Is that a Swingline?
Mercury shoots out of every sprinkler head on my property, my guests arrive, bathing them in quicksilver colored freedom.
“Welcome!” I say, as I invite them into my luxurious parlor room, where mercury flows from the bronze mouths and penises of Cupid fountains.
“You have arrived to my slice of heaven.”
“C-can I have a towel?” One of my guests whines as they try to wipe the mercury out of their eyes.
“Don’t be silly, a towel won’t be adequate to mop up heavy metals.” I shut off the lights, and the Cupid fountains are a’glow!
“Wow!” exclaims one of my other guests.
“Yep, Radium. Pretty cool, huh?” I say with a touch of pride.
“I’m s-s-scared.” I ignore that. Commie bastard. I shouldn’t have invited him, but I throw him a towel, doped with LSD to keep his wringing hands busy.
“So hey, where’s this so called ‘mercury pool’?” Ahh, yes, my libertarian friends are already itching for the Pièce de résistance.
“You’re right, let’s go, it’s out in the back. C’mon!”
We all exit out the double doors. “Help your self to some Opies™,” I say pointing to a candy dish full of white-chocolate covered pills.
“Wow! I’ve been meaning to try these, but they’re damn expensive.”
“They are, but hey, I make good money. And I want my guests to feel gooood.”
“So, they’re heroin?” Says the Commie.
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just oxycodone.” I roll my eyes.
“Ladies!” Naked women seem to literally pour from every hole, crack and opening in the surroundings. “Bow to me, and pleasure our guests!”
“Now wait a minute…” The Commie again, and the girls unzip his pants.
“No, man, it’s cool… they signed my Terms of Agreement.”
“No, I’m gay.” Ahh, well then…
“Larry!” I keep him on stand-by. They’re cheap, since they’re in lower demand, anyway.
“Now, what we’ve all been waiting for… the Pool of Mercury!”
Flood lights light up the yard. Glowing blue neon and ultraviolet accent lighting reflect in the surface of the shimmering pool of metal. It’s a site rivaled by any natural wonder. The bowling balls just float atop, as if by magic.
“Are those eyeballs?!” No one knows what the Commie is talking about. The LSD must be kicking in.
In the distance, we hear a gravelly voice, “That abomination leaks on my property, I’ll have your balls!”
“Fuck off and die, Deward! This is America, land of the free!” I whip out my side arm and fire a round just past his wrinkly bag of a face. He ducks inside.
Silence. Yes.
“Shall we?” Before I can even finish, my cell phone begins to ring.
“Crap, it’s my boss.” I answer. “Yes. Yes, sir. Uh huh. Right away sir!”
Everyone looks to me as I hang up.
“Welp, party’s over.”
“What?! We just got here! And it wasn’t easy, we had to circle and loop miles and miles out of our way to avoid the most expensive toll booths!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, my boss needs a blow job – stat.”
“What? You got a job where they harass you like that?” I roll my eyes at the Commie again.
“Look around you, you think this comes cheap? I have a fucking pool of mercury, ferchristssake. A POOL of MERCURY. It was this, or working at Fuzzy Peaches, canning their shitty, bacteria-ridden product for mere pennies. And don’t preach to me about using antibiotics, since they’re rendered useless now…”
Everyone’s bummed.
“I do have some Cobalt 60 in the linen closet however. Some peaches for the road?”
The Commie runs, screaming.