(Note: The words on the flyer are taken verbatim from real-life flyer handed to me today.)We walked along the sidewalks in a straight line, Tyler and I, but we never bumped into anyone, because the other people made sure they weren't where we were. They're nice like that. Polite.
When you have insomnia nothing seems real...I was a polyvinylchloride balloon full of helium and sangria, bobbing my rotten-fruit flavored self along the busy streets.
Tyler paged through a tabloid newspaper, pausing on a shiny advertisement for bold, tough hickory-smoked sex.
It was that kind of day.
Two candy colored heads walked toward each other on the street, one pink and spiky, one threaded green and yellow, like two corrupted action figures from a small girl's playset. The pink coming toward, green walking away, no recognition in their eyes, blending into the sea of Hindu cows.
A small blond child stood by my thigh, stretching his arm up toward me with a crookedly Xeroxed flyer while his mother held a banner aloft and told us about hell.
"My mother was 'eaten alive,' from the inside out, by intestinal cancer," the flyer said. "...There is a monster lurking within you hiding from your detection. Its sole purpose is to subvert and, like cancer, fill your short life with pain. If you have a tooth ache or are sick it is obvious....Spiritual deception, however, has no signs. A Muslim who drives a jeep, full of explosives, into a crowd does so to please 'Allah.' He does not do this thinking it is evil. A 'preacher' who exploits people's guilt becomes rich because 'God' told him to build a building. He does not see himself as a false prophet....Spiritual deception is a very bizarre and terrifying thing. Do you think there is a way TO KNOW if you are deceived? Could YOU possibly be deceived right now?! If your deception could be exposed would you really be willing to face it?"
I looked up, feeling sick and hollow inside, the words tugging at me in a way I didn't want to understand. Tyler licked my scabbed ear and made lewd suggestions, crumpling the slick and tawdry flyer and flinging it into the gutter.
I blinked, looking at the paper in my hand. I folded it into my pocket and we walked on.