Current Transmissions:


Not In Kansas

Max awoke in the pre-dawn morning, his eyes flickered open. His first compulsion was to reach for a cigarette by the night stand but there wasn't any there.

"Oh, that's right," he thought.

He threw the blanket off and sat up on the bed. His feet touching the cold wood floor, giving him the sensation that he was still alive, kicking and able to feel sensations like a cold floor.

He stood and stretched, his body making noises like a breakfast cereal once milk is poured. A cacophony of grunts, groans and other sounds emerging from the vocal cord.

"I'm still not getting too old for this shit," he muttered.

He walked to the balcony doors, drawing the curtain and then he stepped back in amazement. His eyes widened in wonder, much akin to a child looking at a Christmas gift that they thought they would never get but did.

He brought his right index finger to his mouth and bit down hard on it. It was an old trick he learned from a monk to see if he was still dreaming; the sensation of pain was real enough. He opened the balcony doors and stepped out into the cold February morning, glancing up at the sky seeing the moon so close that he thought he could touch it. Beyond the moon he could see three other planets as well.

"Well...." he simply said.