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Authors: Caris O'Malley
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time!” he shouted and ran into the bedroom. I heard him slip and fall, then he was quiet.
“Are you okay in there?” I called out, sitting on the back of the couch, arms crossed.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. I heard a rustling as he got to his feet. He walked out of the bedroom, hands on his hips. “So, what, you’re not going to kill me now?”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound like something I’d do,” I said.
“You’re being a dick. I hope you know that.”
“I’m being a dick because I won’t kill you?”
“Come on, I killed your girlfriend.” He pointed to Ashley’s lifeless body. I refused to look at it; her bruised and bloody face would send me into a rage.
“Oh, yes, you’re right. You did do that. Please leave,” I said.
He looked baffled. “Leave? You’re kicking me out?”
“I think it’s appropriate, given the circumstances,” I said.
“You’re really fucking things up. You know that, right?”
I walked over to the door and opened it. “Out you go.”
“Fine. I’ll go. But you’re making a huge fucking mistake.” He stomped off into the hallway. “I don’t even know what to do now. Go to a movie? Get a sandwich? I’m not even supposed to exist…” His voice trailed off as he walked away. I shut the door behind him.
Looking at Ashley, I wondered aloud what I should do. I needed advice. I had to find someone who knew about this new agey bullshit that made it possible for me to jump through time. I needed a quantum physicist.
I sat down on the couch. My head spun. I looked back at Ashley and the pool of blood gathering on the tile in front of her face.
And then, suddenly, I knew whom to call. I jumped excitedly from the couch, ran to the phone and pressed redial.
It rang.
“Thank you for calling American Psychics Limited. Please hold the line for your personal, qualified psychic.” The line continued to ring.
“This is Madame Rain. What do you want to know about the future?” a familiar voice answered.
“Ah, Madame Rain,” I said, relieved. “What are the odds I’d get you again?”
“It was in the stars. I was expecting your call,” she said coolly.
“Oh, good. I need your help.”
“Do you have a question you’d like answered, or do you just want a general forecast?”
“I have some very specific questions I’d like answered,” I said. “ Very specific.”
“Okay,” she replied, a bit uneasily it seemed to me.
“I need you to stay with me here. There’s no time to waste,” I said. “What is the purpose of the egg?”
“The egg?” she asked. “Well, the egg is symbolic of birth. Not the birth of a being, per se. No, it is symbolic of the creation and germination of ideas. The egg is a vessel for your personal evolution, and it has significance to you.”
“What kind of significance?” I asked.
“Uh, the shape of the egg has to do with your ideas. Your ideas shaped it. It could have come in any form, but it came in that of an egg. Why do you think that is?”
“Well, my ideas are supposed to have something to do with gender roles, or something like that,” I offered.
“Yes, yes. This makes much sense. You are a man giving birth to an egg. This egg is your gift to the world. The outside is symbolic for what lies hidden inside. You are the first man in history to carry the burden traditionally reserved for women. As you think and grow, you will come to understand why this revelation has to come in a disguise, why it has to be protected in a shell.”
“Why was there a CD in it? The CD wasn’t my idea. Not really,” I said.
“A CD?” She paused. “I cannot see inside of you. You are very guarded about the CD. I don’t think the most gifted psychics in the world could pry that from you.”
“Okay, then.” I took a breath. “How do I solve my present problem?”
“Which one?” she asked. “I can see many problems in your life at the moment.”
“Good point,” I said. “Uh,
“Are you okay in there?” I called out, sitting on the back of the couch, arms crossed.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. I heard a rustling as he got to his feet. He walked out of the bedroom, hands on his hips. “So, what, you’re not going to kill me now?”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound like something I’d do,” I said.
“You’re being a dick. I hope you know that.”
“I’m being a dick because I won’t kill you?”
“Come on, I killed your girlfriend.” He pointed to Ashley’s lifeless body. I refused to look at it; her bruised and bloody face would send me into a rage.
“Oh, yes, you’re right. You did do that. Please leave,” I said.
He looked baffled. “Leave? You’re kicking me out?”
“I think it’s appropriate, given the circumstances,” I said.
“You’re really fucking things up. You know that, right?”
I walked over to the door and opened it. “Out you go.”
“Fine. I’ll go. But you’re making a huge fucking mistake.” He stomped off into the hallway. “I don’t even know what to do now. Go to a movie? Get a sandwich? I’m not even supposed to exist…” His voice trailed off as he walked away. I shut the door behind him.
Looking at Ashley, I wondered aloud what I should do. I needed advice. I had to find someone who knew about this new agey bullshit that made it possible for me to jump through time. I needed a quantum physicist.
I sat down on the couch. My head spun. I looked back at Ashley and the pool of blood gathering on the tile in front of her face.
And then, suddenly, I knew whom to call. I jumped excitedly from the couch, ran to the phone and pressed redial.
It rang.
“Thank you for calling American Psychics Limited. Please hold the line for your personal, qualified psychic.” The line continued to ring.
“This is Madame Rain. What do you want to know about the future?” a familiar voice answered.
“Ah, Madame Rain,” I said, relieved. “What are the odds I’d get you again?”
“It was in the stars. I was expecting your call,” she said coolly.
“Oh, good. I need your help.”
“Do you have a question you’d like answered, or do you just want a general forecast?”
“I have some very specific questions I’d like answered,” I said. “ Very specific.”
“Okay,” she replied, a bit uneasily it seemed to me.
“I need you to stay with me here. There’s no time to waste,” I said. “What is the purpose of the egg?”
“The egg?” she asked. “Well, the egg is symbolic of birth. Not the birth of a being, per se. No, it is symbolic of the creation and germination of ideas. The egg is a vessel for your personal evolution, and it has significance to you.”
“What kind of significance?” I asked.
“Uh, the shape of the egg has to do with your ideas. Your ideas shaped it. It could have come in any form, but it came in that of an egg. Why do you think that is?”
“Well, my ideas are supposed to have something to do with gender roles, or something like that,” I offered.
“Yes, yes. This makes much sense. You are a man giving birth to an egg. This egg is your gift to the world. The outside is symbolic for what lies hidden inside. You are the first man in history to carry the burden traditionally reserved for women. As you think and grow, you will come to understand why this revelation has to come in a disguise, why it has to be protected in a shell.”
“Why was there a CD in it? The CD wasn’t my idea. Not really,” I said.
“A CD?” She paused. “I cannot see inside of you. You are very guarded about the CD. I don’t think the most gifted psychics in the world could pry that from you.”
“Okay, then.” I took a breath. “How do I solve my present problem?”
“Which one?” she asked. “I can see many problems in your life at the moment.”
“Good point,” I said. “Uh,
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