FLASH FICTION : The Shit Zone

You look up at the green and white sign in front of you and breath a sigh of relief, for after such a long and grueling journey, you have finally reached your destination. WELCOME TO THE SHIT ZONE, reads the sign up ahead. The traffic seemed to have stopped in front of the big city, a fierce bumper-to-bumper traffic jam in front of the entrance to that grand old city of shit. The horns from other cars beep furiously, and you join in with the angry symphony as your fists beat angrily against the steering wheel. "Shit!" you mutter under your breath, and then repeat it even louder, screaming it this time. "SHIT!" Through the constant blaring of everyone’s car horn and this standstill traffic, you have time to read the sign once again: WELCOME TO THE SHIT ZONE. Traffic begins to pick up, slowly but it is better than no movement at all, and you find yourself getting closer and closer to that welcoming green and white sign, set up to greet all motorists about to enter this strange and wondrous zone of shit. You are getting closer to entering this magical place of wonder and mystery.

You are now entering The Shit Zone!

At first, it appears to be a city like any other, a metropolitan hellhole of the highest degree, but unlike all the other dumb shits of the world, you know better than to think of it as such. It has all the elements of the urban inner city: the thirty-story skyscrapers all around, the smell of smog and shit in the air, the winos on the street begging for change, looking like total shit themselves in their torn, filthy rags, all or most of them had probably shit and piss in their pants, and are currently sitting in that position, raving drunkenly on the sidewalks, sitting around and stewing in their own piss, shit, and vomit, and all just crazy enough not to give a shit in the slightest. Why, just look at this heavy traffic jam you are still stuck in; the same typical traffic jam you would be stuck in had you gone to New York or Boston, or Chicago, or one of those other cities.

Oh, but The Shit Zone is so much more, and you knew that even before you began the long and harrowing journey, an almost 500-mile drive through all kinds of crazy shit. But that was all of the bad shit, the bullshit for which you no longer have to deal with here. This is The Shit Zone, home to the good shit. Grade "A" shit all the fucking way, pal! Here, you think, you can finally get your shit together.

"C’MON, NOW, GODDAMN IT, GET A FUCKIN’ MOVE ON IT ALREADY!" you scream at the car in front of you, the same rear end of that same Ford Volkswagen with the same XL-956 license plate and the same black and white EAT SHIT AND DIE, ASSHOLE! bumper sticker on the rear window, and then pound your fists against the horn once more. But in truth, you’re in good spirits, just a little anxious, that’s all. You can hardly wait to get started with your new life. Oh God, why doesn’t this guy just take his own advice, huh? you think impatiently. Why doesn’t he just eat a rancid filthy piece of shit, puke all over himself and die? Jesus, this is gettin’ ridiculous already? Why don’t all these assholes just eat shit and fucking die, goddamn it, I’m sick of this shit!

You begin to wonder dismally if it had all been too good to be true to begin with, since you left your old place of residence, back wherever that was, conned into thinking that it just might be true, that The Shit Zone just might be your salvation, when in reality it was all a load of bullshit and nothing more.

But then you reassure yourself that this is only a minor traffic jams. All big cities such as this have huge traffic jams, especially during rush hour. What made you think The Shit Zone would be any different in that department. But The Shit Zone is everything you ever thought it would be, guaranteed. You know that, you’re sure of it, and that makes everything seem all right. The traffic is stop-and-go right now, sure, but you’ll get out of this eventually, able to settle into your new apartment, and start your new life. You know all about this place; it has all the shit you could ever want. Wild shit. Sick shit. Some of the sickest shit you’ve ever seen, and you want more and more, unable to get enough, unable to be satisfied. You are now living in a world of shit, with the ultimate shitstorm about to erupt, and you’re about to get front row seats at ground zero when it finally does. So just sit back, relax, and let everything take care of itself.

It all starts right now.

Outside, you hear some of the other motorists growing more and more restless, blaring their horns at each other, shooting the bird, and hanging their heads from the sides of their car windows cursing: "GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY WAY, ASSHOLE!"

A loud shotgun blast goes off outside, and the same man who was mocking the gunman a second ago is now screaming. "Oh God...oh shit...I’m hit...goddamn it, I’M HIT--AHH SHIT--I’m bleeding, you son of a bitch, I’m bleeding...YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

And then you hear a woman shrieking shrilly, most likely the man’s wife: "MEDIC! SOMEONE GET A MEDIC! PLEASE, MY HUSBAND’S BEEN SHOT, HE’S BLEEDING BADLY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

You turn up the volume on your radio to drown out all the noise outside and instead hear the rockin' tune of Godsmack’s "Awake" blasting out of the speakers. You sit back on your seat and roll your eyes at how impatient motorists can be sometimes. But that is irrelevant, isn’t it? It’s of no concern to you. Soon, you will be settled into your apartment once this traffic jam clears up (the sooner that happens, the better), and then, everything falls into place from there.

Welcome to the Shit Zone.

 

The End.

January 21, 2001