Desert

By Draconias Galactica

2002 Draconias Galactica

The main problem with being lost in the middle of the desert is that every damn thing looks the same, so it's pretty likely you're gonna stay lost. I think I passed up this rock fifteen times already, but every rock here looks the same so what do I know? Did I pass up these grains of sand? Maybe they're following me. Hell, weirder stuff has happened.

The second problem is that you have nothing to drink. My tounge is hanging out my mouth like some mutt's tounge, and it's drier than the damn dirt. I was shouting outloud a few hours ago about how fucking stupid I am for wandering off into the desert. Now I'm stuck thinking at myself about what a fucking moron I was, wasting spit on that rant.

The third problem is something that, go figure, would only apply to me. The third problem is currently breathing down my neck, tracking my footsteps. The third problem is probably walking around in a circle, sharing problems #1 & 2 with me, the dumb bastards. The third problem is a group of about three guys with riffles who think I screwed their wife. I'm pretty sure they said their wife, and not their wives. Like I said, weirder stuff has happened.

From the stories my grandpa told me, in the old days this place would have been covered in cacti. A cactus is some green thing with needles. The needles, he said, would jump into your skin if you touched the green thing and they hurt like hell. Still, the way he talked about it, it was as if he missed them. Idiot.

I'm pretty sure my grandpa taught me how to survive in the desert, but most of the stuff he mentioned involved cactus. Drink the cactus, he said. They're made of water. In the old days, then, this place would be filled with green water standing up with thorns on it. This place used to be a lot weirder. Now it's a lot of dry dirt and no damn clouds to block the sun.

At this point, I've decided to give up on watching the sand to make sure it's not following me. I'm now looking for cacti. They should be pretty entertaining. I'm not too interested in drinking them, though, since green water means Death took a piss in it.

The way I see it, these cacti will lead me to Death. That's why I'm looking for them. I have a score to settle with Death, and I'm gonna do it by ripping off his balls and stuffing them down his fucking throat before putting a bullet in-between his eyes. Death owes me big time.

My grandfather told me that Death was a guy in a big black robe with a sickle. I don't know what the hell a sickle is, but I figure I can spot a guy in a big black robe. The only person in a desert who would be wearing a black robe would Death. I'm gonna kill him. I'm not too sure how you kill Death, but I'll figure that out when I see him.

Death is in this desert. The map I found in town said this place was his valley. So here I am. In the middle of a desert. Looking for Death. Maybe I'll use myself as bait - it's hard to tell me from a zombie on my good days anyways. There's not a lot to eat except people who die from not eating, and they don't have much on them. Good thing I like bones.

While I was in town, somebody mistook me for someone else. Three somebodies. Problem three. Three people in problem three. That worked out pretty well. Glad I didn't make them problem eighty nine. Hell, I've got a million problems right now, and you guys can just take a number. But they didn't want to do that. They wanted to take me out to the edge of town and feed me to some dogs.

Aparently, I fucked their wife. Then I blew her brains out. And then, even worse, I chopped her up into a gajullion peices so nobody else could fuck her. They were more interested in the chopping up part than the brains part. Like I said, weird things happen. Weirder things have happened, though. I just wish I could have had the pleasure of fucking her before I cut her into a gajullion peices, she sounded like a nice lady.

They didn't get around to feeding me to any dogs. I ran the hell away before then. This valley was a big place, and I was gonna need a lot of time to cover it all. I really should have brought that map, though. I'm a fucking idiot. I have guys with guns after me. I have no water. I'm wandering around in a desert, looking for something green so I can find Death.

What's that on the horizon? Shit, it's those three guys. Or it's a mirage. I've been seeing a lot of them lately. I don't really care, though. I'm hot, angry, and at least this way Death might come to _me_, instead of me having to waste time looking for _it_. Of course they're going to kill me first, but...damn this plan sucks.

It's about time to start running like hell. There's a dustcloud behind me already. My flapping tounge is somewhere fifteen miles back. The problem is - problem number four I think, I'm going to fast to check my fingers - is that those bullets they're firing are faster than me. And there one goes, right through my kneecap. It stings. It burns. It fucking _hurts_. So does falling flat on your face in the middle of a 9-million degrees-sand desert.

Their guns are boiling hot from the sun. Good thing my head was already as hot as hell, otherwise it might hurt when they shoved their guns into the side of my head. I didn't kill their wife. They don't care. I didn't cut her. They don't care. There's a guy in a black robe behind them. They don't live long enough to not care.

And there's Death. My "plan" worked perfectly - here he is, robe, sickle, skeleton and all. He might be a mirage or something, but who cares? It's about damn time he sowed up too. Hey jackass, I shout. He looks up. It's real creepy when a skull with no eyes stares at you. You don't have any proof he's staring at you, but you can feel it.

You killed my dog! He doesn't care. Those three dead guys on the ground don't care. Nobody in town cared. Nobody cares! I want my dog back you mother fucker, I shout. He's raising his sickle. Grandpa didn't say anything about Death having balls. But still, he seeems to stop when I clench where they should be in my hands, tight.

I'm talking to you shitface! Death is definatly a guy - I'm trying to crush something very solid with my hands. I want my dog back! Death sits down. Actually, he falls down. I don't let go of his balls. He says he didn't kill my dog. He says he didn't kill those guys' wife. He says he just took them away to somewhere. Where? He says he can take me.

Is my dog there? He sure is Death says. Then Death starts ranting about how so's the few billion people that got killed in that nasty fire storm a few years back and about how overworked he's been lately, but I don't give a shit. I want to see my dog. Death says for me to take his hand, and he'll take me there.

What the hell, I say, and I grab his hand, not realizing I just let go of his balls until it's too late. By too late, I mean the second I let go, he raised his sickle and less than a blink later brought it down on me. Death's a tricky bastard. He's also got this cocky ass grin on his dead face. Oh well, at least now maybe I'll get out of this damn desert. Maybe I'll get to see my dog.