Ben C. O. Grimm

A periscope popped up in my bean soup. It almost brought me to tears. Dreams don't come true very often, but it's even more seldom to witness the realization of something you hadn't even dreamed of. The emotions wore off as curiosity took over. My first impulse was to imitate a British police officer. Somehow my "What's all this then?" didn't seem appropriate, and the cheery look on my face felt totally out of place. I sat upright and tried to think of various ways to handle this peculiar event. Should I try to rationalize it? Probably no future in that. Meanwhile, the periscope took a look around. At least it facilitated the process for someone .. something .. inside. Who or what was operating the thing? The Ghosts of Flatulence in Progress? "Blow it out your ass," I muttered, and took a closer look. The periscope lens was covered with soup. I could gather from the movements that it bothered the one looking through it. I took my napkin and tried to clean the miniature lens. It was like trying to rescue a fly that had landed on its back. It must have looked pretty threatening from within. The periscope went down immediately, causing a funny 'bloob' sound in my soup. I thought about using my spoon to lift the small object from the bowl, but that would probably cause a load of tiny heart attacks. I didn't exactly cherish the thought of having a bunch of miniature corpses on my conscience. Did they, whoever 'they' were, have bodies anyway? So I waited. The soup went cold. I had lost my appetite. Who can think of food when a submarine (subsoupine?) suddenly invades your bowl, or your bowels for that matter? Nothing moved. That gave me some time to consider their motive. Maybe they had surfaced a bit too soon. Were they trying to get inside of me? Where did they come from? The Campbell plant? Was it Andy Warhol trying to embark on his most daring project, with some inside help? And why the bean soup? It would seem pretty hard to navigate in the viscous mass. It was hard enough to swallow it, let alone with a submarine in it. They were taking their time. Almost five minutes now. Must seem like weeks to them. Smaller creatures have a different sense of time. But what was I thinking? Were there actually creatures inside my bean soup? I grew impatient. I took my spoon and tapped the side of the bowl gently. Didn't want to cause a major upheaval down there. They didn't take it very well. I heard a very tiny explosion. Two beans and a snippet of leek flew from the bowl. "Oh my," I thought, "I hope they're alright in there." I moved in closer to see what they were up to now, but they had probably been reloading. A piece of corn hit my nose, and I jumped up. I felt aggressive and wanted to stir the soup vigorously. I managed to control myself. They couldn't help it. Imagine yourself in someone's bean soup. With a dirty periscope. It's worth considering. You never know. So I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled (at a reasonable volume): "I mean no harm!". I could see a small movement just below the surface. The periscope again. The deck appeared as well. A manhole was opened, even though it didn't really deserve that name. What was that? A match with a towel? Wait. A white flag. Okay, truce. Why not. A face the size of a pinhead appeared. I presented my warmest smile. I think it even slightly reheated the soup. Someone seemed to be yelling at me, but it was hardly audible. I moved my ear close to the bowl. "Please repeat," I whispered, careful not to cause too much turbulence. Did I get that right? He wanted me to surrender straight away. What? What was that last line? "Or else .." Now, hold on. I'm a reasonable person. I can lose a few hundred bucks in a poker game and walk away smiling. Well, at least until I'm outside. Maybe I'll hurt the odd pile of garbage on my way home, but not more than that. But this was something else. Some agitated little captain in a submarine in my, I emphasize *my*, bean soup was telling me to surrender, or else? I laughed out loud. "No way, pal!" I yelled at him. "Forget your Campbell Empire!" He didn't take it very well. I could see his clenched fist waving at me. What the hell was he yelling at me? Just as my ear was over the submarine, a vicious little torpedo hit my earlobe. That enraged me. I jumped up from the chair and walked around, agitated. Then I remembered. Last year's fireworks. There was still some left. I rubbed my hands and a boyish pleasure shot through my veins. "Depth charge!!" I yelled. I opened a closet and took out a firecracker. All-out war in a nutshell. I took the lid from the pan, grabbed my lighter, and went back to the bowl of bean soup. "Captain," I said, "prepare for the worst. I will never abandon my kingdom". The tiny figure and its flag disappeared down the manhole. The hatch closed with a soft click. The periscope was lowered and the ship submerged quickly. I lit the firecracker, jammed it into the soup, put the lid over the bowl, and stepped back. This resulted in quite a mess. The lid missed me by an inch. The ceiling needed a paint. Well, later. I approached the bowl like a little kid approaches a mouse trap. Curious, but somewhat anxious. Seven tiny uniformed bodies were floating around in a shallow puddle of bean soup. Small pieces of metal were stuck to the inside of the bowl. I had won, obviously, but somehow I didn't feel at all proud. Miniature carnage. Scaled down homicide. King for a day. A dreary day.

© Ben C. O. Grimm