darkness I see clothes and bodies glowing, then they fade. The scene remains like this for some time. Black fog rising. Silence. Headlights on the road. WasteCorp is leaving. Dixon is a janitor now.
The door opens behind me. I sense two people on either side of me. Doctor and Y. They look out.
“He’s not happy.”
“They told him to go inside. To watch.”
“What do you think he’s going to do? “
They step back from the window. The doctor turns on a night table lamp. She removes her clothes, draping them over a chair. I close my eyes. I’m not ready to do that again. The ceiling light goes out. I open my eyes. The doctor gets into her side of the bed and leans on her elbow. She draws a paper out and starts to read. Y is turned away in the dark. The front door bangs. Dixon. I try to see into the dark yard but he has turned the porch light off. I hear his chainsaw start up. I decide to watch the doctor’s reflection as she reads. Her black hair is bunched up by the pillow and looks bouffant. There is a tail of grey across her shoulder. She turns the page. The chainsaw screams in the oil slicks just beneath her reflection. I lean my head back to rest against the case. I fall asleep.
I am woken by the sound of bed wheezing. They are fucking. I lean up to the eyehole just to confirm then drop back.
I am woken by yelling downstairs. I check the eyehole but they are still in bed. The doctor is reading again. Dixon is breaking the place downstairs and bellowing like a moose. The doctor’s light goes out.
I have been moved while I slept. I am at the top of the stairs looking down. The stairs are worn and shiny. People are in the kitchen but I can’t hear what they say. The voices sound calm. I guess they are getting ready to leave. I wonder about being left behind. There’s a grandfather clock on the wall at the base of the stairs. Stopped at 4:35. I must look a bit like his son. Framed pictures on the walls going down. I can’t see them at this angle. Not hard to guess what they look like. The mom. The kid on a pony. The dog.
The doctor backs in from the kitchen. I strain, listening.
“No. I think this is good news. Give me a second.”
She turns and briskly makes the climb, sidestepping around me.
I want her to be careful coming back. I don’t want her to accidentally knock me down the stairs.
Y swings around the corner, one hand hooks the door frame. He’s up, two steps at a time. I am lifted, quickly, like last luggage in the hall and descend sideways under Y’s arm.
In the kitchen I face the stove. The oven window has been smashed. The range hood is crumpled and pulled down like a prom dress.
“How are we supposed to carry that big mat thing?”
“They left us a trailer. I did it all last night.”
I bet you did, Dix.
“Where is she?”
“I’ll go get her.”
Y hands my case to Dixon. I see him stare blankly. He’s not going to take it.
“Phut him outside.”
I am here again. I am on a stage again. Dixon is there again swinging his arms like a bat man. The crowd is there again, their stupid faces deformed by fat bones. Saliva and pustules and missing teeth and fingers and arms. This is a late crowd. I am the One. I am the Oracle. I am a dead Disney princess.
I see something. Something no one else can see.
In the sky far behind the crowd and the buildings, slowly descending funnel of night and fire. The great ring is falling at seven hundred kilometres an hour, a thousand degrees Centigrade. The great pink death is about to fall on us. I hear the boom, then seconds later the glass bangs and a crack appears. Dixon stumbles back. The crowd drops to the ground. Y runs around in front of me, his balance is thrown. I can’t see the doctor. She may be gone. The rumbling earth beneath my case. This is the death we need. This is a good death.
Dixon runs to the display, to me. I am his most important possession. We’ve come a long way, Dix. Let’s go out with a bang. Just before the hood
The door opens behind me. I sense two people on either side of me. Doctor and Y. They look out.
“He’s not happy.”
“They told him to go inside. To watch.”
“What do you think he’s going to do? “
They step back from the window. The doctor turns on a night table lamp. She removes her clothes, draping them over a chair. I close my eyes. I’m not ready to do that again. The ceiling light goes out. I open my eyes. The doctor gets into her side of the bed and leans on her elbow. She draws a paper out and starts to read. Y is turned away in the dark. The front door bangs. Dixon. I try to see into the dark yard but he has turned the porch light off. I hear his chainsaw start up. I decide to watch the doctor’s reflection as she reads. Her black hair is bunched up by the pillow and looks bouffant. There is a tail of grey across her shoulder. She turns the page. The chainsaw screams in the oil slicks just beneath her reflection. I lean my head back to rest against the case. I fall asleep.
I am woken by the sound of bed wheezing. They are fucking. I lean up to the eyehole just to confirm then drop back.
I am woken by yelling downstairs. I check the eyehole but they are still in bed. The doctor is reading again. Dixon is breaking the place downstairs and bellowing like a moose. The doctor’s light goes out.
I have been moved while I slept. I am at the top of the stairs looking down. The stairs are worn and shiny. People are in the kitchen but I can’t hear what they say. The voices sound calm. I guess they are getting ready to leave. I wonder about being left behind. There’s a grandfather clock on the wall at the base of the stairs. Stopped at 4:35. I must look a bit like his son. Framed pictures on the walls going down. I can’t see them at this angle. Not hard to guess what they look like. The mom. The kid on a pony. The dog.
The doctor backs in from the kitchen. I strain, listening.
“No. I think this is good news. Give me a second.”
She turns and briskly makes the climb, sidestepping around me.
I want her to be careful coming back. I don’t want her to accidentally knock me down the stairs.
Y swings around the corner, one hand hooks the door frame. He’s up, two steps at a time. I am lifted, quickly, like last luggage in the hall and descend sideways under Y’s arm.
In the kitchen I face the stove. The oven window has been smashed. The range hood is crumpled and pulled down like a prom dress.
“How are we supposed to carry that big mat thing?”
“They left us a trailer. I did it all last night.”
I bet you did, Dix.
“Where is she?”
“I’ll go get her.”
Y hands my case to Dixon. I see him stare blankly. He’s not going to take it.
“Phut him outside.”
I am here again. I am on a stage again. Dixon is there again swinging his arms like a bat man. The crowd is there again, their stupid faces deformed by fat bones. Saliva and pustules and missing teeth and fingers and arms. This is a late crowd. I am the One. I am the Oracle. I am a dead Disney princess.
I see something. Something no one else can see.
In the sky far behind the crowd and the buildings, slowly descending funnel of night and fire. The great ring is falling at seven hundred kilometres an hour, a thousand degrees Centigrade. The great pink death is about to fall on us. I hear the boom, then seconds later the glass bangs and a crack appears. Dixon stumbles back. The crowd drops to the ground. Y runs around in front of me, his balance is thrown. I can’t see the doctor. She may be gone. The rumbling earth beneath my case. This is the death we need. This is a good death.
Dixon runs to the display, to me. I am his most important possession. We’ve come a long way, Dix. Let’s go out with a bang. Just before the hood
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