The donkeys are back. They're eating their food. The food the dog and I pissed in. Poor bastards.
I sit and think for a while. I think really hard, but I can't remember anything about my book or about my family or about my past. I look at the paper, but it still says "everything I see is everything I lose." No more. No less.
One of the donkeys starts making a disgusting gurgling noise, and then vomits up a piece of paper. Of course he does. I know it's the note the messenger left me. It has to be. I wait for the note to dry off a bit and then pick it up.
There's something poetic in that. The dogs will piss in the bowls of the asses, but the asses will just throw it right back up for the dogs to eat. And the dogs will enjoy it.
Sure enough, the paper has my handwriting on the front. It says, "... Christians, porn stars and butchers all wear love like a bad teenage film star." Whatever that means. The world hadn't changed much. On the back it says, in chickenscratch notation, "look up."
I did.
There were socks hanging from the ceiling. I take them. Big old dress socks. What the Hell do I do with these?
....
A fire alarm sends me outside. The fire doesn't scare me much. Some people set fires just to kill things. Somebody in the crowd does scare me a bit. This guy doesn't have any limbs. After a while, I realize he's staring back at me.
"Uh." I say.
"What?"
"You don't have any arms."
"You're naked except for-"
"You don't have any legs."
"You're naked except for a pair of dress socks. You're the naked guy."
"It's a fashion statement."
"A lack of limbs is a way of life."
"So, uh. How do you..."
"I roll."
"... Nice. My name's Leeroy."
"Brian."
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