My brother John, came to my bedside that night and told me about a dream he had. He said, that he had met a girl at the Dairy Queen. She had ordered two strawberry cones: One for him and one for her. The ice cream began to melt on his hands and she had licked his fingers. He had let her. She used her other hand to unzip his pants. She had reached in, but he had awoken. The girl had been a symbol. It had been a mistake to break up with Cindy. He lit a cigarette and took a seat on the floor by his bed. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television. After first, he didn’t know what he was looking at. The tongue was so pink, and the vagina was so smooth, the interaction looked more like a muppet than pornography.
He heard a car pull into his driveway; they had their brights on. He put his penis in his pants and stood up to see who it was. All he could see was light and the purple haze of his iris. He grabbed a shirt and slipped his feet into a pair of sandals. He was sure she wanted the push lawn mower she had bought him last month for his birthday. John cracked a beer and stumbled outside with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Hello?, he shouted. The driveway was empty of cars, but full of light. It was coming from above. A soft hum reverberated off any object spiring out of the ground. He touched the mailbox to make it stop nervously shaking. Sirens began to drown out the hum, and then the crickets. A neighbor, Bob, stumbled, out of his house. He put his hands on his head and gawked as made it over to John’s shoulders. What is it?, said Bob, I don’t know, said John. The light began to feel heavy, and sticky as thorn-berries. It began to tug roughly on his shirt and Bob’s bathrobe. Slowly, they stepped back, but even the hairs on their legs and arms pulled them forward. Bob’s untied shoe laces began to inch forward, tripping him. His hands clawed the ground, but his hair went toward the light. Soon he was floating and John was bewildered. Bob? John ran into his yard and up to his front door. He gripped the handle, however, his shirt was stuck in the light. It was going up. John’s grip loosened as his curiosity was increasing. The light started to burn as he floated into the amorphous brightness. Soon scars began to rise from his skin, and then it turned a crunchy black.
Cindy came over the next morning to pick up the push lawnmower she had purchased for his birthday. The house was still smoldering. Fatty pieces of flesh had melted to the bed posts, and all the books were gone. She found rabbit ears for the television, and a microwave. For awhile she cried, but then she called me, asking where John was. I told her, he came to my bedside last night and told me a dream.
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