Lombardus: The Trident Clown

Chapter 17 ☬

THERE WAS NO PARADISE NOWHERE.

Three nebulous faces hovered over my dream face. My eyes opened and closed like window shutters. My dream vision gained and lost focus as if it were the lens of a Nixon digital camera. My tongue tasted tarty, thanks. Toot!

"Gucha-gucha, Muppet Rupert, if your grannies are nice twin witches, how would you know which witch is which? " I muttered incoherently. In my defense, my brain felt like jelly so…

The hazy faces didn't move away despite the fact that I tooted and was mumbling some gobbledygooks. They covered their noses because I cut the cheese. Not like I cared. My vision couldn't sharpen their expressions, yet my auditory nerves heard all that they were saying.

 
"Ew, his fart smells like blackcurrant." An auburn-haired female said. "Wait. Is he sleep-talking?"

"I don't think so," an auburn-haired male said, "I think he's awake. Ian?" He called my name. I like when someone recognizes me.

My eyes suddenly flipped open the way the eyes of spiritual monks do when they just awoke from a century-long, sleep-induced nirvana. "My head hurts." I grumbled.

"Even in a sick state, you're still a churrahbox." Rupert welcomed me with a choice word, crunching up the purple blackcurrant energy drink can in his hand.

I propped myself up on my elbows. "Did I drink that?"

"Yes," Rupert nodded. "In your sleep."

"But…" I tried to argue without a point. "You could've choked me to death." 

"Don't get so worked up, you should be thanking Luke for not allowing me to feed you through your nose." Rupert said, standing up to go. "And never call my real gran a nice witch, or you might end up losing some nice teeth." He yelled over his shoulder.

Luke stifled a giggle. Instead, it came out as a wet spraying sound. As if on cue, Lucy also sneezed. Hers sounded like — (if I describe it aloud, she'd either smack me or punch me) — a dolphin exuding jet of water from its blowhole. 

I took the risk. I called to Rupert who was now halfway down the cottage. "I think we really need the help of a flu concoction for some dolphins here."

Lucy chose both. She smacked my head, sending starbursts of pain rippling into my spine. Then she punched my arm and looked away.

"Ouch." I rubbed my head. "Don't be mean, Lucy. Remember I just fractured a skull."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow — a facial tic that made me nostalgic for my mom, Lisa. She'd be dead worried if I didn't get home in time. "You never broke any skull. It was just a ruptured blood vessel."

"Notwithstanding…" I massaged my bicep. "Thanks. You both, actually… For the military-styled drill."

"It's our pleasure." The twins grinned attesting to their success.

I wondered whether Lucy wasn't a gloomy Gus after all. She suddenly looked, heart-warming when smiling.

I glanced up. The late afternoon sun was well past midway down its daily descent. It was slowly setting against a pale blue, pink and violet horizon the higher you look in that order. White puffy clouds with silver linings under them hung like bunches of balloons, the afterglow gradually turning them orange. It all seemed ethereal, like the aesthetic result of a fantasy HD shot.

With nothing much to do, I staggered up. I was a tad better thanks to the energy drink, the salve ointment, the thousand Band-Aids perched on my temple and the whatnots they stuffed into me in my sleep.