Munmun(32)

A ghost murmured in one ear, a ghost muttered in the other, angel and devil, the angel was the cowsoy girl Grace, the devil was enormous judge from before.

Grace said, you can’t be a faceboy, faceboys are scum, you’re not scum.

Judge said, oh for sure you’re a scumbag, admit it, no need to die pretending you’re not terrible.

Grace said, if you say yes to the faceboys, they’ll never let you back out, it’s a new kind of tunnel with no end.

Judge said, the tunnel gets a lot nicer if you’re not digging alone anymore, imagine it, friendly diggers next to you and no more worrying about beatings and pulpings.

Grace said, Faceboy Church is like New Planetary, like any cult, they want your goodworks for life, except instead it’s badworks, works of, steal, pimp, beat, kill.

Judge said, what’s better than joining a church, a church gives you friendsforlife, in this case tough friends, a squad, a team, many savage daves all helping you, not like your old dumb team of a sis who scales up without you and a bud with bad stuttershakes who is probably dead.

Grace said, say you join the faceboys and finally you graduate from jail, you’re out on the street, say the faceboys ask you to rob that foodstand there and they’re pointing to mine, Grace Family Cowsoy, would you do it? Say my dad scrambles for a knife, would you kill my dad? My mom scampers for a gun, would you kill my mom?

Judge said, shut up Grace, listen Warner, the world has been terrible to you all life long, you owe the terrible world nothing, not even a girl who gave you water once, then in the morning said you can’t even live in the garbage.

Grace said, what about the Lord King God.

Judge said, what about him.

Grace said, when you die the Lord King God will ask you, what did you do with your life, were you evil because it was easier, and what are you going to say.

Judge said, Warner, you know you don’t believe in any of that dumb crap.

Grace said, the point isn’t if you believe in the Lord King God, the point is he’s right, ask yourself, do I need to live so much that I’m okay with making the world worse.

Judge said, it’s your only life, don’t lose it pretending to be someone better than you are.

I fell asleep to them, not knowing who to trust, liking Grace, believing the judge.

For the first time in a year I dreamed and I didn’t know why rightaway.

I was in the cages, mostly alone, a few other jailbirds fuzzily floated, drifted, and tumbled.

Then POP POP POP, Wilt jumped out of a doorway and shot me overandover, roaring joyfully. I was reddrenched like in shootemups.

“Okay, you got me,” I said.

“Bang bang bang bang bang,” he said. “Thought you didn’t dream, redshit.”

“First time in a while,” I said.

“Brap brap brap brap chukka chukka chukka,” he said, shooting me with many guns.

It was a strain to dream anything with all the gunshots but I dreamed up some hard rubbery skins for myself, unshootable.

“Maybe it’s a dumb question, but why are you shooting me,” I said.

“I’m waking you up,” he said. “Can’t let you sneak out and terrorize lawfull citizens in Dreamworld.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave,” I said.

“BOOM,” he said, now bombing me.

“We could just talk, I could dream things for you,” I offered.

“BOOM BLOOM, BLAM BAM,” he announced with his smoky bombs.

“Fine, bytheway who was that girl Kitty,” I said.

He spun bombs in his hands, not wanting to say anything.

But he couldn’t not talk, that was how much he hated this girl.

“Ugh, the bitch daughter of the jerk cityboss of Wet Almanac,” said Wilt. “What can I do, my boss tells me I need to do this favor, let her talk to you, I got no choice. But it makes me sick, doing anything for that family. Political nitwits trying to make everything about scale, classwarfare, it’s disgusting.”

“What do you mean,” I said, but Wilt was done talking to me, back to bombing and gunning, the room was flashing, thundering, bombsaway, impossible to stay asleep, I woke up and couldn’t get back to Dreamworld.

In the morning finally I couldn’t dodge what I knew and it smashed me over my poor dozy head.

How did I know Kitty, I knew her from the seedflowerbirdhouse, that’s how.

Kitty was the girl with the richdrink voice of notes made out of notes made out of notes.

Kitty was the only dreamer better than me, the dreamer who could sing.

And what I thought was: I need to find Kitty in Dreamworld, listen to that voice again, one last time.

What I allofasudden knew was: If I hear her sing one more time it will make everything clear somehow, I know it.

I need to hear that voice again and whatever happens next will be okay, me pulped to death, me tatted up and in a squad, me killing innocents, it will be okay.

So when Puppyneck wanted my answer I told him I needed another night.

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

“Why would your faceboys let me boss them,” I said.

“For one thing, because they like tough smart bosses,” says Puppyneck. “But here’s the real reason: because I told them to. We’re not psychos. We got deep respect for rules, systems, orders, loyalty. It’s not a hard decision, dave. It’s a better life than you ever had, better friends, better world, and I’m troubled to see you whiffing and waffling like this.”