Monday, January 5, 2015

Ragnarök: Part Two

Trisha and the other members of my multicultural book club watched me, their arms crossed with annoyance.
I tried to pay attention to our meeting, which took place today in the otherwise empty, stadium seating in the UCF football arena, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the combat that occurred on the field below us.
Ever since the sky darkened to the color of blood, ripped open, and crapped a giant wolf’s muzzle covered with hyperactive tentacles, an army of freaks appeared on the football field.
The guy with the oversized claw hammer struck another man in the face, which detonated in a spray of raspberry jam.
Eagles (armed with switchblades) swooped down and attacked the guy with the head of a donkey. Donkey spat a cone of blue flames at the eagles, which dodged their doom with inflight, evasive maneuvers.
Trisha’s foot tapped. “Earth to Joey. Come in, Joey.”
I forced myself to face her while a mammoth worm erupted from the ground and swallowed someone. “Sorry,” I said. “I got distracted.”
Troy served as the book club’s treasurer. He never displayed the slightest patience for my lack of attention. He gestured towards the battle on the football field. “We need to discuss My Pet Goat, Joey.”
I opened my copy of the book, tried to say something that would prove my focus. “I really like the chapter where the goat—”
An elephant made of twisted tree trunks trampled onto the field. A bark-covered cable slithered from its side, snapped around the throat of the one-eyed woman, and lifted her into the air.
“OMG!” I cried because I often say dumb stuff like that. “She’ll choke.”
The one-eyed woman, much to my relief, broke the vine around her neck with some sort of flaming karate chop.
I returned my attention to Trisha. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place to hold our meeting.”
Trisha produced a dramatic sigh that told me how impossible she found me. “The library’s closed, Joey. Where else could we go?”
I shrugged. “I just think all of this—” I waved at the chaos below us “—seems a bit distracting.”
Trish placed her fists upon her big hips. “That’s because you lack focus.”
The one-eyed woman gave birth to an owl, which immediately spun around itself a silvery cocoon.
I reconsidered those pills Mom always suggested. The ones that help a person pay attention.
The owl’s cocoon tore. Blue light pulsed from it. So did a reindeer with nine legs.
“Holy cow! Did you guys see that?” I asked.
Trisha and the others rolled their eyes.
Yep. There I go again. The littlest things distract me. It seems a wonder I manage to make a P&J without some shiny object commanding away my attention.
The one-eyed woman mounted her multi-legged reindeer and flew into the sky. She dodged the giant worm, which snapped at her, tossed thick cords of drool.
The airborne wolf muzzle split the sky wide open. Its tentacles slapped around the one-eyed woman and her mount, reeled them between its jaws, which slammed shut.
The man with the oversized claw hammer dropped to his knees. “Nooooo!” He slammed his weapon against the ground. Lightning blasted from the impact.
Trisha waved her hand in front of my face. “Joey? Troy just mentioned an interesting point about My Pet Goat. He asked if the goat truly existed as someone’s pet, or if society just wanted us to think so because we’re all someone’s pet goat.”
I blinked. A lot. “I. Um. Guess that sounds right.”
Trisha and Troy exchanged annoyed expressions with the other members of my book club.
“Perhaps this association isn’t the best fit for you,” Troy told me.
“I’m the vice president.” I hated how whiny I sounded just then. “You have to admit—” I pointed at the massive, sky-borne wolf muzzle, which decided to swallow the moon, “that’s a hell of a battle.”
“It doesn’t concern us one bit,” Trisha said. “Focus on the task at hand. The proper people will handle—”
Darkness swallowed the world.
“Trisha?” I asked.
No answer.
I felt hands stretch from the ground. They groped my ankles while rabbits that glowed green hopped across the wrecked sky.
I could see nothing save their green bodies, which flew towards each other, and, combined, formed a face. The green, luminous face of rabbits sneered at me and screamed, “Let the new world blossom!”
The rabbits—and thus the face—vanished. I felt myself float in cold air. Total darkness. Total silence.
I waited.
I finally heard police sirens, songs of grief, and the sound a glass building might make while a giant tarantula humped it.
Help us, a sweet voice echoed in my head. Help us eat the sun.
A flock of owls floated past me. I drifted after them. A speck of light glowed in the distance. The sun grew closer. My mouth stretched into a wolf’s muzzle. My stomach growled for delicious heat.
The flock and I flew faster. We would eat the sun until nothing remained. Nothing to see. Nothing to hear. Nothing to distract us.
I somehow knew that with every inch of distance I flew, I erased time. My car: never made. Trisha’s Zelda games: never programmed. Me: never born. Life: never happened.
Even the cold would soon cease to blow.
I wished I could prevent it. I wanted to keep something, even pain. Torture seemed preferable to oblivion.
The sun blazed before my flock. We attacked it as ants upon a dropped wad of ice cream, nibbled away the light, then each other.
My final memory (a baseball game I watched with my father) screamed for salvation before it, too, vaporized in the span of a whimper.

I publish my blogs as follows:
Mondays and Thursdays: Short stories at martinwolt.blogspot.com
Tuesdays: A look at the politics of the entertainment world at EntertainmentMicroscope.blogspot.com.
Wednesdays: An inside look at my novels (such as Daughters of Darkwana, which you can now find on Kindle) at Darkwana.blogspot.com
Fridays: Tips to improve your fiction at FictionFormula.blogspot.com
Sundays: Movie reviews at moviesmartinwolt.blogspot.com


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