Skipping the
Lightpath Spanspastic
By Kristopher Monroe
Fera1 had intercepted our lightpath, so there we were in the ecto-chamber making fun of eternity. It was me, Jonah, and Barry (formerly Berille, but the hormone injections were making themselves apparent enough for a proper noun adjustment). We were joking around, bouncing between dimensions, when... *plop*
Jonah was gone.
We thought he’d detached himself, making his light bend invisible, but when we searched the spectrums, he was nowhere to be found. And then... *plop*
Barry (who I still actually thought of as Berille) exited the spectrums as well. I called out.
“Hellooo?”
Nothing.
“C’mon guys. What’s going on here?”
Silence. Then a voice boomed.
“I’ll tell you! I’ll mother-freakin’ tell you!”
I looked around the spectrums, but couldn’t detect where the voice was coming from.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing defuses me more than a dimwitted dandybrain prancing around the universe with absolutely no respect for the immortals!”
“What?”
“Mother-freakin’ dandybrains! I snuffed your two friends out of existence brother. Are you next?”
“What are you talking about?”
“No! No. Don’t ask me from what! I’m a God. A mother-freakin’ GOD, ok? For freak sake! Why do you jollyranchers have to dip into my reality and skip along all flailing and faggoty with your woebegotten ways and means trying to achieve superstardom? This lightpath is only for those who’ve earned it. You got that? With cold, hard sweat and tears. You got that?”
“Oh, so there’s homophobes in heaven then, eh?”
I knew who I was talking to. I’d read about him/her and tried to avoid this exact type of encounter. The immortals can be quite petty when it comes down to it.
“Homowhat? I encompass all! What in the…? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO?”
“Yeah, I, uh, sorry. I didn’t really mean it. Can you just maybe pop me back into my body? I’m trying really hard, but I can’t quite do it just now. I didn’t think it would come to this honestly.”
“What? Come to this? It’s like you’re traipsing all over my daisies you little peabrain! Your dent in the universe really sickens me. When you inhaled that A-R4 and stuck your dirty tiny head up here I knew it would jam my frequency good and proper. Now that I’ve snuffed your ego-alters I want you to leave please.”
“My what?”
“Your two annoying friends. They’ve been integrated. Now get the hell off my lawn!”
“Oh.”
And with that... *plop*
All of a sudden I was lying bed belly up with a shit-eating grin on my face.
“What was it? What did you see?”
Stacy was too scared to actually do it herself, but she wouldn’t shut up asking me. I just told her god was a homophobe, but at least he integrated me. She just looked at me queer while I lit a cigarette.
My grin didn’t go away for at least a decade.
- - -
Kristopher Monroe lives, writes, and drinks in Brooklyn, NY. He also exists on the interwebs at http://cultureassassination.blogspot.com/
Lightpath Spanspastic
By Kristopher Monroe
Fera1 had intercepted our lightpath, so there we were in the ecto-chamber making fun of eternity. It was me, Jonah, and Barry (formerly Berille, but the hormone injections were making themselves apparent enough for a proper noun adjustment). We were joking around, bouncing between dimensions, when... *plop*
Jonah was gone.
We thought he’d detached himself, making his light bend invisible, but when we searched the spectrums, he was nowhere to be found. And then... *plop*
Barry (who I still actually thought of as Berille) exited the spectrums as well. I called out.
“Hellooo?”
Nothing.
“C’mon guys. What’s going on here?”
Silence. Then a voice boomed.
“I’ll tell you! I’ll mother-freakin’ tell you!”
I looked around the spectrums, but couldn’t detect where the voice was coming from.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing defuses me more than a dimwitted dandybrain prancing around the universe with absolutely no respect for the immortals!”
“What?”
“Mother-freakin’ dandybrains! I snuffed your two friends out of existence brother. Are you next?”
“What are you talking about?”
“No! No. Don’t ask me from what! I’m a God. A mother-freakin’ GOD, ok? For freak sake! Why do you jollyranchers have to dip into my reality and skip along all flailing and faggoty with your woebegotten ways and means trying to achieve superstardom? This lightpath is only for those who’ve earned it. You got that? With cold, hard sweat and tears. You got that?”
“Oh, so there’s homophobes in heaven then, eh?”
I knew who I was talking to. I’d read about him/her and tried to avoid this exact type of encounter. The immortals can be quite petty when it comes down to it.
“Homowhat? I encompass all! What in the…? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO?”
“Yeah, I, uh, sorry. I didn’t really mean it. Can you just maybe pop me back into my body? I’m trying really hard, but I can’t quite do it just now. I didn’t think it would come to this honestly.”
“What? Come to this? It’s like you’re traipsing all over my daisies you little peabrain! Your dent in the universe really sickens me. When you inhaled that A-R4 and stuck your dirty tiny head up here I knew it would jam my frequency good and proper. Now that I’ve snuffed your ego-alters I want you to leave please.”
“My what?”
“Your two annoying friends. They’ve been integrated. Now get the hell off my lawn!”
“Oh.”
And with that... *plop*
All of a sudden I was lying bed belly up with a shit-eating grin on my face.
“What was it? What did you see?”
Stacy was too scared to actually do it herself, but she wouldn’t shut up asking me. I just told her god was a homophobe, but at least he integrated me. She just looked at me queer while I lit a cigarette.
My grin didn’t go away for at least a decade.
- - -
Kristopher Monroe lives, writes, and drinks in Brooklyn, NY. He also exists on the interwebs at http://cultureassassination.blogspot.com/
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