Laughing At Nemesis

A look at the World to come, from the perspective of a slightly unorthodox Fundamentalist.

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Location: Houston, Texas

We make nothing of our own, even our greatest deeds are only loaned to us for our time. The sounds and glory of even the smallest storm belong to the Creator and to no man. We know only Stolen Thunder.


Reditio Soteri -12-

Monday morning, Bruce dressed quickly and hurried to school, sensing that this would be another difficult day. He was correct, but in a way he did not expect. Waiting for him at the door was the Assistant Principal, Mister Garrett. Garrett was ‘old school’, which for him meant that no one was ever completely innocent, so that if something happened involving Bruce, he must – it seemed – have had something to do with it.

“Mister Decus”, snarled Mr. Garrett. “What - dare I inquire – were you doing Friday after school in my halls?”

“Nothing”, murmured Bruce, knowing no one would buy it but unwilling to tell the fabulous truth. “I just went home”.

“Just went home?” sneered Garrett, disbelief written on his face. “After attacking three of my students with whatever animal you brought – what was that thing, anyway?”

“What animal?” asked Bruce, trying to keep his face blank.

“What animal?” repeated Garrett. “What, you have more than one animal that leaves bloody trails, chews through steel chains, and scares policemen?”

“Huh?” was all Bruce could think to say.

“My office, right after first period”, directed Garrett. “Your memory better get more complete, mister.”