Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

“I tried to get you out last night, you were out. Cold. Drugged or
something. Look, I busted my ass getting this call in, can you fucking
answer me?”
Nothing.
“Great. Look, I’ve done it. I’ve found you a surgeon that won’t ask
questions. There’s this lady up in Boston, she can do the whole thing.
Hormones. The surgery. I can get you out of Jesus, Meredith.”
“Mere-dith?”
“Oh, thank God. Yes, yes. I’ve got it covered. I can get you out of
there, I can get you out of…” Rustling papers… “I can get you out of the
cell. I can set you free.”
“You can really get me…”
“Shit, don’t say anything, the dumb bastard with the phone thinks I’m
from Microsoft and we’re talking about a patenting issue.”
“What?”
“Long story.”
“Okay. So you’re a lawyer.”
“Yup. Working for the Man himself. Tell the guy what you like, or
hell, don’t tell him anything. You’re catatonic, right?”
Jesus giggled. “Yeah, I am that.”
“I’ll be there tonight. At your window. Fucking Peter Pan, gonna take
you away.”
“And you’ll handle everything?”
“All you gotta do is wake up.”
That evening, Meredith sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes. There
was a dream behind them, a nightmare. She was in some cell, someone
had put her there by mistake. Mistaken identity? The dream was already
unraveling. She was a saint of some sort, maybe Christ Himself. There
were some explosions, and this Kafka thing with a hospital…
“Nevermore,” said a voice from the window, and she laughed softly to
herself.
12/17/02 17:49:31 The Journal of Dr. Fein, M.D.,
Ph.D.
I find myself resistant to morning. Waking before
the alarm, I hide next to my wife and play dead. Slow
breaths, deep. Eyes closed. Relax the facial muscles,
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