My OperaMore Questions (Than Answers)
Sunday, February 20, 2011 7:33:12 PM
Ladies, and gentle men (you hard ones can keep doing whatever it was you were doing), 8 left the building fully aware his life was a dream, and his dream a job.
Or did he?
“Sorry for asking, but don't you remember why you came here?”
It was another room, not unlike the last, with another woman, not unlike the first. His fingers still drummed a mystery beat on the cool metal surface of an endless desk...
“Wasn’t there a plan?” she continued, “Or did you forget about it in all the excitement of finding yourself...”
He was of course not there at all, rather, still on vacation. It was midnight and Tuesday was seated next to him on the beach as they both contemplated the talking pelican.
“...here and now, in this form. What with those arms, legs and balls of yours...”
“What did that pelican just say?” 8 turned to Tuesday only to see the same desk and woman as she continued:
“I’ll bet by the time you’d worked out how to walk, talk and feel, all memory of the original plan vanished...”
He was’t listening. The melting man in front of him commanded his attention, ‘didn’t it?’. All puddle building and no play making this melting man a...
“DIDN’T IT?” This woman wouldn’t stop interjecting!
...sick joke with the punchline lost somewhere in oblivion.
‘Well, here’e a reminder’ for those of you who’ve forgotten oblivion. There are way to many rabbits there...
“Well here’s a reminder...”
“I just typed that.” 8 interrupted flatly.
“Fair enough, its your story.”
He nodded in agreement, still drumming the mystery beat (he’d quit smoking on vacation and the drumming was all that kept him from pulling his gun)
“But still, I think it would help you to know why you came here, wouldn’t you agree?” Something behind her eyes searched his.
“Nope.” He pushed himself back from the desk and stretched.
“Not at all?”
“You’re pushing all the wrong buttons, lady.”
“R U ok?”
Sweat was pouring down his face. She just text talked him! Or maybe in his laziness, he typed it that way. Whatever the reason, it was time.
8 pulled the gun, seemingly out of the air and pumped 3 (See, laziness, why not three?) bullets into her forehead, painting his own Rorschach test on the wall.
“Funny.”
Bunnies and shit.
Or did he?
“Sorry for asking, but don't you remember why you came here?”
It was another room, not unlike the last, with another woman, not unlike the first. His fingers still drummed a mystery beat on the cool metal surface of an endless desk...
“Wasn’t there a plan?” she continued, “Or did you forget about it in all the excitement of finding yourself...”
He was of course not there at all, rather, still on vacation. It was midnight and Tuesday was seated next to him on the beach as they both contemplated the talking pelican.
“...here and now, in this form. What with those arms, legs and balls of yours...”
“What did that pelican just say?” 8 turned to Tuesday only to see the same desk and woman as she continued:
“I’ll bet by the time you’d worked out how to walk, talk and feel, all memory of the original plan vanished...”
He was’t listening. The melting man in front of him commanded his attention, ‘didn’t it?’. All puddle building and no play making this melting man a...
“DIDN’T IT?” This woman wouldn’t stop interjecting!
...sick joke with the punchline lost somewhere in oblivion.
‘Well, here’e a reminder’ for those of you who’ve forgotten oblivion. There are way to many rabbits there...
“Well here’s a reminder...”
“I just typed that.” 8 interrupted flatly.
“Fair enough, its your story.”
He nodded in agreement, still drumming the mystery beat (he’d quit smoking on vacation and the drumming was all that kept him from pulling his gun)
“But still, I think it would help you to know why you came here, wouldn’t you agree?” Something behind her eyes searched his.
“Nope.” He pushed himself back from the desk and stretched.
“Not at all?”
“You’re pushing all the wrong buttons, lady.”
“R U ok?”
Sweat was pouring down his face. She just text talked him! Or maybe in his laziness, he typed it that way. Whatever the reason, it was time.
8 pulled the gun, seemingly out of the air and pumped 3 (See, laziness, why not three?) bullets into her forehead, painting his own Rorschach test on the wall.
“Funny.”
Bunnies and shit.
DHdarkesthour # Sunday, February 20, 2011 7:51:04 PM
Colin KillpatrickColinKillpatrick # Sunday, February 20, 2011 7:59:43 PM
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Colin KillpatrickColinKillpatrick # Sunday, February 20, 2011 8:25:53 PM
DHdarkesthour # Sunday, February 20, 2011 8:27:03 PM
DHdarkesthour # Monday, February 21, 2011 2:44:16 AM
CAT Aachattycathy64 # Saturday, October 15, 2011 3:26:39 AM