Day 37
Fear 

/absurdist comedy/

There’s an old saying among the men of Rsa: “real home is where your active sex life is.” For years I searched for my home, and I found it only in Gunung Kinabalu: the place of violent but passionate hearts. So, if you’d ask me now, after the long journey I took to the Warrior Farm, becoming a devil-may-care macho was the most satisfying accomplishment in the world and the perfect start for a new chapter in my life.

I sat beside Ms. Sedative. Our shoulders touched; I could feel the smoothness of her skin. I wanted to tell her how strong she was and how much I admired her from the moment I met her (which would be a lie). I looked at her and blamed myself for what I’d done to my dreams: I had betrayed the idea of finding my one and only Sobekneferu… 

 Ms. Sedative made an impatient sound: “I already came up with the name – Scleromochlus Pterosauromorpha. What do you think?”
“That’s lovely… But it makes me feel dizzy. Can we just call the kid Mochlus or Morpha?”
“No. If you are looking for a shorter name, I propose Ralphie.”
“And if it is a girl?” I asked, unsure if I should insist or not.
“Ralphie.”
I didn’t argue with Ms. Sedative, and I didn’t promise her we would call the child Ralphie either. She mistook my silence for an invitation to chat. Please, somebody, anybody, make her quiet. It’s worse than hanging from that tree… I thought to myself.
“I see you are shaking, Bullet. Get your lil soft bacon in my warming oven,” Ms. Sedative chuckled. After those words, I drew away from her as if she’d confessed to having a disease of some sort, got up, and walked over to Holly Terror to check if she was still alive. I caught a sign of tranquil madness in her dreamless face – it worried me. I got more suspicious when I heard the endless ramblings of Ms. Sedative: she was demanding we visit a local cemetery. 

 “What? Cemeteries are full of dead people,” I mumbled. “And we are still alive. The way I see it, my dear… if some of those dead people aren’t ready to go, they become ghosts. Do you want to scare the father of your baby?”
“Let’s pretend we are dead too. I promise you; they won’t notice the difference.” Ms. Sedative laughed.
Reasons why I have to leave that child of mine fatherless – soon, very soon – began to multiply in my mind like germs. I turned away from Ms. Sedative and looked at the gang of her mates sitting under the shades of grayness on the empty field in the middle of nowhere. 

 “Let’s go to sleep. An hour in the morning is worth two in the evening.” I answered.
Well, you may think I am stupid, and I have to confess that with my IQ of 75, I’m not precisely an intellectual giant, but I just wanted to buy more time before I’d dare to visit a cemetery of The Warrior Farm.
That night, stuffed as a sausage between the legs of Candy de Beast and Ms. Sedative, I dreamed of a little boy trapped in the dirt, unable to get out of the grave. His whole body felt bleak and heavy, stiff with tension. Behind him, I saw my chirping mother, who stroked his head and repeated: “I know the truth. He is not your father, Scleromochlus Pterosauromorpha. He is the old wanky spirit, the Daemon who wants to destroy your future! Kill him!”
I fled in fear, tripping over rocks and skeletons.
“Would an innocent man have fled like that, Scleromochlus Pterosauromorpha? No way! Go… Get him!” The shadow of my mother let out a sound of disgust.
I don’t remember what happened afterward, but in the dream, a toddler jumped on my back, and then Ms. Sedative woke me up, which saved me from being murdered by an angry infant. 

 “Kids… They are tough,” I said. “I’m not sure I can sacrifice my life for one.”
“Be careful, Bullet! Scleromochlus Pterosauromorpha can hear you. Some kids grow up and become so sad that all they do for the rest of their lives is run down their poor fathers as prey.”
“What if I’m not a father? I can’t be a father to such a monster.”
“Arcadio said that you are!” Ms. Sedative explained as patiently as she could.
I pretended I agreed. Not very professional, I know, but it worked for a couple of minutes. Then I heard a growl behind me: Candy de Beast woke up. Immediately, she pushed me on the grass for a new sexual stretch; as she explained during the process, “it would help her to get the daily hours to pass a little faster.” She danced naked in front of me, occasionally performing a beautiful pirouette. Her dark hair hung in waves over her shoulders; her body was soft and rounded, built for comfort. 

 Meanwhile, unhappy and jealous, Ms. Sedative started to change. Her naïve playfulness turned dark; her eyes got more immense and crueler. At one point, we stood face to face, but she wasn’t looking at me. She stared at something beyond my left eye as if denying my very presence. Then she slowly put her cold hands on my neck… That was the moment when I knew – the time had come. Run! And I did… 

I convinced myself it was time for an early departure, especially if I’d like to be saved from colliding and being squashed between all five mysterious ladies.  

I blinked painfully and opened my eyes. I was still lying in the same spot, in the pool of bloody mess from Madame Jack. Was it only a dream? What if Ms. Sedative was also a biorobot? What if all of them were robots?