#143 The Hunt for the Acid Peacock

by Barry Charman

Chas had been hunting for days. It seemed like days, it could have been years, or seconds. All he knew was he had to keep going. The Acid Peacock was here, it was the ultimate prize.

Chas trod carefully through the pink mushrooms and avoided the preening unicorns. He crept around a mountainous cat, that rumbled like a volcano, and quietly dodged an amorous octopus.

Oh, this jungle, this never-ending waste of candy floss trees and tickle-monsters!

Somewhere the Peacock was watching, and laughing.

Chas paused to think, he knew the Peacock liked top hats, but he didn’t have any for bait. No matter, he was patient, he didn’t need to rest, or eat. He trudged on, jumping at every sound the square forest hiccupped.

Oddly, he couldn’t seem to remember a time before the jungle. He sat a moment, dazed. Why did he feel this strange pull, this yearning, as if to emerge from sleep?

Eventually he walked on, coming to a clearing of socks and dirty plates, and wearily sat on a giant bed of half-eaten toast. When the Acid Peacock emerged from the foliage and trotted over to him, he was too tired to pick up his special hunting club, and could only stare, child-like.

“Oh, poor you,” said the Peacock. “What a terrible state to be in.”

Chas nodded, sleepily. “Sort yourself out,” the Peacock added.

Sage advice, Chas thought, must remember that; and he drifted away, to find himself, as best he could.

1 comment:

Flutterby said...

This is a funny piece. I was almost wishing at the end you showed Chas drifting off to sleep and that his "dream world" was like our regular world. I'm not sure if that's where you were going with it. But if so, I love that idea and wish it had been slightly more explicit in that regard. Loved the world building with its giant bed of half-eaten toast!