"Retro" (Slime Fiction)Slime Fiction is a series of short (from half a page to several pages long) stories about wrestlers, crabs, monsters, aliens and all kinds of things that make this world a beautiful place. Created by Łukasz Kowalczuk. Proudly hosted by Trash Mutant.
March 7th - What is all this garbage, what did you come up with this time? – Anne asked in a resigned tone. - You really know how to ruin my fun, don’t you? – Jack replied, while standing in the middle of the living room. Scattered around him were all sorts of doodads: a large keyboard, a small tape player, a CRT TV, as well as cassette tapes and old magazines. On second thought, this looked quite intriguing. - I’m sorry, honey. You’re right. Can you tell me what all this is? - A Commodore 64! Just like the one I had as a kid! With a cassette tape player and a whole bunch of cassettes! The janitor at the office, Bob, told me he had some “old computers”. I bought all this stuff in near mint condition for a hundred bucks and a bottle! And the TV was gathering dust at my parents’ anyway. It’s not like I could connect an LCD one to this. Anne stopped herself from mentioning that they were supposed to save money for a holiday - she didn’t want to start another argument. Besides, maybe Jack finally found himself a hobby? It’s been ages since the last time he got this excited. - You plan on setting all this up here? – she bit her tongue a little too late. - You know, I really don’t understand what your problem is. It makes no fuckin’ sense whatsoever – Jack was speaking faster now, and his voice was pitched higher with every word. - I don’t have a… - Yeah, sure you don’t! First you want me to find a fuckin’ hobby and as soon as I come up with something cool, there’s always some fuckin’ thing wrong with it, there’s always bitching… - he took a few deep breaths. Anne knew he wasn’t finished yet. He was getting ready for the final blow, which he delivered in slow motion, like this whole tirade completely wore him out. - Doooon’t you worry, deeeaaar. I won’t be leeeaving this junk in yooouuur preeeciooouuus living roooom, I’m paaaackiiing and gooooinnng to myyyy stuuudyyy. – he bowed down theatrically, while reaching for the computer. The study. The tiniest room in their small flat, inherited from Anne’s grandparents. Before, it was a storage room, an archive, a library and an office – depending on Jack’s current “passion”, which never lasted more than six months. Anne tried to keep up and accepted every new name for the room. Whenever she suggested tidying it up a little, it would end in an argument. March 10th Jack spent the last 3 days locked in the study. He apologized to his wife for his earlier behavior. He was excited, but he didn’t tell anyone about his “new” purchase. Old Bob said the things belonged to his son, Richie, who committed suicide some fifteen years ago. Jack didn’t ask too many questions – he obviously didn’t want to dredge up bad memories. The important thing was that all these 8-bit treasures went into the hands of somebody who could appreciate them. Richie had to have been quite a gamer, as his collection consisted of nearly 200 tapes! Tens of them were original releases, some of them foreign ones, still in their original boxes. Everything was in great condition – even the pirated games had little stickers with names and numbers on them. Jack felt like he was twelve again. He couldn’t focus on work – his mind always set on what game he’ll be playing that given evening. “Commando”? “River Raid”? Maybe something less obvious – “Bonanza Bros.”? These were not games that would play easily, and the graphics left a lot of room for imagination. Now that he was older, Jack could really appreciate each program to the fullest. Another thing that came back to him were the thrills associated with cleaning the cassette tape player’s heads. Two black lines that appeared on the screen like unruly snakes. Usually they would cooperate and stay parallel to each other, but on several occasions they’d start twisting and make loading the game impossible. Jack would then repeat his screwdriver ritual, putting it in the player’s hole and twisting. He would quit trying after three attempts – he had other games to play, but the several “uncooperative” cassettes were bothering him. Maybe tidying the place up would improve their performance? After all, it didn’t feel right to keep the system in such a cluttered, dirty room. March 12th - What are you doing in here? – Anne jumped up upon hearing her husband – she didn’t even realize Jack was home. - I wanted to see how you cleaned the study, it looks great! – she was really impressed. - Well, now you see. Maybe you’d like to join me? – his tone suggested that Jack really wasn’t interested in the company, but felt he should ask. - Thanks, hun, but I have so much work to do… - You don’t know what you’re missing. – he slammed the door right in her nose. Jack’s theory worked. Almost all tapes worked without an issue. Magic! The main dish of the day was “Defender of the Crown”, but first it was time for an appetizer – “Psycho Pigs”. Except… the game wouldn’t start. Goddamn player head. - Jack, I’m going out to get groceries. You need anything? - No thanks, sweetheart! – he replied. – I got all I need… - he added silently. Anne left. The second attempt at making the game work was a success. The pigs appeared on the screen. A sinister grin appeared on Jack’s face. March 17th - What do you mean “alone”? - You always wanted to go to Tunisia, so I bought you a ticket. I hate the sand, I don’t want to sit on a beach all day – Jack’s voice was showing first signs of anger. - Oh, and let me guess – you will stay here and play on your little Atari? - It’s a motherfucking Commodore, for shit’s sake! A fuckin’ COMMODORE SIXTY FOUR! Get it through your head, woman! You keep blabbing about how we need to save money, but you’re all upset I’m not gonna take the trip. You know what? Fuck off! – it was the first time he spoke to her like that. He crossed a line. Anne started bawling like a child. She couldn’t catch her breath. She turned towards her husband. - No-oo! You-ou fu-uck off! - I’m so sorry, honey! I’m sorry! He put his arms around her. Too tight. He was still holding something in his hand. The last thing Anne saw was the screwdriver, heading towards her face. The tip hit her in the nostril. Jack used all of his strength to thrust it into his wife’s brain. He twisted it several times. Two parallel streaks of blood ran down from her nose. 
________________________________ "Retro" illustration by Łukasz Kowalczuk. Translated to English by Señor Editor. ________________________________ What did you think of this latest Slime Fiction? Let us know below! 
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