Uneasy As It Made Me

  • by Kentlifting me up like a garage door
  • bringing oxygen to your brain
  • various exhalations
  • SMOKING CAUSES EARLY DEATH
  • calling me “potentially homosexual”

Tune in next time part 104                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Uneasy as it made me, I had little trouble putting aside the claim of Contrarian prophecy. That was, after all, just a type of con. With enough weird shit predicted to happen, those books were bound to be right sometimes.

The treasure, on the other hand, that I knew was serious. But, it wasn’t too late, obviously, a realization that brought a swell of optimism lifting me up like a garage door. Plus, John’s unbidden appearance aboard the nuptial dirigible had to mean that I was, by dumb luck, on the right track. I flashed on one of the zany prophecies, something about an “ally in suit of the hare,” which had to mean even the Contrarian mystics saw our paths converging.

I followed these new ideas greedily, burning through them like a chain smoker, feeling the rush of the myriad inhalations bringing oxygen to your brain, and the various exhalations filling the room with blue-gray haze. The room spun, and I discovered a hookah beside me, that I had in fact been smoking while I envisioned it. Like all Contrarian hookahs, it was filled with poppy blossoms and dubious mushrooms and bore the legend SMOKING CAUSES EARLY DEATH etched into the glass.

Crawling, I sought fresh air outside the small room. My head began to clear but I couldn’t remember how the smoking apparatus arrived. Had Fleur called for it as a treat for me? Did her father insist I smoke it as a sort of bonding thing? Was John somehow involved?

“No,” drawled a bored female voice. “None of them had anything to do with it. By the way, you’re asking all these questions out loud.”

I rolled onto my back and looked up at her. My prom date, set up for me by my mother. I hadn’t seen her since. Our post-prom goodbye consisted of her calling me “potentially homosexual” and slapping my cheek.

“Hello, Myxolemia,” I said.

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