Friday, April 24, 2009

The Arbitrary Prisoner ('s Tree)


Thank god that they had ended Quantum Leap where they did, with Sam not really sure where he was going, you know? We don't really need any more stuff like that, do we? It was told that the leaps would get harder, and no way to communicate with Al anymore, and let us simply just let that just be. Simply. If there is a table to be turned, we know Sam will turn it, you know? Why you gotta give the guy such a hard time, and *observe*?

Well, one reason is I just invented a new gizmo from these curiously metal plates that they give us prisoners, and some tweezers snuck in from some another inmate. And ok -- semen that has experienced anal inhabitance. Multi-sexual companionship is a common trait amongst higher apes, I hope you all by now realize, and whatever you can scoop from the arses of others ... ahem, I precede myself.

But yes, really this is supposed to be about Sam. Well, Sam just leapt, after weeping with Moustache-Al at the bar, to a whole new realm. There's no monsters there, no. No, invisible aliens who are *actually* in control of the peoples' bodies, albeit via other dimensions. Gasp. Would not that be a horrendous future?


Dr. Sam Beckett, still lamenting his lost buddy Al but thoroughly having enjoyed the short closeness he'd had with Al's wife as they pirouetted in holily unlit and demure sanctity, suddenly finds himself awake amidst wine and even more women.

"Well, this is ... a new turn," smiles Sam, still trying. He tries raising his glass at the blonde next to him.

She frowns back at him. The ways in front of them part, now. In fact, now, looking around, Sam realizes he is in the front of a congregation of almost a thousand people.

"No?" says Sam, to a raven haired woman on the other side, still trying to hit the ground running. "Guess not. First time at a baptism? Well, are we Jewish? Or ... Moslems, maybe? Are we at Mecca?", he asks, looking around.

"What the fuck," rumbles a bellow from an angry man, who had come from the stage, barging directly to him. "We hadn't even started recording yet!"

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry," apologizes Sam. "So so sorry. I didn't mean to break up the wedd -- ?"

The man slapped him hard, in the face. "It ain't complicated, putz. You just sit down and listen, yeah, you hear the click, and that's the tape recorder, ok?" he said.

"Oh. Okay ... ?"

"You are in the First Seat. It *all* depends on you. You hear the click, then you drink the koolaid," said the man.


"Oh boy ... "


- An Arbitrary Prisoner

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