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More Roger Stories



By Austin Malcome, Copyright © 2017 All Rights Reserved.

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Roger and the Cough Drops

Roger at the Store

Roger Takes the Bus

Roger Deals with Entropy

Roger is a Whiny Emo

About the Author



Roger and the Cough Drops



Two angels materialized at the foot of Roger's bed. They were beautiful and fat, and joined together at the stomach. Roger had never seen conjoined angel twins before, but then, he wasn't a very religious person.

“Roger,” the angels said simultaneously, “you must eat some cough drops.”

“What?”

“Cough drops, Roger,” the angels repeated, in unison. “The world is on the brink of a nuclear holocaust. Only you can prevent the destruction of humanity.”

“How?” Roger asked.

“Eat menthol cough drops, Roger,” the angels said. “God has decreed that as long as you eat menthol cough drops, the atomic apocalypse will be averted.”

“But I don't like menthol cough drops,” Roger said.

The twin angels flapped their wings. “This is not about what you want, Roger. This is about the preservation of mankind.”

“Can I eat candy instead?”

“No,” the angels insisted. “Menthol cough drops.”

“What about those cherry cough drops that taste like candy?”

“Do they have menthol in them?”

“No.”

“Then don't eat them. You can only save the world by eating menthol cough drops. Here, we brought you a bag to get started.”

The angels tossed a bag of cough drops at Roger.

The bag was huge. Big yellow letters on the bag read, “Original Menthol Flavor.”

Roger looked at the cough drops.

The angels looked at Roger.

The cough drops did nothing.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Start sucking,” the angels said. “Hurry! The world is creeping ever closer to the precipice. You must always have a menthol cough drop in your mouth. Suck on them, quickly!”

Roger crossed his arms.

“No,” he said.

“You can't say no,” the angels said. “You're the chosen one, the Menthol Messiah. ”

“I'm sorry, but I just really don't like menthol cough drops.”

“Please!” the angels begged. “Just suck on one. Just one!”

Roger shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Not one.”

“Please, just eat one tiny little cough drop.”

“No,” Roger said, “not even one tiny little cough drop.”

The angels looked through Roger's bedroom window. A strange orange glow spilled over the horizon. They jumped onto Roger's bed. Left-angel pulled out a giant sword, and held the blade at Roger's throat. Her conjoined twin ripped the bag of cough drops open. Together, the angels grabbed Roger's head and worked to pry his mouth open.

But Roger's mouth would not open. Roger had spent many years in and out of prisons and mental institutions, where people were always trying to force disgusting things into his mouth. He possessed incredible strength in his lower jaw. He kept his teeth clamped together, hard.

The wind outside carried an eerie moan. The orange glow grew brighter, until it was enough to illuminate Roger's room.

“Eat the fucking cough drop, you piece of shit!” the angels cried.

Roger ground his teeth even harder.

“Shit. He's not going to eat it. We have to get out of here, fast!” The angels flapped their wings and shot up through Roger's roof. The ceiling snowed plaster.

Roger stared up through the hole in his roof.

It was very bright outside, considering the time, he thought.

The angels flew as fast as they could, but it wasn't fast enough. A radioactive shock wave washed over them. Their flesh disintegrated. Their bones burned to ashes.

More plaster fell on Roger, and he coughed. His throat was irritated from the plaster dust.

“You know, I think I'll have one of those cough drops after all,” he said.


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