The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 125
Suzy, my landlord, agent of the gods, was putting the house up for sale. No chance in hell it would sell, get through escrow, before the end of summer. Not with that run down trailer park next door. Not with a broken septic system she refused to fix. Not with ceiling insulation made of asbestos, concealed from inspection with a layer of drywall. And certainly not with me pointing all those things out to potential buyers. And by then…
I looked at my hand again: a pair of deuces and an ace. A black ace. Nothing had changed since my last trip in the Enchanted Realm. Nothing ever would until I was back in the solitude and quiet of wilderness, free of space defined by sharp vertical and horizontal angles.
As perfect a hand as it was, as beautiful as the god’s timing seemed, playing that black ace sickened me.
It was a flawless scheme otherwise since I no longer cared about any of my unsold art or photos or files or… objects, not any of them. But abandoning Hank and Linda… the thought alone was such shameful, such hideous mind poison.
They had me. Again. It was as if they were offering to exchange the poison for an elixir of dollar store materialism and mediocrity, sameness and stuckness. “Just swallow this,” the gods suggested, “and we’ll spare your cats.”
So there I was, staring at a puzzle that just flat out refused to go together. No picture on the box to go by. A duplicate, yet inverted side to each piece.
So I gave up.