Premonitions







Today when I woke up, I could not tell what time it was.  At first I could not focus on any sharp details in my room.  I blinked a couple of times and pulled the warm comforter up over my head, exposing my toes.  It was then that I first noticed the heavy dampness...I could actually feel the moisture falling out of the air and on to the skin of my feet.  I slowly began to take in the smell of sweet swampy-ness.  I must be dreaming.  I sat up - could not even see my alarm clock.  I fumbled for my glasses, and again felt how heavy the air was.  The droplets of sticky moisture hitched rides on the hair of my arms.  I put my glasses on and they felt familiar; I waited for visual clarity.  It was not there.  I blinked again, squeezing my eyelids tight, scrunching up my nose, but all I could make out was the sliver of light coming through the door.  It was green and misty - and well, foggy.  I could hear a faint bubbling sound, like a stopped up drain in my basement.  I slid out of bed onto the wet slippery floor, and made my way to the door.  Everything felt thick and moist, like an old mildew-y sponge.  I called to Sadie, but even my voice was muffled by the green mist that permeated my

room.  I kept toward the alien light emanating from outside somewhere in the

northeast corner of the house.  I opened the door, but no relief came from

the fog.  In fact, it was more dense outside my bedroom.  I could not see

the front windows, only the light from the lamp in the corner of the dining

room - barely penetrating the air.  I called to Sadie again, and soon she

was whimpering at my feet.  Her nose was cold against my hand, and her coat

was wet and cool.  She stepped into the hall with me and lost her footing on

the wet hardwood.  I stepped slowly to the kitchen, pausing to switch on the

bathroom light, it did not work, as far as I could tell.  In the kitchen,

the greenish steam was more stiff and it smelled like, ...like sugar!

Overwhelmingly like sugar.  I rounded the corner at bumped against

something, someONE standing at my stove.  I recoiled back into the hall with

a stifled screech, and then heard a smallish voice said, "Hello. Want some?"

I reached around the corner as far as I could without actually stepping back

into the kitchen and switched on the light above the stove.  Its bare

illumination outlined the shape of a squat, wide-hipped figure with what

looked like green shaving cream piled on its head.  It turned to me with its

oddly brown face and pointed to a boiling pot on my stove and said, more

urgently this time "Want some?"  Suddenly, I realized that I was standing

toe-to-toe with an Oompa Loompa, straight from the Chocolate Factory,

reeking of sweetness.  He was still looking at me inquisitively, one hand in

the pocket of his striped overalls, and one hand pointing with my wooden

spoon to the boiling liquid in the pot.  "What is it?", I asked.  "Cactus

soup," came his sheepish reply.

That was the admonition from the gods.  We’re gettin’ drunk at the Cactus tonight.