The Mikkelson

By Scott Brice

West Salem, Oregon State, 11:57 P.M. It was late on a Tuesday night. I was driving home after eight tedious hours cooped up in a shitty Lancaster dump I referred to as "work". It wasn't until I crossed the bridge into West Salem that I noticed the low-fuel light smiling at me. I was out of gas. Wonderful. "Ten dollars of Regular, please." I pulled out a wrinkled 10 dollar bill and threw it at the Texaco employee before I exited my car. The air was unusually cold that night...so cold it felt like my face was burning. How could anybody work in temperatures like this all day? With a five in my hand I started towards the Mini-Mart hoping to ease a bad case of the midnight munchies. I wasn't 10 feet from the door when I saw....it, standing there. It was in front of a Marlboro cigarettes banner, almost as if it was using it for background camouflage. The first thing that caught my eyes were the unordinary masses of hair that were growing down the sides of its face. It was hard to tell if it was alive or dead, for it's eyes just stared ahead, blankly. Then I noticed wisps of white smoke curl out of its facial cavities, and realized it was indeed alive and smoking a cigarette. It also seemed to be wearing some kind of protective covering over its head and ears, maybe to keep warm in such unlivable temperatures. Its clothing was comparable to normal human wear, although there was some kind of symbol on its shirt, possibly a form of identification. I stepped close. To my horror I discovered it was nothing more than the infamous Texaco star. This thing, this...creature, was an employee? I gathered my thoughts and proceeded to enter the Mini-Mart, never to forget my first encounter with a Mikkelson.