Puppetry

Sincerely, God--or, Me/St. Eve's Blue Robe

Monday night, 1:15. I'm standing outside dressed in nothing but a St. Eve's blue robe and a pair of white socks. Cars are rushing by as I preach, some bottleneck to gaze and gawp. Some honk their horns impatiently, wondering if I'd gone insane. I'd seen police cars zooming in and news trucks reporting the scene–parasitic as they were, my face drooping limply and forlornly as I translated the speech into English from Galician. Was that the only language I knew? 

Latin too, but yes. It most certainly was the other only language I knew...having memorized both by Google and bits from high school. Google and selective memory from high school got me this far. Wow. I wasn't proud, but--it could have gotten worse. Much worse than this.

"Queridos Humanos, ti - tivo bastante unha historia ilustre ... e, como de calquera bo libro, tal debe chegar a un fin agora ... como eu son un mero humano min e non pode xulgar as accións de meu tipo! -Eu foron comisionado para enviar esta mensaxe para ti: boa sorte para os espiritualmente impíos, e os que se consideran bos polo Mestre da vida El mesmo, que se poidan seguir os meus superiores á luz ... podo velo alí, quizais, lonxe do lume e escuridade."

"Dear Humans, you–you have had quite an illustrious history...and as of any good book, such must come to an end! Now...as I am a mere human myself and cannot judge the actions of my kind–I have been commissioned to send this message to you: good luck to the spiritually wicked, and those who are considered good by the Master of Life Himself, may they follow my superiors into the light...may I see you there, perhaps, away from the fire and darkness."

A meteor. A giant green meteor like the one that brought Audrey II to earth crashing down in Wisconsin and Illinois. Should I have been worried about more of them arriving? Probably.

But then again, fear was needless...at least for now it seemed to be. I felt like Captain Picard on a burning Enterprise. Who else but God...or Satan, or whatever--was running the ship?!

  

"Eu te odio, os seres humanos." Roy heard me mutter under my breath, holding me tight as I struggled to wrench out a single tear from my augmented cheek. "You know, you can stop making me speak Galician now--it's not annoying but I feel the urge to continually follow it up with a translation and...I'm getting sick of it. My mother tongue is English...I originally spoke it, so let me speak English." I wistfully responded, clutching his hand and inhaling a little air.