Munmun(87)

He must have agreed, instead of killing me he pulled an Usher move. Caged and blanketed me one morning just after sunrise, packed me into his car, took me to a separate house acrosstown, Puppyneck has fled the faceboys too.

He wrote a newdeal with Solodream, basically just a ransomletter, Solodream how about you and Prayer give the new business of Puppyneck Dream Security Limited fivemillion muns a year to protect Warner and not accidentally sit on him, would hate for anything to happen to this guy.

My new lifty room was similar to the old, same gyms, more carpet.

Air was nicer though, seabreeze, must be near the ocean.

My munmuns became fruitfull, had munkids. In the outsideworld loyal Usher bought some stocks for me, chunks of some companies.

Obviously it’s an advantage if you’re crowbarring into the solodreams of corpo owners everynight, listening to them babble lazy dreambabble to their robots, hey what’s that, didyousay Zippy Energetics is discovering a cheap fresh new way to make oilrocks burn even hotter and smokier, Usher I have a hottip for us.

“Time to figure out how you’re going to escape, right, I can put a privateeye on the case, figure out where you’re living,” Usher asked me every week or two.

My answer was no, week after week.

“What’s the number you’re waiting for,” he wanted to know.

I shrugged, kept making hells and shitscapes.

For a third year I crafted nightmares and pummeled solodreamers, Puppyneck and I grew a strange friendship, he was the only human I knew forsure existed.

Everymorning he sat with me, smoked with me, gave me random news.

Fires got worse, the ocean ate more towns. Beans stopped growing for a while, guess everyone’s got to eat more meat.

Rockets took some farmy teams to mars, everyone got a disgusting spacedisease. One guy on mars became so annoying that they had to decide, do we kill this guy or pay tenbillion munmuns to send him back to earth, seriously it’s that bad, we can’t deal with this guy anymore. The Yewess put it to a vote, voted to kill, wasn’t even close, what, you think we’re going to spend tenbillion muns to bring a super annoying guy back to our planet. The marshans didn’t kill him though, he promised to try to be more chill, guy was skitso or borderline or something.

And somewhere in the city outside my room, I knew Grant was still riding Metros and trapping other littlepoors and putting them in his trainvids, somewhere his psycho daughter Willow was growing up and maybe her angry heart was softening, maybe it was hardening, maybe Bixquick has ripped some poor little to shreds.

I told Usher finally what I wanted to do.

“Holycrap,” was all he said.

In the world outside a fourth year happened.

Some of Iceland melted, some of Ejipped burned, all of Rushia messed with someone else, all Coreans are freaking out. Famous Randy fell in love but just with a butt.

The Yewess got a new President, littlest in twenty years, barely even doublescale, they’re thinking about making a second littler Whitehouse for this scrappy Yellow reformer.

Usher and Prayer got a quiet secret marriage, joined munmuns with my mom, Mom got some surgery and now has zippy bendylegs, she is starting some kind of superchurch and it’s pretty annoying, she’s very happy though and excited to scold you about pretending to be the Lord King God, anyway Warner we promise we’ll have the real wedding as soon as you get out, when do you think that is though, soon, right.

I don’t know, sis though, notyet.

Somewhere out in Lossy Indica, Grace lived another year of her life, I thought about her sometimes, sure, probably she’s in law school bynow. Maybe she’s still with Frank, maybe he’s still making her read his endless tolstoys. Somewhere they’re talking, kissing, banging, fighting, or maybe they haven’t seen each other in months. Maybe she’s done with the fakegreen eyes, showing those pretty eyeblacks now, maybe she lost her love for bloodthirsty comics, whoknows, notme.

In Dreamworld I stayed away from anyone I knew, I wasn’t Warner anymore, just a bloodthirsty angel.

For a fifth year I lived little and alone in the carpety middleroom, but now there was no need anymore to dream hells.

The solodreamers were taking solodream every night no matterwhat, completely addicted to loneliness.

Instead of hells I began to make strange announcements. GOD IS A KINGKONG, I dreamed in the stars, in the grass.

GOD IS A GODSILLA, I billboarded in everybody’s room.

THE KINGKONG GODSILLA GOD IS COMING, moths whispered everywhere, schools, warehouses, sewers, wholefoods, trains, barmittsvas, keensayingyearas, everywhere but the operahouse.

I didn’t touch the Kittyhouse but I did make it hard to find.

Built a glazing desert around it, stacked a dark salty sea over it.

Kitty didn’t even notice, never stepped out of that house, might as well be solodreaming.

Sure I thought about her, maybe more than anyone, somewhere out there in Lifeanddeathworld Kitty must be in a colledge, I like to think a music school, maybe she’s found the therapies that let her hands play guitar.

And somewhere maybe Tony is learning to try a little less hard, people hate you when they know how much you want to be liked. And Daisy is still playing shootemups late at night and Hueagain is doctoring bynow, Dawn is walking the dogs and Hue is getting reelected, and some other bright strivey middlepoor is living in their house, sleeping in the halfroom, learning the secret patience of How To Be Rich.