Chapter 23: Thunder On High
8.25.2002 Edited by , every Sunday.
Bjorn and Jesus ran from Spandex Man,
Towards the only place that would be safe.
But as they ran, dear Jesus slipped and fell,
And Spandex Man just could not stop in time.
As Spandex Man careened towards the floor,
His partner, Smoker Lady fell as well.
In a few moments everything was still,
With Jesus at the bottom of the pile.
Bjorn knew he had a moment still to spare
Before the two antagonists untangled,
So in he darted with a nimble step,
And grabbed sweet Jesus by the slender hand.
With a yank and kick Jesus relieved herself
Of the ugly burden holding her down.
And off the two ran, hand in tired hand,
As Spandex Man and Smoker lady groaned.
"Think you that those two will escape our boss?"
Sighed Smoker lady as she lit one up.
"McNoHart will not rest till they are caught.
Now get up and off me you filthy wench."
With a click the latch slid shut behind
The two now breathless heroes as they came
Into the room from which they first emerged
To play a futile game of hide and seek.
"I wish people would stop trying to kill us."
Panted Jesus as she kicked off her heels.
"We'll be safe as long as that lock holds."
Responded Bjorn between his ragged gasps.
And in the end the lock indeed did hold,
As all around the ceiling tumbled down.
And shining intact the golden latch did lie
Amidst the din and desperate cries for help.
But that horror was not upon us yet,
As Bjorn and Jesus sat, side by side.
Bjorn rested his head in the cradle of his hands,
And sighed, waiting for tears that were not there.
And Jesus, watching, reached out her soft hand,
And ran it through Bjorn's tousled auburn hair.
"There will be tears for all before too long."
She whispered to herself, she knew not why.
"We should get some sleep," Answered Bjorn,
"Before those two or others try again
To take my life and that of my dear friend,
the one whose name is also that of God."
With that remark, Bjorn passed into sleep,
With Jesus at his side and full of dread.
And in his dreams he thought he could believe
That all that had happened until now had not.
Slumb'ring Bjorn heard not the steps,
Felt not as Jesus left his snoring side.
Jesus went to find him some new pants,
And think about what she'd begun to feel.
Before she had met this strange man Bjorn,
She'd been naught more than harlot in the street,
There but to favour wishes of rich men,
Who sweat like horses in the desert heat.
Still she sometimes felt their clumsy hands,
As drunk with lust or wine they made their move.
And she would gently take the coins they gave,
And listen as they whispered in her ear.
But Bjorn, he did not seem to be the type
To even think to ever pay for love.
And he was handsome, honest, like no man
She'd ever before taken to her bed.
She could imagine life not on the street,
But with Bjorn, in a humble abode
Where they together could spend all their days,
And maybe even raise a child or three.
"NOT IN THIS LIFE!" She cried with rage,
And Bjorn did not hear in the land of nod.
For she knew that their love could never be,
And all the cards she held had not been played.
When Bjorn awoke he found himself alone,
Beside a pair of freshly ironed jeans.
He quickly changed, and then he looked around,
To see that Jesus was not to be seen.
He called her name, for in his heart he felt
That now, more than at any other time,
He needed to be with this lady fair,
For deep within him blackened coldness dwelt.
Once again he called her sacred name,
And once again she failed to appear,
And panic like a rabid dog came running
To leap and into Bjorn's heart to tear.
The sun was up, as he could plainly see,
But no man had come to this post today
To watch and monitor the goings on
In and around these two great monoliths.
Empty was the station where he lay,
But on were all the screens and cameras.
And even though the blinking light was red,
None saw that day the threat until too late.
"I'm here!" Cried Jesus, dashing to his arms.
"I'm glad." Said Bjorn, and they embraced.
The next word uttered from her mouth was "Where-"
But no more words escaped her lips that day.
For, interrupting, came a muffled thump,
and the floor beneath them gave a twisting heave.
Still holding Jesus Bjorn fell to the ground
As it leapt up and with a crack it split.
Hot air swelled up from the gaping hole,
And on it sailed broken shards of glass.
Just to one side Bjorn and Jesus lay
As like a mouth the wrenching maw did roar.
"Get up! Let's Go! I think we have to leave!"
Shouted Bjorn in his straightforward way.
But yells did not bring Jesus to her feet,
And reaching down he found the lady limp.
"No! Wake up! We have to find our way
Out of this building which it seems is not
As safe as once I said we could assume!"
Cried Bjorn above the noise he now could hear.
This noise was mingled cries of fear and pain,
And undertones of grinding, crushing weight
As the tower, once invincible did strain
To hold together under this onslaught.
And Bjorn was paralyzed, aghast,
As mem'ries of history flooded back.
And amid the chase he had forgot
To check and pay attention to the date.
And now, with Jesus lying in his arms,
He knew, he knew just what was to come.
And with a wail he fell upon his knees,
And in defeat he waited for his doom.
But Jesus stirred! And as he watched she moved,
And, as in sleep, she moved her hand and moaned.
She reached out her almost lifeless hand,
And grasped the leg of his old stained trousers.
Without a word Jesus had saved the day,
Though now chance for salvation seemed obscure,
For out of Bjorn's old pocket, what should fall,
But those strange mystery pills that Bjorn had kept!
Amazed, no longer feeling the shuddering floor,
Bjorn took the sack of pills with trembling hands.
And could it be he felt one of them stir,
As though it squirmed to say "I am the one"?
As Bjorn beheld the pill now in his hand,
The floor at last began to fall away.
With a single gulp the pill went down,
And at once Bjorn felt himself start to change.
His joints, against his will, began to seize.
His skin turned gray and started to grow hard.
With his last strength, Bjorn grabbed the girl,
And as he turned to stone they tumbled down.
Amidst the wreckage, after days had passed,
One man came across the strangest sight.
A woman, deep in sleep, clad in red,
Protected, embraced by the statue of a man.
And as he watched, the stone began to shift,
And crumble away to reveal skin,
And at last the former statue drew a breath,
And drew the lady closer in his arms.
By Mike Trudeau