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Everything Jake #1014: The Gift 3 (continued) Everything was slow and deliberate, as if Kelly’s eyes had a built in pause button that was half working. He took mental note, he had time to do that, he was on his back, check. There was a weight that was right on top of his chest, check. It was very dark, no, very very dark, check. Albert’s claws (for lack of a better word they were claws, even though Albert was no animal and the three shiny knifes stuck out from behind his hand, which only had three cartoonish fingers) reflected what light there was, candlefire. Check. Albert was too fast, check. This was it, check. He was going to die, Kelly Rose, Loser, by the hand of a midget robot that was originally built as a make-up gift after a sure night of sex was ruined by a bad Star Trek joke. Check. The three blades (blades are better than claws, Kelly thought) were practically glowing, it was hard in Kelly Rose Almost Pause Time to see exactly when they would strike his throat, because that was the angle Albert was using. No, it couldn’t have been Albert. This was a ghost, this was Crazy Albert. The blades were now glowing a lot brighter than simple candlefire would allow, but it wasn’t clear in slow down time. Albert would never do this to me, to us, Albert liked us, went out on a limb for us, more’n once. Sure, he was the bastard sick robot love child of Wolverine and Picachu, but in the inside, he was a good kid. Likable. A little naive, sure, but look at his pedigree. You’d be a little naïve too if your parents were fictional. There was heat. Why was there heat? Fire danced up and down the blades of Crazy Albert and Kelly Rose Almost Pause Time seemed to slow down even more to Kelly Rose Stop Time (except for the pretty reflections). What was going on? Am I dead? I don’t feel too dead. Maybe something big happens here. Maybe I’m seeing a ghost of my last vision, and then slowly without me knowing it will segue into something else, like this light on the blades will keep getting brighter and brighter and then I’ll feel myself but not feel myself? Like I should have a body but don’t, and then I’ll wonder, wow, this is what it’s like to have a body and thoughts of Mercy, of Trish, of Jake and Faith will all go away and I’ll float to this white light and everything will finally, finally be over—“Kelly!!” A sonic Boom. Kelly Rose Play. Albert’s head, for some reason, was afire. His arm holding the Death of Kelly Rose hung eerily in the air, motionless, like a guillotine waiting to drop. Kelly still didn’t move. Why was his head en fuego? “Is, uh, someone going to get water?” It appeared that Kelly Rose Almost Pause Time had spread out to the whole room, Megoth snaked out of it first, almost knocking over Rosey, whose deep black pool of eyes reflected the fire. She shook it off, and looked over to Sam, who was staring at Kelly’s eyes. Megoth moved with a surprising swiftness, he had powder fire extinguisher on Crazy Head on Fire Albert in no time. Kelly coughed and spit and cursed as Megoth sprayed the dry chemical in a muffled poof. The room filled with the dust, Rosey and Sam yelled out and left as quickly as they could. The dust started to disperse as soon as the girls had opened the door, but Megoth figured it was a good idea to leave and discarded the extinguisher. He offered Kelly his hand, told him to shut up, and helped him up. Kelly’s black shirt was now white, he cursed at Megoth again for a couple of different things, and then wiped himself off, issuing more billowing clouds of dust into the room. He coughed, Megoth coughed. Megoth said he was following the girls, they would come back and clean up, Kelly wasn’t listening, his eyes were focused on the twisted, burnt little robot on the ground. Kelly lifted his head to tell Megoth he’d be right there, and caught the back end of Megoth as he was exiting the door. Kelly looked down again at Crazy Albert. Its head had collapsed in itself, you could see where Megoth had carefully worked the seams of the mold. Circuits were fused into plastic and metal, its eyes back and charred. What the hell happened? Kelly gave it a kick and the head popped off, leaving a black trail in the white fire extinguisher spooge. Kelly decided two things, he was leaving, and burnt Crazy Albert smells terrible. He stepped over it, giving it one last look, and something shiny caught his eye. Always something shiny, isn’t it, Kelly Rose. He kicked over some more debris and saw one of the blades (or claws, or whatever). It was still glowing a little bit. Instinctively, Kelly reached for it. He stopped. Isn’t this what got Jake zapped? He withdrew his hand, wiped more of the dust off his once black shirt, and walked out into the darkness. Two Days Later: “This is fascinating, isn’t it, Kelly?” “What?” “I finally figured it out. Why Albert’s head caught on fire. His brain melted, it had something to do with the blackout (power surge?), and it had something to do with, and I hate to say this, but I kind of wired him wrong.” “You kind of wired him wrong? He. Almost. Fucking. Kilt. Me. Asshole. Why are you doing this?” “I need to know where I… I… I went wrong… so I… I….” “You need to see a speech pathologist or someshit, man, stutter is getting worse.” “Don’t be cross with me, Kelly, because that girl won’t have sex with you…” “It has nothing to do with that. I’m cross because you’re robot tried to kill me.” “That has nothing—“ “Again.” “Look. I’m sorry. I promise not to rebuild Albert with claws. Actually, I’m thinking on a much different design. I’ve managed to recreate much of the original code… don’t look at me like that, the original AI code, not the bizerker shit (I’m not THAT stupid). Maybe you could draw me some stuff? We could… maybe… work on it together?” “As long as there’s no fucking claws. Why do you think she won’t sleep with me?” “What? I thought…” “Oooookay, Megoth, you got me. I’m seriously crossed that she won’t sleep with me, hell, all we did was kiss. And I’ve been a total gentleman about that too, waiting at least ten minutes of heavy tongue make out before I try to feel her up.” “Really?” “Not too much to feel up, I’ll admit that.” “What’s heavy tongue make out?” “Something I hope you’re not doing with my sister.” “I told you this, Kelly, what happens with me and Rosey is—“ “STOP FUCKING MY SISTER DAMMIT!!” “Uh…” “Relax, I’m kidding. Well, half kidding, but still, why won’t she fuck me?” “WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT FUCKING YOUR SISTER??” “Megoth?” “Sorry. It seemed funny in my head.” “You should have kept it there.” “Want to know the truth, Kelly?” “Not if it’s bad news.” “I think Sam likes you, I know she does, actually, and I simply cannot tell you why. She likes you, but she’s not that type of girl to sleep with a guy just like that. She’s coming off a hot high school romance that ended because of her choice to go away for college.” “Oh my God. Tell me you see it?” “See what? What do you mean?” “She’s fucking Jake.” “I’m seriously confused by those implications…” “No, fool, she is Jake. Tell me you see it.” “The only thing I could see is that she is coming out of a high school romance like young Jake Bruno did when he first arrived… other than that… (isn’t that common)?” “She has a Rose for a roommate. She’s a tad naïve. She’s Jake with short black hair and a decent ass. This is so Freudian I’m going to puke.” “I have another reason, besides the new yet not entirely surprising revelation of your gayness, why Sam won’t sleep with you.” “I refuse to even comment.” “You reek of baggage. Don’t give me that look. You know it. You have issues. I’m not talking Mercy issues. You have some Trish issues unresolved as well. Do you want my advice?” “I do not have any Trish, or even Mercy, issues…!” “Kelly…” “They’re small issues. Buried. Deep.” “Not so deep.” “I’m not going to ask your advice, nor am I likely to follow it, but I’d hear it just the same.” “I say thankya.” “Thankya?” “Sorry, been re-reading some of the Dark Tower books because number five will be out in November if, it, uh, do ya fine.” “But it’s… August…” “And?” “Your advice, Megoth?” “Solve these issues. With Trish, especially. I have it on good word that she’s back up here. Go talk to her, at least. Sort it out. Get some closure so maybe you can work on building a relationship with Sam.” “That’s horrible advice. I don’t want to build a relationship with Sam, I just want to fuck Sam.” “Then you probably never will.” “I’ll take it to heart. Like most things, my heart will kill it, but I’ll take it there. Now shut up.” “You’ll say thankya.” “I said, shut up.” Epilogue: Trish looked around her apartment, it was good settling in a bit early, she had time to add her own little touches before her roommates moved in. It might be a little weird living with Faith and Jake this semester, but she knew no one better. No one but Kelly, that was. She straightened the framed poster of Wyeth’s Christina’s World she had put up, and admired it. If there was any way to capture the way she had felt the last month, it was this painting. Helpless in acres of wheat and grass. Lost, fragile, the barn so, so very far. Her wheat and grass were her feelings. Her barn, Kelly. She snorted at the metaphor; let’s leave the writing to Jake, eh? That made her smile. The wind whipped around outside, sometimes banging on the windows of the second floor apartment. The heat, however, was working, and it was comfortably toasty, just the way she liked it. Always so cold. Amazing how I get away with all those half shirts. The microwave beeped and she kind of slide walked in her oversoft socks on the half hard wood half tile floors. She was happy to be alone, that’s what Dr. Gotch had told her to tell herself. She wondered why she would listen to a head doctor named Gotch. Gotch sounded more like an Ob-gyn then a shrink, but what did she know, she was just happy to be alone. He had tried to get her on the pills, but she would have none of the pills. I’m just sad, she told him, I’m not depressed. It’s not clinical. I loved him, and he left, that’s all. Like Cory did. Left. But I’ll be okay, I am, after all, happy by myself. Trading Spaces was on, it was Saturday, after all. She had rescued her cup of Earl Grey from the microwave and sat with it on the couch. She pulled the afghan her Nana had made over her and held the lukewarm tea in her lap like a cat. It wasn’t too hot, it wasn’t too cold, it was perfect. She reminded herself that this was much better without Kelly. Without Cory, or Harry, or anyman. She was happy, right? Right? There was a slight shuffle at the door, she mostly ignored this sound, it was a busy hallway, there was always shuffling. Then there was a slight knock, then a stronger one. Trish almost spilled all her tea in her lap, wondered who it could be at, what was it, almost ten (I’m happy alone, but I’m becoming a loser)? She hesitantly got up, the knocking had abruptly stopped. Was she dreaming it? She wasn’t sure, and slowly sank back into the couch. The knock started again, she walked right over to the door and peered through the whole. Darkness. Someone was covering it up with their hands. She opened the door, because there was only one person who ever did that. He was holding one rose, it was deep red. “Hi Trish. “Can I come in?”    
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EVERYTHING JAKE is TM & (C) 2000-2011 by Mike Rosenzweig. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
