Chapter 31

I hold the delicate object in my hand, wondering at its smooth surface. It is alien to me, this thin rectangle. Its blank whiteness consumes me, pulls me into it.

Staring into the face of infinity.
I hear a drip, and my eyes swim back into focus. There is a spot on my paper, growing  as the sweat soaks into the pulp. My hands are shaking.  I put the paper down on the cool concrete floor beside me and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.  I hate writer’s block.
“Why the fuck does this always happen when I actually TRY to write something?” I groaned in desperation.
“Because Jesus thinks you are a fag.” Came a voice from directly above and to the left of me.  I looked up at Gary’s bunk from the floor.  He must have been watching me for a while.  He had been trying to get under my skin for the better part of an hour by insulting me any time I spoke.
I called attention to his questionable parentage involving a gorilla and a blind gerbil while shooting him the bird.  Gary resumed his novel, leaving me to the business at hand.
With no ideas from any direction, I shut my eyes and made a small random line on the paper.  The squiggle vaguely resembled an unfinished letter “I.” I finished the letter, making it bold with my pencil.
“At least that is a start.” I said to the paper.
“Why don’t you go fuck your mother!”
I stood up and drew a medium sized penis on Gary’s bunk, then sat back down.
Ignoring the barrage of obscenities coming from above me,  I contemplated the one letter on the paper.
“I think Gary  = asshat.” I wrote.
Gary’s getting to me was beginning to get to me.  I erased it back to “I” and got serious.
“It.”  I looked at the word on the paper.  The paper was no longer blank. The two letters seemed insignificant in the vast expanse of whiteness.
Once I read about the creation of the universe. The book had said that at one point all of the matter in the entire scope of the universe was so small and dense that it was about the size of a marble.  Some unknown divine spark caused the primeval ball to explode, creating an ever expanding universe quite larger than an infinitely dense Cat‘s Eye, and things began to happen.
Thirteen billion years later.
I regarded the “It” there in its void, the unknown story that starts with that one word. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, holding it. As I slowly let it out, I allowed my mind to filter out the distractions in the dorm. The fans faded, the yelling faded, Gary.
All that was left was the “It.”
When my mind was totally clear, I lowered the pencil to the paper and let things happen.
It’s funny really, the way we spend our lives. Everything that lives, lives by routine and pattern. This is something that we do without even noticing it.  You wake up at a predestinated time, shit, shower, shave, eat, go to work, eat, more work, shit, more work, leave work, try to get laid, eat again, shit again, and go back to sleep. Some where in there you will  find yourself coming to a brief point of awareness when you see things with such clarity that it is mind boggling and causes you to totally reevaluate your entire life.
At that point there is no normal.
At that point there is no going back to who you were.
At that point crazy shit happens.
And you never see it coming.
All days are the same, except for a few.  Those days start just like any other, then your world explodes, leaving you to pick up the pieces for good or bad.
Tuesday stared like any other day. I woke up sprawled out on my Lazy-Boy, face encrusted with stale Cheeto dibs. The  overturned bag of Doritos on my lap and beer cans  everywhere around me indicated that I did not in fact get a lay.  As per routine, I oozed off of the recliner and slowly stood, ignoring my loudly popping joints. I stood there swaying, trying to remember what direction the bathroom was.
As soon as I took my first step, I was hit in the head by a lightning bolt from the supreme God of Lager.  Opening my eyes, I realized I had been keeling.
I stood up again and shakily walked to the bathroom, holding myself steady with the wall. Toeing the door open, I groped for the light switch (what’s a light switch?) and blearily surveyed the Throne Room. The familiar sink in its faded and chipped pink Formica counter top, the towel cabinet with crooked doors and mysterious stains, the cracked and peeling faux marble green linoleum floor, the scrap of purple shag carpet, the rusty tub, and most importantly, just under the medium sized window that would never quite open, was the Porcelain God
All hail.
It was time to pay homage. I approached the jakes and lifted the lid, unzipped and let fly. As I released my aching bladder, I  glanced out the window and watched my neighbor’s cat walking along the edge of my fence. The sound of water falling changed slightly and thinking I was hitting the toilet rim, I looked down to adjust my aim.
My aim was fine, but there was something in the toilet besides water, urine, cigarette butts and occasional escaped French fries.
It was an odd pinkish grey blob roughly the size of a ping pong ball. It was covered with a membranous skin that was streaked with dark pulsating veins.  Its entire surface seemed to shift, making it hard to focus on. The stream of urine was making it spin slowly in the water. Its underside showed what appeared to be a root-like structure of tiny tentacles, all squirming about and trying to gain traction in the water.  Revolted, I flushed the toilet with a shudder, watching the odd little creature be pulled down into the water and disappear. I put the incident out of my mind and left the bathroom.

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