meatcloud

The adventures of a man who travels through time and assembles his body from ants, and other insects. with a few bits of plastic …

It all happens in maybe 24 hours, i dream i’m enjoying mayhem and then i wake up and everything’s still the same, because it always will be .

This dream began like a routine retelling of a typical sleazy evening at the imperial cinema in delhi. I made my way to the cinema then stood and watched the crowd of moviegoers lined up beneath the concrete awning that led to the quadruple glass doors of the cinema. I sat on somebody’s scooter that was parked across the street, and waited for the doors to open and for the moviegoers to press forward. A man in a neat moustache and a short sleeved brown shirt immediately dragged out a bipedal sign saying house full.

I was ready to cross the darkened gaslit street, dressed from head to toe in natty pink surgical scrubs and headgear, but nobody noticed this. A pink surgeon’s face mask and shades completed the whole body look. Pink gloves blossemed from my wrists. At least the toes remain the same, I thought wriggling them in flipflops and nike socks. And the gun, a voice spoke from the scooter. Yeah, that works. I drew the cheap piece and waved it at mr moustache who was now at his usual station behind the popcorn stand and he didn’t look down at the dull gunmetal, he continued to gaze at my profile and pointed to the stairs.

‘Where is he ? ‘ I shouted from outside the projectionists booth. Then pivoting on a single vertical leg and , rotating , I slammed my back paw into the swinging door, at the moment of impact keeping said leg perfectly horizontal. Then followed through with a roll into tiny booth that ended with my back on the floor and the gun pointing at the familiar moustached figure beside the projector. A narrow crescent of light leaking from the cylindrical body of the projector blinded me and I worried slightly about my choice of heat seeking bullets for the gun.

The projectionist knew everything and spoke out rightaway
‘there’s no need for taht sir, i can retire to my farm.’
I bounced to my feet and the projectionist said ‘trouble is best left in the other place.’

I thought ‘too right’ and left.

I hobbled past the movie posters on the curved wall of the once grand staircase and went through into the circle. The auditorium was packed with bodies, three deep, vertically like jumping jacks. waiting motionless but the top layer had rigid arms holding machete, like miniature toy pirates. I knew the staircase would be similarly packed and could smell it. So I began to climb the wall of men. At the second level I niftily tunneled my way through the space beween widespread arms and legs. I reached the stage and was about to drop to the floor when the police burst in through the fire exits on either side of the screen. Stop, one of the same in a quiets, high pitched voice, like a disco dancer from another world. Death means nothing to me, I thought before jumping down and diving for the door. Luckily the cops noticed the stacked bodies and fired only a few shots before letting me go.