The Universe's Mixer

"We are pleased to say that the two of you have successfully completed your rehabilitation programs and will be provided with immediate release to The City. Remember to mind the food pyramid, drink four full glasses of water a day, and start each morning by looking in the mirror and giving yourself a compliment. Like, My! I am a very handsome fellow. Or, I love myself! Don't forget! An apple a day keeps the monsters away. And always look both ways before crossing the street! Here, have some multivitamins for the road."
( Cherry, orange, and grape flavored chewables! )

It was a tiny little world. The forest surrounding The City reminded Trickster of the edge of a playable video game setting-- meant to look like there was more world to explore while being little more than a painted wall meant to keep the action in. Interesting choice, but more than a little obvious. The angel was eager to speak to the deity responsible-- if only for a well deserved ribbing.

He flew invisibly over streets, peeked into homes, flipped through television channels at the electronics store while the employees scrambled to figure out what was wrong with the showroom displays. The entire act was like flipping through yellow pages trying to find something to do. But The Trickster wasn't finding much action.

Oh sure, there were aliens and super heroes and doctors and dead people. It was an eclectic mix he could appreciate for sure. He already had plans for some of them but wasn't feeling up to the task of teaching any lessons just yet until he got a better feel for the place. So he continued to breeze past motels and skyscrapers. It felt so good to stretch out again.

Until he started to feel tired.

And that was new. Troubling, even.

Before Trickster could wonder about that he came across a bow-legged, boot wearing face. Trickster landed and to the outsider he "appeared" suddenly, silently behind the human hunter.

"Man, they just let any riff raff in, don't they? Here I was hoping for a vacation."

George was being released. She signed some forms under her alias Millie, put her clothes back on and then signed more forms. Besides a package of blank post-its George didn't possess many personal items.

"So I can go now?" The nurse she spoke to bore a striking resemblance, both in personality and appearance, to her former boss Deloris Herbig. It made it hard for George to look particularly sour or annoyed. George even avoided swearing.

"Just one more thing!" The nurse came out of the office with a sleeping orange cat, putting it in George's arms before she could protest.

"I'm not really good with pets," George mumbled.

"Oh don't worry, dear! Cats are very self reliant. He just had a sedative not too long ago so he's fast asleep."

"He has a cool collar."

"Hm? That's nice, dear. Now run along!"

George was shoved unceremoniously out of the asylum with the cat. Having no idea what to do with a cat, she continued walking with it in her arms. Part of her worried that the cat was going to claw the shit out of her face when it woke up, but given her horrible track record with accidentally killing pets she couldn't see herself putting it somewhere defenseless on the ground. If George had learned anything there were a lot of freaks in The City.

Which meant George didn't want to put the cat in a shelter, either. Since he wasn't a kitten the reaper worried if anyone would want him. No dumping the cat into the wild. No shelter. Maybe she could put an ad in the paper?

"There has to be someone out there who'd really like having a cat."

George frowned.

Zoe had been sleeping, or dozing; her dream, what there was of it, had been lovely, calm, and warm. She was safely in the arms of a man who loved her, but then it all changed. Things went dark. There was this sound in the distance. It sounded as if the whole world were looking to come down, or with the metallic crunch and screams, it sounded as if she were back in the trenches. She didn't want to leave the dream, wonderfully loving dream, but the sounds demanded attention.

The warrior woman sat up, reaching instinctively for the weapon that had recently been replaced by a spork. She wasn't sure what the sounds were out in the hall, but she knew the way the people cried out in pain that something very bad was going on. ( The spork and her wits were all she had to protect herself and others. )

"Well, well, well. It looks like someone's getting out a little earlier than expected. Looks like you've been exonerated." The words were familiar. Charlie had heard them before, but he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong to be locked away for this time. When his mind was clear enough to think it through, he always came back to the feeling he'd done nothing.

"Com'on, or I really will beat you like a redheaded step child." The orderly gave a firm kick to the detective's stomach, and thankfully even drugs couldn't muddle his brain so much that he couldn't protect himself. He wasn't so fast that he could get out of the way, but he knew to go with the kick. He'd feel it for a few days, but he'd live.

Charlie got up, put on the clothes (a tailored suit and shirt with matching tie and a very swanky pair of shoes, even a pair of designer sunglasses) they gave him, and walked slowly wherever they directed him. He signed the release forms and collected the rest of his things; other than the clothes, this was all very familiar, even the walk to the cab waiting for him.

Last time he was released, he'd been hungry. The kick to the breadbasket had decreased his appetite, but he told the cabdriver to take him to a small place that always had fresh fruit. While he might not be hungry, he knew he would be eventually. Fruit seemed like just the thing to get and possibly a fish. A living one, not to be eaten. Possibly a dog, a large one for Ted. Or a horse.

It wasn't until he got out of the cab, paying the driver with the money he knew would be in his pocket, that Charlie realized who Ted was. He turned to get back in the cab, but it was gone. Charlie knew that if he got out, Ted would get out or already was. Charlie, for once, wasn't sure what to do. The drugs made it hard to concentrate but easy to go with the flow and not try to work against the flow. Charlie had to believe that he would see Ted soon; he'd get his housemate fruit to prove as much.