The streetlights flickered on and off, yellow turning black in a flash. A woman stood on a corner, looking down the street she had to walk.
“That’s strange…” whispered she.
The streetlights down the street had an alternative, zig-zag formation of some on, some off. For every streetlight that flickered, across the street and parallel to it, the other streetlight was not and so on and so forth.
The wind hummed its tune as it stringed along, the shadowy figures of the night peeking from behind buildings.
The girl, breathing hard, began walking down the street hurriedly, tightly gripping her coat.
Faster she ran, her feet echoing through the streets. Two steps could be heard after hers and her blood froze upon hearing it. Her body, however, did not and she kept running. Soon the lights began to flicker more frequently, and the steps got louder and more apparent. She could feel a breath on her shoulder, she turned around and there it was: mustard.
Mustard, a huge, male-shaped, yellow glob, ran after her with its stench, its obscene yellow color, and its frankly offending presence.
“NOOO!” the girl cried, sprinting as fast as she could from the offending figure. “Ican’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’tIcan’t! Please, help me! Someone save me! THE MUSTARD! I CAN’T STAND THE MUSTARD!”
“Love me! LOVE ME! LOVEEEE MEEEEE!!!”
“NOOOOOOOOO!! I HATE MUSTARD! I CAN’T STAND IT! I PREFER YOUR BROTHER! GO AWAY! TAKE A HINT! FUCK OFF!”
And on and on she ran, away from the yellow mustard and its globby heart.