The Doorstep Diaries, Part II (IV)

Son of a bitch.

Ether. Floating again. Darkness. Like a starless night, the belly of a black hole, a basement with the lights off, that's what it feels like. Tom, you prick. TomTomTom. Jesus.

I forgot how cold this is. Nothingness. Then, I don’t remember much from two thousand years ago. What a boring time. Now Egypt, Ancient Egypt, that was nuts. Cleopatra was a vixen. Except the cats. I never liked cats. Dogs are fine, but cats. I would’ve stayed in Egypt forever if it weren’t for their damn feline obsession. They're just creepy.

Before it made sense. I had to lose. Then Tom. The cookies weren’t even that good. Sally. I couldn’t be mad at her. Well, maybe a little.

He’s going to be so pissed. “You try their minestrone,” I’ll say. “You’d have eaten those cookies, too.” Then he’ll just go on and on: “I’m perfect, of course I wouldn’t have eaten those cookies.” God. What an ass.

Tom. TomTomTom. This is going to take forever to clean up. Not that I can rush it. He’ll probably just make me wait here, make me think about what I’ve done, how I’ve set the universe out of balance and now I have to make things right or else catastrophe will strike and the human race will blah, blah, blah. It’s not like I wanted to get poisoned. I’ll take this over getting lectured. Leave me here. At least it’s quiet.

I could eat though.