Day 25: Teleport Issues
Meanwhile, the exact moment that Tyra Bank teleported away from (Name Deleted)’s bullet…
Somehow, the suit had saved me, in a flash I had seen the world around me dissolve into an ambigious cloud. Swirls of color filled my vision and sense not unlike being asked to help your friend move from one house to another flooded my body. Why had (name deleted) decided to kill me? Did it have something to do with my confidence?
As it had vanished, the world combined, braids of color and sensation weaving themselves into a great cable of continuity, and I saw again that I was in Toronto, in that damned field where i had been shot. in fact, there was (name deleted), holding a gun, pointing it directly at me, but now he was many meters away. No, there was a whif of smoke in front of him… that must have been me. I had teleported only a few meters away. And still in the path of –
The bullet tore through not only my jeans, but also the jeans of The Suit, high end studded preworn denim marvels, not the jean machine house brand pants I slipped myself into on a dare. Both were ruined now.
“WTF!?” shouted the stupid nerd, shamed no longer as his slack trance had been whipped out of him by the sharp shock of the grizzly act played out in front of him. Imagine, being dumped. that would be horrible. Even worse is when you’re a dumb nerd, and then someone much more confident in some really decent, not high end, but decent, jeans gets shot into after a genuinely breathtaking teleportation.
Focusing on the nerd, i realized that i was still in link with (name deleted), both of us gaining power from our abuse of the nerd. My suit must still be functioning, still siphoning off self esteem atoms into its long and moist bladder. Thank god.
“CALL ALL THE POLICE YOU CAN FIND” i shouted. “IF YOU KNOW ANY POLICE, GIVE THEM A SHOUT!”.
The nerd was apparently one of those lung nerds, because he bellowed out a “hyap” and roundhouse kicked (name deleted) in the face.
“MICHAEL J FOX, YOU ARE NOT TO SHOOT ANYONE ANY LONGER, BRO! SPIN CITY WAS NOT A BAD SHOW, UNTIL CHARLIE SHEEN WAS CAST AS YOUR REPLACEMENT! I DON’T WATCH 2 AND A HALF MEN, HOWEVER, I HEARD THE OTHER GUY, DUCKIE, JUST GOT AN EMMY FOR IT. MY MOM LIKES IT, AND THAT PRECLUDES THE POSSIBILITY THAT I WOULD LIKE IT. THOUGH SHE DID LIKE ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT. THAT WAS A GOOD SHOW. NOW LAY ON THE GROUND OR I WILL SNAP KICK YOU.”
The capslock was palpable between them. The shame evapourated, and the authoritative training of what can only be described as Tae Kwon Do took over. The shamelink was broken, and my suit’s guzzling days concluded with a lovely regret sunset, my battery now vaguely full. Like, full, to capacity, but, like, what capacty? Full capacity? Obviously, but, in a vague way?
The healing secretions of my suit permeated my wound, as calm taupe music played on the qualm disturber. i could feel my qualms aggitating, in a taupy-beige way, how calming. My calm qualms where just that, qualmy calm taupes. Taupe Misers in the grand Land of the Grope Wisers, a kind of whiskey that was grabby, used to procure for themsleves some really rigid taupes. These were nothing like that, these were really more beige.
Erectly i stood, and towards the crumpled body of one Michael J Fox lookalike i strode. The nerd’s face resolved under the dim light of the lamp. his face was a circus of features, his hair a relaxed car of touselment, and his shirt was the shirt equivalent of automation in the early 1960s. A shirt with many far reaching sociological consequences, to say the least. His small stature was augmented by apparently taught and rarely revealed potency, strength, and his taught musculature was suspended from rigid calcified bones, an endo skeleton, like a rack from which to hang fibrous organs of varying construction and to varying degrees “gross”, in that liberal sort of way that university students tended to have their organs suspended. Ahh, without an experience yet, but it was clear that as the world contributed to his experience folio his leanings would shift to the right, and his organ arrangement would become much more conservative. I guess because when you’re older, you have more to lose, and pragmatism dictated the organisation of function of some of your glands and ducts. He was not so old though, by my calculation he had not yet reached the permeation age, his normal (read white) skin was still without any indications of having been in a drive-by.
“I dont’ know how to thank you, ” i admitted, regretfully. “I’m sorry. I was never taught the appropriate method.”
“Never mind about that. What i need to know right now, doctor, is are you hurt?”
“Doctorly, sir, I can admit that I am not hurt, without losing face. The bullet you saw pass through me was probably just a construct of society to create a false dichotomy between those who have been shot, and those who have not. really, i think shootings exist on a continuum. Who is society to define who has and has not been shot? There are shades of gray.”
He gave his assent by standing still and saying nothing. Classic.
“So, I better doctor my way around now. I’m going to just doctor about for a while.”
The white coat i wore should obfuscate and personal thoughts he might have. he looked the type to merely acquiesce at the sight of such a coat as mine. It was the white that made it so, i wrote on a card, and read aloud to myself. He didn’t understand, but that’s the way it works. People just dont’ understand genius during its lifetime. Time to stroll, anyway. But (name deleted) had other plans. And they were like most plans: not revealed to you because no one wants you to show up.
to be continued…
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