25th of March Four more postcard stories

by michaelfcrane


To the man wearing a two foot high mo-hawk.

Not everyone likes living here at the End of the World. It can be an annoying place. The morbid poets writing about their despair all perform at comedy cafes. The teenagers who go to raves, take it literally and don’t dance, but instead talk incessantly about their lives to each other. The menu at the Diner at the End of the World doesn’t make sense. The fish tastes like chicken, the steaks like beetroot and broccoli tastes like sweet soufflé. Magic clubs are all the rage here as people attend them to forget their troubles. The magicians at the End of the World are all women and their assistants are usually clumsy men who are devastatingly good looking. The most popular magician is ‘Zelda the Sad.’ She doesn’t saw men in half, make rabbits appear out of hats, or dazzle the audience with sleight of hand. She wears her trademark red gown with the plunging neckline and stands in front of a microphone. She calls out to someone from the audience who has just experienced a tragedy or misfortune to join her on stage. She asks the person to tell the audience why they are feeling sad and by the end of their story, they always break down in tears. Zelda pauses for a few seconds and then whispers into the person’s ear something only they can hear. No one knows what she says but every time without fail, a sudden transformation takes s place and a grin as long as the Mississippi River appears on the person’s face and they leave the stage in great spirits. The audience always give Zelda
A standing ovation, because they know there are no tricks or allusions. The End of the World is a strange and annoying place but you could never say we are phonies.

From the millionaire
moonlighting as a janitor
painting on weekends.


Dear super-model with the bucked-tooth lisp,

I am a history professor. Last night I had a strange dream. The government had invented a time machine, but there was a problem – it could not bring people back to the present: a one-way ticket to the past. The world was on the brink of World War Three and oblivion. The plan was to send me back to the Garden of Eden and to tell Adam and Eve of the horrors of the world so they could warn future generations. A few seconds later I appeared in Eden standing next to Eve. She was beautiful and perfectly formed, but Adam was a few feet away and hadn’t fully evolved. He was half ape, half man, and had not yet learned to speak. I took Eve aside and told her of humanities dark future. I told her of Jesus and the crucifixion, and of the murder and pillage in the centuries to follow. I told her of the reign of Mussolini and Hitler, and the destruction caused by the atom bomb. She listened carefully and a worried frown appeared on her brow. She looked so beautiful I asked her to be mine. Eve thought long and hard, and every second felt like eternity. Finally she looked up at me and told me she could not love me because I was from the future, and mixing our blood and history might cause problems with our children. She put her arm around my shoulder and said that she knew Adam was a bit dumb but she liked dark and silent men anyway. She told me we could still be friends; it wasn’t the end of the world. I felt and intense and unbearable longing.

Cordially yours,
the organ grinder
from hell.


Dear Goldilocks and the three muscle builders

I am the wicked witch, the most hated being at the End of the World, but lately I’ve grown tired of evil. You can only make so many poisoned apples. You get weary of eating children and turning princes into frogs. I want to get my long fingernails cut and painted and plastic surgery done to straighten my crooked nose. I arranged a meeting with Cinderella and Snow White to let them know of my decision to be nice. I sent them my book of spells to let them know it wasn’t a trap. The two beauties came to my castle and I thought they would be pleased but they were both angry. They told me that I was ruining everything. It seemed that me being wicked and ugly made them look good and admired in the land and they were afraid they would stop getting dates. They told me that there was a whole industry based on me and that I would put a lot of princes rescuing damsels in distress out of work. Also, because I was bad and always failing, a lot of witches decided to take the path of being good and the whole kingdom was getting their wishes granted and doing rather nicely. They pleaded with me not to change. For the first time in my life I felt wanted and I agreed to their wish and decided to wave my wand and give them a bag if gold. But I have never done good deeds and I did not have my book of spells and I accidentally turned Snow White and Cinderella into roast chickens. It was a bit of a shame but I was hungry and they tasted so sweet. It seems even when I am good, I end up being bad.

From Broomhilda
the good time gal
in a room filled with mirrors


To the woman reading Tolstoy, to her seven year old daughter.

There was a pack of twenty large women who roamed the piano bars at the End of the World. They were scorned at by a lot of people but they were unashamed of their buxom figures, although slim girls were desired by most men. They would often respond that women with large figures would one day become fashionable. They were personification of the word ‘almost.’ They were almost fat. They were almost tall. They were almost ugly. They preferred the word, ‘gregarious.’ Most men avoided the pack of giant women but there was one man who admired them. He was the skinniest man at the End of the World. He was so thin the wind blew through his bones. It wasn’t that he had a fetish for fat women. He was tired of women obsessed with dieting and wearing skimpy clothes trying to look like young girls. As intimidating as the pack of giant women were, there was something natural about them and he liked the way they didn’t care what people thought. They weren’t girls. They were all women as far as he was concerned. The skinniest man at the End of the World approached the largest woman of the pack who had gathered at the piano bar at the End of the World. HE told her he thought they were all beautiful. She smiled at him and put her flabby arms around his thin body. The pack of Giant women all swarmed around him and he was never seen again. Some people at the End of the World believe he finally found true happiness.
From the dietician
dying of cancer
of the bowel.