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Word count: 1,699

Caricatures By Andrew Mendelson The petite redhead was the first thing that the young man noticed as he entered the waiting room. He averted his gaze as soon as she noticed him. The Dachau Jews in their blue and white striped rags couldnt distract him as much as her curious expression. Not even the space marines polishing their assault rifles concerned him as he sat down all the way across the room from the redhead. It wasnt until the bulldog made out of construction paper approached him that he stopped focusing on her with his peripheral vision. Hi! the dog said. My names Thomas but everyone here calls me Tom. You can call me Tom too. Whats your name? Toms flimsy paper body didnt suit his gigantic presence at all and he tried desperately not to turn and expose his nearly two-dimensional body. My names Blas. Nice to meet you Blas! Here, I can shake, see? Blas accepted Toms paw which cut into his palm as the energetic dog tried to shake his hand. He winced and pulled away. Oh, Tom put his head down and said. Sorry about thatits just the way the Writer made me. I think Im in his first attempt at making a childrens book. What kind of story do you come from? Blas sighed. The question was an all too painful reminder of the slow progress the Writer had had with him. It wasnt his fault that he was written as a shy young man with an awkward, tall and lanky figure to match. What kind of a story could possibly come from such a clich and apprehensive character? Half of the one page the Writer had managed to finish was nothing more than inner dialogue of constant self doubt and crippling ambivalence. He was embarrassed for himself but even more so for the amateur Writer. Tom, you seem very nice, but it was kind of a rough session just now and I really need to clear my head before He starts again. Well, youll have plenty of time for that. We all do. Look around. The Writers mastered procrastination, thats for sure. Blas scanned the room in what he hoped was a discreet manner. There was a group of black jazz musicians near the Dachau Jews. Next to the space marines was a sickly young man pulling something out of his leg which resembled a vine but had a light brown color. Near the tall, green door he had entered sat a frail old man taking deep breaths and looking down at the floor with the palpable anxiety of dementia. A friendly looking boy with curly brown hair reached his arm up as far as he could and rubbed the old mans back. Others filled the room, but they all had the same banal suburban look that fit with the setting Blas had come from. All of the characters around him seemed terribly flawed somehow, either physically or psychologically. And why shouldnt they be, Blas thought to himself. Who wants to read about happy, healthy, normal people? And of course, there was the redhead. None of the characters could distract him for very long. The waiting room itself consisted of nothing more than rows of uncomfortable blue chairs, white walls, tubular fluorescent lights and the large green door from which hed entered. There was nothing to do but space out and think about his story. He worked up the courage to glance in the redheads direction again and noticed that her chair was empty. Turning his head to the right to look for her, he suddenly heard a bright and peppy voice on his left which startled him. 1

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Word count: 1,699

Hey there. He-y. Blas voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Hello. Do you mind if I sit here? No, go ahead. But Blas did mind. A part of him certainly did not want her sitting there. Her petite body and affable smile were far too much for the lousy nerves and personality the dammed Writer had cursed him with. His hands shook slightly. A flush of heat went to his face as he started to sweat. The thought of perspiring and smelling bad in front of her terrified him, but trying to will himself calm only seemed to exacerbate his rigid posture and anxiety. Surely she had noticed his voice crack. How could he possibly carry on a conversation with her? But he had been polite, he had said she could set next to himthere was no escape. My names Rachel. Blas. Its a pleasure to meet you, Blas. I havent seen a new character in awhile. I guess Hes finally gotten over His writers block. I wouldnt be so sure, Blas replied. It took him forever to write the first page of my story. Half the time He was just trying to come up with my name. Slowly, a hint of relief came to him as he talked. He was thankful that Rachel was such a natural conversationalist who chose a subject he could ramble about. Oh my God, dont even get me started on names. Just call me Raquel if you want by the way. Forget Rachel, apparently you can just use two names for me interchangeably. Why? Did He give you a personality disorder or something? Ha. He might as well have. Im actually the oldest character here. Our lovely Writer loves to procrastinate. When He first wrote my story He was trying to go for some Alfred Hitchcock vibe or something. He even went as far as to name my boyfriend Al Hancock. The B-bomb instantly transformed Blas anxiety into sadness. Wow. That is pretty bad. Right? Anyway, Ive got some twin sister named Raquel. Im basically, I mean, shes basically a crazy whore who sleeps with Al. So Rachel, uh, so I end up killing both of them and in the very beginning of the story I have to dispose of the bodies. Blas was trying to keep up and his sadness had now mutated into confusion. Twin sister, possibly good, he thought. Whore, definitely good. Murder, very bad. Single as a result of murder, possibly good. Damn, thats crazy. Yeah. Its weird though. He kept forgetting which sister was which so my name is constantly getting mixed up. It gets me all confused. I really hope He fixes my story...sorry for dumping all of this on you by the way. She forced out a weak chuckle. Oh, its ok. Its definitely okay, Blas thought. Issues means emotional which means easy pickings. Damnwhat kind of a character am I? I wish He couldve written more. Am I just shy or am I some kind of maladjusted creep? Or both? I hardly care at this point. What tripe. I think Im just about done with this garbage.

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Word count: 1,699

Rachel was the first one to notice. The shrillness of her scream penetrated Blas ears and made him jump. For a moment he wondered if she had heard his thoughts somehow. His thoughts must have terrified her. He did his best to make a somber expression as he prepared to apologize. Raquel grabbed his shoulder. She pointed at something behind him and immediately drew the hand back to her mouth. Blas turned to see Tom crumpled into a ball. His tail curled around his leg and could barely wag. His head had been folded in half and wrapped in his torso. Tom? Rachel buried her head into Blas shoulder and sobbed. Can you help me, please? Tom whispered. Blas turned to the nearest person but saw that they hadnt even bothered to look. In fact, no one in the waiting room moved or showed any expression at all. Excuse me, Blas said to the pirate sitting nearby. The pirate didnt budge. Blas reached over and gently tapped the pirates arm which knocked him to the ground with an inordinately loud thud. For a moment Blas was terribly confused. He saw that the wooden leg of the pirate extended to the knee, yet the knee and thigh were wood as well, only they were beige colored and shaped like a real leg rather than the crude, round planks which made up the lower leg. Upon closer inspection Blas noticed the pirates entire body had an unnatural stiffness. He gaspedthe pirate was a mannequin. He looked around; every person in the room was a mannequin. Blas? Raquel whispered. Dont look. You probably dont want to see this. Oh God! What? What is it? Im not sure. How long have you been in this room? I dont knowmaybe a week, maybe a year. A pain suddenly shot through Blas hand as sharp teeth chomped down on his fingers. He pushed Rachel away from him but ended up tumbling to the floor with her as the teeth stubbornly refused to release him. Rachel, stop! Christ! Raquel, let him go you bitch! Im so sorry, Blas... Raquels mouth was just behind Rachels ear. She released Blas fingers and spit out the blood. Hes mine! Raquels mouth screamed. Dammit, said Rachel as she tried to cover the extra mouth with her hair. Hell never accept us now. Why couldnt you just stay quiet? Great. What a mnage-a-trois I could have with you two! Maybe if Im lucky Raquel will bite it off while Rachel cries the whole time. Ive had enough of this so-called waiting room. This whole scene is a farce. Its just another one of His experimental bits and its just awful. Awful! Ive had enough. Blas turned to leave but the walls had all been knocked down. An infinite black void surrounded him. Thankfully, the ceiling was still floating above him. For a moment he considered turning back to the girls and going along with the plot for the sake of morbid curiosity. What the hell kind of name is Blas anyway, asshole? he said. And so Blas no longer cared if there would be another story or if the current one would somehow improve. As the angry protagonist made a dash for the abyss it proved to be futile. The ceiling collapsed and denied him the satisfaction of initiating his death and this ending. 3