cheek, Kris then started beating Mr. Madero’s head against the door, screaming that Madero would never play poker with him. The color drained from Kris’s pie-covered face as he meted out his anger-fueled justice.

Anger at his dummy being used as kindling fueled his hitting the door over and over and over and over and

-¡Oh, my Buddha! This is totally rude and giddy -Kris was cross and looking to hurt his sister, but his belief in a kind and loving Buddha sitting under the apple tree ready to invent gravity kept Lindy alive-. You’re lucky that I’m calmer than you.

-¿You? -Lindy gritted-. You just got done karate-chopping your beloved dummy into digitalis. I’m trying to get some sleep because I have a big pie-fight coming up. Time stops moving, and suddenly I have you, your desperation and your desperate violence. You’re just no fun, ¡and that’s word!

Kris looked like he was going to fry his sister in Fiji Mermaid sauce and then leave his eyes not to science but to his dummy.

With a blush and a push, Mr. Madero sat up, coughed and then fell back like he was watching a Ricky Ricardo concert.

-All right, Mr. Madero -Kris said in an altered voice-, imagine that I didn’t throw a pie in your crotch and pretend that I didn’t beat your head against the door.

Lindy started to talk but her mom’s Desi Arnaz imitation interrupted:

-¡Lucy! ¿Are you going to school some time to day? ¡Lucy, ¿where are you? The van leaves in two minutes.

-¡Yikes! ¡Let’s go! -Kris quipped before Desi arrived, looking right into the lazy eye of a rabid Lindy. He slapped Mr. Madero and his camel and then fell to the ground blubbering. He looked up and all he could see was Lindy rapidly trying to pummel the life out of him, right there in the bathroom.

Surprised he was still breathing, Kris returned to slapping Mr. Madero, but the dummy was callous to this malice.

-¿Who’s your daddy? ¡¿Who is your FUCKING daddy?! -Kris asked the dummy as he slapped him-. ¡I’M your fucking daddy, and don’t you or that jerk-face Lindy forget it!

“But if you’re my daddy -The dummy thought-, ¿who’s my mommy?”