Did you ever notice how people look up at the the lit numbers that indicate the floors, and then light up once passing the floor, or stopping. Why do people look at them so intently? Do you look up in an elevator? What in hell are you looking for?
I do, but I think I’m looking for a mystic solution to all the things in the universe, or at the very least my meager existence. I’ve never had an epiphany in the elevator or did I?. Have you? Have you seen magical numbers appear other than the ones already up there? Do little fairies suddenly appear and wink at you?
I’ve experienced many things in the time machine. Yes, I like to think of elevators as time machines. Think about it, you walk in the elevator at one time, and a moment later the doors open and you’re in a completely different place and time, literally. Many large cities have fleets of time machines operating all the time, in many, many locations. The only unfortunate part of these wonderfully designed capsules, is that you can only transport into the future. You cannot, in no way shape or form,go back into the past. Basically, we can now call itthe one-way time machine.
I remember a day a long time ago when I was going to visit someone in a building that contained 20 or so floors in it. The building was well kept. I entered the time machine with several other people. Themachine was older than most, and had certainly seen better days. There where maybe 12 people that filed on, including myself. I pushed the button for the 18th floor, one person pushed the 19th, apparently to the agreement to 5 others. One person pushed the button for the 17th floor and another for the 21st. This was baffling to me since there where only 20 floors in the building. It seems many buildings that had the time machines installed, vehemently opposed the inclusion of a 13th floor due to some ridiculous superstitions.
The doors rattled, creaked and finally closed. The time machine whirled to life and we where on our way. Suddenly something happened. A vilestench enveloped the small, slightly confined space we shared in the time machine. It was so bad, it’s hard as hell to even describe. My eyes began to water and I could barely breathe. I began to choke and cough, my body jerking in revolt. My gag reflex was in full operating order and was determined to rid my body of this foreign substance suddenly surrounding my cohabitants and I. The other travelers were also visibly sickened by the foul odor. Time began to stand still it. I remember trying to look up at the numbers to see how long I was to beat death’s door. I remember praying for someone on another floor to be interested in traveling to yet, a higher floor, thereby making the contraption stop and the doors open, freeing us from our never ending time in hell. Time would not come to terms with our plight.
The 3rd floor light finally lit up and a small, old and seemingly worn out bell rang indicating another place in time had gone by. Suddenly, I DID have an epiphany. I reached out my hand to push a button for another floor. I hit five and the light wouldn’t go on to signify it’s understanding of my request. I was barely able to look up at the numbers above, but did see we had already passed the 5th floor. How did time move so quickly, when it seemed to be suspended for us. Was the machine in control? An evil production of a mad person?
I was holding my breathe, my heart was racing and I could barely see between the tears spewing from my tear ducts. This was one of the most terrifying, tumultuous experiences in my life.
Someone had been able to muster the strength to hit one of the buttons for the eighth floor. The door opened and a green fog hovering 3 inches above the floor crept out and moved along the cooridor with urgency. I would guess to attack another unsuspecting group of victims.
No one exited the time machine, and the air seemed to be clear. We all began to look at each other in wonderment. Who was the culprit? Who produced such a fantasticly horrible smell? As we peered around I began to feel my cheeks warm, I was blushing. But why? Was I an unsuspecting bearer of flatulence? I suppose it’s possible. Just then, it happened again, but this time a distictive sound was accompanied. The sound I would suspect, is an early warning system build in to our bodies altering usto such killer, sunami-like waves of rotten smell.
The sound was low in bass, a muffled gurgling sound that made my skin crawl. it lastedquite a long time, growling out it’s weapon of mass destruction.It came from behind me. I know what your thinking, it was me. NO, it wasn’t. I turned to see the masses in the confined space cover thier noses in unison. As they covered for protection from the killer gas, they began to part like the Dead Sea.upon doing so, the partingrevealed a little old woman standing in the corner with a slight grin on her face. I wasn’t sure of the grin just yet, but I was now certain that she was the impetuous flatulent offender. She was a kind looking person with white hair and a rump the size of Maine. No taller than a leprechaun, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose and her legs no longer thanthat of a dining room chair.
As we took short labored breathes, watching our lives flash before our eyes, some making the Sign of the Calvary Cross,the elevator stop at the 17th floor and the doors opened. The little woman lurched up her bags and began to waddle through the small uncomfortable path between the tortured travelers. As she exited and took the last step out of the time machine, she slowly turned, raised her right hand and exhibited the “bird”, the one finger “salute”. We were all aghast. As she turned to walk down the hallway, another rip roaring explosion emerged from her direction and as she began to laugh, her offending soundstuttered. I thought I might die at that very moment.
The doors closed and our machine came to life once again lifting us to the next floor where I would make my departure, finally! The machine stopped and the doors opened. I began to make my way off the time machine and mid way through the open door, I turned and looked at my fellow sufferers. They all had the same look on their faces, as I’m sure I had as well. The look was relief, thankfulness, and that of kindredness. We didn’t have to say a word to each other. We all knew of the near death life experience we had just survived. I was able to make a small smile with my dried, cracked lips.
We were friends forever now, no matter whom is in need, we are there.
In conclusion, a time machine can also be a death trap. I survey everyone who I don’t know, before allowing myself to board the elevator in shear fear of this episode repeating itself. I shiver at the thought.
This story brought to you by the twisted imagination of yours truly. I hope you enjoy and share this story with all those that appreciate fine, twisted humor.
I shall do something, sometime, when the undying need fills me to do so.
PEACE!
