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river, stuck in the mud. The Old Guy stood on his head atop one of the
boulders that you had to climb to get up to Stuart Mesa Road. I wondered
if his people felt pain.
Was this a great scenario, or what?
The "ride" here was impossible to describe. It couldn't have taken more
than three hundredths of a second. I remember a flash of green, some cold
wind.
That was it.
Okay, I don't care if I was hurting all over, or if the Old Guy was trying
to figure out what to do about his possible brain damage. I was pissed!
After dragging myself up I started toward the rocks; but the Old Guy,
doing a wonderful imitation of Jack LaLanne, somersaulted to his feet and
alit in front of me. Impressive. Still, I wasn't deterred from my purpose.
"Why the hell didn't you pull me out?" I cried. "There was, what,
twenty of you watching me? Couldn't even one guess that I was in trouble,
without me shouting all over the place?"
"Uh, Jack " He seemed reluctant to say anything.
"There were a lot of you watching me, right?"
"Well, during your excursion to Yodonomoho and those other islands,
there was myself and six others in the study group."
"Yeah, I knew that. But didn't the crowd grow larger?"
He shook his head. "When you made your return visit to Ralph Ralph,
and the next excursion with Don Quixote, there was myself and three
others."
I was taken aback. "And after that?"
"Your journey to Hell commanded the attention of myself and one
other, although some would have returned before long. Then, knowing you
were on your way back to reality time and seemingly safe, the two of us
were diverted elsewhere. Sorry, Jack."
Yeah, well, I'd already figured that out. But you know what was getting
to me here? All the time I'd thought I was a hot item, with Old Guys galore
tripping over themselves to have a peek at my exploits& the study group
was shrinking! Talk about feeling like an orifice!
A humbled orifice.
First the seagull, and now this. I was learning some great lessons about
myself along the way, huh?
The Bukko was still in my hand. I undid my fingers and looked at it.
Yep, the left horn on the ugly animal was gone.
"No way this can be undone?" I asked hopefully.
He shook his head. "I explained to you at the outset about the rules that
govern our activities. The next time you rub the Bukko, Jack, your
excursions along the mhuva lun gallee will be over." He flashed me one of
those well-practiced smiles. "But let me tell you what you've accomplished
so far."
"Yeah?" I said glumly.
"First, no one has ever gone as long as you have without rubbing the
Bukko. Many have even done it with the study group watching, not
attempting to utilize their own abilities."
"No shit?"
"No shit, Jack. Life-forms like this have not even been allowed a second
chance. And although you could have asked to be saved in a number of
situations, the only time we've pulled you out during this whole time was
when you were hallucinating from that water."
"And I didn't even call you then!"
"Exactly. You have done quite well, Jack. If it bothers you that more are
not observing your exploits, perhaps I might be able to "
"No, forget it," I interrupted. "It's not important. As long as I know
you're & up there, it's fine."
He grinned again. "Like I told you at the start, I can't promise to
always be there. But I'll do the best I can."
I felt better now; I mean, this wasn't supposed to go on forever, was it?
Sooner or later I had to settle down, get serious about life, find out who
was going to be Melvin Butterwood's great-whatever grandmother&
But not yet; no, not for a long time.
"Well, I'd better dig the bike out," I said.
"Yes, it has looked better. And I must get back, lest the others be
concerned about how quickly I was pulled away. Uh, do you have any idea
how long this reality time is going to be?"
"At least the weekend." I thought a moment. "Tell you what, I'll meet
you at the tree Monday morning, ten o'clock. That's Pacific Daylight
Savings time, of course."
"Oh, of course," he replied, even though I knew he'd have to look it up
later. "Have a nice break. I hope you hear from your female."
My female. Yeah, I was hoping I'd hear from her too.
I guess.
Anyway, with the Old Guy's help I pulled the Nishiki out of the mud
and cleaned it off. When I carried it up to Stuart Mesa Road, he stayed
under the bridge. Well, since he hadn't arrived by the usual means, it was
safe to assume he wasn't returning that way either.
Pedaling to my car, it occurred to me that I didn't have a clue whether
I'd slept for ten minutes or ten hours before the rude interruption by that
bevy of monsters. I still felt shitty, and the head was throbbing again,
although all of that might have had to do with the hasty passage back, as
well as the teeth-jarring landing. Whatever; I needed the Jacuzzi, and I
needed my bed, and I was glad I hadn't made plans for Friday night. My
ambition did not extend beyond going home and being a zucchini.
Well, my female hadn't called while I was gone. Neither had anyone
else. Fine. I went over and soaked for a period of time that was probably
outside the recommended safety limits. The reason I finally left was
because one of the neighbors uttered a single short sentence that
contained the words overexposed, lobster, and skin cancer.
Not long after emerging from the caldron, I was asleep. I'd even refused
an invitation to play Nintendo with Maury Khazuti and listen to his latest
Zamfir album. The phone remained silent, and I made it all the way to the
break of the next day.
Okay, now I felt better. The plan was to start inputting on my hard disk
all that had happened since I'd first turned up in the red sea. But as I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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