Monday, October 13, 2008

66.

The octabug continued to pull implements from what may have been a Doctor-Who-Telephone-Boothe dimensioned storage unit tucked away under its shiny exterior. Before Canada knew it she was armed with a knife and fork, complimented with a paisley patterned bib.


The bald man pulled up a chair. "Don't be shy, dig in, Octa here will show you what a real burger tastes like." He gestured toward the table. The bug obliged and popped out 2 burgers with twin bottles of prestige spring water.


"Generous. But I'm not hungry, crazy guy." Canada needed to work on her conflict resolution skills.


Things by most measures of normality had gotten drastically out of hand. This guy had at least 20 different personalities to choose from. C would have liked to hone in on the weakest one and crush it, but the rapid random toggling of personas kept her on her toes so much so that she couldn't find her feet. All the fancy foot work in the world couldn't help her now, she wasn't even sure that this was the same world that she'd woken upto this morning. A different strategy was in order. She just couldn't think of what it should be.

1 comment:

lorenhops said...

You know how they -- they the people who know how to write good -- say that you should try not to use cliches. I thought I could get a way with it if I used several together about related subject matter: hands and feet. I justified it by my tiredness and total disinterest in writing yesterday. But in retrospect I think I should have just listened to they's advice.