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All of a sudden the whole thing walls, floor, ceiling was totally
transparent, as in gone, and let me tell you, that really freaked me out!
No, they couldn't have been gone, because I still stood on something
solid. Nananana was there, and he had this reassuring smile, which was
fine, but I think he could've told me what was going to happen.
Here's what seemed to be going on: I was hovering in midair, a sky full
of dark clouds above, a broad plain fifty yards below. From research I'd
done for some of my novels I recognized the latter as an African savanna.
Herds of zebras and wildebeests grazing amid tall yellow grass in the
distance kind of gave that away.
So did the rhinoceros that burst out of a bordering grove of acacia trees
and trotted across the savanna.
It was a two-horned white rhino, one of the species on the
"endangered" list. Wonderful animal. But what was it and the
others doing here! Was this a tour of Hell, or the San Diego Zoo?
I posed that question in so many words to Nananana.
"Yes, you're still in Hell. What did you think?"
"Are you saying& that's Hell?"
He half smiled. "It's someone's Hell. Watch."
I leaned my bike up against& whatever and, like Nananana, rested my
elbows on top of& whatever and looked down. Ooo, was this weird! There
was something like a railing, but like everything else it was invisible. It
would take some getting used to, and I wasn't quite there yet.
Below, the rhino disappeared beyond some baobob trees across the
savanna. Just as it did, a head with a shock of silver-white hair and
matching mustache popped out from behind a termite mound. The guy
darted furtive glances all around, then stepped into the open.
This was getting curiouser and curiouser, because the guy was Marlin
Perkins, who used to host Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom on television.
Before I could ask Nananana anything, another rhinoceros a black
one, this time suddenly appeared and shoved part of its loo-oong horn up
Marlin's kazoo. Marlin did a screaming somersault, landed on his feet, and
started running across the savanna.
As they passed below us, I started to get the picture. This was a dream.
After all, you probably recall me referencing this scenario before, so it was
obviously in my memory bank. And what is stored on your brain's floppy
disk often becomes the stuff that dreams are made of, so it makes perfect
sense. Yeah, I'm probably at home in bed, or getting a nasty sunburn on
Torrey Pines State Beach, or maybe&
"Let me tell you about this resident, Jack," Nananana said, and he
scared the shit out of me. Straightening up, I bashed my head on
something I couldn't see. Hurt like hell. Okay, forget the dream theory.
"I know who he is," I said angrily, rubbing my head, "and that's why I
think this is bullshit. That's Marlin Perkins, and there is no way he
would've wound up here, because he was a really great guy! Famous
zoologist, television host, defender of animal rights, that kind of stuff!"
Nananana was fiddling with something that looked like a pocket
calculator but likely wasn't. "Marlin ?" he said, puzzled. "No, this
resident's name is George Popnik, place of death St. Louis, Missouri. Ah,
wait, there is reference to this Marlin person later on."
Below, the white-haired Perkins/Popnik/whoever, having been tossed a
few more times by the rhino's horn, finally escaped by diving into some
shrubbery. Almost immediately he reappeared, this time with an Indian
rhino on his ass (On an African savanna?), and the scene was repeated.
Watching it, and listening to my guide, was starting to make me crazy.
"Will you please tell me what's happening?" I exclaimed.
"Yes, that's what I was trying to do," Nananana said, a bit pissedly.
"George Popnik led a questionable existence during his most recent
incarnation on your world. A delinquent youth, later a petty criminal,
swindler, that sort of stuff. Never did a thing for anyone but himself,
stepped on whoever got in his way.
"In his middle years Popnik realized that he bore a striking
resemblance to a man of note named Marlin Perkins. No need to detail
that individual, for you already know him. Popnik began utilizing that
resemblance to his advantage, affording himself of free meals in
restaurants, goods and services in other business establishments; you get
the picture.
"Popnik hated animals, never understood why this Marlin Perkins
fellow was always associating with them. The thing that terrified Popnik
the most was when Perkins got up close and personal with the rhinoceros
creature; used to have nightmares about them, he did."
"Hey, I got it!" I exclaimed as Popnik was given another horn enema by
the Indian rhino. "So when Popnik died and got sent to Hell, this big fear
of his became his fate for eternity."
"Close, Jack," Nananana said. "Remember, he was deemed Pretty
Damn Bad, But Salvageable, which was why he was sent down Hell's Entry
way Number Two. No, Popnik will not have to be here for an eternity."
"How long then?"
"Just like everyone else, his present fate will last for a millennium."
"A thousand years? He'll be doing this for a thousand years?"
The guide shook his head. "He's already done twelve, so he only has
nine hundred and eighty-eight left."
"Oh, right, excuse me," I said dryly. "Okay, what happens after he's
done his time!"
"As best as you might be able to understand, his& soul is returned to
Earth in another incarnation, a life we trust will be better lived than the
previous one."
And if he screws up again, then what? Two millennia like this? Three?
Maybe he doesn't get to pass Go or collect two hundred dollars but
continues right down Hell's Entry way Number One to Terribly Frigging [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]