OH, DO THEY shuffle; they scuttle; they make a lot of noise. The ghouls are not a stealthy bunch. In an instant they are gone, and later I find them once again trailing behind me, siphoning more of my endless green light. I seem to create more than they can take.
The Cowboy winces at me, then looks back at them.
“Have you looked at em yet?” He nods.
I turn and look; all my ghouls share my 'shit eatin grin,' as the Cowboy calls it.
The road is riddled with holes. There may also be new bones that were not here before. They seem to wander off sporadically; each time they come back a little more fleshed out. They are definitely eating people or animals.
I take a look at them. They are all smiling.
Oh, I get it now. My energy; my smile.
They are inheriting my traits because they are my Ghouls. This means that the Cowboy’s Ghouls look the way they do because he is the way he is. They inherit traits from him.
I’m going to try something. I pick up the pace and jog. The Ghouls waste no time and begin to not only keep up, but they copy my exact stride.
This is great. I am celebrating inside. No one ever wants to run with me. I stop. Is this still my thing, or was it part of the life of the old me who went to the afterlife?
THE COWBOY AND THE OTHER'S ARE CAUGHT UP
“What’s he doin?” The Cowboy asks, nudging the Demon.
The Demon stops and looks at me.
“He is trying to figure out if he is allowed to like the same things his other self liked.” She replies.
The Cowboy shakes his head.
“You are still you. What you let go of is a piece of you who you gave permission to rest. You let him die and be with his family so you can accept what you are now. You are still you.”
I nod my head.
I guess I’m satisfied with that. I did wonder about it.
The green is smearing into orange; cock-a-doodle-doo! It’s morning in the wastelands! The haze is kind of thick today. Radiation, heat wave, whatever you want to call it.
Makes me daydream about Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts; get some sandals… Whole: fat daddy outfit. (Perfect thing to wear when it is hot.)
Seconds later, there are Ghoul hands in places. What the heck are they doing? I can hear the material of my clothes rip right off of my body. When they move away, one puts a white fisherman’s cap on my head.
Did they just find or make me the clothes I was imagining?
The others stop in their tracks, staring at me.
“You make em do that?” The Cowboy asks.
“No, I was thinking about these clothes. I used to wear something similar when it got really hot out.”
“Dey still siphoning light from you. Ain't you gettin weak?” He asks.
I TOUCH MY CHEST
“No, I don’t think there is a limit.”
The Demon and the Cowboy share a glance; hey, they can’t do that; that’s my thing. Am I the guy on the outside now?
“There is usually a limit. You will feel it.” The Demon states.
“No, the world just keeps giving it to me.” I reply.
She tilts her head to the side and stares at me.
“Whatchu mean?” She asks.
I look around and find all the lines of energy.
“You know, the radiation, the sun, whatever is underground, the sky, the clouds, the land feeds me all the time. I’m never weak or tired. Is it not the way for all of us?”
The Demon juts her chin out to me and kisses her teeth.
“No, it’s not.”
“Oh.” I reply.
I look at my Ghouls smiling faces. I like it. I’m not that lonely anymore. Maybe that’s what they’re for, to keep us company at the end of the world. I can feel their love and devotion wafting off of them.
I remember reading in the Bible that God has angels that fly around him praising him. That is what this feels like. It is wonderful, and I can see why he has his angels. It makes you powerful and DaNgErOus…
I look to the Cowboy.
“I guess I need to learn how to fight.”
CUE FIGHT SEQUENCE
They both look at me. The Cowboy’s Ghouls look at me, and one shakes her head. I think it was the one who gifted me the suit way back when. It is hard to tell because they have all mutated and grown.
I could bore you and show a neat yet hilarious training sequence, but it was nothing so honourable. I need to make this clear. I am awkward; I am clumsy; it took me a long time to learn to run because I would crash often.
The Cowboy tried to teach me how to fight like a man:
He taught me about making a fist and punching past the head. He taught me about taking a punch and giving one.
He taught me a man can beat you to your knees, but only a coward hits you while you are down. When a man is on the ground, you let him be. He now has an important decision to make. Are you worth him getting hurt more? If the answer is no, the fight is over. If the answer is yes, there is no mercy in this dojo. (I don’t know what that is a reference to. I think he may be a little crazy.
The Demon is different. She uses fear. I think she might be BATMAN. She is not the hero we need, but she is the hero we have. Her first tip was for me to become the shadows.
That was terrible advice; it took us way too long to figure out how I could come back together again. It was kind of relaxing to stretch out that far, though. It was a fantastic stretch, and the only thing that could have made it better was a really deep yawn.
I am not being sarcastic. Have you ever had a perfect stretch? Mmm, it feels good before and after a run, or maybe when you first get out of bed in the morning.
I have not seen a real bed in so many years. I guess when you don’t sleep, you don’t need one. I had a great bed. Well, for me.
They had their secret little meeting standing off where they thought I couldn’t hear them.
Just a side note here: If you're going to talk about someone like a bunch of teenagers, have the courtesy to do it far away from them. We can hear you, and also I can feel intention, which is worse than knowing what you say.
Before you act, you can ask yourself a little question: Does this seem like something an arsehole would do? If the answer is yes, don’t do the thing!
OH, THEY ARE APPROACHING NOW, SHHHH
“We’ve been talking, and we think you should not prepare for this battle.”
I nod my head.
“You don’t think I should fight this battle?” I ask.
They share a glance. The Cowboy takes his hat off and holds it in his hands, stepping closer.
“Well, Boogeyman, I reckon it don’t matter what we say. You’re gonna do what a Boogeyman does, and no amount of us teaching you a new way ta fight’s gonna matter.”
I nod again.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the Ghouls ain't fightin this one. Demon ain’t doin it. Yer fightin this one, and yer gonna do it yer way.”
They both seem pleased with that answer. I don’t know how any of that helps me, but I guess we’re going to see.
If he tries to eat me, I will take a page from the Cowboy’s playbook and have a nuclear fart right in Monster’s mouth.
This could work. How much time do we even have, and does it matter? When you don’t age anymore, how does time affect you? I guess it affects those around you.
HI MOM
Just for a second, in the deep recesses of my mind, I see my mother’s face. WOW, a memory. That hasn’t happened in so long. I had lost what she looked like, so long ago. I see her clear as day.
My mother is smiling and maliciously spraying me with the hose when I was a kid. We were in the backyard of a house we lived at for a decade. A small garden home where the rent went too high, and we had to move.
When I dream about home, that is the house I picture. Some greedy, fat, old men with boobs took that from me. They did this to everyone. The world was full of empty homes, and people lived in tents in the parks because living in homes was too expensive.
They made food too expensive. They stole opportunity and life from the young. These fat old vampires had no talent. They lived off of the blood and sweat of the working class.
They all had one thing in common: they were men of weak morals. You could tell they were lying when their mouths moved. (Because everything they said was a lie.)
Monster, is shallow. He is greedy. He is alone. I’m going to use that.