#19 Escape Mechanism

by Josh Vogt

“Found him,” Rachel said, peering through the telescope. “Bastard couldn’t hide forever.”

Bryan glanced up from his beer. “Who? The man in the moon?”

She straightened and adjusted her pink earmuffs. “Idiot. I spotted God. And I was right. He’s a space squid.”

“I’ve . . . either had too much to drink or not enough.”

“God. Is. A. Space. Squid. What part doesn’t make sense?”

Bryan sighed. Date night had begun oddly enough when Rachel lugged her telescope along, chattering about fluxing gravitational tides. “The individual words are okay. All together? Not so much.”

She pointed at the telescope. “Just look.”

“Fine.” He shuffled over and squinted through at the interstellar expanse. “It’s . . . black.”

She snorted. “Duh. God activated his escape mechanism. You’re looking at a galactic ink cloud. Totally explains dark matter and black holes.”

“Totally.”

Her huff plumed white. “You never respect my beliefs.”

“Since when have your beliefs included space squids?”

“I told you I study astronomy to find God in the stars.”

“I thought you were being poetic!”

“You’re so narrow-minded!”

“Seriously?” Bryan reached to the heavens. “Oh, Divine Space Squid! Accept this offering of cheap beer and hear my plea. Free me from this madwoman and I shall forever serve you!”

A writhing column obscured the stars, and Rachel shrieked as a tentacle yanked her into the night.

As Bryan stared, another swooping tentacle snatched the can from his hand.

After time unfroze, he retrieved the pink earmuffs from by his feet.

“I’m guessing this means no more calamari . . .”

Josh Vogt was a finalist in the 2012 Lascaux Flash contest—Ed.