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Jelly Be and The Moon Rocket

Byron Livingston

Jelly Be Wellikers took off his cap and put it on the cap rack before joining his fellow kindergartners around the big blue table for show and tell. He had a sly smile on his face. No one knew what he had just done. Jelly Be Wellikers was sure no one would ever find out. He was a sneaky one, Jelly. He had intelligence and sneakery well beyond his years. And he was wearing very expensive sneakers so no one would suspect him. Jelly Be Wellikers strolled over to the big blue round table and took his seat between smelly Jim McKenzie and dirty Frank McMurtry. This was Jelly's usual seat. He had consumed many sodas and sports drinks before breakfast so he farted continuously throughout the morning. Everyone laughed. Nobody could sense what a devilish fiend our Jelly could be. The class clown of kindergarten. The happy go lucky Jelly Be Well. But there were looks being launched from the outer reaches of the big blue round wooden table from a puny little girl with wire frame glasses. At lunch, Jelly Be Wellikers got up, put on his cap, and went outside to the recess playground. Over a hill, he spotted puny Linda Mooney. She yelled and yelled when she noticed Jelly.

           After hesitating not, Jelly Be Wellikers charged puny Mooney with every hate he had in his Jelly Be bones. 1,2,3, Go! Jelly reach in, pull out your heart. Rub it on your feet, run like the hurricane wind. Puny Mooney got ready at the top of the hill by casually fixing her hair, readying, grinding her teeth, planting her feet in the dirt for position. 1,2,3, take it to her deep, feel the crush of the Moon. Jelly thought of the garbage dump this morning, he had thrown her body away. He thought about the eyes he had seen behind two holes in the fence. And a puny young body squatting behind devilish eyes. But Jelly worried not. Everything was going fine. Up until the playground. But then something happened. Puny Mooney confronted Jelly Be in childish verse, the worst kind of insult to a kindergarten boy. And Jelly had lost his beans. Jelly was almost to the top of the hill when puny Mooney did something amazing. She started to charge. 1,2,3, Maim! Make her regret the straw that stirs the Jelly's rage. He reached into his internal destiny with his fist and pulled out the evil inside displaying it to the puny Moon by the reds pulsating towards the whites of his eyes. The puny moon, startled, continued to charge but her moment of hesitation would soon prove fatal. The Jelly went smash in the heart of the Moon. Flying slow motion pieces of nerves falling from the Moon like whore firecrackers littered the reds in the whites of the Jelly. And just as Jelly Be was coming back to himself, a dirty little McMurtry came strolling along from the corner behind. A fractured spectacle lay in the uneven brown grass near the top of the lush green hill, the grass most frequently buttered by the sun. McMurtry could see it. McMurtry should not see it. And Jelly Be Wellikers knew he had to clean up the dirt. McMurtry recited,

           And Jelly was already charging. But the Murt was smarter than the Moon. Or at least it appeared that he was. The Murt ran the other way right into the recess playground and among the playing schoolchildren. The Jelly's rage began to fade. His determination was slipping away. Everyone was staring. The Murt ran right past the playing and laughing children into the school. And Jelly knew what he had to do. He had to plot past which he did. He plotted the steps to the principal's office and plotted the glass in the window. He plotted the heads of the ready-blood's inside. And spotted their garbage-bagged faces under the sink for now. And strolling through ready to go inside playing recess schoolyard children, Jelly Be climbed the face-sliced hillside to the patch of simmering meat over burnt butter boiling. He readied the bag and was about to ready the face when a sight came over his eyes as he focused. The puny pile was nothing more than a dying diseased bird with mucus stains on its lip-beak. Jelly spun around and who should he see but puny Mooney yelling towards Jelly.

           Her intentions unclear at first to Jelly's somewhat frazzled brain but Jelly Be Wellikers could sense everything returning to normal. The sky was back to its usual gray-brown. The trees now depressed him again. He was walking with legs and reacting with thought, his shoes were free of heart. He walked towards puny Mooney with palming fists becoming calmer. And Jelly Be Wellikers was overwhelmed with a euphoric sense.

           Puny Mooney said, "The principal and dirty McMurtry are missing"

           And with fisting palm dead-mom garbage-dump regress, reds began boiling savagely in Jelly Be's heart-pump gizzard brain. Saturating the whites. And this was the end. This time for sure. And the puny Moon set under Jellied suspicion.

© 2000 Byron Livingston, all rights reserved
 appears here by permission

Author Notes

           I would like to publish a book. If anyone is interested in publishing my work or knows of a publisher who would be interested in my work, please email me. I would also love to hear any comments, good and bad: byron.livingston@thewritegallery.com.

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