RAY-UM-ZUS

The following convoluted story is dedicated to dear friends: Altricia and Sandy.

AND SHE KEPT SCREAMING "RAY-UM-ZUS." And I look to her and I see that hair out-and-about. Then I try to run and I get blasted with another "RAY-UM-ZUS" and a "CHOCOLATE THAN-DURH" from a most fair lady. And I fall, clutching my throat. Gasping for air, I pray to the heavens: grant me a break from the relentless barrage; they won't stop. I try to run but my feet oppose the motion. Stuck there, helpless, on the floor, I weep. All is lost as I die from the constant, hilarious sounds coming from their sweet voices, constantly, blasting me with six "RAY-UM-ZUSs" and two "CHOCOLATE THAN-DURHs.”

Soon after, I wake up realizing that it was all a bad dream. I yawn. Turning, I realize that I’m still in Mr. Pino’s AP review session, 20 minutes away from break. Behind my seat are two lovely ladies, holding the titular names of Altricia and Sandy (both synonymous to me, in importance). I lock eyes with Altricia, innocently saying, “I love you guys.” Noticing me—she shoots me with another “RAY-UM-ZUS.” I flinch. My cute-comment didn’t work; the demons are on the prowl. They need the taste of flesh, need to completely destroy my being. I stand up and scream “CONFOUND YOU DEMONS.” I produce a sword from the confines of my imagination and soon after I attempt to slay the hydras in front of me (the hydras I confused for my friends), I wake up six years into the past on May 7th—still in Pino’s room, 25 minutes away from our lunch break as my stomach shatters the silence with intense growls.

I turn back and I see nothing in those two chairs. They are empty. A sense of loss engulfs my inner being—dangerously close to dampening my flames. (I have no heart; I was born with an obtuse flame.) Suddenly I hear a croaky whisper: “Ray...Ray…” I turn around—nothing. I turn back—nothing. I look up—nothing. I look down—AND GUESS WHAT? My stomach spawns a mouth six feet wide and screams “RAY-UM-ZUS.” Inside it is a portal to another world. I see a familiar face: Sandy. I tremble slightly and say confidently “FML.” The vortex spins out of control and sucks everything in—including me. Black dominates the landscape. I suddenly feel nothing. No hunger. No emotion. No love. No thought. I can’t grasp the meaning of my downfall. I turn around and see two beaming eyes projecting security and warmness.

The eyes intensely stare at me. Across the great, dark divide, I see them shine ominously. My mind cringes at the sight; my heart palpitates with renewed vigor, and still, with the internal confusion, I decide to approach the two beaming orbs in the distance. One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, five steps—all it takes to arrive; soon enough, the eyes morph before me into Altricia and Sandy. I rejoice. My jumps, pelvic thrusts, and other sporadic, involuntary movements are suddenly interrupted by my awkward question: “Wait. . .what are you guys doing here?” Then suddenly out of nowhere Altricia teleports behind me and Sandy levitates into the air; one says, “RAY-UM-SUS,” and the other one says, “DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE;” my hands turn into Love Cannons; aiming them upwards, I start to fire: “Pew, pew, pew, pew, pew;” Sandy takes a direct hit. My lasers take a heavy toll on her. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHGHGHG!” she screams to the heavens, head aimed upwards, as her skin begins to crack, rays of burning light emanate. The darkness trembles furiously, clearly vexed at the sudden turn of events. I rush onwards, ready to end the constant torture, when they disappear. A sharp pain travels down my spine and my eyes slowly close.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh No!—What happened to him?”

“Either he’s fallen asleep or he’s mad with some sort of disease.”

“Look at that white foam; clearly not asleep.”

“Give him some air.”

“No; I can’t give him air—he needs to wake up to be promptly punished.”

“Seriously? How can you say that?”

“Let me leave.”


Light rushes my view; fuzzes magnify into figures. I ask, “Dudes? What’s going on here?”


“You fell asleep,” Altricia says.

“Yeah. I think you’re in trouble. Mr. Pino went to the office to get some help,” Sandy adds.

“Why would he do that? I’m fine.”

“No you’re not…”

“Yeah, you’re not. Look at your shirt—“

“—it’s covered in white foam.”

“Foam?” (Oh no!)

“Yeah, look.”

“Oh gawd. Dudes, what time is it?”

“It’s—“

“Nah, wait a sec. Tell me the timez with teh year.”

“Ok”

“It’s um—“

“March 1st, 1992.

“We go to lunch in 40 minutes.”

“Oh gawd. Don’t tell me we’re in Pino’s AP Review”

“Yeah we’re. . .”


THE END

Deicide Ozymandias