Read Online Las Vegas for Vegans by A. S. Patric - Free Book Online Page A

at the thought of never having another morning jolt from Bradley’s beans. ‘What?’ It comes out as a roar this time. ‘You don’t get to decide on something like that. I’ve been coming here for years. I’ve been working in this damned city …’
    My anger had begun to foam like milk in the bottom of a metal jug and I was spitting with my eyes closed when I said ‘damned city’. My weapon might have been raised but it was more a gesticulation than an intent to harm anyone. Coffee drinkers are jumpy though and their fingers get twitchy.

MEASURED TURBULENCE
    From the black, free-falling nothingness, the voice emerges with an absolute American calm. That television-friendly NASA cadence of confidence. Everything is A-OK. The pilot speaks soothingly about the turbulence. The muttered ‘motherfucker’ at the end of the transmission makes Keith blink, though it doesn’t destroy his confidence. The lights flicker back to life as the plane continues to vibrate. He isn’t feeling any fear. If anything, he’s bored.
    Julia can go on and on, eternally, when the subject is her soul. She believes in the sacred spaces of her inner life, and within the confines of their airplane seats, there’s no escape.
    â€˜The best thing about this dream is that it was weird in that great way, where you’re almost thinking while you’re asleep, this is so cool it’s like a film by Buñuel.’
    â€˜Who’s Buñuel?’
    â€˜You’ve heard of David Lynch?’
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Same difference. I was travelling for days and days, and after what seems like years, I finally get to the North Pole and I find that when I’m there it’s mostly submerged rock and not even white with snow and ice. It’s slate blue.’ She takes the final sip of Scotch from the bottom of her plastic glass. ‘The North Pole was weird.’
    â€˜Seems like an ecological message.’
    â€˜Dreams don’t do those kinds of messages. I think it’s saying something about my soul. Maybe it’s my relationship to the divine.’
    â€˜Do you think they’ll get the entertainment up and running again? There was one or two films I wouldn’t mind seeing.’
    â€˜It’s all Hollywood poison, Keith. You’ve really got to check your tolerance for that kind of corporate corruption.’ She raises the plastic glass, puts it down when she sees it’s empty. ‘Is my dream trying to say that my heart or soul, or whatever, is submerged in the icy water somewhere distant and it’s turned into stone?’
    Julia looks at Keith. He shrugs and blinks at her.
    She continues, ‘Whatever it means, a slate-blue soul can’t be good. Global catastrophe isn’t a positive symbol whether you take that dream to a gypsy or a headshrinker.’
    â€˜Maybe you should go back to sleep,’ Keith suggests.
    â€˜I wanted to tell you before I forgot.’
    â€˜Thanks for that. Go back to sleep now.’
    Keith isn’t interested in dreams. His girlfriend’s dreams are no exception. He lifts his hand for the flight attendant since the button seems to be useless in getting anyone to actually come and attend to his needs. He’s been pressing it and waving his arm for the last few minutes with no success. He’s now considering whistling.
    Julia swallows another sleeping pill even though it hasn’t been that long since she had the two that were supposed to fix her for most of the trip. Three pills is a lot of sedation and he wonders whether it’s dangerous. Her fear of flying is extreme. She’d been having nightmares before the trip to the States and again prior to the trip back to Sydney.
    Keith arches his back and makes himself tall. He waves his fingers in the air and purses his lips but can’t make himself go through with the whistle.
    The flight attendant finally comes over with a