14.
I must have been unconscious for nearly a day, and when I woke again the late sun was slanting through the miniblinds in Jeff's living room. I slowly uncrumpled myself from my half-seated heap on the floor and stretched my arms, and The Book tumbled from my numb grasp to the floor.
"Hey, careful with that thing, dick," came a voice from behind me, and I turned around to see Grod emerging from the darkened kitchen, an oven mitt on one hand. I stared at him bewildered for a few seconds, and he laughed loudly. "Aah, I'm just kiddin'. Come on, dinner's ready." As I lumbered after him towards the dining room, my mind began to register an amazing pain welling up from my stomach. I groaned. I hadn't eaten in what, two days now? The joyous essence of food seemed to stream out of the dining room ahead, guiding and enveloping my stumbling body.
As I crept hunched over with my hands on my stomach I remembered vividly everything that had happened. It wasn't as though it had been a dream; I had definitely gone to some place in this reality. But what was it The Book had said to me last? Why don't you take this as a parting gift? As if triggered by my thoughts, there was an explosion of images and ideas in my mind. I staggered, trying to grab hold of a coherent thread, and when I did I ran to catch up with Grod in the kitchen.
"Grod," I said, "I need some paper and a pencil, I know how I'm going to start your book."
"Huh? Oh yeah. Don't worry about that now man, sit down." He pulled a chair out from the table and gestured at another one. "You mortals have to eat, right?"
"Yeah, uh..." I sat down at the table and examined the plate in front of me distractedly. Thoughts swam around in my mind and began to connect, almost of their own will. I changed my mind. "No, I need a paper and pencil, now!"
Grod seemed passively frustrated by me, but turned anyways and opened a drawer which I saw contained a single sheet of white paper, and one yellow #2 pencil, perfectly sharpened. He authoritatively put it down beside my meal and said, "There you go."
I picked up the sheet and stared at it, then put it down and wrote the words I could already see laid out on the blank paper. Grod watched with probably feigned interest for a minute then began eating. I wrote effortlessly, and the words filled the page. When I had finished, I read over what I had written.
I read to Grod what you read at the beginning of this narrative, and what everyone will one day know as Book of Grod, Book of Hats, verse 5:17-24. Grods eyes lit up and his lips lifted into an elated smile. "My boy!" he said as he patted me on the back. "I knew you were the perfect guy for the job." For some reason Grod's eyes glanced menacingly across the room at Jeff's as Jeff's eyes glanced menacingly back to his. I waited for more accolades, but Grod went back to eating and Jeff went back to loading up his bong again. I looked at what I had written again. Somehow it seemed unfamiliar, but I could clearly remember writing it. I folded the paper up and put it in my pocket, deciding to put some food in myself before I returned to unconsciousness.
Still quite uncomfortable with the situation, it took me some time to speak up to Grod over our meals. "You know, do you think we could run back to my apartment to get some stuff?"
Grod swallowed and thought for a moment before responding. "I don't really feel like driving back to your place. What do you need?"
"Well, for starters I could use some clothes and a toothbrush," I said. "Oh, and if I'm going to be writing your book, I usually write on my laptop."
Grod continued eating and for a moment it seemed he was just ignoring me. Then he said, "All right, how about we just go shopping and get you some new stuff?"
I considered the tradeoffs. The truth was that I actually had almost no belongings other than my laptop at home, but all of my previous work and ongoing files were on that laptop. Was it worth it? I looked across the table at Grod, who had returned to eating noisily. I had the feeling he didn't want to argue about it.
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"Hey, careful with that thing, dick," came a voice from behind me, and I turned around to see Grod emerging from the darkened kitchen, an oven mitt on one hand. I stared at him bewildered for a few seconds, and he laughed loudly. "Aah, I'm just kiddin'. Come on, dinner's ready." As I lumbered after him towards the dining room, my mind began to register an amazing pain welling up from my stomach. I groaned. I hadn't eaten in what, two days now? The joyous essence of food seemed to stream out of the dining room ahead, guiding and enveloping my stumbling body.
As I crept hunched over with my hands on my stomach I remembered vividly everything that had happened. It wasn't as though it had been a dream; I had definitely gone to some place in this reality. But what was it The Book had said to me last? Why don't you take this as a parting gift? As if triggered by my thoughts, there was an explosion of images and ideas in my mind. I staggered, trying to grab hold of a coherent thread, and when I did I ran to catch up with Grod in the kitchen.
"Grod," I said, "I need some paper and a pencil, I know how I'm going to start your book."
"Huh? Oh yeah. Don't worry about that now man, sit down." He pulled a chair out from the table and gestured at another one. "You mortals have to eat, right?"
"Yeah, uh..." I sat down at the table and examined the plate in front of me distractedly. Thoughts swam around in my mind and began to connect, almost of their own will. I changed my mind. "No, I need a paper and pencil, now!"
Grod seemed passively frustrated by me, but turned anyways and opened a drawer which I saw contained a single sheet of white paper, and one yellow #2 pencil, perfectly sharpened. He authoritatively put it down beside my meal and said, "There you go."
I picked up the sheet and stared at it, then put it down and wrote the words I could already see laid out on the blank paper. Grod watched with probably feigned interest for a minute then began eating. I wrote effortlessly, and the words filled the page. When I had finished, I read over what I had written.
I read to Grod what you read at the beginning of this narrative, and what everyone will one day know as Book of Grod, Book of Hats, verse 5:17-24. Grods eyes lit up and his lips lifted into an elated smile. "My boy!" he said as he patted me on the back. "I knew you were the perfect guy for the job." For some reason Grod's eyes glanced menacingly across the room at Jeff's as Jeff's eyes glanced menacingly back to his. I waited for more accolades, but Grod went back to eating and Jeff went back to loading up his bong again. I looked at what I had written again. Somehow it seemed unfamiliar, but I could clearly remember writing it. I folded the paper up and put it in my pocket, deciding to put some food in myself before I returned to unconsciousness.
Still quite uncomfortable with the situation, it took me some time to speak up to Grod over our meals. "You know, do you think we could run back to my apartment to get some stuff?"
Grod swallowed and thought for a moment before responding. "I don't really feel like driving back to your place. What do you need?"
"Well, for starters I could use some clothes and a toothbrush," I said. "Oh, and if I'm going to be writing your book, I usually write on my laptop."
Grod continued eating and for a moment it seemed he was just ignoring me. Then he said, "All right, how about we just go shopping and get you some new stuff?"
I considered the tradeoffs. The truth was that I actually had almost no belongings other than my laptop at home, but all of my previous work and ongoing files were on that laptop. Was it worth it? I looked across the table at Grod, who had returned to eating noisily. I had the feeling he didn't want to argue about it.
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© 2006 Ian Blake & Marshall Scott
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