Learning Who’s in Charge

“Hello!?!? Anyone there? Hello!?!?”

Our hero looked around the white emptiness of his new existence trying to find some sign of anything. He was unaware of what was truly in store for him as his dangerous; life threatening adventure was just beginning…

“Wait just one minute. Who the hell are you?”

“Who me?”

“Yes, you. The one that is going on about my existence and all that.”

“Oh, I AM GOD!”

“Bullshit.”

“A superior being?”

“Try again.”

“The writer?”

“I buy that one, but that means we have some talking to do.”

“Why is that? I was just getting to the whole life threatening danger.”

“That is what we have to talk about. I don’t like the whole idea of the whole life-threatening thing. It‘s not for me. I can threaten lives, but I don’t like the idea of my life being threatened. What is with that? And how about some detail here? I don’t even know what I look like. And what is with the whole white emptiness? I liked the Matrix, but this sucks. How about putting me someplace else?”

“Damn you bitch a lot.”

“If you wanted to get out of writing detail, maybe you should do a web comic. Oh wait, you can’t draw worth shit.”

“Fine! How about this?”

Our hero looked around to survey his new surroundings. Miles and miles of desert stretched out in every direction. The scorching sun hung high in the sky and no matter how far he walked, it always seemed to hang directly over him. Spotting a large cactus in the distance, our hero raced towards it to escape the heat of the sun.

Standing in front of the giant plant shelter, our hero looked it up and down, judging it. With each scan of the cactus, it strangely seemed to grow taller and taller. Only then did he realize that he was slowly sinking into bottomless quicksand.

“Hey, now that’s cheap. And your writing sucks. Take a class you hack.”

“You don’t know when to shut up do you?”

While arguing with the ALL POWERFUL writer, the hero failed to realize that the quicksand was now up to his chest.

“OK! OK! I’m sorry.”

“You know, I might miss you. Then again, I always wanted to write about a cute little puppy.”

“Come on, I said I was sorry. You are a great writer. Top notch. Pulitzer quality, but better.”

“You can stop kissing my ass now. I wasn’t going to kill you off. If I did that, I would have to go back to doing work and I hate work.”

“While you are correcting this, can I have a name?”

“Todo, princess, I mean prince, of the Underwear Gnomes.”

“You watch too much TV, and NO.”

“Fifi?”

“No.”

“Bob?”

“Here we go again.”

“Mike?”

“Fine. Now how about saving me before you kill me. Though if I died, you might be doing me a favor.”

Mike found himself back in the vast whiteness that he so decided to hate.

”Ok, now what Mr. I Am Not the Writer, but Think I Can Do Whatever I Want?”

”How about telling everyone what I look like so they have some way to picture me. Or you can write me into a room somewhere.”

“How about in a dungeon being tortured for not knowing your role. Know your role.”

“Fine. Do your worse to me, I no longer care enough to fight right now. Besides, as soon as I say something, you are just going to turn it around on me and make my life miserable.”

“Then it begins. Doesn’t that sound so cool?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine.”

* * *

BUZZZZZZZZZ! SLAM! BUZZZZZZZZZ! SLAM!

Mike hit the alarm clock snooze button again and rolled over, refusing to wake up.

“That’s it Mike. First all you do is bitch. And now you ignore me. That’s it. You are getting seven weeks of Hell, if you are lucky. You asked for it.”

* * *

Reveille started to blare loudly in the background, waking Mike from a sound sleep. He flopped around and ended up falling out of the top bunk wearing only a brown t-shirt and a pair of tighty whities. Mike quickly looked around to take in his new surroundings. He was in a rectangle room with lockers lining the walls, except for the front of the room. Two rows of bunks ran the length of the room from back to front with a walkway dividing the two rows. Around him, similarly dressed boys were running around getting dressed and making beds with forty-five degree angled hospital corners.

“No way! He can’t be this cruel?” Mike wondered.

A tall, muscular black man broke Mike’s train of thought when he entered the room and proceeded to walk between the rows of bunks. When he spoke all other movement and all other sound stopped in the room.

“Ladies, welcome to your first day of basic military training. I am your Training Instructor, MSgt Obey. For the next six or so weeks, you are mine and I will drive you so hard you will wish you would die. It is now 0400 hours. I want you dressed and formed up by 0410 for chow. And then after your five minute breakfast, the real fun begins.”

Mike turned away and started to mumble under his breath, “Listen ASSHOLE. I know you are out there because you are writing me into this hell. Now get me out of here.”

“Sorry, can’t help you. Writer’s block or writer’s crap or my computer is broken and I lost my pen. You pick one. I gave you a chance and you slept through it. Next time you will learn to buy a better alarm clock.”

“You wrote me that alarm clock.”

“Did I? Oh, my bad, but you are here now and this is where you are staying. Maybe if you get some discipline, I won’t be having all the problems I am having with you.”

“I hate you.”

“You were bitching about wanting a description. So, how about this? Since you are tall and skinny, you will love this. You won’t have to worry about what to wear since you have no choice. BDUs everyday for you and don’t forget the combat boots. Oh yeah, and forget about your hair because you are going to be shaved bald for the duration of your stay. And don’t forget about your new glasses; thick brown frames that make a geek look handsome.”

“I really hate you.”

“Excuse me. If you two are done with your little catfight, I have some work to do,” MSgt Obey said, interrupting the conversation between writer and puppet. “Since you like to cause trouble, Trainee Schultz, how about you drop and give me twenty. No, make it twenty-five. And you up there, since you were involved in this little fight, you drop and give me twenty five also.”

So, began Mike’s crash course in disciple and, as it seemed, mine as well.