to voice over artist Tim George
the part of Hank Peabody
Tim George's website to learn more
about his work
EYES TURNED TO SEE the billow
of smoke coming towards the stadium, an orange pompadour on the head
of a Scandinavian Elvis. Fire was raging through the canyons. Air collapsed
before the flames, orange clamoring fingers pulled all around.
Quickly, people standing in different parts of town began
seeing their neighborhoods melt and pop like the edges of a distant
campfire. Albums, sofas, televisions and wood-shingle roofs piled into
the air. Sirens started up far away, red trucks hurtled subdivision
streets towards the smoke, cracking up Big Wheels and housecats on path.
Looky-loos following behind held cameras out of their car windows.
The fire moved up and over a hill of cactus, wrinkling the
flesh, engulfing an oily gas station on the other side of the canyon.
An abandoned drum kit sat in the orange heat, cymbals vibrating and
keeping perfect time, before melting and collapsing into wood and skins.
It all rose into the air mixing. The lingering contrail
crystals of spent nitrogen tetroxide, niacine, derozine 50 from Vandenburgs
rocket launch fell to meet the ash of burning mustard, milkweed, datura,
and blue and yellow caterpillars. The weight of the pompadour grew as
it was fed by the fire. Pieces of phone book came landing like blackbird
wings, cigarette butts, Lucky Charm marbits, tile, and embers fell onto
a nearby football field where everyone and thing became obscured by
the billowy, sweet cloud.