Health inspector Roscoe Leaperwitz dropped by yesterday. He wanted a tour so I showed him around. He’s a pretty nice guy. Turns out, he’s going to be a best-selling author as soon as he can write his novel. It will be a cross between real life adventures like “Ghost Hunters,” and the world of “Cthulhu,” based on the writings of H. B. Lovecraft.
I suggested he read, “Bird by Bird,” because it could help him get his words flowing. I gave him my copy.
I thought everything was going really well but then we got to the walk-in cooler.
Roscoe went right to that weird, glowing green mold that runs up the wall at the back of the shelf containing frozen fish fillets and French fries. He got so excited he started to wheeze. He made me help him shove the shelves out of the way so he could examine the mold. I figured it would be okay because the mold’s not black and it certainly hasn’t affected the cockroaches.
Oh, yeah, the roaches did scurry around a bit when we moved the shelves, but Roscoe didn’t seem to mind.
He clapped his hands together and flushed red with excitement. “This is what I’m talking about! The intersection of our worlds. An aperture.”
I looked away for a second. Maybe he wanted a date and I started figuring out how to turn him down.
When I glanced back, he’d drawn some symbols on the wall with his grease pencil.
He placed his hands on the glowing lines of mold and muttered something about a “monstrous nuclear chaos beyond angled space.”
The overhead light flickered and suddenly a green haze filled the freezer. I ran to switch by the door and flipped on the exhaust fan.
When the fog cleared, Roscoe was gone. I haven’t seen him since.
Can I get written up for that?