The Thing
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The Thing
I remembered, before all this mayhem, that I had just poured whiskey down a cheating chess game machine, blowing out it circuits, making it useless saying in my head, "Darn, for it had beat me,"
Alone I stand panning, amidst the debris and ruin of our blazing camp compound base, as smoke pours into the frozen air, with an eerie unpleasant warm feel upon my face,
All my mates, now gone, save one other besides, me, --it is Childs, my friend, if I can still be able to call him that,
"Well MacReady, it looks like it's just us", he says, whereto, I interjected, "Don't forget that Thing, Childs, it's still among us."
That Thing from another world, having the ability to assimilate the body it host, be it beast or man, and we wouldn't have the foggiest idea that that's the Thing.
"MacReady, that fire is not going to last very long, and in this Antarctica weather, neither will we," he says onward, "You cannot stay awake forever MacReady."
I always thought I'd come out of any given situation, and be ahead of the game, --well look it, I am still here, but Childs right, the Antarctica chill will soon set in.
I don't know if Childs is The Thing, but there's just one thing I can do in this given situation, "Here Childs, have a swig of this," I last said to him, and I just smiled, watching my whisky, slide down his throat, saying in my head, "Darn, for it had beat me."
2019 May 16
Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2019
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