The Decameron 2.0

Day 1.5: HEA Love - MORE THAN FRIENDS ElementalCobalt

"I can see that psychology degree came in handy," said Seth, who'd taken to giving each of us massages—him being a masseuse and all.

"Y-Yes," Mr. Hardon said, his eyes growing visibly misty. He suddenly let out a whimper, took off his glasses and wept into his knees, covering his head with his hands. "I just— I-I j-just—"

Murv saw Brick crying so he started crying, too. They were both on the floor, bawling like babies, holding each other, shaking, letting out a shared deluge of tears and snot.

"GODDAMN YOU, TRUMP!" I roared to the world, thumping my chest like a gorilla. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THESE PEOPLE!!!!!"

"JESUS!" Coltrane shouted.

I turned around to see Murv had collapsed, groping weakly with one arm as his other lay limp beside. Mr. Hardon had a hand on Murv's forehead, checking his temperature.

"N-Narm," Murv muttered. "Narm!"

I rushed to his side and cradled his head. "Murv! What is it, bud!?"

And then the world went mute. My ears were ringing. I looked around and saw everyone's mouths were moving but no sound was coming out. A white light emerged in a ring around my vision, flooding across it until I couldn't see a thing. I remember my body jerking left and right—out of my control—and I remember smelling burnt toast and bacon, two of my favourite forbidden foods.

And then a shout from what seemed to be miles away: "JESUS!"

Another, closer now: "Jesus, can you hear us?"

The visual snow cleared, thinning 'til I just saw white specks, then the specks drifted apart, disintegrated. I could see clearly again. Murv was by my side, holding my hand. He'd regrown his teeth and his eyes had a certain debonair quality to them.

"Jesus, good chap, are you quite alright?"

"Murv?"

"I prefer Murvius Roger O'Doughtry'O-Cunnilingusham now, good fellow, but Murv will do, yes, certainly."

Glancing at the others, they shrugged and shared puzzled expressions. "What happened?"

Murv sat me up before explaining: "It was a miraculous event, old bean, and though I'm loath to make presumptions... I do think the good Lord O God filled me up with His Holy Spirit. You see, when I cried alongside the good doctor, gang, I felt something enter my body. Not physically, no, but metaphysically, yes. The only way my limited intellectual capacity could vocalize such an extraordinary sensation was to cry out 'Narm!'—which, of course, referred to the numbness I felt in my arm."

The others nodded in understanding.

"And me?" I asked.

"I believe you had a seizure, old chap. Possibly one of those nasty temporal-lobe epileptic fits I've heard a good deal about. Fits quite nicely with your delusion that God speaks to you, good man."

I rubbed my temples. "Feels like someone took an ice-cream scooper to my brain."

"That would be the traumatic brain injury, dear sir. I do believe I have extensive experience with that! Hawhaw!" Murv guffawed. "Good stuff."

"But... but why? I don't understand. God didn't deliver me a fantastical message or anyth— AHAHFHASFBHSGAKNDSA!" The twitches overtook me again, until the very fabric of my being was ripped in two.

Staring down at my body, at my friends crowding around me. I looked dead. A giant glowing-white hand reached through the cave's ceiling and scooped me up. Riding the hand up into the sky, leaving the world as I knew it behind, shooting up past trees and skyscrapers, clouds and airplanes. Out into space, past the satellites, past the Moon. A patch of star-speckled space flickered momentarily and then it was revealed a spaceship had been floating there, previously hidden but invisible no more.