I made some kind of pact with some other women to be a sacrificial victim. I did not want to be a sacrificial victim. I thought they were being incredibly stupid, but I went along with it because they whined and complained, saying they wanted my moral support in doing this very scary thing, and made me feel guilty for not wanting to do it with them. Uh-huh. Yeah.
They even claimed it wouldn’t be so bad. It would even be fun… in shockingly naughty way. ‘Eh? Something kinky about this before. I don’t mind kinky but not mystery kink,’ I think, now throughly trussed and getting more nervous about this by the second. What the hell had I let myself get talked into. These women couldn’t be normal. Who knew what they considered “fun?”
I got guilted into it feeling I was doing something even more stupid than having married the Iraniian. So there we lay together, trussed up for sacrifice on a long stone table waiting for the priests to come and I’m chanting to myself, “Idiot… moron… dunce… lemming… fool…” until I finally get disgusted with myself, slip my bonds and leave with the huff even as the priests are a approaching and looking as unhappily at me as the women do.
The women cry out to me in protest as I turn my back on them. They’re scolding me over how very inconsiderate and heartless and evil I am to break our little pact and how dare I do that?
‘Yeah, yeah. Tell it the marines,’ I think but don’t say as well as ‘Heartless, huh? I left mine on the moon, remember?
I suddenly want never to talk to them again
I go back to the car and sleep. A few minutes later, a small family approaches the window of the car – a man, his wife, and two small children. I gaze sleepily up at them as the father taps on my window and classify them as somehow churchy looking.
I am not going to unrool the window because they probably just want to evangelize me. I hide under the covers instead. Too late because of course they’ve already seen me. The father taps on the window again and I peeer up at him through a tiny gap in the blankets. “What?” I grumpily ask, not really wanting to hear it.
“The price of gas is outrageous!” he says, surprising and irritating me anew all in one fell swoop.
“It’s outrageous!” he repeated. “”This morning it was up to $2.03 a gallon!”
No, it’s over $3 dollors a gallon, almost $4, because we’re buying from hostile foreign nations instead of producing our own or making enough effort to find alternatives,’ I think of telling him but don’t. The situation being worse than he thinks it is is not going to make him go away and let me sleep so I just cover my head completely.
But the annoying tap comes again on the window followed by the plaintive “Meow” or Jeb trying to wake me up. It isn’t easy because I didn’t sleep much last night, but I swam up to the shore of consciousness anyway and headed straight for the K-cup coffee maker as soon as we got in the lab.