THE KINGDOM OF BED EIGHTY
By Gary Clifton
“He’s got Uncle Fracus,” Paper Doll Guy shrieked. Paper Doll Guy had Oshal down beating the dogshit out of him. I got Paper Doll clubbed off. Oshal’s face was meat.
They’d assigned Paper Doll Guy to bed eighty in the back so he had space for his family kingdom across his cot. He spent all his waking hours cutting out paper dolls, giving them names, titles. They married, died, and he cried at the funerals until I told him to straighten the hell up. He was passive, until someone invaded the kingdom.
Oshal had kidnapped Uncle Fracus and got his ass kicked bad enough they sent an ambulance and made me strap Paper Doll down for the night.
The EMT patched Oshal up. Paper Doll babbled about a funeral for Uncle Fracus. Oshal gibbered Paper Doll was nuts and spent all day cutting out paper dolls.
“Scissors…in a nut house?” the EMT asked.
“Mister,” I said. “Paper Doll’s bottomed out. Here twenty years… makes paper dolls constantly, but he’s never had any real scissors or paper. Only thinks he does…Oshal thinks so, too. Now, can you help us find Uncle Fracus?”
Gary Clifton, a Federal officer, is forty years and has published or has pending several short fiction pieces with online sites.
Photo Credit: Toshiyuki IMAI