Sunday, November 5, 2017

Picture This, If You Will... Part 2

   When 45 returned to his senses, he asked, "Where are my clothes?  I need my clothes."
   His response was, "No.  You do not need clothing for any reason."
   "I need to cover myself - for decency."
   A tinkling laugh shook through his cellular structure.  "No.  You have no decency."
   - _ -
   "Where is my hair!?!?," 45 suddenly asks, having run his hands over his head.
   "You have none.  You need none."
   45 mutters, "Well, at least it will grow back..."
   "No.  We have removed all of your so-called 'hair' follicles.  We find those eruptions from your pebbly and porous skin...    Ummm - disgusting."
   "You think hair is disgusting?  What do you look like?  What kind of m-monster - or thing - are you?"
   "Petty little man.  You would not survive seeing me.  I am all."
   - _ -

   "Where am I?"
   "You are here."
   "Where is 'here'?"
   "You have not the knowledge to understand, 45."
   "How long are you going to keep me here - wherever this is?"
   "Until the end."
   "The end?  The end of what?"
   "Until the end.  The end of time, as we know it.  The end of existence.  The end of being."
   "Listen to me.  I don't know who put you up to this.  I don't know who you are.  Someone - some...enemy of mine - must have paid you to do this.  I will pay you triple - no, wait - make that four times the amount this other person paid you - to let me go.  Just let me go - no questions asked.  No trouble for you in the future.  Just let me go now."
    The keeper's amusement nearly knocks him over, flowing through his body.  
   "What the hell...?"
   "You are very predictable, and therefore, quite amusing, 45."
   - _ -

   "I'm hungry.  Do I live on air here?"
   "No.  You have fresh water to slake your thirst at hand.  I will see that a meal is prepared."
   "I'm very hungry.   I want a 16-ounce sirloin steak, no bone, well-done.  I want a large pile of home-made fries, with plenty of salt.  I want chocolate cake with chocolate icing for dessert.  And do not forget the bottle of ketchup - I need that for both the steak and the fries."
   Within a few minutes, a small bright blue panel opens next to the table built into the wall.  A small tray appears, with two bowls.  Forty-five begins to sputter with rage as he looks at the tray.
   "Just what the hell is this... shit?"
   "You are grossly obese, 45.  You have been placed on a vegan diet while you are here.  Perhaps, once you reach your best weight, you may once again partake of your favorite foods."
   " I won't eat that... stuff."
   "That is entirely up to you, 45.   I would think that roughly cut oatmeal would bring back nice childhood memories of your Mother.  Of course, this is made with almond milk.  Doesn't the fresh fruit look inviting?  Strawberries, bananas, orange slices, kiwis, and grapes.  It looks good to me."
   "I hate that crap.  I won't eat it."
   "It will be available to you until your next meal time."
   "When is that?"
   "When I decide, 45."


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