The Un-Metamorphosis
Asmas Rogerg woke up one morning to find himself transformed into a monstrous, pink flesh-bag. His dozens of tiny legs and armored shell were both gone, he only had two big, gangly arms and legs and was soft to the touch. "This is no dream!" he thought. His room was fairly normal for a beetle like him, made of dead wood, filled with leaves and small twigs. Asmas was a traveling leaf salesman, selling leaves and leaf accessories for low, low prices. He thought about going back to sleep, but that was rather impractical since he liked sleeping on the ceiling, but apparently he had fallen onto the floor and bumped his new head quite badly sometime during the night.
"Well.this sucks" he thought to himself, his grueling life of scuttling around aimlessly in the forest in search of some other bug to try and pawn off leaves too was nothing he'd ever wish upon anyone.except maybe his boss. He wished he could live like the other salesmen who sold things like sticks and dead wood, they lived like kings, eating lots of smaller bugs and such. He only worked because of his parents; they were two weeks old and getting on in years. His boss was an incorrigible jerk; he worked Asmas to the carapace day in and day out. Oh well, he thought, after another five or six days he'd pay off his boss and leave to go scuttle around the desert maybe. He looked over at his clock and cursed quite loudly. He was almost late for the seven o'clock sparrow out of town! How could he have missed the alarm clock with it being so close to his bed? By now it was a quarter till seven and there came a furious pounding upon the door.
"ASMAS!!! Get your lazy butt out here right now or I will come in there and beat you unconscious with your own legs!" His mother screamed shrilly through the rotting door on its rickety hinges.
"I'm coming! Just hold on!" He said with his voice now a deep, resonating bass compared to the shrill screaming of his kind.
"Asmas, I swear, if you don't get up I'm going to make you experience a world of hurt!!" This time it was his father, clattering up to the door and ramming it with his bony head.
"Asmas you tool, get out here and catch your sparrow out of town!" Now it was his sister nearly beating his bedroom door down, screeching along with his parents in an unholy chorus of annoyance.
"All of you be QUIET! I'm coming!" He snarled at his rotting wooden door. Slowly flailing and then finally righting himself and lying on his belly. He began his feeble attempt to scuttle, but only managed to cut his palms up pretty bad. Finally he took a chance and stood up on his hind legs, and found it rather enjoyable. Maybe there's something to this "human" thing he thought. By now it was already seven and he had missed the Sparrow, which was screaming and careening about a few feet from his window, attempting to gain altitude and fly off into the desert or the ocean or to Chicago or wherever it was going today. Taking a sparrow was a bit like roulette, sometimes you might end up in the other yard, the lake, or the desert. One beetle said he had been to the moon on a Sparrow, but no one ever listened to Crazy Larry anyway unless he was selling televisions again. Outside he could faintly hear a slamming on their tree door, and quietly hoped his family wouldn't answer or would throw sticks at the interloper in a vain hope he would leave. Seconds later there was a heavy slamming upon his door, and the resounding voice of his boss "Asmas, you're late for work and you're worrying your parents, but more important you're missing out on making me filthy rich! The board of directors said they would fire you if you pulled some stupid stunt like this again, Fire that cretin! They said, a liability to the company they said! Those were their exact words, I swear! I told them you weren't as much of a flailing idiot as they made you out to be, but it looks like I was wrong, wasn't I? I swear, your performance is terrible! I've seen dead people sell better than you, and they were dead! How many leaves do you think they can sell from beyond the grave huh? Not very many, I will tell you that! Now get out here or I'm going to both fire you and burn this whole place down!"
"He'll do it Asmas, he has a big bucket of kerosene out here!" chimed in his mother, a slight edge of worry creeping into her already shrill voice.
"First, be quiet. You don't have to scream at my door, I'm three inches away, not on the bloody moon! Second, I'm getting up as fast as I can, I'm just having a little problem because.uh.I'm drunk. Yeah, I'm drunk. It's hard to get up when you're drunk. Yep, drunk, that's what I am. So just hold on while I stumble out of bed.because I'm drunk.and drunken people stumble." He seemed to blurt it all out at once in his loud human voice, it was obvious now that he wasn't a beetle at all anymore.
"Wow, he really is drunk! Eterg! Go get a stick to beat him with!" His mother howled, and with that Eterg, the sister, was off scuttling out the house to find a nice, large stick. Well.perfect! Now I have to go chase her.ugh Asmas though, walking up to the door and kicking it open and subsequently knocking his boss down and onto his back.
"What the-, Asmas you clumsy imbecile! I ought to-"and it was at that moment that his entire family gazed upon his gangly, disturbing form, and they all screamed. His boss took off scuttling up the wall and towards the door of their home, which was oddly enough on the ceiling. Asmas knew that he had to prevent his boss from escaping, for he would surely be back with even more kerosene to burn the entire tree down. His mother began running into the wall and screaming in a vain attempt to get away through what appeared to be a solid wall. Asmas continued on after the boss and was promptly smacked in the face with a rather large twig brandished by his father. His father chased him forward and whapped him smartly with that twig. Asmas tumbled backwards and rolled into his room. His father sneered down at him, to the extent that a beetle can, and then slammed the door in his face, and once more everything was quiet.
Asmas Rogerg woke up one morning to find himself transformed into a monstrous, pink flesh-bag. His dozens of tiny legs and armored shell were both gone, he only had two big, gangly arms and legs and was soft to the touch. "This is no dream!" he thought. His room was fairly normal for a beetle like him, made of dead wood, filled with leaves and small twigs. Asmas was a traveling leaf salesman, selling leaves and leaf accessories for low, low prices. He thought about going back to sleep, but that was rather impractical since he liked sleeping on the ceiling, but apparently he had fallen onto the floor and bumped his new head quite badly sometime during the night.
"Well.this sucks" he thought to himself, his grueling life of scuttling around aimlessly in the forest in search of some other bug to try and pawn off leaves too was nothing he'd ever wish upon anyone.except maybe his boss. He wished he could live like the other salesmen who sold things like sticks and dead wood, they lived like kings, eating lots of smaller bugs and such. He only worked because of his parents; they were two weeks old and getting on in years. His boss was an incorrigible jerk; he worked Asmas to the carapace day in and day out. Oh well, he thought, after another five or six days he'd pay off his boss and leave to go scuttle around the desert maybe. He looked over at his clock and cursed quite loudly. He was almost late for the seven o'clock sparrow out of town! How could he have missed the alarm clock with it being so close to his bed? By now it was a quarter till seven and there came a furious pounding upon the door.
"ASMAS!!! Get your lazy butt out here right now or I will come in there and beat you unconscious with your own legs!" His mother screamed shrilly through the rotting door on its rickety hinges.
"I'm coming! Just hold on!" He said with his voice now a deep, resonating bass compared to the shrill screaming of his kind.
"Asmas, I swear, if you don't get up I'm going to make you experience a world of hurt!!" This time it was his father, clattering up to the door and ramming it with his bony head.
"Asmas you tool, get out here and catch your sparrow out of town!" Now it was his sister nearly beating his bedroom door down, screeching along with his parents in an unholy chorus of annoyance.
"All of you be QUIET! I'm coming!" He snarled at his rotting wooden door. Slowly flailing and then finally righting himself and lying on his belly. He began his feeble attempt to scuttle, but only managed to cut his palms up pretty bad. Finally he took a chance and stood up on his hind legs, and found it rather enjoyable. Maybe there's something to this "human" thing he thought. By now it was already seven and he had missed the Sparrow, which was screaming and careening about a few feet from his window, attempting to gain altitude and fly off into the desert or the ocean or to Chicago or wherever it was going today. Taking a sparrow was a bit like roulette, sometimes you might end up in the other yard, the lake, or the desert. One beetle said he had been to the moon on a Sparrow, but no one ever listened to Crazy Larry anyway unless he was selling televisions again. Outside he could faintly hear a slamming on their tree door, and quietly hoped his family wouldn't answer or would throw sticks at the interloper in a vain hope he would leave. Seconds later there was a heavy slamming upon his door, and the resounding voice of his boss "Asmas, you're late for work and you're worrying your parents, but more important you're missing out on making me filthy rich! The board of directors said they would fire you if you pulled some stupid stunt like this again, Fire that cretin! They said, a liability to the company they said! Those were their exact words, I swear! I told them you weren't as much of a flailing idiot as they made you out to be, but it looks like I was wrong, wasn't I? I swear, your performance is terrible! I've seen dead people sell better than you, and they were dead! How many leaves do you think they can sell from beyond the grave huh? Not very many, I will tell you that! Now get out here or I'm going to both fire you and burn this whole place down!"
"He'll do it Asmas, he has a big bucket of kerosene out here!" chimed in his mother, a slight edge of worry creeping into her already shrill voice.
"First, be quiet. You don't have to scream at my door, I'm three inches away, not on the bloody moon! Second, I'm getting up as fast as I can, I'm just having a little problem because.uh.I'm drunk. Yeah, I'm drunk. It's hard to get up when you're drunk. Yep, drunk, that's what I am. So just hold on while I stumble out of bed.because I'm drunk.and drunken people stumble." He seemed to blurt it all out at once in his loud human voice, it was obvious now that he wasn't a beetle at all anymore.
"Wow, he really is drunk! Eterg! Go get a stick to beat him with!" His mother howled, and with that Eterg, the sister, was off scuttling out the house to find a nice, large stick. Well.perfect! Now I have to go chase her.ugh Asmas though, walking up to the door and kicking it open and subsequently knocking his boss down and onto his back.
"What the-, Asmas you clumsy imbecile! I ought to-"and it was at that moment that his entire family gazed upon his gangly, disturbing form, and they all screamed. His boss took off scuttling up the wall and towards the door of their home, which was oddly enough on the ceiling. Asmas knew that he had to prevent his boss from escaping, for he would surely be back with even more kerosene to burn the entire tree down. His mother began running into the wall and screaming in a vain attempt to get away through what appeared to be a solid wall. Asmas continued on after the boss and was promptly smacked in the face with a rather large twig brandished by his father. His father chased him forward and whapped him smartly with that twig. Asmas tumbled backwards and rolled into his room. His father sneered down at him, to the extent that a beetle can, and then slammed the door in his face, and once more everything was quiet.