Puppetry

A Religiously Themed Thursday/A Frabjous Friday

Huh, I wondered as she circled around me a little before letting my chin go for a second–seemingly just to amp up the suspense–she's taking this really well, for me yelling at her about a trippy series of illusion-y dreams while my mind fades in and out of attention like a distracted puppy. She's The Queen of Hearts, yes? But she sounds more Red Queen than "stern off with your head" tyrant...hmmmm...I must investigate later after a nice long–

"Sono, miña querida? Por suposto! Deixe-me preguntar a alguén para preparar unha cama para ti. Quizais unha bebida agradable?"

–damn, I forgot she can read minds.

"Ben, non, Vosa Maxestade, en realidade -. Eu estaba a pensar sobre os soños e que eu tiña que facer con eles Quere que eu deixe algo Vaia nalgún lugar evitar que algo???"

Realizing that if I waited a smidge, maybe I'd get an answer that way, much like somebody waiting for a flight or a court appointment or a ticket to a high-end show, I smiled and twiddled my thumbs patiently. "Vai ver ... agora, ven, ten que durmir."

Okay, so apparently sleep might help. Sleep, a drink, some pain medication for my hips...just slowly rolling with such a Carroll-ian destiny...it was just another day as He pulled the strings.

Foda-se! Foda-se! Teño que calmar, pero foda-se! Os meus pensamentos estaban recibindo toda teoría da conspiración, quere saber como meu mozo ía velo, se fose comigo e non setecentos noventa e tres millas de distancia aquí. Como o gato de Mary ronronou xa para o efecto, "Pode ler os seus pensamentos ... ¿para que esconde-los?"

He probably heard that one, too. Well, at least Friday was about to roll around. Maybe it'd calm down then. And I did need some rest, so The Red Queen/Queen of Hearts was mostly right on that front alone–and...cue wind from nowhere again. 

I really needed to stop being sarcastic around these people--well, bitterly sarcastic, anyway. It wasn't good for health or sanity. Or life. Frankly, I wanted to get it over with, but I wasn't that much of a misanthropic twat. Wait--it was 565 miles from Missouri to Ohio...dammit! 

"Look into my eyes, dear. Now, stop thinking. Rest. Your limbs are getting heavy, yes?"

Long gaps of nothing. Shrieking gaps of nothing. Bad feelings all around the next day, and it wasn't just the dim window lights in my room either. Probably. I needed more light in it. I needed--what else was there? Well, maybe something to stop the nauseous feeling permeating my brain at that very inopportune moment and three-blanket-robe level of freezing hell.

"YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! I'm gonna be sick again...and it's cold. Why is it cold? Are you angry? Is the rosary suddenly a space heater or what, because good...I'm done. Just lead me to somewhere warm, please? No, wait--don't move. I'm gonna shower." 

One shower later, and I felt as sick as a dog, my hips commandeered by seeming shots of pain...several hours into Saturday, however, and I just felt plain dizzy and unable to do anything.