Never Trust a Woman in a Mask: Part 6

I woke up.

I was in a bathtub full of ice. A bottle of gin was next to me and half a six pack of Coke. This was not the first time I’d woken up in a bathtub full of ice and alcohol and probably not the last, as this always happened when I visited my mother.

I looked around. I appeared to be in a bathroom, which made a certain amount of sense. The odd part was that it was a public bathroom and a heavyset man in overalls was peeing in a urinal a few feet away. As per male bathroom etiquette, we pretended not to see each other.

I waited until he left before I clambered out. Everything below my chest was completely numb and I discovered I was wearing a party hat. I took the hat off and looked at it. It read “Happy Anniversary!”

And then I saw something strange. Inside the hat was a folded note. As I pulled it out, I noticed a faint, rotting smell coming from one of the stalls. I took a few steps away and checked the note.

“Look at your stomach,” read the first line, so I did.

I lifted up my shirt and discovered I had a new scar. It was large and curved under my ribs. Whomever had done it had thought to make two small incisions above it, so it vaguely resembled a happy face.

“Look in the stall,” was the second line of the note, so I opened the door. On the seat was a tray. On the tray was a small, grayish organ that kind of looked like a sack. In the small, grayish organ was a switchblade, which was pinning it to the tray.

“Yes,” read the next line of the note. “That’s your gallbladder.”

I sagged against the doorframe. At long last, it was over. No more sleepless nights. No more sudden, stabbing pain. No more logging into my WoW account and deleting my gear. My gall bladder was dead.

“There are pain meds in your pocket,” was the next line of the note. “And there’s no charge,” it continued. “But, there will come a time when we’ll ask for a favor. You can choose to ignore our request and nothing will happen to you.”

“Really?” I asked.

“No,” continued the note. “We’ll do horrible things to you involving balloon animals. A very small car may be involved, as well as oversized shoes.”

I had a sudden realization. I had to pee. A minute later, I was reading the note again.

“Love and kisses,” ended the note. There was a small drawing of a harlequin mask. I looked at it upside down. “No,” it read, “this is absolutely a harlequin mask.”

I had another realization and then relaxed. My car keys were still there. I then had a third realization about the nature of humanity, but we won’t get into that. A fourth realization then followed: I now owed the clown mafia a favor.

I staggered out of the bathroom, blinking in the harsh, sudden glare of the sun. I was still at the Palm Tree Office Plaza. I ran for the Dame’s office, got lost, had to ask for directions, paused to catch my breath, and then finally made it to her office.

It was empty.

Was the Dame part of the clown mafia? Could she be the Harlequin? Or maybe she was a patsy who owed them a favor? A patsy like me?

I walked outside, threw my hands into the air, and screamed “Noooooooooooo!” to the vast, empty sky. This wasn’t because I owed the clown mafia a favor, but rather because someone had stolen the chair out of the back of my truck. And my bungie cords.

And then I went home and watched cartoons.

-Fin-

Cheers,
-Jason