Archive for the ‘Kat Beyer’ Category
The Ham Sandwich of Destiny
Monday, October 29th, 2007
The day the evil shaman came to the café, Matt could feel her before she walked in the door. The coffee beans were nervous. Being a good shaman himself he began to place protections on the counter—but then she was there, and there was nothing to be done—she was after his soul. Already she was clouding his senses. There was no time. There was no thought. He spotted a croque Monsieur on the order counter. In one breath he sent his soul into the layers of ham and cheese. He could grab it in a moment. She would never suspect.
He turned to face her. They dueled silently. Perhaps no one suspected, not even the Socialist reading the Wall Street Journal.
“Can I help you?” He asked, while searching the Over-Soul for her name.
“Double decaf nonfat latte, please,” she replied (definitely an evil shaman). It’s too late for you to seek my name, you fool!
“For here or to go?” I will never let you have my soul! Who orders decaf espresso?
“For here, I think,” she said, smiling. Me! I’m evil! And you are too weak—I will find it and feed upon it!
“Great. That’ll be up in just a minute at the counter over there.” NEVER!
But suddenly he felt teeth sinking into him. He whirled around, her change still in his hand, and saw a girl sitting by the creamer counter. He was too late! She had taken the first bite of the sandwich that held his soul. He stared at her until she looked up, and then found himself swimming in the Over-Soul of her eyes.
“Never mind, I’ll get it to go,” said the shaman behind him. He didn’t want to stop looking at the girl, but he dragged himself around to face his nemesis. Foiled, but not for long, said her eyes.
“Change the decaf latte to go!” He called to the barista, who called back, “On it!”
He handed her her change, putting a small curse on the dime as he did so.
“Thanks,” she said.
Matt walked out from behind the counter and sat down across from the girl with the sandwich. At the door, the shaman laughed.
The Diplomat
Friday, October 19th, 2007
I had to kill the Diplomat. The elders said so, and nobody argues with them. He agreed to have breakfast with me.
I took him to the orchard, and he helped me make a fire pit. He talked about his home planet, Gaia, but he called her “Earth.” I said I thought that was a plain name for such a beautiful-looking planet. “I like it,” he said, “plain, yes, but there’s a lot going on under the surface there—like here,” he added, and patted the earth beside him with one wrinkled brown hand.
After I served him, I slipped my knife out. They said they chose me because I was the best rat hunter. The first ships from Gaia brought rats with them, and we lost a lot of harvests. “Gaia rat,” they called him. I thought rats never looked so peaceful.
“But won’t his people come with big ships and guns?” I had asked my father (not an elder yet—OK to argue).
My father said, “He came on foot. No big ships. Just a little old guy in a robe. His badge is faded, and the plastic on his communicator is yellowed. What do you think?”
I looked at the Diplomat peacefully eating. A film of grief started to form over my eyes but I wiped it away.
He looked at me and smiled.
“You were going to stab me with that, weren’t you,” he said.
I saw I had wiped my eyes with the back of my knife hand. I stared the blade.
After a moment I said sadly, “It’s still too late.”
He looked down at his bowl, then up at me. “Ah?” he asked, holding it up.
I nodded. His grin seemed to embrace me.
“I forgive you for killing me,” he said.
I did not wipe the film away this time, and I buried my face in my hands and howled.
After a moment he tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up, rubbing my eyes.
“My dear friend,” he said, laughing, “Did you think I prepared for this journey without defending myself? Did you think I had no protections?”
“I know you disarmed me somehow,” I said hoarsely.
“Well learned. And if you want to poison a human, galangal doesn’t really work. We use it in cooking.”
That’s when I laughed too.