Snake Pit Fandango
I've left my body again. This time, it's the barren wastelands of the American desert. I had just watched the ABC mini-series of Stephen King's The Stand, so I guess that's what triggered it. Something is teling me Utah, but it could be Nevada just as easily. I've never been to either physically.
No matter.
In front of me- not 40 yards ahead- are two hundred angry rattlesnakes. Thank god they aren't mad at me. They're pissed at the television crew that scooped them up and dumped them in a small pit. Some reality show contestants are signing waivers on clipboards. One cameraman is adjusting his focus and sees me, standing in the distance. He looks up from the lense and I'm gone. Another check in the camera, and I'm back. I bet he wants to say something, but he won't. They never do. They'd seem crazy. Cameramen are usually the silent type anyway. They're the gig-to-gig type. Not a lot of friends, but tons of contacts. Poor cameraman. The camera can see me, because it's not an idiot like people are. To prove a point, I expose my ass and gently moon him. He writes me off as a hallucination and returns to his work. Being silly like that makes a lot of people think THEY'RE the crazy ones.
10 minutes later, the contestants are rolling around in the snakes looking for cash at the bottom of the pit. One guy gets bit pretty bad, and they haul him out with the giant crane they have everyone attached to with bungee cords. The cameraman keeps glancing over where I was, but he can't pull the camera away from the action, or risk the wrath of the executives behind him.
It comes down to two stupid guys in the pit. They're fighting each other now. The snakes are biting ankles without discrimination. They're slogging each other in the face with fists full of dollar bills. Collectively, they probably have about $50 between them. Reality is cheap, I guess. Or maybe they get residuals for the use of their image? That would even benefit the loosers. So probably not. They're probably just desperate and poor.
I notice the camera again- it's U-HD. That isn't even invented yet. I must be in the future. Just like Richard Bachman's (aka Stephen King's) The Running Man. That's a book about a cynical game show in the future, where people die. Maybe I'm not in the desert at all. Maybe I landed in Mr. King's brain. It's a nice place. A dark place; but it's that comforting darkness.. like a womb, or a cozy blanket-party.
I get right to the edge of the pit as one of the fighters delivers a KO. The other guy dies later on, but whatever. He's a looser anyway. Everyone's paying attention to the winner now. They're asking him a bunch of questions while the medics patch up his feet. The other guy is still in the pit, dying. No one cares about him. He didn't win. In this show- 2nd place ALWAYS dies. It's the price you pay for being the best looser.
I jump down in the pit, since I'm invisible during my out-of-body experiences. The snakes notice me, but they know I'm cool, so they slither on. I shuffle closer to the dying man. He sees me! I guess death opens up a lot of doors...
The snakes are taking pot-shots at the guy now. Poor man. Still, no one's helping him. I can't help him. I don't want to help him. I don't know what death is, but sometimes I think it could be better than life. I want him to die, kind of. Nothing against him, but I want a lot of people to die.
I look up, and the camerman is trained on me again.. or the body... or both. The image won't develop on film- only the viewfinder betrays my prescence. I stoop down and take the dying man's pulse. I know it won't be long.
"Hey Mister!" the camerman yells.
I look up.
"You're in my shot. Would you mind moving?" He asks. The producers look at him confused. Is he talking to the dying man?
The cameraman can't hear me, because I haven't figured out how to be heard during these journeys, but I give him the finger, to let him know my thoughts.
The snakes are really eating the looser now. He's lost quite a bit of blood. I crawl out of the pit. The cameraman is done- he's packing up. The whole crew is. Within an hour, they're gone. The guy's still in the friggin pit. Amazing.
I begin to mutter to myself. "Life's a desert" "We're a bunch of snakes" "There's a sadistic lot of executives playing with human lives in exchange for ratings" "The people who see everything keep it to themselves" "This is the future" "Snakes are far more interesting on planes". WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
I can never figure out the meaning of these spiritual wanderings. I guess I'll never really know, until someone tells me. Does someone tell you when you're dead? Do they walk up with a clipboard and a release form, and explain my role in the cosmos? If I sign it- does it mean I've given up everything I have? Is it improv or scripted? Reality, or narrative?
More importantly...
Will I be left alone to die?
I think I will. There's lots of people who die, and have no one. They die alone. Even that looser in the pit had snakes. I wonder if I'll be invisible when I die, like I am now.
I'd rather die in a pit of snakes, than die alone.
No matter.
In front of me- not 40 yards ahead- are two hundred angry rattlesnakes. Thank god they aren't mad at me. They're pissed at the television crew that scooped them up and dumped them in a small pit. Some reality show contestants are signing waivers on clipboards. One cameraman is adjusting his focus and sees me, standing in the distance. He looks up from the lense and I'm gone. Another check in the camera, and I'm back. I bet he wants to say something, but he won't. They never do. They'd seem crazy. Cameramen are usually the silent type anyway. They're the gig-to-gig type. Not a lot of friends, but tons of contacts. Poor cameraman. The camera can see me, because it's not an idiot like people are. To prove a point, I expose my ass and gently moon him. He writes me off as a hallucination and returns to his work. Being silly like that makes a lot of people think THEY'RE the crazy ones.
10 minutes later, the contestants are rolling around in the snakes looking for cash at the bottom of the pit. One guy gets bit pretty bad, and they haul him out with the giant crane they have everyone attached to with bungee cords. The cameraman keeps glancing over where I was, but he can't pull the camera away from the action, or risk the wrath of the executives behind him.
It comes down to two stupid guys in the pit. They're fighting each other now. The snakes are biting ankles without discrimination. They're slogging each other in the face with fists full of dollar bills. Collectively, they probably have about $50 between them. Reality is cheap, I guess. Or maybe they get residuals for the use of their image? That would even benefit the loosers. So probably not. They're probably just desperate and poor.
I notice the camera again- it's U-HD. That isn't even invented yet. I must be in the future. Just like Richard Bachman's (aka Stephen King's) The Running Man. That's a book about a cynical game show in the future, where people die. Maybe I'm not in the desert at all. Maybe I landed in Mr. King's brain. It's a nice place. A dark place; but it's that comforting darkness.. like a womb, or a cozy blanket-party.
I get right to the edge of the pit as one of the fighters delivers a KO. The other guy dies later on, but whatever. He's a looser anyway. Everyone's paying attention to the winner now. They're asking him a bunch of questions while the medics patch up his feet. The other guy is still in the pit, dying. No one cares about him. He didn't win. In this show- 2nd place ALWAYS dies. It's the price you pay for being the best looser.
I jump down in the pit, since I'm invisible during my out-of-body experiences. The snakes notice me, but they know I'm cool, so they slither on. I shuffle closer to the dying man. He sees me! I guess death opens up a lot of doors...
The snakes are taking pot-shots at the guy now. Poor man. Still, no one's helping him. I can't help him. I don't want to help him. I don't know what death is, but sometimes I think it could be better than life. I want him to die, kind of. Nothing against him, but I want a lot of people to die.
I look up, and the camerman is trained on me again.. or the body... or both. The image won't develop on film- only the viewfinder betrays my prescence. I stoop down and take the dying man's pulse. I know it won't be long.
"Hey Mister!" the camerman yells.
I look up.
"You're in my shot. Would you mind moving?" He asks. The producers look at him confused. Is he talking to the dying man?
The cameraman can't hear me, because I haven't figured out how to be heard during these journeys, but I give him the finger, to let him know my thoughts.
The snakes are really eating the looser now. He's lost quite a bit of blood. I crawl out of the pit. The cameraman is done- he's packing up. The whole crew is. Within an hour, they're gone. The guy's still in the friggin pit. Amazing.
I begin to mutter to myself. "Life's a desert" "We're a bunch of snakes" "There's a sadistic lot of executives playing with human lives in exchange for ratings" "The people who see everything keep it to themselves" "This is the future" "Snakes are far more interesting on planes". WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
I can never figure out the meaning of these spiritual wanderings. I guess I'll never really know, until someone tells me. Does someone tell you when you're dead? Do they walk up with a clipboard and a release form, and explain my role in the cosmos? If I sign it- does it mean I've given up everything I have? Is it improv or scripted? Reality, or narrative?
More importantly...
Will I be left alone to die?
I think I will. There's lots of people who die, and have no one. They die alone. Even that looser in the pit had snakes. I wonder if I'll be invisible when I die, like I am now.
I'd rather die in a pit of snakes, than die alone.