The Eureka Chronicles 1: A Cheesy Beginning

The Eureka Chronicles Part 1

I don't know when the cruelty began inside of me, if you were to try to pin a point in my timeline that the darkness unfolded from my skin to my veins, you would find that the rot would begin to escape, lactate of dark matter dripping from the breast of evil, gripping and tearing from beginning to end. I, Eureka Lynn O'Hara, am venomous. I am rust in human form.

Of course you could start with The Incident. Everyone wanted to start with the incident, Eurekaplease, Eurekawhathappenedwiththecheese, EurekaIMYOURBIGGESTFAN. They thought it to be funny, that rectangular couple, one with ginger hair, referred to as her "weave", and the other one with the yellow teeth, referred to as his "gates of hell", I longed, begged to the earth to show THEM the gates of hell and as I kicked their stupid shopping cart into the road, spilling douches and femdoms all over, knocking down a petite girl dressed just like shakira that they proclaimed as "Penny", I laughed. I shouldn't have found it funny, taking down the hags and f-, mama Poo had taught me better than that; she had absconded me for destroying that man's dress in a fit of rage, God, I wish I could remember that man's name. The one with the beard and horse-like legs, he had tore down the runway, bearded face burning up a chartreuse colour, black eyes fixed at the stage, He knew it was me, I wanted him to look at me, I wanted to laugh and point and jeer at him, but, like I said, I had been taught better. The heat bore down on the rectangular couples head, them trying desperately to pick a penny out of a haystack. A gasp. A yelp. There Penny was, beneath the poppers and the ginger hair dye, it seemed to me like we had found a fake. I had always believed myself to have a greater purpose, ever since Mama Poo had picked me out of the crowd and chose me to be in her race, I would never say this out loud, but it was at that point that I also realised my life's goal. To kill Poo Paul and overthrow her Gaygime. And everything before and/or after my goal was reached was, to put it simply, filler. So a casual moment of cruelty or a momentary incident was no big thing, a numerator, nothing without its common denominator, which was me, ending the pooarchy, once and for all.

I realise now that a curious onlooker, a fly on my mind's walls may have perceived that to be The Incident, a hag and her beard nearly losing a friend, what's so bad about that? But that was just a prerequisite, a mere Hitler being rejected by the gay art school for gay artists, a harbingering butterfly flapping its wings on the other side of the planet. For the first time, I let the rust leak.

I stormed into Walmart, I would have liked to see any of these minimum wage donkeys try to stop me, I wanted my feta cheese, and the big girl always wins. I was moving fast, I couldn't distinguish the Italian aisle from the cereal aisle, man from child, they all tumbled to the floor in my wake, I wouldn't allow myself to care; in for a penny. I could smell when I had arrived at the cheese aisle, but not because of the cheese. The fridge/ freezers radiated with an off white aura, not quite beige and not quite yellow, the colour of pipe dreams and also Walmart. I kept my head down, striding down past the halloumi. In normal circumstances I would have made a loud remark, after all halloumi is not cheese. People always enjoyed my witty comments, and nobody has ever told me to quiet down, a symptom of power. Next came the tofu, which, also not cheese, it smirked at me through its cheap, racist Walmart packaging. Then, finally the feta, I took a deep breath and I was home. But this home had an invader. I knew my cover was blown, all the cheese was laughing at me now and it made me feel small Eureka?hidingfromsomeone? Thebiggirl?smallandsad? I wound my arm up and swung it back, I was an elastic band, released of tension, my rubbery elbow being driven straight into the assailant's bearded face.

I wish I knew the name of this man, the man with the beard and strong legs and torn dress, because, in all honesty, I harbour a secret so scandal betrothed that I could only confess it to my boudoir at the witching hour, when the sailors have all sunken to their separate levels of rest, something that would have me strapped down to a rusted bed at the sanitarium: I am being haunted. It started the night sister was to be wed. I awoke in a fever ridden sweat, the man with the beard bore into my being from my boudoir. He began to repeat a phrase I could not grasp, Willhim Willit. I begged him, Who are you? What do you want with me? And as quick as this ghastly premonition was here, it was gone. The nights after were alike a broken sailor, stuck on his incessant sea shanty, he would come to me, sometimes on my balcony, sometimes in my powder puff, grey dust, with eyes and a beard. Some days I would think I had at long last understood his poppycock, his words would stumble and his clumpy lashes would flicker, but then he would fall back into the laughter and haberdashery. The final night, my final night on the cruise, he appeared to me one last time whilst I was in the lavatory, in the water. I had hoped he would reveal himself to me on the last night, but still he laughed and spewed out nonsense. Willit Willhim. This has haunted me for the last month.

My elbow had connected with his angular, manly jaw, this was no ghost. He pushed me back. Mycheese. As he lifted his hairy fist up my mind was vacated of thoughts bar one. Will it hurt? It clicked. Willhe, Willit, Willam! The man with the beard, his name was Willam.

Willam! Your name is Willam, you have no power over the people of Walmart, leave this world and leave us now. Willam shrunk at those words as I raised a powerful fist. It came shooting down, parting the air and connected with mini Willam's face. He was gone in a singular flash, leaving a cloud of mini smoke. I winced, remembering powder puff Willam. This was it, I had become a hero, shedding my villainous status from Poo Paul's Race.

I wish that was how it had gone.

In reality, I had looked up from the smoke and was surrounded by dozens of angry Walmart shoppers. They knocked me over and bellowed, gutturally, their faces melting from regular angry people, to angry lions, then angry octopi. They were cosmic and never ending, they growled as they picked me up by my hair swirl and yelped like an agitated bird as they threw me out of the supermarket. There was the rectangle couple, and penny, and the carts, they seemed to have managed to pick up their gay products. I felt a twinge, it was something that hadn't strung my soul in years: I felt guilty, the entire car park had now gathered and circled around me, they were yelling and recording me as I desperately tried to run and escape them. They verbally shot me, tearing me to shreds with their vocabulary. I was circled and had nowhere to run, would they hurt me? These people that had laughed at my villainous antics with depravity and recklessness. My chest was burning, stabbed with thousands of daggers. I turned to Penny and stared at her phone; she was probably broadcasting this to millions. And to think, you people were those that I dared to call home. It was true, even with Eureka's naughty facade, she had found solace in her supposed fanbase, and now, that was over, all thanks to the bearded man, why were they so obsessed with him anyway? Eureka! Poo Paul's voice echoed through the shopping complex. His cherub-like face was displayed on the windows of Walmart. I found you! I held my fists back; I wasn't even hiding from Ms Paul. Do you know what you just did? You just destroyed Willam, and you can't even begin to understand the irrevocable consequences of your actions. Here, I realised that I had not gone shopping in any old Walmart, I had gone shopping at Willam's Walmart.

I threw my Katana in the window, enough from the hag and punched and kicked my way through the crowd, picking up Penny and the rectangular couple as I went, they could be useful in this battle, no, this war.

The corruption began at the bottom, with Willam and I was going to fight my way to the top, and finish what I had not started.

I have a venom inside of me, it does not have any source internally, but I now know who put it inside of me in the first place. The queen of rust, Poo Paul.