Some passengers shrieked, averted their eyes and covered their noses and mouths, as they had learned to do in grade school drills. Marvin staggered backward, falling into the seat that buckled the backs of his knees. He grasped Sheila’s wrist as they braced together, heads in their laps.
A full two thirds of the passengers, apparently lacking a basic grade school education, were transfixed by Percy’s remaining hand as it descended to his hip. It slipped inside a cleverly concealed pocket of his monkey suit, a garment that gave him the appearance of a shiny black furred primate but was in fact just the well sewn pelts of Bozeman’s ubiquitous canine companion, the Labrador. (Collected after the Muckocalypse by a radio transmission that called a single name over the crackling barren airwaves…Bridger.….Bridger.….Bridger.)
To Marvin’s surprise, the hand did not furiously shake inside that unfortunate pocket, but reappeared, clutching a small silver chain from which dangled a perfectly cut crystal snake, its facets throwing rainbows onto the perplexed faces of the passengers who had been hoping in vain for a little post landing entertainment.
“Behold!” Percy boomed, raising the crystal above his head. “Quetzalcoatl, the Diviner!”
Eve hopped from foot to foot, clapping her hands and singing in her native chatter. Percy stalked the aisle, holding his little charm over the heads of passengers. Marvin tensed as the charm seemed to sway over Peaceandlove. She gulped and held her hands palm up in supplication. The snake spun in a widening circle as the carved scales bloomed with color like charcoal smoke.
“Widdershins,” Percy declared. “Gray.” He caught Marvin’s eye and gave him a knowing, condescending “Tsk,” before continuing down the aisle. He paused before Sheila, who snorted and slapped away the snake charm as it dangled over her head. The color of blood orange pulp spread through the scales at the contact of her hand.
“Oh, ho!” Percy said. “A priestess!” His gaze fell on Marvin’s hand, still tightly holding Sheila’s wrist. “How do you feel?” he asked Marvin. Marvin made a vague grunt. Percy would know full well how he felt, as everyone felt sitting near Sheila– as though helplessness, irritation at being ignored and a desire to be pampered and admired as a treasured specimen of manhood were burning in the crucible of his gut.
“I know the true secrets, my Mentor,” Percy said. His hooked hand of steel rods delicately pinched a teacup of safflower concoction. He held the thin china rim close to Marvin’s lips.
“It is not as we thought,” Percy continued. “It is not Woman who calls the Venusian Overlords. It is not she whose power explodes the crystals. It is US, my Mentor. It was always us. Drink now, and understand the lie we have been told – the lie we told ourselves about that day.…..”
(This seems to be a rather long prologue, just sayin’)
