The response to my first post was way more than I expected and I apologize for not being more involved on launch day. Going from person to person can be quite disorienting and honestly a huge inconvenience at times. The night after Daniel died of an unfortunate peanut allergy, I was pushed into the body of an old woman in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t believe in modern conveniences, like indoor plumbing… so a computer with access to the internet was out of the question.
As a reminder my name is Robert, and I am a metaphysical hobo. I am literally pushed from place to place with only my memories and the memories of the people I have been pushed from. Paper journaling is out of the question because it would be dumped with whatever body I just left and I don’t exactly get a forwarding address at the end of the day. So over time I have learned tricks to keep all this straight in my head. The invention of the cloud has been an absolute savior for me. I can just log in from whatever body I am in (as long as they have internet) and pick up where I left off.
Like I said, I have learned tricks over time to help me map my past experiences with hopes of finding my way out of this mess. I have mapped out most of my extra lives the best I can to try and find connections or make sense of it all and so far I have learned two rules.
Rule 1: I am never given more than 24 hours to live in a body, and thus the person I am in will die within 24 hours of me entering. Death will be by my hand or unseen/unknown event.
Rule 2: My actions in the previous push dictate the severity of the fate of the next person I am pushed into.
That second rule took an unfortunate amount of trial and error to find out, but I had the opportunity to learn it from my 2nd life. So I am going to rewind here and give you all a glimpse into the first time I was pushed.
The second life I led was that of Max, a dirt farmer in Idaho.
…..
“Ahh for fuck’s sake.”
The sun was just shining through the window and my head was killing me. And was that a rooster ringtone that just woke me up?
All I wanted to do was roll back over and get back to sleep, however I woke up to a sore back, no doubt from the bed made from what I assume was rusted springs and straw, so there was no additional sleeping on that torture device.
I decided to get up and face whatever terrible decisions I made the night prior. Being the man-whore I was, I was at that point quite familiar with waking up in strangers’ beds, but this was something out of my worst nightmare.
Do you remember the mother from ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?’ Well she was Ariana Grande by comparison to Max’s wife.
I sat up and just stared at the beast. There she was sleeping, well more like hibernating. She lied there in her sleeping gown covered in crumbs from what I assume was the remnants of the opened bag of Cheetos just in arms’ length and she glistened like a morning flower… if the flower was covered in sweat and smelled of vinegar. She was snoring with her matted and greasy brunette locks swaying from the breath of her exhale as it covered her face.
“What the fuck did I drink last night? Rephrase… what the fuck didn’t I drink last night?!”
I quietly pried myself from bed and went to find the bathroom.
Man I had to piss.
I carefully navigated the house being careful not to arouse Jaba from her slumber. After accidently walking into a few closets I finally found the right door, and locked it behind me. I didn’t even bother turning on the light or pulling up a toilet seat, like hell if my hands would touch anything that the beast shit anywhere near. I just whipped it out and started pissing.
“Fuck that feels good. What in the hell did you get yourself into Robert, and where are you?”
I gave it a few shakes… and that’s when I noticed something was wrong. I have had one consistent friend my entire life. Through and through he has been there for me, and the little uncircumcised hotrod in my hand… pissing my piss… was NOT MY DICK!
I quickly found the light switch.
“WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK! WHERE IS THE REST OF MY…”
Light knock on the door.
“Daddy… I need to use the potty.”
I tried to gather myself, and then I found the mirror… That was a mistake.
“AHHHHHH” “Fuck, fuck, fuck… what.. who…”
Light knock on the door.
“Daddy… I gotta go…..”
This face is not my face… this is not my body. Looking into the mirror I saw a sun baked man in his mid 30s. Weathered by circumstance and hard labor. This man had brown eyes… mine are blue. This man had a beard… I have always been clean shaven. This guy is balding… I don’t even have gray hairs!
“What is happening… oh my God what is happening?”
It is too early… I am still drunk. I will just splash some water on my face and eyes. Turn off the lights…
Light knock on the door.
“Daddy, I really gotta go!”
Light crying outside the door.
I started to breath heavily. I turned off the lights and washed my face… turned back on the lights…
“HOLY SHIT.”
The man in the mirror speaking back to me was copying my every word I was saying out loud.
Suddenly the door popped open and a little pudgy boy bumped me out of the way, flopped his pants and underwear down to his ankles and started pissing in the toilet.
“Ahhhhh”
Standing there peeing, the little boy just looked at me…
“Didn’t you hear me knocking Daddy?”
Why is this kid calling me Daddy?
“Not now Timmy.”
Why do I know what this kid’s name is? I have never met this kid before, have I?
“I must be dreaming, I have to be dreaming. That is the only thing that makes sense.”
“You dreaming Daddy?”
“Uh I must be…. And stop calling me that.”
“Calling you what?”
“Daddy.”
“You are funny Daddy.”
The little boy just giggled, lightly guided me out of his way and washed his hands, and walked out of the bathroom.
I heard light run and jump onto the bed I just came from.
“Mommy, wake up! Daddy is being funny.”
Oh fuck the beast is awake.
If I thought her looks were atrocious her voice was a whole other monster! Close your eyes and think of what a talking fart with a cigarette and underbite would sound like.
“Max, come in here. My bunions are acting up and I need you to rub my ointment on them.”
Nooooope, nope, nope and another one for good measure nopeity nope nope. I don’t care if this is a dream or if I am using another man’s hands; there is no way in hell (for which I thought I was in) was I going to touch those hooves.
I quickly ran into the hallway and found my way to the backdoor. Standing outside in only boxer briefs on a cold morning I was completely disoriented.
“Where am I? Is this a nightmare? This has to be a dream. Well a nightmare. Definitely a nightmare. How do I wake up?!”
I must have sat there for a solid three minutes pinching and slapping myself attempting to wake up to no avail. Realizing it wasn’t working I came to the conclusion that I needed a bigger jump start to get me awake. The house, if you can call it that, wasn’t tall enough to jump off to kill me in my “nightmare” so I went searching for something a bit more final destination style. I finally found it in the barn. A woodchipper.
Starting a big piece of machinery like that is a lot easier than I would have thought. Gathering the nerve to jump head first into a whirling piece of machinery…. that is a different story.
“Okay Robert… on the count of three.”
I walked in front of the machine.
“1…”
“2…”
I braised my legs for a sprint…
“3”
… and took off. I ran head first at the machine but pulled around last second losing my nerve.
“Eghhhh there has to be an easier way,” I said out of breath and my eyes starting to well up.
“Daaaaaaaaddddddy”
Fuck the kid was coming. I had one more chance to do this.
“I need to wake up. If I don’t, who knows where this shit show nightmare will take me.”
Staring at the machine again I needed to psych myself back up.
“1…you can do this….”
“2…come on Robert time to wake up…”
“Better to jump head first in here than head first in her…..3”
This time I ran full sprint, tucked my hands at my side and thrust myself head first inside the machine.
I felt the first crushing blow of my skull starting to get pulverized. I felt blood spray across my shoulders. I felt the skin from my face being pulled off of my skull and remember my eyes being scraped out of their sockets. After that it all went black.
This is where I could have learned about the second rule sooner. After I ended Max’s life I was pushed into poor Samantha’s body in the back of a trunk belonging to a serial killer.
….
Anyway that was my second life. In retrospect, I am not proud of how things ended. Honestly thinking about Max’s kid getting splattered by his father’s pulverized body occupies more space in my thoughts than it should. His son is now passed on as well so I don’t really have any mending to do there. However, I am going to start unraveling my past lives and see if I can find the common connections and maybe find my way out of this mess I put myself in. I have to get out of this endless cycle.
Heaven…Hell… Honestly anything is better than this.