30.EPILOGUE.65: October 23, 2003.
"Bob And Heather in: Run, Bob, Run."
Sick on a journey--
over parched fields
dreams wander on.
-- Basho.
"So what are you doing?"
"Running."
"I can see that. Why?"
"It's relaxes me."
"Why's it raining?"
"It's the weather."
"What are those things?"
"Mushrooms."
"Weird looking mushrooms."
"They're sorta cute."
Pause.
"So, are you doing anything
else?"
"Nope."
"But you're just running."
"Yeah, like I said, it relaxes
me."
"But there's nothing going
on."
"There are more Mushrooms.
Over there."
"Okay. But, still."
"And the sound of the rain
is calming."
"I suppose."
"And the music is soothing."
"The mushrooms do have cute
voices. But I thought there was a purpose to all this, that you were
supposed to be doing something."
"I am. I'm running."
"Those knives, there, when
you run they streak. That looks cool."
"When I first noticed that
it startled me. I was tired, and when I saw my knives leaving streaks
I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me."
"But is there anything else
to do?"
"Nope."
"But this is so pointless."
"It's the level Martina
R is on. Only she's not here right now."
"Who?"
"A goblin. I'm supposed
to race her and win something."
"Oh."
"Only she hasn't e-mailed
me yet. I don't know when she will."
"Oh."
"So I found about about
this place on the Internet and I came here to see if she'd be here, but
she's not here. So now I just come here to enjoy the rain and run."
"So it's just you on this
level."
"Yep."
"No monsters or anything?"
"Nothing. I thought
there'd be some monsters or something because I've never been to a level
before you're supposed to go there, so I thought maybe there'd be something
to fight, but nope. It's empty."
"Weird."
"When you race the other
goblins, the level's empty too. But, at that point you're there to
race, right? So I thought maybe if I wasn't here to race, maybe there'd
be something else."
"The music's soothing."
"Yeah. It is."
"And so're the little chuff
chuff chuff sounds you make when you run."
Bob stares at the tv screen.
Heather looks at Bob.
"How are you feeling?"
"If I move too much," he
says, "my stomach hurts."
"That's not good."
"Well I pulled all those
muscles."
"Don't do that any more,
okay?"
"What? Pull muscles?"
"No. If you're feeling
sick, tell me."
"Yeah."
"I'm serious."
"Okay."
"If you're feeling sick,
tell me."
"I just didn't want to wreck
the evening."
"So instead you made yourself
sick."
"I didn't make myself sick.
I just got sick."
"You should've said something."
"What I should've done was
not eat all that Mexican food. That way when the time came for me
to regurge at 4:00 am I wouldn't've be barfing up scalding salsa."
"That wasn't a good move,
either. But what you really should've done was tell me you were feeling
sick, not ate anything at all, and then we could've excused ourselves and
gone back home."
"But you looked like you
were having a good time."
"I have better times with
you, when you're well. A staff birthday party never takes priority."
"So how old is Radiohead
guy, anyway?"
"26."
"Ouch."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just a cramp.
Gas, maybe."
"It won't be gas.
You know that."
"Jesus Christ!"
Long silence.
Long silence with Bob holding
his gut and writhing on the couch.
Long silence with Heather
staring at Bob, worried, as Bob holds his gut and writhes on the couch.
Thick, deep gurgling sound.
"There," Bob says, "it's
passed."
"You sure you don't want
to go to the bathroom?"
"God no. My butthole
feels like it's been ground with sandpaper."
"This might be the flu.
I'm sure it's not the food."
"God, I hope it's not the
flu. I don't need the flu."
"You don't need food poisoning,
either. But I ate what you ate and I'm fine. I didn't eat as
much, granted, but I still ate enough to make me sick-- if it was the food."
"I feel like someone's taken
a 2 litre bottle of water and emptied it into my ass."
"Maybe you should lie down."
"Naw, I'll be fine.
Boy, last night I bet I scared the neighbours."
"And me, too."
"Me kneeling on the floor
of the can, going HHUGAAAAK GAAAAAK AAAAAAK!!!"
"Yeah. That was treat."
"When I thought about it
late, I thought it was funny. It echoed off the walls."
"Just don't get us evicted."
"I feel dizzy."
"You should lie down."
"Naw. But I sure slept
good after I barfed. Yeah. I do feel kinda weird."
"Lie the hell down."
"I can't. I'm running.
I-- oh boy!"
Bob bolts up, throwing the
PS/2 controller on the floor, and runs past Heather, to the bathroom.
SFX: Soothing music
from .hack//Mutation.
Then: Burbles, farting
sounds, splashing, groaning, a long, steady trickle followed by a hollow,
muffled:
"Good Christ!"
Then, some loud panting,
a moan, farting sounds, gurgles and splashes. Then a long, lingering
fart, another moan, the sound of a toiletpaper roll, and then a flush.
Long pause while Heather,
worried, looks in the direction of the bathroom.
Toilet sounds (running water,
etc.) getting softer and softer. Then silence.
Another flush.
The sound of the fan being
turned on.
Bob, coughing, returns.
He looks at the screen.
He's standing there, music playing and rain all around, and he's jumping
up and down: Bob as the TwinBlade Kite.
"I didn't log you out."
"Good," Bob said.
"I still need to run some more."
30.EPILOGUE.65: October 23, 2003.