Cloud Dribbles 1
The Maximum Stimulus Episode One
Based on This Prompt
Somewhere on the busy streets of some huge crowded city, a young boy named Sato Keisuke, no older than 17 and no more remarkable than anyone else, walked along the crowded sidewalk carrying a backpack full of textbooks and a pocket full of dollar bills he managed to scrape together from working as a waiter at a crummy burger joint. It was a Friday night, and school had just ended for the year, which meant he had the time to go to the convenience store and buy as many snacks as his money would allow and binge-watch his favorite tv show without worrying about oversleeping for school or dealing with his mother yelling at him over a missed homework assignment. He slung his backpack to the front of his body and wrestled with the zipper for a moment, but managed to yank the bag open and pull out the item that was so dear to his heart: his brand new sound-canceling, ear-suctioning, bass-boosted, four-hundred-dollar headphones that his parents bought him for his birthday, which was two months ago but, in his own words, “A late gift was better than no gift.” Giddy with excitement, he delicately placed the headphones on his head and pressed the jet-black power button. Just turning them on made the rushing sounds of city traffic melt into soft white noise, the type you would hear in the background of a big-city romcom movie where the romantic couple is having a lovely date in a cafe just before some embarrassing catastrophe hits. Not bothering to close the bag, he shouldered it onto his back once more and whipped his phone out of his pocket to turn on some underground band that sang about climate change and the woes of capitalism. The beautiful sound of a shredding guitar coupled with loving, soulful taps of the djembe and the chorus of three angelic voices caressed his ears and serenaded his heart before transporting him into his own world of inspired thoughts. Keisuke stepped through the grimy, creaking automatic doors convenience store.
Before he realized how long it had been, Sato Keisuke had spent twenty minutes humming and dancing in the chip and cookie aisle. He hadn’t heard the owner fussing at him from over the counter and practically jumped out of his skin when the middle-aged man tapped his shoulder. Sato quickly took his headphones off, “M-Mister Garcia, I-”
“Listen Keisuke, this isn’t MTV and it sure as hell isn’t your own personal music video. Get your chips and get steppin’! I close in thirty! Stop romancing the chips and get to the counter.” Mr. Garcia grumbled, smelling like cigarette smoke and irritation. He waddled back to the sticky checkout booth, opened up the bulletproof glass cage, stepped inside, and glared at the high schooler as he locked it up again.
Not wanting to overstay his welcome any more than he already had, Keisuke grabbed the first few bags of chips that he saw and hustled over to Mr. Garcia’s booth. The checkout process was a bit awkward, considering Mr. Garcia was tearing him a new one over playing his music too loud before shoving the bag full of snacks into his hands. Keisuke put his headphones back on as he stepped outside of the store again, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and started his short walk home. He opened his eyes and stepped out onto the street, not hearing the blaring horn of an out-of-control delivery truck thanks to those sweet, angelic voices telling him about climate change and the woes of capitalism.
Lucky for him, someone shoved him out of the way. He hit the pavement hard, knocking the headphones off just in time for him to hear a loud thud and the screams of dozens of people. He rolled over and looked back to see what the commotion was and quickly wished he hadn’t.
There was a mass, vaguely in the shape of a body, lying yards away from him, mangled and bloodied and unmoving in the street. Blood pooled from the heap of torn flesh and started to slowly traverse down the warm grey road. People rushed to the corpse’s side, trying desperately to do anything they could to help her. All Keisuke could do was lay there in shock. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even open his mouth to scream in horror with the other bystanders. He could only stare at the person who had exchanged her life for his.
In a strange new world, a woman woke up laying on technicolor-green grass and staring up at a sky that was a little too blue for her liking. She sat up and looked around. Strange boar-like creatures no bigger than housecats grunted and poked around her, their violet eyes staring down at her as if asking ‘Why are you here?’ She was no longer in the busy city she called home, shoving a stupid teenager out of the erratic pathway of an out-of-control delivery truck. A rather handsome man walked over to her and leaned over her face, “Are you alrigh’? ‘S not normal to be sleepin’ in strangers’ cattle fields.”
“What…the fuck?!”