A Brief Explanation, Part II of V

[Phox]

So, yeah, I was sitting at the Meetrack with Nigel, drinking cheap whiskey and smoking too much.

But something was wrong.  Nigel is back in Portland, and why the hell am I wearing 1991 vintage DCUs and all the load bearing equipment that goes with it?  Why do I have an M16?  I don't feel like I'm dreaming.

Nigel was surrounded by sycophantic perverts, who leapt up every time  she said "Daddy, I need a fucking pony", and fought over who got to buy her a drink.  She seemed a little amused by this, with perhaps more than a touch of disdain.

I ask her where Mr Language is, and she replies, "That's really not the issue, Dok.  The issue is where you think YOU are."

"I'm at the Meetrack, obviously.  I'm wondering why you're here, come to think of it."

"I'm here because when I was a girl, They issued me a Barbie™ doll and a Barbie™ face, and told me what my role was, just like they gave you legos and GI Joe and told you what your role was.  But I don't like that Barbie™ face they stapled to my skull, and I kind of think I'm going to do something about it."

Then she pulled her face off.

That was too much, even for the perverts.  Some started to scream, others started puking.  Nigel just unfolded her other four arms from behind her back, each holding a dagger or a knotted rope or a blowtorch, and her breath was as hot as Dresden, back in the bad old days.  People began trying to get around her, to the door.  I, on the other hand, had a world-class panic attack and fell on the floor.

"What's the matter, kiddies?", she asked, with her gory skull hanging out, "Don't you want to buy me a drink, anymore?"

The bar started to smell like chlorine gas and blood , and Nigel sprouted fangs in her mouth, and razor wire around her arms (there's no reason certain mythic entities wouldn't modernize, is there?), and a lot of really bad things happened to people in the general vicinity.

Then she walked over to where I was laying on the floor, and I could see her heels crack the concrete, and her white sun dress all soaked in pervert.  I remember thinking there was an (Asian) Indian myth like this, and then she was next to me.

"It's not the drugs, Dok", she said, "Don't ever let them tell you it's the drugs.  They lied to me and they lied to you, and they'll lie to our kids just like they lied to our parents, and their parents.  It's not the drugs".

I think I passed out at that point, and the next thing I knew, I was staggering down the road in my regular clothes, with the sour aftertaste of cheap whiskey in my mouth, and no idea where my car was.

Just another night in Side Effect City.

To be continued.

[Doktor Howl]

Bump for use later today.