I spend most of my day sitting in a chair, I realize, sitting in a chair. The light glints through the window, reflecting off my coffee mug, casting a small square of light on my chest. Why do I stand for this, I think? I am an adult. I am an adult, god damn it, and my parents didn’t make a mistake having me. I tear off my shirt, but the square of light remains, burning into a nipple like the fires of hell itself. I shriek and slam my chair backwards into the cube wall.
The man behind me shouts. He can’t see what’s going on, he doesn’t know about the square, because of the wall. I laugh. It’s so simple. I take a pencil and, since the light has gone, diagram deep into the flesh where it once was. A noise like screaming. I show him the blood dripping down my skin, catching on the hairs and pooling in the button. He doesn’t seem to understand. I gesture towards the window with the crimson pencil, flinging specks of blood everywhere. I am frightened until I realize it’s the pencil that’s bleeding. I leave it in the man and continue on my way.
There is noise everywhere now. All I want to do is stand up, but I’m still in the chair… I think. By this point I’m not really sure it matters anymore. I am pleased by this inner monologue, and think I could have a career on the radio, if only the large men with guns would get out of my way. I make a mental note: head for radio station.
Janice points at me as I head for the door, her mouth working like a fish. I wave. I try to explain that I will not be back for some time, and that she can keep her chair, and that I will not be needing it any longer, but I am not sure she believes me. I get it, there is a process you must follow. You need to ask permission before leaving. I am a rebel, I suppose.
The men are gesturing for me to lie down. I giggle. Not unless you take me out to dinner, first.
The men come closer. I become worried. There is something I am forgetting. I remove my penis from it’s sheath and inspect it, but it remains intact. I leave it out, in case I need it later.
A gun so close to my face I can feel it breathing. I take it and point it at the Janice, and she falls down. I point it at the men, and one of them falls down. The other men go away somewhere, but I tire of their games so I do not pay attention to where. I step over the man on the ground and go outside.
There are lights on top of cars, spinning lazily in the hazy air. People shuffle about. The gun seems to be some sort of secret passkey in this place. I walk through the crowd, miraculously unharmed. I realize my penis is still out, and I feel ridiculous. I use the gun to remove it. There is a pop and a puff of red, and I fall down to my knees.
I feel like I went wrong somewhere, but I don’t know at what point. My arms are covered with blood. My gun is clicking uselessly at the people now, only two or three on the ground. I see the grass rush towards my face.
It is so cold and dark in this place.