BlobFace
- Robyn Weightman
- Nov 14, 2018
- 9 min read
“What is that rubbish?” The woman scoffed.
BlobFace looked at the box of cookies in his hand. They were his favourite flavour; chocolate chip.
“Where are the good cookies?” The woman crossed her arms and tapped her foot in agitation.
His trolley was too heavy to bring up the stairs, so BlobFace nodded and bounced down the steps towards his little orange trolley. Once he reached the trolley, his podgy green arms struggled to grasp the six different types of cookies and carry them back up the steps. He had chocolate and strawberry, orange and nut, and many more.
His little legs ached as he reached the top of the stairs but a huge grin plastered his face. Arms shaking, he lifted the cookies up to the woman. His heart pounded in his chest. He needed this.
The woman bent forwards, scowled and shook her head.
“I’m far too busy for this nonsense. Bother someone else.”
BlobFace jumped as the door slammed in front of him. His shoulders sagged and he sighed, trudging down the steps from the house. As he moved towards the gate a bird’s song whistled to his ears. It’s cheary chirp brought life back to Blobface’s tired soul. He straightened his back, took in a deep breath of warm spring air.
He’d make a sale at the next door, he had to believe in himself.
The next house had no stairs and BlobFace pulled his trolley right up to the door. He knocked on the thick purple wood, knuckles squished from the repeated procedure.
When the door creaked open, BlobFace’s neck ached as he looked up to the man’s round hairy face. The man folded his arms, forehead wrinkling with a frown. BlobFace waved and smiled, bouncing on the spot as he reached for one of his cookie boxes. He held it up to the man.
The purple door narrowly missed his nose as it shut. A pretty white flower stood beside it and BlobFace took a moment to savour it’s beauty; its yellow centre and green stem, the buzzing bee which came to feed upon it’s nectar.
He placed the cookie box back in his trolley and strolled towards the next house.
And the next.
And the next.
His feet hurt and his back ached as he struggled not to slouch, pulling his trolley along. He touched his stomach as a rumble vibrated through his jelly skin.
“Woof!”
BlobFace looked up and saw a dog’s head poking out of the next house’s fence. He tilted his head and smiled, heart rising in his chest as he skipped forwards. The owner of the house was in the garden, tending to a colourful flower bed. She was a young woman with thick brown hair. She turned at the sound of his trolley’s squeaky wheels and smiled. She approached the gate.
BlobFace waved warmly and asked to stroke her dog.
“Of course you can. She’s super friendly,” the kind woman chirped.
BlobFace skipped on the spot and reached a tubby hand towards the dog’s head. It was a Pit Bull with sleek brown fur. It rolled over on to it’s back, tail wagging between its hind legs. BlobFace pulled happy faces and rubbed the dog with both hands.
“You’re selling cookies today?” The woman asked, eyes searching over the boxes.
BlobFace nodded eagerly and reached towards his trolley, selecting his favourite cookies to show her. The dog followed his hand, licking his wobbly green wrist lovingly.
“Oh, I’m really sorry,” the woman explained, holding a hand to her chest as if it hurt. “I’m vegan, so I can’t eat any.” Blobface deflated, the lady had a good reason and he didn’t want to force people to buy things. But if he didn’t sell he’d lose his job. He forced the smile the remain upon his round face as the woman continued. “I hope you manage to sell some and have a great day. Thank you for stopping by though.”
BlobFace nodded, it was okay. He’d got to stroke a happy dog and the lady seemed so nice. It was good to see her garden and her smile.
He waved goodbye and stroked the dog one last time before continuing down the street.
A green door.
A red.
Blue and black.
Another dog walked down the street, a young husky. BlobFace’s heart bubbled. He couldn’t try to sell cookies to this man, he was only allowed to sell at people’s houses, but maybe he could talk to him. It would be nice to talk to someone.
As the man neared, BlobFace signalled and asked ‘how are you?’
“Fine,” the man said and continued to walk, almost pushing BlobFace off the curb.
BlobFace regained his balance and asked to stroke the man’s dog.
“No,” he said harshly.
BlobFace’s eyes stung as he watched the dog and man walk away. He shook himself, trying to stop the rising dread, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
It was okay. Maybe the dog didn’t like people. And it was a cute dog, the man was probably sick of people asking. But he could have said no nicely. BlobFace wasn’t a mean person, he would have understood.
12:30 came and BlobFace sat on his favourite bench facing the coffee shop he desperately wanted to visit. He took his packed lunch out of his trolley. Cheese sandwich, a far too small packet of crisps, an apple and an oat bar. It had been the same lunch for the past five days. But the apple was refreshing, the oat bar sweet and it filled his grumbling belly.
Coffee drifted on the breeze towards him. He didn’t drink coffee, but he loved the smell. A pianist played inside, the beautiful music lulling BlobFace into a calm trance as he ate. His heart slowed and his eyes stopped stinging. He could do this. He was going to have a good day. Even if some people were mean to him.
With a new determination, BlobFace waddled back into his work. He dragged his orange trolley behind him, kept his back straight and a smile upon his face.
White door.
Purple.
Grey and brown.
By five o’clock, BlobFace shuffled towards the bus stop. Every person he passed seemed to scowl at him, even though he was finished work and wasn’t selling. He wouldn’t pester them anymore. His phone rang in his pocket and BlobFace answered reluctantly.
“BlobFace, how’d you do today?”
Blobface considered lying, but there was no point. The sales were all taken down and the amount of produce counted at the end of every shift. If he said he’d sold some, he’d just have to pay for them himself.
He mumbled his response.
“No sales huh? Why do you think that is?” His boss asked.
BlobFace shrugged and groaned.
“You need to remember your pitch and the law of averages. The more people you talk to the more sales you get. Think tonight about how you’re going to improve tomorrow.”
The boss hung up and BlobFace squished the phone it into his hip jelly, then stepped onto the sweaty, crowded bus.
***
BlobFace collapsed on the bed, the house cat meowing in his ear. PurpleJelly walked in and cuddled into his arm. Warmth spread through his body. He had to make this job work, PurpleJelly was working really hard in a pub that night. He could do it, get them some money so they could feel calmer. PurpleJelly would get more hours and they’d be happy. They cuddled and stroked the cat together, the stress of the day disappearing into the soft fur.
PurpleJelly had made vegetables and rice, leaving some for Blobface. BlobFace smiled gratefully, she was so nice and good to him. They hugged goodbye and she went to work.
BlobFace stared at the floor, the cat purring beside him. Tomorrow he’d do better. He had to. He rose from the bed and shuffled towards the bathroom.
His skin soaked in the hot water of the shower, his drying jelly bouncing back to life. He washed with as little shower gel as possible, conscious that they were nearing the end of the tube. When the excess water had soaked into his flesh, he plodded back towards the bed and crawled under the blanket. The cat curled up at his feet, purring away. It was good that she was happy, and that she shared her warmth and cuddles. He’d be able to cuddle PurpleJelly when she got home tonight. If he could stay awake. His blob hands rubbed his forehead, his eyes hurt with tiredness.
***
The next day, with sore feet and a bad back, BlobFace pulled his orange trolley and knocked on every door. At lunchtime he sat outside another coffee shop, cheese sandwich in hand as a tear rolled down his cheek.
“Hey, BlobFace. How’s it going?”
BlobFace jumped and wiped his eyes as his co-worker, John, walked over. He plopped himself down on the bench beside Blobface. He was so cheery. His ruffled red hair blew in the faint breeze, tanned face wrinkled in a warm smile.
“How many ya got?”
BlobFace sagged and shook his head. A heavy arm wrapped around his shoulder, heat sinking into his drying jelly.
“You’ll get one. Don’t worry. We have all afternoon. I believe in you.”
BlobFace smiled and shared his oat bar with John, who in turn gave BlobFace a square of his chocolate. Chocolate was so good. BlobFace couldn’t afford chocolate.
***
That day he made no sales. No-one even spoke to him.
He waited at the bus stop. He managed to get a seat at the bus stop and swung his legs in the air. The business suits to either side of him leaned away from him, as if being near him would taint them. BlobFace sniffed at his own cracking arm.
An old lady neared the bus stop but the bench was full. All the business suits were on their phones. BlobFace shook his head and jumped down from his seat, signalling for the old lady to come over.
“Thank you. Good to see some Jigglies are nice,” the grandma commented.
‘Jigglies…’ BlobFace hated that word. He knew they looked different from the humans and were smaller and wobblier. But he had a name and they had a race, he was an alien. And he liked it.
His skin and muscles hurt as he leant against the bus stop. The sun had crisped him out. He needed a long shower to rejuvenate his moisture. He needed a job where he got paid hourly and could feel safe and secure.
When he got home PurpleJelly tried to cheer him up. Tired bags hung under her eyes but she forced a smile. It didn’t work. They watched TV and went to bed. Blobface's mood was still sour.
***
The next day he didn’t want to move. The bed swallowed him up like a storm cloud, the outside world was harsh and foreboding. But at the alarms insistence he dragged himself up. He said goodbye to the cat and PurpleJelly, dragging his feet and trolley behind him as he left the house.
He had to keep trying. One more push. He could do this.
Green.
Red.
Black.
White.
“No, thank you.”
BlobFace nodded happily, a human voice. It was so nice to hear.
Grey.
Purple.
Glass.
“What you’re doing is really good, and I wish I could buy one. But I’m not in a position to right now.”
BlobFace wiped the sweat from his brow. He needed paid and when he did he’d buy some sun protection. His blobby jelly was getting too dry, it was cracking and hurting. His once lime green skin had turned pale as he walked to the next house.
“Get outta here!”
His eyes watered and he took a few moments to regain his composure before moving to the next door.
“Sure, how much for five?”
BlobFace stuttered as he clumsily reached for five boxes of chocolate chip cookies. The old man handed the money over and smiled warmly before shaking his hand and waving goodbye.
BlobFace wrote down his earnings and placed the money for his boss in the black box. He’d sold 5 boxes. This meant that he wouldn’t lose his job this week. It was a great day.
***
The next day as lunch time hit he contacted John and they met up to eat. But this time, BlobFace went into the coffee shop and came out with a coffee.
“Aww, mate. You didn’t have to. Thank you. I’ll buy you one tomorrow,” John beamed.
BlobFace nodded happily and nudged the coffee towards John. The moisture forming on the cup soaked into his hands, causing his skin to tingle and brighten.
It felt good to give something to someone.
***
“Ten sales today, well done. Tomorrow let’s make that fifteen, alright?”
BlobFace hung up. He was tired of being pushed all the time. He didn’t care about the sales. He’d made his friend happy and finally gone into his favourite coffee shop. He’d stroked a dog and talked to a lovely lady. That’s what mattered.
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