“That’s too bad,” she told them. “These people deserve worse than what I
gave them.”
Luke wanted to go back to his apartment. He wanted to wake up from the
dream.
“You’d eat a hot dog that came out of her uterus?” Luke asked the puppet.
“I probably wouldn’t eat that shit,” the puppet responded.
“Are you the exile?” Miss Carriage asked.
“Fuck no,” the puppet said.
She tilted her head and smiled. The cannon on her stomach opened again and
launched another fetus at Luke. It hit him in the stomach, knocking the
wind out of him. He collapsed, struggling to breathe.
Miss Carriage walked toward the dark van holding the exile.
“Where’s that bitch going?” the puppet asked.
Luke rolled over carefully, trying not to crush a fetus. He watched as
Miss Carriage opened the back door and extended a hand to the exile.
The man inside took it. She helped him out of the van and gave him a hug
before walking him back toward Luke.
“There is a war coming, zealot,” she told him. “Make sure you’re on the
correct side.”
She led the exile out of Bibleopolis.
Luke stood up slowly, trying to make sense of what had happened, why it
did, and why he was part of it. He was just a janitor. He never asked for
any of this.