THE GUNFIRE is more rapid now. There are screams of terror. Something is going on that is beyond what I can imagine.
More violence—is there ever going to be any kind of peace? Maybe not; we are at war with the chaos inside us, from birth to the grave.
I can hear the sounds of a disagreement coming from outside; some people want another group of people to die, and they don’t want to.
I look over at the two people playing soldier.
“Unlock these chains, or it’s going to get really hot in here, and you will soup yourself.”
The pepper-haired, older man makes eye contact with me.
“Good God, man, you’re the one walking around melting people?”
“No, you melt yourselves; I just am.”
He rises to his feet.
“Don’t do anything.” He says.
He rushes toward the others, getting around their boots in the tiny room. Soon he is out the door and vanishing down the halls.
I look at the bald guy, and he is just burning my face into his memory. I can see him tracing the outline with his eyes.
Is this guy in love with me or something?
Fake army Joe is back in the room now. His hands work quickly as he unlocks the chains. The cuffs clang to the ground. I stand; or maybe the whole world moves down.
FRENZY OF SENSATIONS
I can feel it now; there is a tingling, a mini-orgasm all over my body. Instead of it coming from my John Cena, it feels like it is coming from my solar plexus.
The origin is smack-dab in the middle of my chest. Be it my soul, spirit, or the ghost who haunts my meat.
It tingles; there is something familiar about it. I can feel it. I have to get outside. The drive pulls me.
The two cosplayer soldiers rise from the table; their backs find their submission against the walls. I make eye contact with each of them and nod my head. Each step I make is taking me closer to answers.
Out the door into the orangey sunlight. I breathe in the air—the little hint of that radiation that I have come to expect.
A two-headed crow lands on the ground a few feet away. It looks up at me and disturbingly speaks:
“Go git 'em, tiger!”
They can talk? I didn’t know that. That’s incredible. I nod to the crow and start moving my ass. If there is anything Disney taught me, it’s when an animal talks to you, you listen!
Feet crushing more snow. (I love that sound.) Jogging now, the tingling is getting stronger, it is pleasurable, and I am trying really hard not to make any noise. A little gasp escapes my green lips.
The roof of one of the modular buildings splinters apart, and a mass falls from the sky and lands in the road. It is the smooshed body of one of the pretender soldiers.
“The Demon.” I say to myself.
A FART BY ANY OTHER NAME
A familiar voice teases my ears.
“You shot me, I’m gonna die; OH NO, Mama, git ready, I’m commin.”
I make my way to the sound. At this point, I have come to know the source of my tingles:
The Cowboy is lying on the ground; surrounding him are the base people playing soldier. They have their weapons pointed at him.
His hand comes up, causing them all to flinch. He beckons them closer.
“Come closer; I ain’t got much time left.” He wheezes.
The soldiers don’t make a move.
“You’ve killed me, and by my warrior’s code, I’m gonna share wit ya the secret of immortality and tremendous wealth.”
The soldiers share a glance and venture near him.
One of his legs lifts from the snow a bit, and a creaky, high-pitched fart emanates from his posterior with a thin cloud of green gas.
One of the fake soldier’s watch beeps, and he covers his face with a mask.
“Radiation, put on your protection.” He says.
The Cowboy is cackling, one of his boisterous belly shakers that ends in a cough.
The others copycat the sissy rent-a-cop in the mask.
His fart caused radiation.
The not-so-real men are complaining, and some are still standing near the Cowboy, expecting that there really is a secret to behold.
WE MAKE EYE CONTACT
All reality shifts. The Cowboy’s body levitates off of the ground. (Still in his laying-down position.) He turns in the air, standing upright, and moves closer to me. He lowers to his feet and he hugs me.
“Aren’t you a sight?" I missed ya boy!”
He pushes me back, holding onto my shoulders.
“Let me git a look at ya.”
“There’s that shit eatin grin I’ve grown ta love!”
Screams of terror and horror grab us by the John Cena danglers. We both seek its source.
One of the modular building walls explode. The Demon emerges in all of her horrific glory. She turns towards a large metal gate.
“No, not that way; you get the killers; the regular folk are mine; that’s the deal.” The Cowboy says.
She lets out a dissatisfied grunt and starts to hunt the fake soldiers still standing by us, waiting for the Cowboy’s immortality secret.
THIRD PARTY CONVERSATION
“You fart radiation?”
The question is out there now. Will he answer it?
A sly grin spreads across his face like a rainbow. Not only is he going to answer me, but it looks like he enjoys my bold question.
“There is a reason we don’t eat.”
He starts laughing; it is escalating. There we go; he has his hands on his knees. His belly is shaking.
A little butt trumpet plays a solo and the world is a tiny bit greener.
“Oh,” he gestures.
We make eye contact, and I can see he is actually a little embarrassed. The green light shines in his face. He cuts off eye contact and lowers his eyes.
“I apologize. That was ungentlemanly. My butt and I are gonna start walkin this way.” He says. Pointing two fingers towards a path.
Behind us, the Demon is ripping the soldiers apart. Their limbs soar through the air and splatter over the snow.
The crow lands on a tree stump nearby.
“Put a cork in it!” the bird says.
“No, no, ya tryin to give me ammo, Reason?” The Cowboy asks.
“Reason?”
“His name. I’ve got two of dees mutant crows who come ta check on me every once in a while.”
That’s neat. Who is this guy, Odin? (Norse king of the Gods. He was famous for having two ravens.)
There are chain-link fences, and on the other side of them are people. I can see my hair-challenged friend peering at me from the other side. His dirty fingers are grasping the diamond-shaped holes.
“Hey there,” I greet with a smile.
He nods his head.
“Hello.”
The Cowboy looks at me and then at him.
“Did you make a friend?”
I nod my head.
“It’s probably on the account of yer forever smile. It can be off-putting to some, but I like it. The world is a hard, cold place, and yer smiling face always warms me up.”
Forever smile? What is going on about?
Over-decorated with so many boot prints, I crunch that snow, making my way closer to one of the discarded military vehicles lining the walking path.
I reach out and turn the mirror to be greeted with my loony mug.
‘I’m hideous. Stop smiling, you idiot.’
I can’t. My face won’t stop. I have no control. What happened to me?
Oh yeah, I was nuked by fat, greedy old men with boobs.