MMWUC for January 28, 2008
EXERCISE: His crumpled dead body occupied the center aisle when the first student stumbled into the class room. Yellow police tape surrounded him like a forgotten May pole game. One student screamed; one nearly passed out; two giggled until they detected the faint coppery smell of blood emanating from a small pool of it. Shortly, a tall thin man entered the room his detective badge displayed over his coat pocket. "Sit, relax, close eyes. Take a deep breath." A few students coughed as the decaying process moved forward. "For the next ten minutes, write 'I wanted it not to be true, but...'."
MUSING: I think I need to go work in the morgue with Lindsey Lohan for a couple of days. The grist of reality might help my (or anyone's) writing. Or maybe I'll just learn some new drinking games from "Lindy".
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Start the clock: now.
I wanted it not to be true, Manny had written. I loved my home, I was ready to fight for it, but I wasn’t ready to give it to that fat bastard televangelist from Houston.
Manny had been a Rotter, all right, but he had also been an informant. A ranking officer in the Republic of Texas Army could provide all sorts of intelligence for the unification effort, and provide he did. Somehow, he managed to not get caught out, and even took the standard amnesty over walking away free.
I did what I did not of loyalty to the USA, but of loyalty to Texas, Manny said. Certainly, others wouldn’t see it that way, but better re-unification than letting someone turn it into his private theocracy.
I’d been drinking too much, and not just since Sean brought the case to me. But it wasn’t the night to quit. It didn’t stop the dreams, though. Like many of the dreams of Saudi, things were going far worse than reality. Manny and I had gotten away from the Iranians and were hiking through the desert.
“Why are we doing this?” I asked Manny. “They’ll just follow our tracks in the sand.”
“We’re doing what we have to,” Manny said. “Besides, the desert is probably gonna kill us first.”
Bright flash of light from behind. We could see the mushroom cloud over the dunes.
“That’ll fix ’em,” Manny grinned, flipping off the unseen (and presumably vaporized) Iranians.
So...where's Lot's wife in all of this confligeration?
She dissolved in a rainstorm some time back, I think.
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