Bamboozle
Believe it or not, even after a full round of antibiotics and daily use of a steroid inhaler, this cough still plagues me. Granted I can get a good night's sleep now, but I wish I could shake it. My Cardio exam was easily conquered by God. I definitely focused too much on EKG interpretation and not enough on the pathology. Still God provided a passing score for me.
Our root beer kegger/zombie sheep movie night was still a success despite having scheduled it foolishly on Superbowl Sunday. Honestly I didn't even realize, it was just the first Sunday that I didn't have an exam the following Monday. We had the first half of the game on but no one was incredibly interested in it. Black Sheep was hilarious, not ground breaking but very amusing. In a surprising twist, the med school gave us Monday off of classes. My theory? People were too drunk from the combined MOCF ball on Saturday night then their Superbowl binge on Sunday to ever come on Monday. Unfortunately for all significant others of med students, our next big Cardio level is the Monday after Valentine’s Day. Courtney agreed to celebrate on Friday, the 12th. The only heart I’m going to see on V-day is the anatomical one.
Midtown
Dawn rose on Grey Town
“Cursed be those bound to this dusty plane,” lamented the Pretender as the Bright Man took flight, “To be so confined while such crafty devils mount the skies is a vast injustice. Never have I felt such hatred and longing, as if my very marrow was alit.”
NIV nodded is confused agreement. It appears he’d forgotten that the Pretender had betrayed his moral compass in the Temple of the Unseen. I understood the sentiment. As envious as I was at the Maker’s minion, the mistrust ran deeper. It was one thing to tempt us with views of Innertown and a seeming end to this ludicrous maze, but his ignorance of the destitution of this place infuriated me.
The Vino grasped his bauble, its soft glow lighting up the first smile I’d ever seen on the scrawny gray man’s face since I’d fetched him from the lake. His fascination with a gift of the enemy frustrated me though. What did the Maker of Gray Town gain from such an offering? Perhaps a way to spy on us, cripple us from the inside? I wasn’t the only one harboring suspicions. Baker approached Vino, a frustrated vein pulsing on his forehead.
“Give me that damn thing,” the Baker snapped, snatching the glowing bauble from Vino’s grasp, “You ain’t got a clue what this fuckin’ thing can do, I mean hell, it could be a bomb and blow us all to…”
The Baker was cut short as Vino’s unbreakable bottle connected with his jaw. The scrawny gray man deftly grasped his gift back while the Baker was still reeling and retreated to the other side of the street.
“You stupid little shit! I’m gonna…” the Baker roared as I intercepted his charge, arms outstretched.
“Woah, calm down! The last thing we need here is another brawl. If the Maker wants to spy on us, to sabotage us, we’ll just have to be more clever. Whatever that thing is, it’s not causing any trouble now and it’s better than trying to drag along Vino when he’s a lump. We’ll just let it be alright.”
Baker swallowed his fury hard, turned on his heel toward the street the Bright Mand had revealed. He winced as he rubbed his sore chin. “Fine, Doc, protect him if you want to. I hope it burns a hole in his hand. If we see any Shades, I’m feeding his ass to them.”
I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to avoid another confrontation. Our lack of conflicts with Shades was perplexing but perhaps the Bright Man was the carrot to their stick. Even though we hadn’t agreed to follow him, no doubt there would be terror waiting for us still. That’s the only thing this place seems to produce: terrors. We were all becoming terrors ourselves, even the most gentle of us.
“The highways are deserted, no travelers are on the road,” the NIV whispered as if this was something new, his eyes shifting suspiciously to both sides, “He has blocked my way, he has shrouded my paths in darkness.”
“No worries NIV, this is the right road. We saw it above. This will lead us straight to the Maker in Innertown and with luck, some answers.”
The NIV’s paternal demeanor flashed to a scowl as he yanked me down by my collar, “Will you keep to the old path that evil men have trod? There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end, it leads to death.”
This time I lost my cool. I grasped the NIV by his thin wrists, yanking his gnarled hands from my clothing and shoving him into the dark sludge that collected by the curb. “This whole place is death, NIV!” I bellowed, my voice shouting back at me from every skyscraper, “All the paths are the same! The only difference is we’re going forward not back to Outertown. I’m fully aware that the Bright Man wanted us to go this way but what choice do we have? So unless you’ve got a map memorized from that Book of yours, keep your mouth shut!”
My rage seethed, a blind hatred for this place and everything it stood for. I sucked in the stale and putrid air in massive gulps, my chest heaving with ire. A heavy hand came down comforting on my shoulder. I whirled to see the Baker, his face solemn but understanding. The Maker’s insidious plan was coming to light. He’d sent the Bright Man to feign direction, but in reality he’d sown discord. The Baker inclined his head near imperceptibly in the Vino’s direction. Of course, it was Vino’s bauble! We’d have to destroy it for the sake of the group, but wresting it away from Vino would be the challenge.
The Pretender helped NIV to his feet again, straightening his mitre. “Tensions are high, my brothers, but we mustn’t succumb to petty squabbles of mere men. Our ambitions are far grander. We’ve embarked on this final road to freedom and confrontation. We mustn’t undermine our foundation of brotherhood!”
“Well said, as always,” I remarked, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my tone as the Pretender bowed, “I apologize NIV, that was out of line. Let’s just keep moving.”
NIV just hissed at me through his scanty teeth, maintaining his impish paranoia. The Pretender practically dragged him along. The asphalt rose ahead of us, the first increase of terrain that’d I’d ever experienced in Grey Town. The slope continued to rise as skyscrapers slipped down on either side. We were on a massive bridge of pavement, ascending away from the dust and grime of Midtown. Ascending to Innertown.
However when we crested the apex of our highway we discovered the cruel irony of Grey Town in which we were most familiar, and we were not alone. Two gray men were perched on the crumbling edge of the bridge to Innertown. One stood, hurling chunks of pavement into the yawning abyss, the other shrugged over in a heap by the curb, head in his hands.
“Asteroid…Flamingo…Flatulent.” recounted the standing gray man as he threw another chunk of pavement over the edge, cupping his hand around his ear as it plummeted down. His tucked his large hands behind the dusky red swirls on his head and sighed.
“Hello there!” I called out to him from afar. I’ve had far too many conflicts to immediately trust a random gray man. I wasn’t prepared for another Cymbal Speaker or Priest. At the sound of my voice the second gray man leapt to his feet, a familiar grin shining out under a beaky nose
“Bard!” I cried, as we raced towards each other. I laughed with the closest thing I’ve felt in Grey Town that resembled joy. I threw my arms around the smaller man, clapping my hands on his back, “I should have known you’d be closer to Innertown than us all. It’s good to have you back.”
The Bard nodded eagerly, greeting everyone, even the Baker with equal vigor. The smiles that had blossomed from our reunion quickly withered under the crushing weight of our current obstacle. We all walked to the edge of the bridge where the ginger gray men still stood, gazing at us quizzically. The bridge ended abruptly but that was only the symptom of a much more terrible disease. A massive fissure had rent this particular section of Gray Town in two, an ugly scar that ripped skyscrapers in half, both ends teetering on the precipice. The canyon went deeper than I could fathom, its depths hidden by impenetrable darkness. This was the Maker’s moat to keep out the rabble, no doubt. I couldn’t bear to look at it.
“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier,” I said at last, trying to shake off the dread that I hadn’t felt since Demon’s Windfall. Was I truly to settle for the horrors of Midtown? I couldn’t endure the thought, so I extended my hand instead, “They call me Doc. What’s your curse?”
“Indigenous Stentorian!” the gray man responded, “Roost bamboozle…Roost...”
At this the gray man looked confused. I’m sure my face mirrored his.
“Roost diaphanous blaster hobnob Roost bamboozle. Roost poignant sadist.”
“Like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.” NIV said, patting the gray man’s back while the Bard nodded.
“Wait a second,” the Baker interrupted, “Is anyone else hearing this guy spewing out crazyspeak from his mouth like it’s no tomorrow or am I just going batshit crazy myself?”
“No I’m with you Baker. Hold up, we’ll test this. If anyone can understand what I’m saying, please raise your hand.”
Everyone’s hand rose, including the newcomer.
“Alright, anyone who can understand this red headed gray man, please lower your hand.”
The newcomer’s hand went down, along with NIV’s and the Bard’s.
“Exquisite! It would appear as if those afflicted with curses of speech are also gifted in the understanding of one so imprisoned as this man. His babble is well articulated yet undecipherable by those blessed with the wondrous language of Greyspeak. Yet since his malady is only understood by those likewise afflicted, a competent translator could never be established.”
“I’m surprised you can’t understand him, Pretender, being as I can hardly understand half the shit you say. Honestly, we might as well leave his babbling ass here. We’re already bogged down by enough useless gray men to take on another.”
“Sedentary?! Mottled dastard lamppost felt!” the gray man protested. The Bard’s scowl towards the Baker returned.
“No one is getting left! We just now came back together and we’ll need every gray man to make it to Innertown. Now, lets see. We’ll just call you Roost since that seems to be your favorite word. If you can understand me, we need to get across this chasm somehow. Have you seen anything that might help us?”
Roost was still irritated, gazing out across to the lighter vista of Innertown. It seemed so close yet still impossibly out of reach. After a deep sigh he turned back to me and nodded.
“Smolder,” he stated, pointing to his right far off into the distance, where the gash still seemed to run on forever. As we began our descent from the bridge to Innertown, I sighed. I’d hoped that being reunited would have been enough for us. It was only a temporary solve to a much deeper despair, and it was painted on the faces of us all, even Roost. I gave the view of Innertown one last glance before descending again into the dull maze of Midtown.
Dusk fell on Grey Town.
Our root beer kegger/zombie sheep movie night was still a success despite having scheduled it foolishly on Superbowl Sunday. Honestly I didn't even realize, it was just the first Sunday that I didn't have an exam the following Monday. We had the first half of the game on but no one was incredibly interested in it. Black Sheep was hilarious, not ground breaking but very amusing. In a surprising twist, the med school gave us Monday off of classes. My theory? People were too drunk from the combined MOCF ball on Saturday night then their Superbowl binge on Sunday to ever come on Monday. Unfortunately for all significant others of med students, our next big Cardio level is the Monday after Valentine’s Day. Courtney agreed to celebrate on Friday, the 12th. The only heart I’m going to see on V-day is the anatomical one.
Midtown
Dawn rose on Grey Town
“Cursed be those bound to this dusty plane,” lamented the Pretender as the Bright Man took flight, “To be so confined while such crafty devils mount the skies is a vast injustice. Never have I felt such hatred and longing, as if my very marrow was alit.”
NIV nodded is confused agreement. It appears he’d forgotten that the Pretender had betrayed his moral compass in the Temple of the Unseen. I understood the sentiment. As envious as I was at the Maker’s minion, the mistrust ran deeper. It was one thing to tempt us with views of Innertown and a seeming end to this ludicrous maze, but his ignorance of the destitution of this place infuriated me.
The Vino grasped his bauble, its soft glow lighting up the first smile I’d ever seen on the scrawny gray man’s face since I’d fetched him from the lake. His fascination with a gift of the enemy frustrated me though. What did the Maker of Gray Town gain from such an offering? Perhaps a way to spy on us, cripple us from the inside? I wasn’t the only one harboring suspicions. Baker approached Vino, a frustrated vein pulsing on his forehead.
“Give me that damn thing,” the Baker snapped, snatching the glowing bauble from Vino’s grasp, “You ain’t got a clue what this fuckin’ thing can do, I mean hell, it could be a bomb and blow us all to…”
The Baker was cut short as Vino’s unbreakable bottle connected with his jaw. The scrawny gray man deftly grasped his gift back while the Baker was still reeling and retreated to the other side of the street.
“You stupid little shit! I’m gonna…” the Baker roared as I intercepted his charge, arms outstretched.
“Woah, calm down! The last thing we need here is another brawl. If the Maker wants to spy on us, to sabotage us, we’ll just have to be more clever. Whatever that thing is, it’s not causing any trouble now and it’s better than trying to drag along Vino when he’s a lump. We’ll just let it be alright.”
Baker swallowed his fury hard, turned on his heel toward the street the Bright Mand had revealed. He winced as he rubbed his sore chin. “Fine, Doc, protect him if you want to. I hope it burns a hole in his hand. If we see any Shades, I’m feeding his ass to them.”
I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to avoid another confrontation. Our lack of conflicts with Shades was perplexing but perhaps the Bright Man was the carrot to their stick. Even though we hadn’t agreed to follow him, no doubt there would be terror waiting for us still. That’s the only thing this place seems to produce: terrors. We were all becoming terrors ourselves, even the most gentle of us.
“The highways are deserted, no travelers are on the road,” the NIV whispered as if this was something new, his eyes shifting suspiciously to both sides, “He has blocked my way, he has shrouded my paths in darkness.”
“No worries NIV, this is the right road. We saw it above. This will lead us straight to the Maker in Innertown and with luck, some answers.”
The NIV’s paternal demeanor flashed to a scowl as he yanked me down by my collar, “Will you keep to the old path that evil men have trod? There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end, it leads to death.”
This time I lost my cool. I grasped the NIV by his thin wrists, yanking his gnarled hands from my clothing and shoving him into the dark sludge that collected by the curb. “This whole place is death, NIV!” I bellowed, my voice shouting back at me from every skyscraper, “All the paths are the same! The only difference is we’re going forward not back to Outertown. I’m fully aware that the Bright Man wanted us to go this way but what choice do we have? So unless you’ve got a map memorized from that Book of yours, keep your mouth shut!”
My rage seethed, a blind hatred for this place and everything it stood for. I sucked in the stale and putrid air in massive gulps, my chest heaving with ire. A heavy hand came down comforting on my shoulder. I whirled to see the Baker, his face solemn but understanding. The Maker’s insidious plan was coming to light. He’d sent the Bright Man to feign direction, but in reality he’d sown discord. The Baker inclined his head near imperceptibly in the Vino’s direction. Of course, it was Vino’s bauble! We’d have to destroy it for the sake of the group, but wresting it away from Vino would be the challenge.
The Pretender helped NIV to his feet again, straightening his mitre. “Tensions are high, my brothers, but we mustn’t succumb to petty squabbles of mere men. Our ambitions are far grander. We’ve embarked on this final road to freedom and confrontation. We mustn’t undermine our foundation of brotherhood!”
“Well said, as always,” I remarked, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my tone as the Pretender bowed, “I apologize NIV, that was out of line. Let’s just keep moving.”
NIV just hissed at me through his scanty teeth, maintaining his impish paranoia. The Pretender practically dragged him along. The asphalt rose ahead of us, the first increase of terrain that’d I’d ever experienced in Grey Town. The slope continued to rise as skyscrapers slipped down on either side. We were on a massive bridge of pavement, ascending away from the dust and grime of Midtown. Ascending to Innertown.
However when we crested the apex of our highway we discovered the cruel irony of Grey Town in which we were most familiar, and we were not alone. Two gray men were perched on the crumbling edge of the bridge to Innertown. One stood, hurling chunks of pavement into the yawning abyss, the other shrugged over in a heap by the curb, head in his hands.
“Asteroid…Flamingo…Flatulent.” recounted the standing gray man as he threw another chunk of pavement over the edge, cupping his hand around his ear as it plummeted down. His tucked his large hands behind the dusky red swirls on his head and sighed.
“Hello there!” I called out to him from afar. I’ve had far too many conflicts to immediately trust a random gray man. I wasn’t prepared for another Cymbal Speaker or Priest. At the sound of my voice the second gray man leapt to his feet, a familiar grin shining out under a beaky nose
“Bard!” I cried, as we raced towards each other. I laughed with the closest thing I’ve felt in Grey Town that resembled joy. I threw my arms around the smaller man, clapping my hands on his back, “I should have known you’d be closer to Innertown than us all. It’s good to have you back.”
The Bard nodded eagerly, greeting everyone, even the Baker with equal vigor. The smiles that had blossomed from our reunion quickly withered under the crushing weight of our current obstacle. We all walked to the edge of the bridge where the ginger gray men still stood, gazing at us quizzically. The bridge ended abruptly but that was only the symptom of a much more terrible disease. A massive fissure had rent this particular section of Gray Town in two, an ugly scar that ripped skyscrapers in half, both ends teetering on the precipice. The canyon went deeper than I could fathom, its depths hidden by impenetrable darkness. This was the Maker’s moat to keep out the rabble, no doubt. I couldn’t bear to look at it.
“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier,” I said at last, trying to shake off the dread that I hadn’t felt since Demon’s Windfall. Was I truly to settle for the horrors of Midtown? I couldn’t endure the thought, so I extended my hand instead, “They call me Doc. What’s your curse?”
“Indigenous Stentorian!” the gray man responded, “Roost bamboozle…Roost...”
At this the gray man looked confused. I’m sure my face mirrored his.
“Roost diaphanous blaster hobnob Roost bamboozle. Roost poignant sadist.”
“Like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.” NIV said, patting the gray man’s back while the Bard nodded.
“Wait a second,” the Baker interrupted, “Is anyone else hearing this guy spewing out crazyspeak from his mouth like it’s no tomorrow or am I just going batshit crazy myself?”
“No I’m with you Baker. Hold up, we’ll test this. If anyone can understand what I’m saying, please raise your hand.”
Everyone’s hand rose, including the newcomer.
“Alright, anyone who can understand this red headed gray man, please lower your hand.”
The newcomer’s hand went down, along with NIV’s and the Bard’s.
“Exquisite! It would appear as if those afflicted with curses of speech are also gifted in the understanding of one so imprisoned as this man. His babble is well articulated yet undecipherable by those blessed with the wondrous language of Greyspeak. Yet since his malady is only understood by those likewise afflicted, a competent translator could never be established.”
“I’m surprised you can’t understand him, Pretender, being as I can hardly understand half the shit you say. Honestly, we might as well leave his babbling ass here. We’re already bogged down by enough useless gray men to take on another.”
“Sedentary?! Mottled dastard lamppost felt!” the gray man protested. The Bard’s scowl towards the Baker returned.
“No one is getting left! We just now came back together and we’ll need every gray man to make it to Innertown. Now, lets see. We’ll just call you Roost since that seems to be your favorite word. If you can understand me, we need to get across this chasm somehow. Have you seen anything that might help us?”
Roost was still irritated, gazing out across to the lighter vista of Innertown. It seemed so close yet still impossibly out of reach. After a deep sigh he turned back to me and nodded.
“Smolder,” he stated, pointing to his right far off into the distance, where the gash still seemed to run on forever. As we began our descent from the bridge to Innertown, I sighed. I’d hoped that being reunited would have been enough for us. It was only a temporary solve to a much deeper despair, and it was painted on the faces of us all, even Roost. I gave the view of Innertown one last glance before descending again into the dull maze of Midtown.
Dusk fell on Grey Town.