Museum of the Weird Read Online Free

killed his hostages before killing himself.
     
    Outside, the javelinas discovered that the packet of sunflower seeds had opened under the commotion of their trotters. The javelinas fell to happy fighting over the salty treats.
     
    We have all learned a lesson today.
     

THE DARKNESS
     
    “I think I’d call us strange bedfellows,” the armadillo said.
     
    The penguin barely heard her. He was, at that moment, attempting to hold a straw between his flippers.
     
    The armadillo centered her shell on the barstool. She was drinking a Miller High Life.
     
    “Strange bedfellows indeed,” she said.
     
    The penguin gave up on holding the straw and stood on his stool to reach the lip of the glass. He could barely wet his tongue with a little gin. “What’s that?” he asked.
     
    “You are a penguin, and I am an armadillo,” the armadillo said. “My name is Betsy.”
     
    “That’s a beautiful name,” murmured the penguin, who was more interested in the condensation on his glass. “I fought the darkness.”
     
    “You did not.”
     
    The penguin swiveled his head to look at Betsy. He had very beady eyes.
     
    “What’s your name?” she said. “Ray,” said the penguin. “That’s a nice name.”
     
    “I fought the fucking darkness.”
     
    “Neat,” Betsy said. She let her long tongue dip into the bottle, lapping the surface of her beer. “What was that like?”
     
    “Well Betsy,” Ray said, “it was evil incarnate.”
     
    “Oh.”
     
    “Imagine the worst evil ever done to you in your life.”
     
    Betsy thought of the time she was locked in a shed.
     
    “Got it,” she said.
     
    Ray pecked at his highball glass in anger. “Well,” he said, “imagine that, except fifteen times worse. That’s what the darkness was like.”
     
    “That sounds terrible,” Betsy said. She was trying to be noncommittal about the whole darkness thing in the hopes that Ray would drop it. Before coming to the bar, she had used vegetable oil to shine her shell to a high sheen. In her peripheral vision, she could see the lights above the bar playing off her shoulders.
     
    “What do you think of my shell?” she asked.
     
    Ray leaned back a little to appraise the situation. “It’s nice,” he said.
     
    “I like your coat.”
     
    “This old thing,” Ray said, patting his feathers. “It’ll smell like the bar for weeks. You can’t get this smell out.”
     
    “That’s the good thing about a shell,” Betsy said.
     
    They sat in silence. Betsy wondered if she had perhaps said too much about her shell. Ray wondered where the bartender got off serving a penguin a drink in a highball glass. He would have rather taken his gin out of an ashtray.
     
    Betsy tapped her claw against the beer bottle. “Have you ever protected an egg?” she asked.
     
    Ray realized that he was at the state of intoxication where anything Betsy could possibly say was going to piss him off. Keep your cool, buddy , he said to himself. She’s just trying to make conversation .
     
    “Usually that’s a job for the lady penguins,” Ray said. “I am a male penguin and therefore, no, I have never protected an egg.”
     
    “Right,” Betsy said. “Well, I saw a documentary once, and a male penguin was protecting an egg. I figured maybe you’d have some experience.”
     
    “Sorry, I don’t have any experience. I guess that makes me less of a penguin.”
     
    “I wasn’t saying that.”
     
    “I suppose you think I’m some kind of lesser penguin, just because I fought the fucking darkness and tasted my own blood , because I haven’t protected a stupid fucking egg .”
     
    Betsy felt tears welling up. Don’t cry , she said to herself. It would be really stupid to cry at this moment.
     
    “I honor your fight,” she said. “I did not mean to disrespect you.” Ray sank back. “It’s no disrespect,” he said. “I’m just a penguin in a bar, drinking my gin out of a fucking highball glass for some