There was a short silence in the room as the prophets tried to
absorb the depth of this new approach.
After hearing all this, Deaf Lemon Hopkins reflexively made the sign
of the cross. And for the first time in his life, he understood that
deafness, though lonely and alienating, had it’s advantages. What
you don’t hear, don’t hurt you.
He had already ascertained that this wasn’t a dream by pinching
himself black and brown, which only helped to underscore the
painful nature of the proceedings so far. Take it as it comes, baby, he
thought. Take it as it comes. He wondered what was going through
the others’ minds. Looking around the room, he noticed that the kid
was asleep. Lucky kid. Not that he would have understood anything
anyway.
But where was the guy in the underwear? He was certain that he
had been sitting in the chair to his right, but now there was only a slip
of paper where his ass had been. As the media guy and the prophets
continued their negotiations, Hopkins leaned over and picked up the
note. It read:
DEAR
YOU
GUYS
,
FEAR
NOT
!
BY
THE
TIME
YOU
READ
THIS
,
I
,
UTILIZING
MY
AFOREMENTIONED
SPECIAL
SECRET
ABILITIES
(
SUCH
AS
INVISIBILITY
AND
SUPER
-
SPEEDWILL
),
HAVE
COURAGEOUSLY
MANAGED
TO
ESCAPE
.
I
HEREBY
MAKE
IT
MY
SOLEMN
OATH
TO
SAVE
YOU
FROM
OUR
PSYCHOTIC
CAPTORS
.
HANG
IN
THERE
!
BOLDLY
YOURS
,
MUCHOMAN
(
A
.
K
.
A
. ?????)
“Hey! Where’s the weirdo?” cried Zarathustra all of a sudden,
noticing Muchoman’s absence for the first time, “You there!
Abyssinian! What are you reading?”
H O L Y S H I T !
86
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