13Blasphemy - contemptuous or
profane acts, utterances, or
writings against God, religion
or a sacred entity.
Dear Reader, I sit at my windowsill, watching my heretical saviors as they draw near.
Vincent waves to me. I smile and wave in return.
Jennifer is digging through their duffel bag. Whatever it is she was after, she has it held high. Vincent makes a sweeping motion with his arm, and it takes me a moment to understand why. He wants me to move.
I step to the side just in time to see a brick come hurling through my window in a shower of Plexiglas. It makes a resounding crash.
Brring brrring, wails the alarm.
Red lights flood the room, and I am left in silence. I have to say that somehow I was expecting something a bit more.
Subtle.
I know that I have done nothing but insult myself since I began this thing, and so I will grant now grant myself a well-deserved compliment.
I am quick on my feet when an emergency presents itself.
I once locked myself in a closet by mistake, and I was out within minutes. I am resourceful, levelheaded, and I have the reflexes of a cat.
I grab my Bible and knock the remaining shards of Plexiglas out from my window frame. I toss my pillows out the window and ease my way out stealthily.
I am on the second story.
I trip, stumble, fall, land on my heel, sprain my ankle, and swear loudly about it.
.I lied about my dexterity and resourcefulness.
Someone helped me out of that closet.
Jennifer helps me to my feet, and together we hobble as fast as we can. Vincent is running alongside me and fretting about my ankle. I tell him that everything is fine, which is a lie.
I have some endurance. I can take a hit to the face and walk away grinning, but frankly, this hurts. I am like Achilles when my heel is concerned.
I hear the yelping and barking of guard dogs in the distance: Hellhounds.
God is angry with me. I have forsaken him, and he has damned me. Heaven, Hell and Purgatory alike are out for my blood.
What a rush!
Cold winds tickle my face, and damp grass sticks to my toes. Trees and shrubs are rushing past in a blurry, frantic darkness.
I must be a nuisance for Jennifer, what with trying to hobble and write at the same time. I apologize to her, but I must get this down. She nods and staggers on.
We arrive at the wall: a brick monstrosity, probably forty thousand miles high, but before I can ask how they expect to overcome this obstacle, Jennifer drags me along to a small gate nearby. It is a rusted old doorway made of iron bars. I wonder why no one ever thought to replace the thing.
Jennifer pulls a bobby pin from her hair and sets to work. Miraculously, it opens. I had no idea that really works.
We slip gracelessly through the gateway, and stumble toward the street. Vincent has a car waiting there. It is an old, dilapidated blue thing with wheels.
I climb inside and buckle my safety belt.
Jennifer climbs in beside me, and Vincent takes the driver's seat. He turns the key and the rundown engine reluctantly comes to life.
I look back to the asylum, to Elysian Fields State Mental Hospital, and I laugh with glee. Good-bye, Heaven, Hell and Purgatory.
Hello, World.