A3Writer: F3 Roaming Charges
1001 Nights (4) Abraham (11) Aphrodite (3) Apocalypse (6) Apollo (4) Arabian (4) Artemis (5) Athena (3) Bard (1) Ben Slater (13) Bible (35) Celtic (2) Character File (2) Chinese (1) Christian (1) Conferences (29) creation myths (15) Criminalelement (11) Dark Winds (22) Demeter (10) Don Iverson (4) Eden (5) Enchanter (16) essay (9) F3 (354) Fairy Tales (14) Family (2) Flood Myth (8) Flynn (67) Greek (50) Guest (1) Hades (10) Hercules (6) Hindu (2) History Prof (22) Holiday (12) Holiday Myths (6) Incan (1) Iranian (2) Japanese (1) Job (21) Knowledge Myths (3) Library (8) Life (121) Love Gods (4) M3 (143) map (13) Matt Allen (106) Metamyth (5) Misc Flash (36) monthly chart (21) Movies (6) Myth Law (2) Myth Media (4) NaNoWriMo (20) Noah (5) noir (9) Norse (10) Odyssey (7) Persephone (13) Persian (1) Poseidon (1) Prometheus (5) publishing (24) ramble (111) Review (1) Sam Faraday (22) Samson (2) Sci Fi (15) science (1) Serial (23) short story (14) Spotlight (8) Storm Riders (47) Teaching (136) Tech (18) Transformation (5) Travel (27) TV (10) TV Myth (1) Underworld (6) Vacation (15) vampires (18) W3 (11) Writing (166) Writing Tools (15) Zeus (7)

Friday, March 8, 2013

F3 Roaming Charges

            The cell phone rang. There was no number for the call. Not an area code, a prefix, or even the one for long distance calls. It didn’t come from one of my contacts either. Instead the display read “Interdimensional Call”.
            I blinked and rubbed at the screen, but I hadn’t misread.
            I answered. “H-Hello?”
            “Hey, finally. You don’t know how long I’ve been dialing. Do you have pizza there?”
            “What?”
            “Pizza. You know, a pie. New York, Chicago. Home delivery.”
            “Uh, yeah.”
            “Thank God. The last five had no idea what pizza was.”
            “Who is this?”
            “You haven’t figured it out? I’m you. Well, sort of.”
            “How. . . ?”
            “Sympathetic dimensional vibrations, and a bunch of stuff even I don’t understand. Listen, I hate to rush this, but I’m kinda on a schedule. Do you have chocolate there?”
            “Yes.”
            “Reality television?”
            “Yes.”
            “Damn. Well, we can’t have ‘em all. Okay. Make sure you’re not standing in the living room. Duck behind the kitchen counter.”
            “Excuse me?”
            “No excuses, just do it. I don’t’ want you getting lacerated.”
            “Lacerated?”
            “Chop chop. The world over here is about to end.”
            I moved into the kitchen without thinking. “It’s going to end?”
            “Yeah. Just get your ass to the kitchen, now.”
            Before I could tell him I had, glowing lines formed in my living room that neatly cut my coffee table in two. Four lines in total formed a parallelogram seven feet high and five wide. The inner portion of the parallelogram changed from ordinary air into something that looked like smoky glass, then it began to bubble. First tiny bubbles across its length, then they stacked up and unified. It swelled out of the parallelogram in a giant, geometric bubble.
            I started to crouch down, anticipating it bursting. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.
            Cracks appeared in the bubble, spider-webbing throughout the entire thing. I ducked down and covered my head. I didn’t hear anything, especially not like a pop, which I expected. Instead I saw chunks of that smoky glass embed into my fridge and cabinets.
            “Lucy, I’m home.” I heard my voice say, but I didn’t say it.
            I looked over to see a version of myself with black hair and a woman holding his hand. They wore normal clothing, but the other me wore some kind of gauntlet on his left hand.
            “Hey there, Kyle. This is my wife Wendy. Listen, can you order a pizza? And some beers?”
            “Did you ask about them?” Wendy said to the other Kyle.
            “Oh, shit. I forgot. Listen, you have beer? We could really use some beers.”
            I nodded dumbly, and opened the fridge.

No comments: