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Loosh

by Tokeli

The green ghoul chomped hungrily at its treat with an appetite that was voracious, always voracious. It did not use what you would think of as a mouth or teeth to “eat.” It was more a process of absorption, but this was equally satisfying. It was similar to any human in the material world who might find a homemade Italian dinner after a long day of work…Simply wonderful! The dark loosh-eater sucked up all that scrumptious disgusting stuff, slopping it all over, rolling around in it. The whole “room” reeked of dark loosh and the smell of sadness. It was a heavy meal for the monster, a real delicacy.


At the same time, in the same place (but also sort of NOT the same “place,”) the beautiful-woman-who-did-not-know-she-was-beautiful was drying her leaky eyes. Her mascara was a wreck. She cried even louder when she glanced in the mirror on her way to the kitchen. She dabbed and dabbed with a crusty, stained napkin and made the tender skin around her eyes even more dry and chaffed. This had the effect of making her worry further that her boyfriend might find her unattractive. Every tear was a reminder that she didn’t deserve him. He was so handsome, so smart and capable, such a success in every endeavor, having made better life choices than her, she had such baggage, and she was just a hot mess! She couldn’t keep it together, always letting her emotions get the better of her. She had self-destructive habits learned from a childhood she would rather forget. She was glad he wasn’t here to see her like this, not again. It would definitely irritate him, no end.


The slimy green thing was delighted when the woman downed that last glass of chardonnay. She was on her own tonight; she headed back to the fridge for a fresh bottle. Good! She had been watching black and white romance movies on her secondhand television and smoking cigarette after cigarette to keep herself company. The boyfriend hadn’t called. It was a most delicious setting for a night filled with negativity. Self-pity was one of the monster’s favorite flavors. Often the beautiful-woman-who-did-not-know-she-was-beautiful would only deliver a few morsels of self-judgment or something like that—a momentary flash of doubt after a job interview, that sort of thing—and that was okay for a light snack, sure, but nothing beat a good old fashioned Saturday night cry-fest. It was a “pity party” for two! Oblivious to this fact, she could go on this way for hours, sobbing over some misperceived slight, feeling oh so sorry for herself. This was the good stuff, the highest quality dark loosh.


In her own dimension, the beautiful-woman-who-did-not-know-she-was-beautiful stopped weeping only long enough to berate herself angrily for her weakness. Why do I DO this? Why do I get like this? Why do these negative thoughts come out of the blue like this? Why the hell can’t I be stronger, more centered? Oh god, I hate myself!


On second thought, the slimy fiend began to consider that Now might be just the Perfect time for the boyfriend to stop by. The beautiful-woman-who-did-not-know-she-was-beautiful was nearly plastered at this point, which insured a nice lover’s quarrel. Yes, two sad, angry humans was always better than just one. Their resentments, missed communication and selfish expectations were sure to bring the monster all the loosh he wanted tonight. Oh goodie, perhaps that was him ringing the doorbell right now! The olive-colored, noxious beast waited close by, anxiously readying itself within its own realm for a gorging on bitter wretchedness. It suddenly occurred to the creature what a curious thing it was to be so close to the humans and for them not to realize it.


The man pushed past the crying girl into the apartment, pointing at his phone: “You texted me like 30 times, are you bat shit crazy or what?! Fuck!” The beautiful-woman-who-did-not-know-she-was-beautiful sniffled loudly.


The two lovers sat on the sofa, deeply intent on a clash; they had no idea what was on that sofa with them. It was really such a precarious position for the greasy old ghoul, who knew they had the power and that he did not. All they had to do was to stop their screaming at each other, to hold still and to “feel” its presence. It was far more dangerous for the monster than for them, the loosh-makers, for it might disappear upon discovery! But they didn’t know that and that was just the way the monster liked it. If the lovers had known what they were nourishing with their angry accusations and sad machinations, they might’ve found a way to calm down together, to stop feeding it with their negative loosh, but as it was, their dark energies provided an endless trough for the gruesome pig. They fought; it ate. They screamed; it munched. They cried; it sighed with satisfaction.


They had only to stop and see the Bigger Picture to let go of their sadness, to look at each other with great love and compassion. They had only to change their modality, to produce that “beautiful loosh” which would carry them forward, to raise them up.


Of course, this would’ve been a dreadful state of affairs for the horrible fiend! Awful, that beautiful loosh—just awful. They called it “Love.” Yuck! Not only disgusting, it was dangerous for the creature of darkness, representing a terrible fate that the evil creature didn’t even want to imagine. The couple didn’t know they held all the cards, had the power to make the monster go away. So close, but so far. Thank goodness they didn’t know. What a horrifying possibility!


All of them, in both spheres, had been here many, many times before—the beautiful-woman-who-did-not-know-she-was-beautiful, her handsome angry boyfriend, and the dark loosh-eater from the void. It was this sofa of sadness, this nightmare of emotion, which they would return to many nights in the future. Good for the ghoul, bad for them. If only they would bind together against the emotional cannibal, but they knew nothing of their predicament. Oh well. Regardless of the humans’ pain, and the injustice of their lack of knowledge of what was happening, the evil they both contributed to and were victims of—regardless of all that, it was, after all, a symbiotic relationship.


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© 2020 by TOKELI PRODUCTIONS