“Why are we letting a small group of stupid ass morons decide how we live?” Serena asked as she walked outside with Reverend Savior. The sun was bright. The sky was endless blue. She stopped and spread her arms outward to the entire world. “It’s nothing but a society of brainless idiots out there.”
The reverend paused and looked out at all the beyond that was there and sighed. “It’s not everyone,” he said. “There are plenty of good, smart people in the world.”
“Well, that may be true. But I wish there were many, many more. If this keeps up, we’re all doomed.”
The reverend put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Have you lost your faith in God?”
“I think I may be starting to,” Serena said. “There’s just too much bad shit in this world. Why would He create such a mess?”
“It’s the sinful soul in all of us brought upon by the original woman who did not obey,” he answered.
“No sir,” Serena snapped. “You can’t blame the state of the world on women. That’s absolutely bullshit. This toilet world was created by the hands of hateful, greedy men.”
The reverend stepped back from her. His face crinkled into meanness. “Stop using foul language you little bitch!”
“Oh, so you can swear, and I can’t? Isn’t that the typical stance of a man.”
The reverend sighed. “I thought we were going to take a nice walk. I don’t want us to be bristled with each other.”
“Bristled?” Serena said, laughing.
“What? It’s a word. You know, the bristles of a brush can be very hard and hurtful.”
‘Sure thing, Socrates.”
“And I’m sure there are plenty of hateful, greedy women in the world.”
Serena shook her head. “I’m so tired of worrying about the planet and humanity. I’ve prayed and prayed, and God does nothing to change things down here for us. I’m beginning to believe we are living in Hell. Earth is the Hell of the universe. But what did I ever do to deserve this?” Her wide eyes were begging for an answer from the holy man.
“Now, now, young lady. Do not let your faith waver. These are the times you need it most. I know the world is a horrible place at times, but believe me, God has a plan, and it is good.”
“If that was true, I wish He would let it be known.”
“In time. It will come to you in time.”
“Reverend?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the worst thing you have ever done?”
They were near the edge of the forest at that point and sat down upon the trunk of a fallen tree. A babbling brook babbled off somewhere. The air smelled of pine. The breeze was quiet.
“The worst thing I’ve ever done?”
“Yes.”
He prodded her with his elbow. “Just between you and me?”
“I don’t rat people out.”
The reverend turned his head this way and that to make sure no one else was around, which was an odd thing to do since they were out on the land. He spoke softly. “I was in a shopping mall down in Salt Lake City. This was a couple of years ago. I was going up an escalator and an old woman was coming down on the other one. She became unbalanced and teetered, and fell down the metal, grinding stairs. And I just laughed out loud.”
Serena scrunched her face. “That’s terrible.”
“But what I remember most is the noises she made as she tumbled. They were painful hoots, high-pitched hopeless cries. It seemed like a movie to me. She finally hit the bottom and was just lying there moaning. She must have been in a lot of pain.”
“Did you do anything to help her?”
“No. I just laughed. A small crowd had gathered around the old lady, and I recall a woman rushing over and saying she was a nurse. Once at the top, I went down the escalator she fell on so I could get a closer look. By this time more people had gathered and so I sort of hid in the background, but I still got a good look at her. Her face and body were all beat to hell. Scratches, bruises, bleeding, twisted limbs, and her shopping bags were strewn about, items spilled out. It looked like she had bought some fancy soap. Then someone recognized that I was a minister, because I was wearing my minister clothes, and they wanted me to kneel over the old woman and pray for her.”
“I hope to Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus you did.”
“Yes. I did. I knelt beside her, and I recall her wide, terrified eyes staring up at me, her old mouth gaping in horror, like she knew her life would change drastically now. I went to hold her hand and it was fragile and trembling. But then I closed my eyes and began to recite a prayer of healing, and I started to giggle.”
“Reverend Savior. That’s awful,” Serena said.
“I know. I know. But I just couldn’t help it. I did the best I could with the prayer, but mostly stumbled over it, giggles sprinkled throughout.”
“What did the old lady do?”
“Nothing, really. I think she was in some sort of shock. But then someone grabbed me by the shoulder and told me to get up. The EMTs had arrived, and everyone needed to disperse. After that, I just ran to the other end of the mall and went into Dillard’s to look at sweaters.”
“Wow,” Serena said. “I wasn’t expecting a story like that.”
“Not one of my finer moments.”
“I think you have mental problems. I’ve read about these sorts of things. You have the indications of a sociopath.”
“Thanks… But now it’s your turn. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” the reverend needed to know.
“Well,” Serena began. “I haven’t lived as long as you have, so my resume of misdeeds isn’t as polished. I could tell you one thing. But it’s gross.”
The reverend was intrigued. “Gross?”
“Yes.”
“How gross?”
“So gross that they probably wouldn’t show it in a movie.”
“Really? Go on then.”
“This was a time when I was much younger, probably about six or seven years old. We lived somewhere else at that time, in town. I was playing outside with the neighbor kids in their backyard. It was a nice enough day. But then I had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” the reverend asked.
Serena paused for a moment. “In my pants. Some dirty little dumplings came out.”
The reverend made a face of disgust. “They just came out?”
“Yes. I wasn’t expecting it. I was horrified.”
“What did you do?”
“I went up into the treehouse they had there, pulled down my pants and looked. I was relieved to see it was just a few well-formed balls, like donut holes. Nothing too messy.”
The reverend gagged. “Geez. This is getting to be a bit too much.”
“It’s almost over,” Serena assured him. “So, I went back down and went over to the side of their house. It was a big, yellow house. I sort of hid away from everyone else in the bushes, reached into my underwear and started taking the dirty little dumplings out, and then, one by one, I threw them at the side of the house. Some stuck, others just fell to the ground.”
“What!? Why would you do something like that!?”
“I don’t know. I was scared and embarrassed. I didn’t want anyone to find out and make fun of me.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that kind of story,” the reverend said. “Seems we’re both a little weird. Did you at least wash your hands?”
“Of course I did. And I think we may be a little more than just weird.” Serena took out a cigarette and lit it. “I mean, we’ve determined that you’re a sociopath, and me, I believe I was born maladjusted. I think both of us are cursed somehow and our futures will be filled with oddities.”
The reverend choked. “Must you smoke those?”
“You’re always getting on my ass about this. Why?”
“Because it’s a dirty habit and very unhealthy for you. You’re not even fully grown yet. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to your body?”
Serena exhaled a grimy cloud of smoke, coughed a bit. “I know. I know. But now I’m addicted. I can’t stop.”
The reverend stood and held out his hand. “Hand me your pack.”
Serena reluctantly did what she was told.
The reverend mashed and twisted the pack with his hands.
“Hey!” Serena yelled. “Those were my last ones.”
The reverend looked at her sternly. “You’re right. Those were your last ones, except for this.” He grabbed the one burning between her lips, threw it down, and stomped on it.
“God damn it,” Serena said. “Now I’m going to go even more crazy. That was my medication.”
“You’ll thank me for this someday. And don’t worry. I will help you through the cravings. I’ve done this kind of work before.”
There was sudden silence between them, like a record player just stopped. Something in the spring air had changed and they both could sense it somehow. A breeze twirled around them. The sky ached baby blue, but now clouds were beginning to form in the distance. Dark, gray storm clouds. Streaks of lightning illuminated those roiling puffs in the sky.
Serena was the first to scream when the cerulean rabbit appeared from seemingly out of nowhere.
They woke up in the far reaches of a grocery store parking lot. When Josiah’s eyes cleared, he saw before him a windshield. He turned left and saw Paul sitting there. “When did you get a car?” Josiah asked.
Paul yawned wide, and for Josiah, this was the first time he saw the young man as just a plain old human being. “I stole it,” Paul answered. “Don’t you remember? After the bar at the bowling alley?”
“Hmm, I must have had too much to drink.”
“You did, but I figured you were due after spending time in that hell hole. Do they really think stuffing a person into a miserable cell is going to make things better?”
“It didn’t make me better. I wanted to die,” Josiah said, his breath smelling of old beer. “I’m so glad to be rid of that place. But what are we doing at Park N Shop?”
“Jesus, man. You sure do ask a lot of questions. Chill out. I’ve got a hangover.”
“Do you think you could at least open the windows a bit more. If I get too warm, I’ll barf all over the place.”
Paul reached out and pressed the ignition button halfway. Red and yellow lights illuminated on the dash. “There. Try it now.”
Josiah pushed the button on his door and his window went down. He stuck his head out into the early morning air. Birds chirped and walked among empty shopping carts drifting like refugees of materialism. The parking lot was dirty looking. A homeless man sat on the ground. Just a few cars were parked near the front of the store. “God, this place is ugly,” Josiah said.
“It’s all ugly, even here in Chandelier, Idaho. Just look around the town. Nothing but buildings stuffed with meaningless things to buy and crap to eat. It’s the scar of capitalism,” Paul told him.
“I’m hungry.”
Paul readjusted himself in the seat. “What do you want?”
“Pancakes with syrup and melted butter. Sausage patties. Eggs. And a couple of cups of good coffee.”
Paul nodded, started the car, and drove to a place he already knew was there. Galaxy Pancakes it was called.
Sarrah was awake in her hospital bed. They had her sitting up and eating. Her breakfast consisted of sliced can peaches, some cottage cheese, toast, and wet scrambled eggs.
She was alone in the room and had the television on. The news was all bad. Sarrah was so saddened by that. Wars, violence, environmental damage, disease, starvation, greed, hate, crooked and ignorant politicians… The list rolled out in her mind like a red carpet. The red being the blood. The lights were not Hollywood, but police lights red and blue stirring up the molten air that seeped out of the bullet-riddled bodies on the street.
“Day one, and we’ve already failed once again,” she said to herself. She fell back in time and heard the song New Year’s Day by that Irish band U2, and Bono sang the words with rebellion in his voice, “Nothing changes on New Year’s Day…”
Sarrah clicked off the television. She couldn’t stomach it anymore. She looked around at the room. White walls, a window, her bed, a chair, medical machines making noises. She finished her breakfast, slurping up the peaches last. It was all very good, even if it wasn’t.
She pushed the tabletop away and leaned back. She took a deep breath and let it out. Now what? she thought. What will my life be like now?
There then came a light knocking on the door.
“Come in,” Sarrah said.
A large, cerulean-colored rabbit came into the room. He had a white surgical mask strapped to his nose and mouth. Sarrah snapped back in the bed. She could barely move or even speak. The walking, hulking rabbit came to her bedside. He bent down a little bit and looked at her face. He breathed heavily through the mask. Sarrah’s eyes were as big as a full moon in October, her mouth stretched open in a frozen scream.
“I just came to see if you’ve eaten all your breakfast,” the rabbit said, his voice slow, deep, warped. He shook his head in approval. “Good. Good. You gobbled it all up. Gobble. Gobble.”
The rabbit removed the tray from the bedside rolling table and set it aside. He snatched an antibacterial wipe from a dispenser on the wall and cleaned Sarrah’s table. He put that aside, pulled the chair closer to her bed, and sat down. He pulled a book out from some hidden place. It was Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. “Would you like me to read to you?” the rabbit asked her.
Sarrah didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. But her eyeballs were frantic.
“No?” the rabbit asked in that dark, tarry voice, and he was somewhat disappointed. He set the book aside and stood over her. “Then how would you like me to punch you in the face?”
Sarrah’s eyes grew as wide as the Grand Canyon. She was screaming inside. I must be dreaming, she had thought. This could not possibly be real. But then she felt the curled-up paw of the rabbit strike her. Hard. In the face. She thought she felt something crack.
“Again?” the rabbit asked. “Yes. No. Maybe so?” He laughed like a wicked witch, but deeply, like he was in a cave. And then he punched her again. “Still not enough?” And he punched her three more times.
The rabbit stepped back and grinned. His paw was bloody and he licked it off. He turned his head from side to side and admired his work. Sarrah’s healing face looked even worse now. She must have blacked out. No response at all. The rabbit went to one of the medical machines and yanked on a cord, then another. Alarms started beeping. That’s when he rushed out so quickly that no one ever even saw him.
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CEREAL AFTER SEX 