| She morphed into a lizard and slithered up the wall. The room looked new from this odd perspective. She observed the sofa on which she had reclined and noticed the small ball of a man. That must be how astigmats see. He stood up and sat again. Her eye protruded and zoomed. The film of sweat on his neck might attract flies and she felt hunger. What would it taste like? The sweat. Better still, a fly? She shuffled to the next wall. He had a bald patch on his head that was not there before. Much like an egg on a frying pan. "What are you doing?" Ah … He seems so weak. Must we really do it? "We have to." The other lizards spat at her. "We cannot keep this shape much longer." Very translucent now, they converged from five walls. Patches of intestines wormed toward the man. He was thirsty and did not want to wait. Why was it taking them so long? And who were Rita's friends anyhow? He tapped his foot. I need one more of these. Green Lizards. Don't mind if I do. But not here. I wonder what they are all doing at Ruby's in Phnom Penh. Those were the days. What am I doing here? Thank goodness no one knows what we were brewing there then. It would have melted the Viets back to Hanoi in a sec. Bloody protestors! They put an end to all that. All those years of research for nothing. The intestines accelerated towards the center of the room. "Rita? I really could do with that drink, if it doesn't take all day." Humph! Funny. The way she had latched onto him the first day. And it had not taken her very long to invite him over. Why had she called her friends though? Ah … Pretty bare apartment. Not too many people come here, obviously. Why obviously? He liked her Green Lizards. Let's see. How about this recipe? Mixing instructions: Add ice. Shake well. The sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever bender, so-you-can-rest, cocktail. Did she say this drink is very popular in Phnom Penh, which is technically an alcohol-free area? Ha! They all dropped at once, smothering him in guts. Rita's name stuck in his throat. The strangest sensation entered as they melted through his nose, ears, and gaping mouth. "My name is Hoang Mai. I am not Rita. May I come in with my friends?" Memories flashed. "I hope that you woke up this morning. I had some difficulty, which owed to the heady mix of alcohol. I looked pale and quite sick, but somehow felt no backache. And so I jumped into my gear with the agility of a sex crazed young leopard and tore down Norodom Boulevard. I had forgotten that there is some vacation going on. I whizzed to the pleasure dome so fast that I only had time to listen to one song." What the hell is going on? This is definitely not Phnom Penh. "We need your help, David. Please! This is Hoang Mai. They finished testing. Do you hear? They finished testing it. They sprayed it on Saigon before the armistice. So many of our troops were there after the city fell. Please tell us! Is there an antidote?" David sat on the sofa and squinted at Rita. "These hallucinations won't stop. They will not stop. I don't know everything about what we were making. They called it Agent Orange. But I don't know all its symptoms and effects. I think about it all the time. God! I need a drink." (February 2003) Copyright ©2003 Olivier Serrat |
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