The Day the Funkapotomus Came to Town ( A Short Story)

Once upon a time, the Funkapotomus came to town. The day he arrived was much like any other of that cold, cruel winter. Bitter winds, gray skies, and a sense of gloom held the town in an icy grip. The medical establishment reported an increase in the number of pale faces, aching backs, and hollow eyes, and the media warned citizens of an alarming new “snow rage” syndrome.  

But while everyone in the village experienced a slight touch of winter madness, the Funkapotomus only had eyes for one. It wasn’t her shapely physique that drew him in, for that had been lost to time. It wasn’t her eyes that held him spellbound, for they were ringed with dark circles. It wasn’t her long flowing hair, for she had lost it recently in a styling accident. It certainly wasn’t her smile, for no one had seen that in days. It was her heart and mind. The Funkapotomus knew that they were open to the angst that he so generously offered.

The Funkapotomus was no amateur when it came to wrecking emotional havoc. Where mere sadness was sufficient for some, he determined that his favorite new victim should be tested with a kaleidoscope of emotions to keep her guessing and groveling at his feet.

He started with a healthy dose of stupidity, engaging her in the classic move of inserting foot in mouth. She insulted some, and made unfathomable word choices in her previously successful attempts at being humorous.

Second, he infused her with an abundance of pride with which she bragged obnoxiously of her offspring’s accomplishments.

He doused her with cattiness, small-mindedness, and self-centeredness for good measure. 

Then he sought out her seldom seen evil side with which he tempted her to bring ill will into the literal and figurative sanctuary of her soul.   

When even he tired of her casting despair and gloom over everything and everyone in her path, the Funkapotumus injected her with enough lethargy to cause her to take to her bed where she could do no further harm. There she stayed, unwilling to dress, to feed her offspring, or to contribute in any way to the needs of her humble abode.

When his favorite girl at last acknowledged that the Funkapotomus had indeed sought her out there was nothing left for her to do but weep. She cried herself to sleep in the arms of the one man in the village who knew of her demons, and he vowed to fight her tormentor, the Funkapotomus, till the end of his days.

The End.