Wednesday, September 01, 2004

 

Unwanted, Dead or Alive

I can only report that I am wet, very wet. Slimy almost. I seem to be getting pushed through some wet slimy tunnel, with only a narrow slit of light at the end.

Last thing I remember is standing in line at the pearly gates. I was almost to the door. Some fat man in front of me wearing a fedora and carrying a leather briefcase was ranting about the wait, how long it had taken, his bunions, ya ya ya ya… and this giant angel got a look of disgust, and sliced off his head, and that’s the last thing I remember…

Until now. Whoa! Out into the light. It’s kind of muddy, here. I am lying in mud. I hear footsteps fading, moving away from me. I begin yelling. It’s raining.

Talons sink into my flesh. I am having trouble seeing and hearing, but we are definitely in flight.

Ah, I am being deposited on the doorstep of, of, some place. It’s familiar.

It’s Sufi U’s Student Transition Complex. Of course! Hands are picking me up. I dare to open an eye. Why, it’s Chef Pharaoh’s daughter. From the cafeteria.

She has taken me in.




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