Chapter 2
| The Story | The Authors |
|---|---|
| He felt disembodied, or at least, he felt what he had always imagined disembodiment would feel like. Just a kind of floating feeling, and as if his body wasn't quite where it was; this fluctuaty feeling that his back was behind his head and his feet up in his knees. I wonder, he wondered, am I really disembodied? Perhaps I'm dead. The thought did not fill him with anxiety; because if am I dead, after all, this ain't all that bad. Something else, though. What? Oh, yeah, I ought to be able to see my body below me, shouldn't I? But when he tried to turn over to look, he found that he could not. "Ah man!" He moved his mouth with all intentions of saying these words aloud, but no sound came; and yet, though he knew no sound had left his mouth, and none reached his ears, he experienced the sensation of hearing his voice from what seemed like inside him. "Where'd that come from?" he tried to say. Ah, his chest; that's where it was. "Damn! I wish I knew whether I was dead or not!" He again attempted to roll over and check below, but could not, and he began to have the sinking feeling that he might not be able to check for a long time, and also, that he knew the idea would plague him until he could check. Now, he knew, everything, absolutely everything possible, was going to irritate the hell out of him, and he wasn't going to be able to enjoy this weird floating disembodiment feeling. | |
| "Russel, Russel, honey wake up. Do you always black out and have holusinations like this after you have sex?" the Dr. questioned. "You need more help than I thought. Oh well, I have an hour free tomorrow after lunch, stop by." | |
| Ohhhh, Russell thought, that's it. I had sex, with the Doc. Wow! Cool! Or did I? Come to think about it, where's *her* voice coming from? Still, he could not alter his position, which was flat on his back, seemingly floating. Why couldn't he turn over? Regardless of whether he was disembodied and floating, not disembodied and only felt like he was floating, or whatever, he ought to have been able to turn over, or at least determine why he couldn't turn over? For all I know, I'm heading down Foregarner Street, smoking another cigarette, on my way to a burger stop. Or having sex with the Doc again? Man! I wish I could remember my sexual experiences, Russel compained inwardly. "Doc, can you hear me? Did we really have sex?" Again, he experienced that weird sensation of his voice not leaving his mouth, not reaching his ears, so that he couldn't empirically say any sound had transpired, yet could feel his words seeming to exist in his chest, and to register in his brain just as if sound had occurred. I wonder if she can hear me? I wonder if she's still here, or there, or wherever. I wonder where, if anywhere, I am. I wonder if I'm still alive. His mind was beginning to race again, and he began to feel an overwhelmingly frustration born of physical, mental, and emotional helplessness. It really sucked not being able to to know what was real and what wasn't. It might almost be better to not realize that he couldn't tell. | |
| "Oh, Russell!" Doc whispered, her voice ejaculating into the static between his ears. "Russell, are you dreaming that we've had sex? Or am I dreaming that you're dreaming we've just had sex?" I exhaled, but no words would come. "Oh, Russell, this is ever so confusing, isn't it, dream lover?" | |
| "Oh, Russell!" Doc whispered, her voice ejaculating into the static between his ears. "Russell, are you dreaming that we've had sex? Or am I dreaming that you're dreaming we've just had sex?" I exhaled, but no words would come. "Oh, Russell, this is ever so confusing, isn't it, dream lover?" | |
| Russel looked at her, lust glowing in his eyes. But the lust soon turned to anger and he slapped Doc across the face hard. She flew to the floor and blood began to trickle from her mouth. He came at her again and attacked once more, bruising her eye and tearing her clothes. With all the strength she could muster, Doc threw her self at him. The both toppled over and she got the advantage. She started pulling his hair and scratching him, blood flowing from marks on his handsome face. With one final shove she escaped from him and ran out of the room, fleeing for her life. |
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