Prancing about like a T-Rex was getting me nowhere, so I stretched my arms out to either side as hard as I could and started spinning in place. I reasoned that playing helicopter was the best thing I could possibly do in this situation because a) I might find something useful; b) I might find treasure, and c) I’M A HELICOPTER. Out of sheer habit brought on by repeat viewings of Darkman in my formative years, I whirled and muttered “spiiiiiiiiiiin chop chop chop chop chop” under my breath like a magical incantation – if I’m going to helicopter, it’s gonna be all out.
For a few seconds, I felt nothing but air. I was beginning to panic a little – I’m a pack rat, and I’ve never had enough space to twirl with conviction in any of my bedrooms. I didn’t know where I was, but I was definitely not in the same place I had fallen asleep – I’d have crashed into a dozen things before I was two spins in. I spun a little more frantically, chanting to myself like an idiot to ward off the greeblies also to drown out the music I couldn’t find. There’s got to be something in here. What if I’m in limbo, or some kind of void? Is there music in voids? I’m dizzy. I sure hope I fin–
Ow. OW! I found something, alright – it’s big and HARD and loud and I think I’m bleeding what the FUCK
I waited for the initial rush of pain to go away and for the clanging to stop. I don’t know what I hit, but it fell over and made a huge racket. Surely someone would come running to see what the enormous noise and accompanying swearing was, right?
is that all there is? is that all there is?
Nothing but Peggy Lee. Well, FINE. I don’t appear to be in any worse shape than the thing I hit; I’ll figure this out myself. I carefully untangled myself from Big Noisy and groped randomly like a 14-year-old in the backseat of a car. I felt .. metal. A lot of metal, actually. I ran my hand up the smooth surface, coming to rest on a bulge. This was starting to remind me more and more of the letter I had written to Penthouse Forums – I never thought it would happen to me, but there I was cupping Optimus Prime’s balls as he clutched me in a sweaty (me) steel (him) embrace – but unlike my adolescent (and let’s face it; adult) fantasies, there was no response from the thing beneath me.
I reached out with my other hand and found another smooth surface, then a rounded one, then an arm and a neck and .. okay, this was person-shaped. But what was it? I reluctantly let go of the bulge and felt around in the general area a face would be. More metal, and some kind of grille .. a visor. It was a metal visor. And a soft thing – a feather? No, a plume. Motherfucker, I’m feeling up a suit of goddamn armour.
I shifted slightly, and something jabbed me in the hip. I reached out cautiously and was met by more hardness, but rounded and comfortable in my hand. A hilt of some kind! Relieved, I tugged on the hilt and was rewarded with a metal schwing as some sort of blade sprang free. It was relatively light but sharp, as evident by the exciting new pain as the sword bit into the flesh of my inquiring poke. I was still confused, but grateful that the blade had been sheathed when I crashed into the armour – and now I was armed. Things were looking up! Even the the music was fading away!
when i was just a little girl
i asked my mother, what will i be
will i be pretty
will i be rich
here’s what she said to me
As Peggy Lee gave way to Doris Day, I heard footsteps outside the maybe door. It slowly started to creek open, and a dim light crept into the room.
Stay exactly where I am and don’t move a muscle in the hopes I won’t be seen (page 3), or
Leap up and charge towards the light with my new sword and best impersonation of Xena, Warrior Princess (page 36)?
7 thoughts on “experiment: page 17”
Charge the Door!!! page 36.
The answer is always Warrior Princess.
Go to the light! Page 36.
Lucy Lawless FTW!
Page 36! Oh sweet baby Jebus, page 36!
Xena! No question, dude. The answer is always Xena.