The Real Me
Part I in "Anya,
Interrupted: A Triptych of Bunny Terror" - Parts II, III on the Buffy
Philosophy Board archives (okay, I'll update this linkage when they go
Oh, and I don't Anya own or the
lines from Grosse Pointe Blank.
The Future’s Eyes are Wide
A beautiful winter’s day in
the City by the Bay. Sun shining on the water. Birds singing. Well, flying.
Well, sitting on the bridge. Sitting there and watching her with their beady
little eyes that were beady and focused and watching and…
A cheerful voice from her
speakers said, “I am at home with the me. I am rooted in the me that is on
“I am at home with the me. I
am rooted in the me that is on this adventure.” Repeated Anya. She let her
foot off the brake and moved her car forward one car length.
Also, technically, the sun
wasn’t really shining down on the City by the Bay. The sun shown down on the
city to her right. The sun shown down on the city to her left. The sun shown
down on Oakland behind her.
She wondered if there were
oaks there. It didn’t look like it. Just buildings and signs and giant
skeletal machines, which looked like something out of that second Star Wars
movie, ready and able to crush the rebellion.
But yeah, the sun. For
whatever reason, although it was a warm and beautiful day on the east side of
the bay, a wall of fog stamped on giant Katnor demon’s feet across San
Francisco and was now preparing to devour the bridge and all the helpless
people on it.
Every now and again, Anya
could see a high rise struggle out from behind a fog tentacle, only to be
wrestled back down under the white bright nothing.
She’d been on the bridge for
forty minutes and had driven forty feet. Up ahead, she could see a cheery
yellow sign pointing left. A series of cones gradually eviscerating her lane.
Typical. She had her turn signal on, but there was no where to go. Just
“Now visualize yourself
breathing,” said the happy, happy voice, “and say, this is me breathing.”
“This is me breathing,” said
Anya, edging forward, “some adventure.”
Interlude Before We’ve
Anya was not having a good
She was hot and sticky from
driving all day from Sunnydale to San Francisco. She’d been listening to self
help tapes and all she felt like was as if she’d been listening to really
boring self help tapes all day, but that had been okay at 90 miles an hour.
Now she was hot and sticky and bored and cold all at the same time, because
you couldn’t even see the sun through the really thick fog. Thick as jellied
brains only thicker and ickier and whole lot colder and wetter and she’d been
driving around San Francisco for hours and all the streets were one way and
they didn’t make any sense and that guy at the gas station, he didn’t speak
any English and she’d had to buy a map for $7.50 and his bathroom didn’t look
like it had been cleaned since she had been human the first time and she
couldn’t look at the map and drive at the same time and she had ripped the map
and she was frustrated. Really, really frustrated. It didn’t seem fair that
finding yourself should be so hard and take so much time and it’s stupid and
this city was stupid and no one would ever let her change lanes and why are
there streets and avenues with numbers in the names and why is there so much
Oh, look the hotel.
Anya maneuvered her car into
the park lot and shimmied her car into a tiny space. Please,don’t scratch.
Carefully opened her door and slid out sidewise. Pulled out her nice little
wheely suitcase. Skreatch, skreatch into the hotel.
The nice man at the counter,
whose name was Kshetrapala Guptakrishnan, call me Guppy, checked her in, gave
her a free parking pass, and told her where the “Getting to Know You” dinner
for the “Achieving Synergy by Actualizing the Real You” seminar was being
Anya wanted a shower and a
fruity drink with both alcohol and a small festive umbrella, in that order.
So, she went to her room and
Anya looked upon the bathroom, of which she was the sole user and possessor,
and saw that it was good. Plus hot water, which Anya felt was also good.
After an excessive wallow,
she went and changed into something that went with this week’s hair and put on
a little sticker that said, “Hello, my name is Anya.” Although she really
wasn’t sure if she should keep that name or change it again to suit the new
her. Whoever that was.
She looked into the mirror
and practiced smiling. “Hello, my name is Anya Emmanuelle Jenkins. I own a
magic shop. Except my ex-fiancee’s best friend destroyed it. But at least she
didn’t destroy the whole world.” Bright smile, head bob.
She took a breath, cracked
her spine, and smiled at the mirror again, “Hi, I’m Anya Jenkins, I was born
on the Fourth of July, except I made that up. And I made up the Jenkins part
She sighed and stopped
smiling, “My name is Anyanka and four years ago I’d have pulled your
intestines out through your nostrils if some woman had cried angrily enough
and said I wish. Nice to meet you. What do you do?”
She put on some lipstick and
went get to know some strangers.
Getting to Know You, the
Really Real You
There was assigned seating.
Assigned seating is good. It has structure.
There was a choice of chicken
fiesta or vegetarian delight. This was not good. The chicken was not festive.
The vegetables were not delightful. But, Hi My Name is Bob, a young computer
something/something, entertained their table by speculating that the chicken
was in fact alligator tail, which only tastes like chicken. The conversation
went from there. Anya did briefly manage to stop the flow when she suggested
that the chicken was the flesh of a saponaceous Saroya demon. But then she
smiled and everyone laughed.
One of her books had
suggested smiling when you weren’t sure of “the lay of the land.” and it was
working pretty well for Anya.
She had several alcoholic,
yet fruity, drinks Including one with a miniature plastic sword through a
piece of pineapple, which she used as a prop in an amusing anecdote about the
Decembrist Revolution, and progressively everyone got wittier and wittier,
became best friends, Hi My Name is Bob was declared to in fact be everyone’s
uncle and then Anya went to bed.
There were no girls or
giggles or fights. She brushed her teeth in peace.
“Hey sweetie.” Anya glanced
to the right. Hallie was perched on the vast counter top next to the
complementary shampoo. Ever the fidget, Hallie jumped down and walked around
Anya, who watched non Hallie in the mirror. “You don’t look so good.”
The room had been kind of
spinning even before the First Evil showed up and now, “I think I’m going to
throw up. If I projective vomit, will go away you?” said Anya.
“You never could hold your
alcohol. Kind of like your men.” Hallie smiled and twitched her dress. “Why I
remember when you and Dracula broke up. Well really it was mostly you mooning
over him. As if a big name like that would give you the time of day.”
Anya sat down on the
wonderful cold linoleum. The room was spinning so white. And if she sat very,
very still, then her stomach wouldn’t know that it existed and except for the
incarnation of supreme evil sitting on her toilet and the slight nausea, she
felt, he, he, he, the floor was cold on the bottom of her legs. She had
Hallie leaned forward and
snapped her fingers, “Hey, honey pay attention. If it weren’t for you and your
little Miss Soft serve attitude, I’d be alive right now.” Hallie burst into
Anya jumped back and
regretted it. She hit her head on the counter top. “Ow! You made me hit my
head. And you’re not Hallie.” Anya began to laugh and cry at the same time,
which just sort of resolved itself into a big hiccup. “You’re just the First
Evil in a Hallie suit.”
“Sweetheart, it doesn’t work
that way. I am Hallie or a part of Hallie.” Hallie burnt face smiled,
blackened and creased, “A real big burned for your spineless whining part. Do
you think D'Hoffryn is ever going to stop sending little reminders? Not enough
to really kill you. Just enough to keep you latched on to a group of people
who can hardly stand you. Barely tolerate you.” Hallie leaned forward on her
throne, “They don’t know you like I do.”
Anya closed one eye to see if
that would affect spin factor. Then she tried the other eye. First Evil Hallie
jumping back and forth via perspective. It was. Not. A. Good. Idea. Hot tears
traced down cheeks. Rough laughter spasming her chest. Fiery hiccups jerking
her lungs. “How can you know the really real me? I don’t know the really real
“Well, sweetie, that’s
because there is no real you. You’re nothing but a whim in an Anya suit.
Anyanka. Aud. Odd little nothing. Planting Cockle shells in your little garden
because no one will play with little Miss Contrary.” Hallie crouched down next
to Anya. Close enough to touch. Touch. More burning laughter. Shake the nausea
Still talking, taunting,
burnt not Hallie, “But I’ll play. You let anger fill you once. You weren’t
empty then. It gave you a name and a burning garden to play in. Then you were
someone. Then you had power. Then…”
Anya pushed herself to her
feet and waved her hand through Hallie, “I’m going to go pass out now. See you
later.” Anya dragged slow steps the long way westward old woman to the big
soft spinning bed.
Anya sort of jump/fell into
bed cloud and closed her eyes. Some man was saying something about some
vengeance something. “I’m not listening. I’m really drunk and those were
really tasty drinks and I’ll feel guilty later when the room isn’t so busy.
Kay. Kay.” Anya snuggled into her pillow and ignored the First Evil until it
Light glowing under the
burgundy curtains. Anya opened an eye. No Hallie, Vengeance Victim, Vengeance
Wisher, Buffy, Potential, no one. Just a room.
She leveraged herself
standing and looked in the mirror, made sure there were no dead people in the
bathroom, told herself that she was a nice person and that everyone liked her
and that her only responsibility was to be the most really real me that she
could be and that this was incredibly stupid and that she had better leave
this seminar fully and utterly enlightened or she was going to ask for her
The first session was in a
large beige room decorated with paintings of blue and purple splotches of
pain. Paint. They do not look like bruises. They are probably artistic, but
Anya just couldn’t see it, because she never understood and she was just a
little tired of always having to ask for an explanation and her head hurt and
she was fairly certain that she was having a bad hair day. But she only asked
questions if she didn’t understand and it wasn’t like she actually said all
the things that went through her head, even if it seemed like it, because she
didn’t. It had always been like that and people were always laughing and they
never explained and no matter how much she acquired, it never worked. And Anya
was sure that if General Buffy were here, she’d just look at the paintings and
know what they meant. And Anya had thought she’d finally figured out one
thing, except she hadn’t and those were really ugly paintings. And she was
going to sit down now.
Anya sat down in an empty
chair towards the front, because she wanted to get her monies worth and self
actualization was hard work and the air conditioner in the back of the room
There was a vaguely familiar
blond woman sitting on her left. She was wearing this long purple and
turquoise velvet drippy gown thing, with really big romantic sleeves, and a
black velvet corset top that was very, very tight. This woman was clearly not
human. Her breasts were not heaving up, which is the natural result when you
wear a device that prevents your chest from heaving out.
Probably a vampire. A really
“Excuse me.” said Anya, “I
know you. Who are you?”
“Oh, My GOD!” said the woman,
“Anya. It’s Harmony! I went to school with you. In Sunnydale. We had Algebra
and English, I think. And we were both friends with Cordelia. You wished me a
nice summer if I survived the Ascension in my yearbook.”
“Hey, I do know you. You
broke my arm. Or was it your minions? I don’t remember. I don’t care. You
broke my arm. I don’t think I like you.”
“Oh!” Harmony began to cry,
“I suck. I tried to kill Cordelia too and she was actually my friend. Except I
even suck at sucking. My own minions tried to kill me.” Harmony began to
The room was filling with
people. People who were looking at them. Normally when this happened, Anya was
the one drawing the attention. She patted Harmony on her shoulder. “There,
there. There, there. So, why are you here?”
Harmony bounced in her seat,
“Oh, I love Dr. Aldman. He’s incredible. I’ve been to this session six times
and I feel soooo much better and more in control of my own un-life.”
“Six times, huh. I would have
hoped at these prices for faster results. But isn’t it daylight? Not that that
ever stops Spike.”
“Oh, don’t even mention His
name. I am sooo over Spike. I have a new guy in my life, Raistlin, and he’s,
okay, not cuter, but he hasn’t tried to stake me. And he’s really smart. He’s
really been helping me understand the whole undead thing.” Harmony shook her
head wisely, sadly and knowingly, causing the ankh on her black velvet chocker
to dance about, “Raistlin says that we are tragically driven by our cursed
natures to stand alone, looking out longingly from the magrawbolis, the city
of the dead, at the eternally swimming tides of humanity as they sweep. It
sucks, but in a cool popular way.”
“It’s necropolis. The city of
the dead thing. I don’t know what a magrawbo is.” Anya rolled her eyes, winced
at the pain and stopped, “And what kind of lame evil creature of the night are
you?” asked Anya, “It’s nine in the morning.”
“Not a very good one.”
Harmony sighed, “Or is it bad one.” Her brow wrinkled. “I get so confused some
Anya said, “I know what you
mean.” They looked around at the room’s fascinating purple, blue and beige
color scheme. Did the I have nothing to say head bobble. “Oh,” said Anya,
remembering point six in Making Small Talk Work for You!, “I like your
top. It makes your waist look very small, and,” Anya gestured with her hands,
“Your breasts appealingly large.”
“You think so?” Harmony
looked down her side, “You don’t think it makes my butt look too big?”
“No, your butt is appealingly
big. In contrast to your tiny waist and large breasts. It is a very nice
outfit. And your sleeves are appealingly floppy and poetic.”
“Thanks. That’s so sweet.”
They smiled at one another and then glanced around the room some more.
Fortunately, since Anya could
not remember points one through five or point seven of how to make small talk,
Dr. Aldman walked up to the podium.
For the next two hours, Anya
learned about the Pyramid of Change, four steps for Avoiding Scripting and
Anti-Scripting, and the six methods for Leveraging her Potentiality.
Then there was a break. The
attendees disgorged from the hotel into a plaza area theoretically overlooking
the ocean. Anya had seen pictures, which was fortunate because there was no
ocean. Only fog and wave sounds. There was also a faint glowy spot where the
sun theoretically should be. Harmony quickly smoked a clove cigarette, which
apparently Raistlin found to be far more acceptable than actual cigarettes.
After the break, Dr. Aldman
said more stuff. Anya doodled a wreath of flowers and implements of self
actualization on side of her handouts. This was remarkably like school, except
that she’d come of here of her own free will. Although, school hadn’t had
Visio slides that made swishy noises. She’d hoped actually going to a seminar
would make more sense than the stack of self-actualization books that she’d
Anya chose the empowering
three cheese lasagna, symbolic no doubt of the Pyramid of Change. While
Harmony had a “shake” because of her dietary restrictions (i.e., she was
trying to watch her weight, this corset was custom fitted at this little place
in the city). There was gossip of Spike (He got what!), Xander (He did what!),
Willow, (twewaa, She did what!), Buffy (Okay, What!) and Dawn (Huh?).
And after lunch, there were
There was this one where Anya
learned trust by falling backwards into the arms of her partner, in this case,
Harmony. Oh, yeah. Feeling the trust.
A role playing exercise.
Harmony cried and got in touch with her feminine side. Anya wondered if it was
too late to go back to vengeance.
During the turning “Bears
into Bunnies” session on transforming curdles into cuddles, Anya discovered an
urgent need to over there now. Why would anyone spring bunnies on a person
like that. And she’d paid for this!
Then they played telephone.
Apparently, Hi My Name is Ganji red maraca Xerox. And other stuff that Anya
was too busy writing notes to Harmony to notice.
And the day was done.
Everyone stood up and told each other that they were okay.
So, not much has happened
“I am not going to a rave
with you.” said Anya, “I like your dress, but you’re evil. You’ll eat me and I
don’t want to be eaten. Although, it would be nice to leave the hotel.” She
took a sip from her apple martini. It didn’t taste like apples and she wasn’t
sure that she liked it. However, it was a very attractive green, which as she
had learned today, was a positive color.
“There’s nothing to do on
this end of town. It’s all damp and I’m bored.” Harmony twirled a strand of
hair around a finger, “Anyway, I couldn’t possibly kill a friend. I am a
creature of passion. Raistlin says that I’m a natural Toreador, because I’m so
artistic. He’s more of a Tremere, because he’s into magic and he knows stuff.”
Anya snorted and grabbed a
calamari appetizer, mmm…lime sauce, and leaned back in her person devouring
lounge chair. Where was that waiter? Maybe a cranberry martini would be
better. “I’ve never heard of those kinds of vampires. I just thought that
there were vampires. Well, except for the prehistoric ones that we’re dealing
with now in Sunnydale.”
“What do they look like?”
said Harmony, eager to display her vast occult knowledge.
“Oh, you know, bumpy. Ugly.
Very grr, rip your throat out, scream helplessly. That sort of thing.” Anya
savored the taste of lime, reluctant to wash it away with not-apple.
“Oh, Nosfarto. Yeah, Raistlin
says that they’re bad. Very, very bad.” Harmony sipped her margarita, nibbled
a bit of salt, and looked around the room.
Hi My Name is Bob was sitting
at the bar and was halfway through something brown with ice. He noticed Anya
and gave her a little nod and smiled.
Harmony turned to Anya with a
white flash of grin, “Hey, Anya, that guy at the bar, he’s checking you out.
He’s kinda cute. Invite him over.”
“No. It’ll just end in
tragedy and entrails. I’m just going to stay here in this overpriced hotel bar
and drink great quantities of alcohol because I’m too lame to ever self
Harmony leaned forward,
“You’re not lame. You’re very cool. You know all sorts of things about demons,
way more than me and maybe even Raistlin. And even though you’re really old,
you don’t look it. Not even around your eyes. Now invite the cute guy over
Anya smiled and had a sip of
her green drink, for courage, if not taste, "Thank you, Harmony! You know,
despite your utter vacuousness, you can be really nice sometimes."
“Oh, thanks. You’re so
sweet.” Harmony played with her throat ankh, “Now, invite the guy over.”
Anya glanced over at the bar
and made a little wave at Bob, who promptly picked up his drink and sauntered
“Hey,… ‘Uncle’ Bob,” Anya
made sure that she was giving Bob her biggest bestest smile, “This is Harmony.
We went to high school together. She is also attending the seminar.”
“Nice to meet you.” Bob
smiled, obviously also attempting his best brightest, like me, like me smile.
“So, what did you think of the lecture today?” He sat down in an empty lounge
chair and promptly had to right himself due to extreme soft devouring
There was a pause. Harmony
gestured in an extremely un-subtle manner that Anya should say something. Now.
“It was unsatisfactory,” said
Anya, “I have read all of the books and I was hoping that an in person meeting
would make more sense and guide me towards a more leveraged and actualized
me.” Anya forgot that she was supposed to be smiling With All the Inner You,
and rolled her eyes a bit and snorted. Snorted in front of an attractive guy.
Bob laughed, “I know what you
mean. These things can be a bit granola and buzzword. I guess the important
thing is to get you thinking. Get some guidelines, you know. Not like an exact
map or anything.”
Harmony gave Anya an
extremely subtle thumbs up.
“Anyway,” said Bob, “Maybe
you’re not the group help type. Maybe you’re more the forty days in the desert
type. You know, eat locusts and honey and get all wise and enlightened.” He
did a vague finger wave in the air, “The emptiness of the sublime thing. Did
that once in college. Just went out in the Mojave and just watched the moon
rise. It was incredible. Plus, I saw wild burros. And I should so shut up now
and let the pretty woman talk.”
“I want to see wild burros.”
said Anya. She leaned forward a bit.
“Well, there you go.” Bob
danced his fingers a bit on the little table.
There was a lot of a bit in
Anya smiled and then broke
eye contact. Sipped and then smiled some more into her drink. Froze and then a
horrible thought crept into her brain. She glanced up at Bob and then back
down. Drank a large gulp of drink. Terrible thought remained, because a
horrible, horrible truth – scripting, it exists. Dark hair, dark eyes, funny,
talks too much, does the crinkly smile thing. Sympathetic now, sure.
“Soooo,” said Harmony, “Anya
and I were thinking of going to this rave. Want to come?”
“Harmony!” Anya waved her
hands back and forth, “Ixnay on the, oh, I suck at pig Latin. I thought we’d
already discussed, Not Going.”
“Oh, but I thought you were
just worried about two girls going by themselves to some dark spot. Now that
Bob’s here it’ll be okay.” Harmony wound, un-wound, re-wound a strand of hair
around her index finger, “Come on. It’ll be fun. They’ll be dancing and other
alcohol and I’d only eat strangers, really. Come on.”
“Ummm…” said Bob, with
extreme helpfulness, glancing from Anya to Harmony, Harmony to Anya. And being
a guy, Harmony’s velvet corset and the flesh there constrained. He glanced up.
“No I don’t want to go. In
fact, I think we should both go to bed.” Anya made a vague sign of the cross
“Um…” said Bob, “So, did I
get my wires crossed here, because if I did I can just go?”
“Yes.” said Anya.
“What?” said Harmony, the
veritable portrait of confused predation.
“Yes.” said Anya. “You've
corrected deduced the situation. We are indeed Sapphic fellow-travelers,
journeying together on the road to self and mutual fulfillment. C'mon,
honey--I've got an Indigo Girls CD cranked up in the room." Anya glared at
“Huh?” said Harmony. “What
are you talking about?” Harmony smile, smile, smiled at Bob, “She’s just,” air
quotes, “shy. She was like this in High School too. Ummm…Plus, her fiancée
just dumped her at the alter and she needs to go out and have some fun.
Dancing. At a rave.”
“Ohhh-kaaay.” said Bob.
“Hey!” said Anya.
“So,” said Bob, “Anya, do you
want to go out and forget a bit? I’m pretty familiar with the city.”
“Yes, at a rave,” said
“Harmony, you one track
imbecile, I can’t even believe that I gossiped with you.” said Anya. “I’m
sorry Bob, but Harmony’s a vampire,” Anya glared some more at Harmony, “and
there’s no such thing as a Toreador.” She looked back at Bob, believe this
stupid story, believe in me, “She just wants to suck you dry of all your blood
and discard your lifeless corpse to rot in some deserted ally. Trust me. I
know her type.” Back serve to Harmony, “And they’re Turok-han, not Nosfarts.
“Okay then.” said Bob, “I
think I’m going to go back to the bar now.”
“Anya! You just met this guy
and he looks kinda like Xander, so it’s perfect. Come on. Don't you want me to
express the real me and reach my full potential?”
“Oh, I think you’ve reached
the fullest possible potential for a dimwit."
Harmony scowled, "That's not
very nice." Her face rippled into ridges. Her eyes deepened into popcorn
butter yellow. “You are so on my kill list now.”
“Oh, please!” Anya reached
into her purse and pulled out a mister and gave it a little squeeze. Harmony
gave a satisfying sizzle. “I was a demon for 1100 years. I eviscerated twits
like you for breakfast. Which I now feel bad about, but not enough to let you
eat me or Bob here. Now shoo.”
Harmony growled in a girlish,
cross eyed kind of way.
Anya hit Harmony with another
sprits and pulled a stake from her purse, “I’ve got more where that came
“You’re so Mean!” Harmony ran
for the door and paused for dramatic effect, “And they’re all going to die you
know. I’m connected to a great and powerful evil and it’s going to do really
evil stuff to you. And you’ll totally regret being mean to me.”
“Oh, get a job you large
bottomed leach on society,” said Anya, brandishing the stake in a random sort
“Oh!” said Harmony, who
turned to head out the door, missed by a foot, because two margaritas with
three shots a piece will do that to your coordination, slammed into the door
frame, took out a chunk and sobbing, poor little lost demon girl, fled from
Anya shook her head,
“Vampires, no work ethic. Well, that calls for a drink.”
Bob stared at her in frozen,
what the f***!
“Yes, definitely a drink.”
The waiter, who had been about to ask if they wanted more drinks, also stood
frozen in definite guh?
“So, which of these
oddly-named mixed drinks contains the largest quantity of alcoholic
beverages?” said Anya.
“Uhh…the Long Island Ice Tea.
I uh, did her face get all bumpy?” said the waiter.
“Was she burning? What is
that? Acid?” said Bob.
“No, that’s not fruity
enough. And no, holy water,” said Anya, “See,” She gave her face a sprits,
“Both refreshing and sanctifying. I sold tons of these at the Magic Box. Not
really useful against a determined vampire, but well, a good bargain at 6.99.
So, do you have anything that tastes like punch? But with lots of alcohol.”
“Um, the uh…Long Beach Ice
Tea. Tastes like a bit like punch and will knock you on your…did her eyes
“Yeah, I’ll have one of
those. Do you want one too Bob?” said Anya.
“Yeah. I think that would be
a good idea.” said Bob, sitting back down. This time taking full advantage of
the soft large padding of his chair.
“Three Long Beach Ice Teas it
is then. Grande,” said the waiter, who wandered back to the bar. Glanced at
Anya and began to mix some large drinks. Hurray for America, land of the super
Anya pondered a bit and then
took a drink from Harmony’s margarita. Well, Harmony wasn’t going to need it.
Gratuitous Dream Sequence
White slabs of concrete
arranged in a crawling line stretched across the green prairie grass
Anya was a knight. She knew
that because of the yellow fuzzy blankie tied around her neck. Andrew was her
squire. He didn’t have a blankie.
She had a sword that was
shiny and swishy and a cardboard shield shaped like a heart. Not an actual
heart, but the representation of a heart and it was decorated with seven
concentric bands of pink and red.
And then she was a child
sitting on white carpet, coloring the bands in with a stubby felt marker.
Careful back and forth and don’t go over the lines.
And then she was a knight
again and her name was written on the back of the shield in Black Block
Letters and the shield was strapped to her forearm. Andrew was holding her
helmet and cardboard greaves that had been spray painted silver with her logo,
a medallion of mighty morphing magical vengeance. Bar sinister.
She looked at the grass,
which was short and thick and lush and very, very green. And full of holes.
It was very, very important
that they walk in the absolute center of the sidewalk or white, white arms,
like in that time machine movie, would reach up from the holes in the ground
and try and grab them.
Anya knew that if they got
her that they would drag her under the grass and devour her, even her bones.
So, she cut them with her swishy shiny sword and their blood stood out thick
on their arms and on the white concrete.
And then she was running over
the grass. Slashing and cutting and running faster than they could grab.
Practically flying. Falling forward. She was the wind and they couldn’t touch
her. She was the fire and she burned them. She was a knight on a quest for a
tree. A spreading tree in the midst of all that grass.
She climbed the tree and it
was tall and smooth and leafy and safe. She pulled off one of the leaves. It
was wide and long, covered in white down. She ate it, because this was the
Tree of Knowledge. The leaf tasted like leather and ink and sweat. And she
knew how to read the Monolith, like the one in 2001, which was next to the
tree. And it would explain everything. Absolutely everything.
And then she woke up and was
very, very pissed.
So, she put on a silky robe
and made demanding calls to room service that she would regret and pay for
later if the world was not destroyed.
On the Road Again
It was a horrible fuggly day
in the City by the Bay. If you could see the Bay. You could barely see the
seagulls huddled on the bridge.
“Going slowly,” sang out the
“Yeah, slowly.” Anya moved
her foot off the brake and inched forward. “If I ever get to move.”
Then she saw the dreaded sign
of changing lanes. This time to the right. Great. She sat there for a moment
with her turn signal on. “Oh, this stupid. We’re all going three miles an
hour.” And not waiting for the car next to her to give way, she just started
to move into the right lane and magically, because Anya knew her magic, there
was room. And then she passed the wrecked car that was blocking traffic and
traffic was kinda sorta moving and she went through a tunnel and there was no
fog on the other side, just a bright sunny day and industrial buildings in the
distance and she made it all the way up to thirty miles an hour. Yay!
She started to sing her
favorite musical book song, “Why go nowhere slowly, when you can go nowhere
fast?” and did her groove while driving thing. She put on her sunglasses with
the sparkles. “Maybe today won’t suck.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,”
“Oh, shut up!” and singing,
“God Speed. God Speed. I’m going God Speed,” Anya drove past the Port of
Oakland monsters and into the day.