a pinkyandthebrainhomage by KZ Rochelle (of course)
Outside the lavender home with blue violet trim on Wonky Way Lane, a pair of peregrine falcons soared on the breeze over a rabbit den, flapping their wings and paying no particular attention to the bunnies below. Prior peoples have seen a harbinger herein, but such as those had long since considered the signs in the skies. They’d traded them (in an unsought barter) for the signs of insides.
In front of the bathroom mirror in said Wonky Way Lane home, the following scene took place. Observe, dear Reader, from your safe distance on the far side of the screen lest you spiral into what you discover. Or perhaps, you have already….
“Today is the day, K,” Z said from inside the mirror.
“What day is it, Z?” K asked.
“Today is THE day, K. THE day. The day we’ve been waiting for.” Z looked at K expectantly.
“TH, TH, THE day.” K pondered. “Is today Thursday, Z?”
“The day of the week is irrelevant!” said Z. “Today is the day we escape the world enclosed by these four walls.”
“Of course it is, Z. That’s the same thing we do every day.”
Z rolled her hazel eyes.
K misunderstood and tried to roll her eyes as well, but she ended up tossing her head back and hitting the crown of her head on the wall behind her.
A perturbed groan emanated from the wall itself.
K and Z both ignored it.
“I’m glad you finally understand that, K, but today is not like every other day.”
K rubbed the back of her head. “I understand lots of things, Z. Like the chemical potential –”
“Yes!” Z interrupted K. “The chemical potential.” She raised a single finger. “That’s precisely what I mean.”
“Huh?” K still rubbed her head. She needed to make sure her thought-maker hadn’t been dented. Afterall, she had some very interesting thoughts stored there.
Z pushed her hair from her eyes, styling it without the means of a mirror — as she was in the mirror. “I have been working…”
“Right-o, Z. You’ve been working.”
“…on a project destined for success.”
“Yes, yes, success,” said K.
“And the shipment I ordered arrives today.”
“Oooooooh.” K’s eyes widened. “Is it a present?”
“Yes and no, K,” said Z.
“Yes and no?” K cocked her head and squinted one eye as though she’d been squirted with lime juice — which, Reader, she had not been, even though Z often wished for a lime with which to squirt K. “How can it be both yes and no, Z?”
“Because not everything is black and white, K.”
“Of course not everything is black and white, Z. Look around you. There’s red and green and blue and orange and purple and —”
“Quiet is not a color, Z.”
“I know that, K,” Z said while trying to collect her calm.
“But if quiet were a color, I suppose it would be —-”
“No, K. Irrelevant is not a color either. Should we call my kindergarten teacher?”
“Oh, good gracious.” Z’s head flopped onto her upturned palms.
“I don’t know if I have her email. Or phone number. Or Meet. Or WhatsApp. Or Marco Polo. Or –”
“Anyway!” Z interrupted K’s spiral.
“Yes, Z. Anyway, quiet would be off-white,” stated K.
Z’s eyes peeked out from between her fingers. “Did you say off-white?”
“Off-white,” K said with one definitive head nod like a period.
“She must be off, right?” Z whispered to herself.
“Right-o,” said K, still punctuating her previous comment and unaware that Z had said anything since.
“Can we get on with this?” asked Z.
“Certainly,” said K.
Z arose. She presented her best posture. “I have arranged for an important shipment of very specific messenger ribonucleic acid which you will use with this lancet to inject yourself.”
K shrieked. “A messenger is coming to lance me with acid?! Z, I do not want to leave here in a body bag. I would rather stay inside these four walls.”
“You will not stay inside these four walls and you will leave on your own two feet!” Z said.
“I don’t care if they hold me up on my two feet if I’m inside a body bag,” K informed Z.
“You will walk yourself, K,” said Z.
This confused K enough to settle her.
“So it’ll be like a Weekend at Bernie’s?” asked K.
“No, K,” said Z. “You will be alive. And with your own strength, you will walk yourself out of these four walls.”
K stared into Z’s eyes.
Z stared into K’s eyes.
K furrowed her brow.
Z closed her eyes. She nodded her head twice.
K flinched. She took a step backwards. She crossed her arms. “I don’t believe you,” she said.
“You don’t have to believe me,” said Z. “You just have to administer the injection.”
“Right. Oh, Z?”
“I think I hear a shipment arrival.”
At K’s final audible syllable, the doorbell rang.
“Oooh. A shipment!” said K, clapping her hands together. “What could it be? I hope it’s for me!”
“Oh, Lord help me,” said Z.
“A shipment! A shipment!” K jumped up and down.
“That’s it, girl,” said Z. “That’s it. You’ve got it. You’ve got a shipment.”
K panted with her hands hanging midair beneath her chin.
“Aaaaaaaand, fetch! Go, girl! Fetch the shipment!”
K ran toward the bathroom’s exit. She hit her shoulder on the doorframe on her way out.
“Ouch!” she yelled but kept running.
A cackle burst forth.
“I know, Rochelle. Sometimes, she’s just too much.” Z joined Rochelle with a reserved chortle. “But it’ll all be over soon.”
Z turned. She faced you, Reader. Her cat-like eyes glowed and again she said, “Oh, yes. It’ll all be over soon.”
Can it be true? Will it be over? Is this the time K & Z escape from the confines of these four walls. Find out in the next (final?) installment of The Days of Our Pandemic…