TUDAWR7

TUDAWR

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Characters: me, metal box, her, the universe

Setting: metal box

This one is much shinier than most of them.

Diiiing.

I poked at it, and it opened its mouth slowly. Enter, be digested.

It was all metal on the inside; the floor was corrugated tin, the railing lambasted aluminum, and the four walls including his mouth were polished stainless steel. This one is a he, I can tell by its smell. All six sides of the death-cube were wallpapered with human bacteria.

Metaloid Bacteria, the next step in accelerated human computer interaction? Or a Finnish deathmetal band.

The air inside was dank. It covered me all over, like a wet towel, like that time I threw a wet towel from my bus and made that biker fall over. I could tell by the way he fell that he was a very talented biker. Breathing inside the metal box became like drinking hot coco in a mid summer day; the air tasted like licking batteries and chewing tin foil, or like a wet towel to the face when your riding a bicycle.

Ten feet wide, 10 feet long, 13 feet tall. 13000 cubes. *Note to self: look-up actual di-men-sion.s.

Did I mention the dye?

Plural of dice, luck hating death-cubes.

I went in and tried to shift smellmories, I tried remembering how nice it smelled that time there was a fire at the TacoBell.Fire at the disco. Fire in the gates of Hell!

Diiing.

I was nervous, anxious, unsure, doubtful, shift + F7. Synonyms were flooding my thoughts again and I tried to put them in order, but all I could think about was how if you make the word "semantics" and the name "Samantha" mate, their child would be a Spraying Mantis. Think about it for a second, if Nym spoke Spanish he would be very confused. Sy, No, Nym; which one is it then!?

The box slowly closes its mouth, there is no turning back now. It's me against the walls, me against an army of virus and bacteria.

I put on Beethoven's 6th of course, take out my laser guns, one on each index-thumb's elle. I take one last look at my adversaries before the battle begins and I know Karajan is on my side.

Piu piuu, piuu; they are everywhere, swarms of them, endless swarms of streptococus, an entire legion of rhinovirus, an entire phalanx of bartonellas and brucellas; there is an armoured division of Myxococcus xanthus. Oh Ludwig give me strength!

I drop to the floor and roll, piu to the right, piuu to the left. They're all over my overcoat, I shouldn't have rolled over the Rickettsia trachomae. I'm cornered, battered and bruised; I'm quickly running out of ammo. There is little hope left now, but I will fight to the bitter end. I knew it would end this way, but I had to fight, I HAD TO, we all "plural dice" some day.

Diing

Like finding an extra roll of toilet paper when the first one quits on you, a miracle happened. The beast's mouth slowly opened;the hair on my neck stood on end. How sweet it was to be alive, Van B reminded me of it, oh how sweet it is to have a second chance. I jumped out with all that was left of my energy, my left index hurt after all the shooting, I had lost my other gun in the heat of battle. "Piu-piu" echoed the last shots on the metal walls as I lay on the ground. I lay still staring outside-in into that shinny evil, evil box. And for a moment time stood still like it so often does when you least expect it. Wait, something isn't right.Panic!

My overcoat!

Nooooooo! They will not defeat me, not after all that's happened. I tore it off my back and with one quick continuous movement threw it into the death-box's mouth. Before it had closed completely, I saw my overcoat wrapping itself around that weird fat lady that had started crying half way through the Bacillus thuringiensis assault. I didn't particularly understand why she had to cry, I don't like it when they cry. I think it was her shaking that made me drop my right piu-piu gun. Too bad I couldn't saver her. Maybe she will one day meet the towel biker and exchange stories of what my linens smell like.

LVB never fails.

The Universe remains.