Dead Dogs Don't Roll Over
Written by: Alex Sandell

Chapter 49
I've Got The Whole World In My Hands

After letting the giant’s prophetic words hang in the air for a minute, I get up, and exit the E.M.T’s room. Right before opening the door to the gaming floor, I feel a cold hand, tightly grasping my shoulder. After jumping about thirty-feet, I turn around and see the scrawny, quiet E.M.T. standing behind me. "Sorry," he mumbles, under his breath, "I didn’t mean to sneak up on you."

"What do you need?" I ask. The quiet guy takes a while to think about it, then begins speaking. "I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing good. At least under the circumstances. You really haven’t been told much." "Uh, okay," I say, while trying to politely vacate the area. I start opening the door to the gaming world, when Mr. E.M.T. decides to move on with this "conversation." "I know how you can stop them," he tells me. I turn back to face the guy, coming to terms with the fact that I’m not going to just "get away."

When I look him in the eye, I get the same feeling I would from standing in front of a freezer, old rag in hand, knowing the next two hours of my life is going to be spent picking at, and scrubbing up, the frozen can of strawberry soda that exploded in there last week. "Stop who?" I ask, feeling as if I already know the answer, even though I probably don’t have the first clue. "Them," is all the scrawny E.M.T. says. "Well," I say, becoming annoyed with all of these indirect answers, "there’s an awful lot of ‘them’ running around, wouldn’t you say? Which ‘them’ is the ‘them’ that we’re currently talking about?

"The only ‘them’ that matters," answers the scrawny guy, never once changing the cryptic expression that has covered his face since I woke from my fainting spell. "Sorry," I look down at the E.M.T.’s nametag, "Bilbo, that didn’t help. I’m still not sure if we’re speaking of the same ‘them.’ I think I’m talking about ‘THEM!,’ while you’re actually thinking of ‘them.’" Bilbo goes silent, looking slightly confused.

He looks at the camera staring down at us, cups his hand over my ear, and begins whispering to me. "The people behind the Armageddon." "WHAT?!?" I nearly scream, forgetting the cameras, and microphones that are recording my every gesture, sound, and movement. "What part of ‘Armageddon’ don’t you understand?" Bilbo asks, getting cockier with every word. Still, I can’t help feeling sorry for him, going through life as a "Bilbo" couldn’t be very easy.

"I don’t know," I say, putting on my "stupid" voice, "well, maybe I do. Yeah, I think I know what ‘Armageddon’ is, it’s like the last battle between good and evil, right?" I shake my head over this need that I have, to make everyone else feel superior to me, by asking them to confirm something I’ve known since entering Parochial school, as a five-year-old. What God-fearing Catholic doesn’t know about the upcoming Armageddon? Things like gigantic battles between good and evil, is second nature to me. I was taught to be terrified. It’s Christian!

"Yes, that’s pretty much what it is," says E.M.T. Bilbo, obviously proud of his superior knowledge in all things Armageddon. "But there’s a difference from what you were taught as a Catholic schoolboy." I feel all the blood leaving my face, as Bilbo speaks. This is just so, I don’t know, "freaky," to have all these strangers knowing everything about me. The E.M.T. continues, "it’s good vs. evil, the only problem is, you’re the good." "I’m the only good?" I ask, thinking of all my ex-girlfriends, the rich people in high stakes, and Richard. Maybe this isn’t really that much of a revelation, after-all. "Not exactly, but you’re the only ‘good’ that can control the evil."

My mind begins spinning in circles. "I can’t even tie my shoes, right. How can I ‘control’ the evil?" "It’s your mind. You’ve been this way since birth." I wonder when he’s going to tell me that I’m one of the Lord’s "special" people.

"The concept is too big to explain to you, in your present form." I push out the small, yet increasingly visible gut that I’ve been working on since graduating high school. "There, is this better?" The scrawny little dork of an E.M.T. finally changes his expression a bit - from cryptic, to pissed off. "This isn’t a joking matter. The fate of humanity is in your hands."

I look at my hands, thinking of all the lonely evenings I’ve popped in a video, and used them for less than saintly activities, and bust out laughing. "I told you this isn’t a joking manner." "Look," I say, taking a turn at being frustrated, "I’m not Allstate, these hands are nothing. The greatest thing I’ve ever accomplished with these hands is beating ‘Super Mario Bros.’ without using any warps." "It’s not what you’ve done, that matters," says Bilbo, the scrawny E.M.T., "it’s what you’re going to do."

Go to: Chapter 50

©1997 Alex Sandell but, if you're a book publisher and, you wanna get this puppy out, please get in touch with me, hand me a nice, big contract and, of course, a 12 pack of Grape Soda and maybe we can do lunch.

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