What
Do I Win?
Ron
showed the lid to the cashier at Quickie Mart.
"Win?"
“The
contest!” He clicked the lid down on the counter and pushed it an
inch or two towards the woman.
The
cashier picked it up, walked to the window, and stared at it for a
long time. She put it back down in front of Ron. “It says
'all-expenses-paid worlds tour.'”
That
was right, Ron knew, typo and all.
“But
how do I get the world tour? Do I go to a website?”
The
clerk pointed at some tiny print on the bottle cap. “You call that
number.” She gave the lid back and turned away.
*
“Hello.”
A pleasant contralto.
“I,
um, I'm calling about,”
“The
worlds tour! I'll set you up right now. When do you want to go?”
“Well,
I, er, any time,” Ron finished weakly.
“Fantastic!
Thank you so much for calling, and have a great trip.” She hung
up.
*
That
was the most surreal conversation he'd ever had, even stoned out of
his mind. He turned, and was overwhelmed with the sensation of
jamais vu, the unexpected feeling of unfamiliarity amid the
familiar. Had the apartment been this untidy when he left this
morning? He stepped over a pile of clothes and looked out the
window. Holy shit! The lake was gone. No, it was covered with
floating condos. But when had the condos been put in? His stomach
was starting to feel a little queasy.
Someone
walked out of the bathroom. He was short, paunchy, middle-aged, and
wearing a towel.
“Hey...”
Ron began.
“Gaah!”
The man dropped his towel.
Ron
stared, then stammered: “I thought forked penises went out with the
snakes*.”
“Funny,
Zilbo. You're still trespassing. What you doing in my zōn?”
Then he slapped his forehead.
“Oh,
right, 'the worlds tour.' Look, I don't need this today. Get out.”
He nodded toward the door.
“But...”
“Go!”
Ron
opened the door and stepped out.
From
the apartment behind him he heard the fat man with the Y-shaped penis
say “Oh yeah, watch that first one.”
Publ. July 17, 2007, The Daily Cabal
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