Special Note: Today is Abe's 7th birthday. We are having a party for him tonight, so I knew all week I'd better get this done beforehand. So the party starts in 32 minutes. I'm calling this done.
I am mutated. To what, I know not. Also, I am talking funny. Hunger. Confusion. Fear. Pain. They dominate my being, whatever that is. With no little effort, I replace these attributes with a simple new one. Rage. As I blindly forge through some thick vegetation looking for relief from this nightmare, I become aware of a sharp stinging in my right hand. It’s as if a thousand needles are piercing flesh and bone. In an attempt to pull my hand to my face to investigate, I discover myself anchored to the ground by what looks like a thousand tiny barbed needles piercing the flesh and blood of my hand. The more I struggle to free my hand, the more the pain intensifies. I begin again to lose composure. Sweat dripping into my eyes, burning. I start to panic before I am once again rescued by my only ally; Rage.
With the heat and stench of the vegetation surrounding me, I thrash wildly to free my hand, trying not to consider the resulting mutilation. As the wicked barbed needles rip free from my hand , I’m surprised to see they are attached to threads that are staked securely to the ground. Tiny men about the size of a mouse are hammering furiously at the stakes. Several of the freed needles fall toward the cowering men. Ignoring the fire in my hand I stalk toward my would-be captors and begin to literally stomp them out, shredding my foot on the fallen needles in the process. Doh!
Suddenly I realize; these are not tiny men. I AM A GIANT!
Upon the realization, the pain in my hand subsides. I look down to watch my hand quickly reassemble itself to its familiar old form. Mostly human, but with strange green suction cups on the finger tips and the most adorable cuddly fur and retractable claws. I want to bat some yarn, and I want to bat it now. My other hand is 100% plain old boring human. Damn.
Licking my hand/paw to wipe the grime from my sweaty brow, I’m suddenly standing in my studio apartment kitchen area slicing red peppers. Chelsea walks out from behind the toilet screen (It’s a really small apartment) and comes up from behind kneeing the back of my knees, causing me not to buckle but float mysteriously in the air. Chelsea is very impressed as I reach for her, but she’s out of range now as I uncontrollably move higher and through the ceiling/floor, I can feel every fiber of my being mix with the construction of the ceiling/floor. I can tell you with great certainty, it feels pretty weird. The neighbors in the apartment just above mine give me a look that might be anger or possibly heart attack as they sit, jaws agape, popcorn spilling from their mouths, watching me ascend through yet another ceiling …
“That should settle him down,” nurse Wimbledon (no relation) was dumping some painkiller stuff into Lenny’s 4 drip. He had been in a fitful sleep for the last few minutes, obviously in a great deal of pain, but was now starting to calm down. The 4 drip itself was an invention of Dr Johnson’s. He felt it was a great improvement on the archaic IV drip. See what I did there? Stupid 4th wall. Gonna have to get that thing fixed some day.
“Sorry folks. Just passing through. The popcorn smells good!” Lenny mumbles as he stirs. These are the first words, he's spoken in over a week.
Just then, Dr Johnson comes in and smoothly walks across the room to Lenny’s bedside. Evelyn and Julie, who haven’t left the bedside except to go home and sleep and go to work. Oh and the occasional movie. Actually, it was kind of lucky they happened to be there when he came out of his sleep. They both watched as the Doctor entered, glancing down to verify that he was not on roller skates or something. “It’s kind of creepy,” Ev whispered to Julie. Julie gave a subtle nod in response.
“You want to go get Charlie?” Julie asked.
“Him? He’s just hanging out by the water fountain waiting for people to take a drink before he asks them questions. He’s a dummy, but I love him. Let him have his fun.”
“Miss Johnson,” Dr Johnson began, addressing Julie (Evelyn was Mrs. Johnson), “Would you do me a favor and close the Levolor Brand Blinds? I think the lower light will be better for your brother at this time.”
Just then, Lenny opened his eyes, “I just had the weirdest dream,” He said.
Seeing Lenny awake was shocking enough for everyone, even before they noticed his eyes.
Evelyn ran out of the room, suppressing a scream until the door to the room was almost halfway closed.
Julie froze, her hand still holding the Levolor Brand blind string in the release position. “What is wrong with his …”
“Shh,” warned the brilliant good handsome doctor.
“What’s wrong with my what?” Lenny asked, absentmindedly lapping at an incisor with his scratchy tongue.
“Don’t mind your sister, She’s just never seen anyone with frog/cat/human hybrid eyes before,” Johnson reassured Lenny.
“Oh alright. What?!?”, but when he said “What” It was long and drawn out, starting at a low quiet pitch rising in both volume and cant as the realization set in. It was actually pretty comical. I guess you had to be there.
Lenny eyes. They were green. The pupils were vertical slits. Seriously. Then there was this really gross membrane thing that would come down over his eyes occasionally instead of his now useless eyelids.
“Uh Yes. Let me explain what I believe happened to you. Hopefully you can fill in the rest,” explained Johnson, suppressing a big huge barf.
“Yeah Crockett – or is it Burnett? I’m ready,” The boys had noticed the rent-a-pig staring at them from across the parking lot. And even though, despite appearances, they had done nothing illegal (yet), they were well aware that old rent-a-pigs were often ex-cops who could call in a few favors and get real cops on the scene before you could sing “Love me” by Elvis Presley.
Cube was ready for a night on the town. After a long week of tanning his upper body at his job in the sun, he had the perfect pastel t-shirt to show it off. Accenting that tan, was white linen sport jacket, sleeves carefully pushed halfway up his forearm to give the appearance that they were carelessly pushed halfway up his arm. Showing no mercy on the ladies, he also wore white, sockless deck shoes. To finish the ensemble, he was sporting a 3 day beard that took him about 9 days to grow. “If only you had a .45 automatic, you could finish out that look. Maybe even nab a Cuban drug lord or something.” Boomer lamented.
“We’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the night, Paul Bunyan.”
Boomer was also showing off his fabulous upper body tan. He was wearing a red plaid flannel shirt, and though it was a hot summer night, Boomer was cool, because he had torn the sleeves off the shirt. His attire was finished off nicely with an old pair of Levi’s and some hiking boots.
“Where you going Boomer?” Cube asked as Boomer started toward the back stairway on the north side of the building, “Let’s go in the west side. I want to be backlit as I take off my shades and walk into the place.”
“There might, just might be something gayer than that, Cube. Let me think on it a while.”
"Let's go get some Guinness. Then let's see if we can't find out where your big fucking blue ox ran off to."
"You leave Babe out of this, Cube, I'm warning you," Boomer warned.