Fog Bastards 1 Intention by Bill Robinson Page A

and stand. I have trouble gauging the distance to the floor, and almost fall. Pausing a second to stabilize, then head back into the bathroom to finish up from my shower, I hit the light switch, though it takes two tries. This light must have really fraked with my balance.
     
     
There is a man in the mirror and he is not me. I jump and something unintentional comes out of my mouth. He's taller. Maybe six foot four. Where my hair is brown, his is black, though both of us have short spikey hair. His face is long, mine is rounder. We have the same nose. The iris of each eye is black, inhuman, shiny, mine are blue. His muscles are ripped and huge, mine are tight, but not bulgy. There's a salami between his legs. I have a nice brat, but this is a serious Kosher salami.
     
     
Just to make sure, I reach up with both hands and run them over my face and then down over everything, even the salami. It's really me. No way my clothes are going on over this body, and I have no idea how I'm going to leave my room. The light says to squeeze, though it has no voice. I close my eyes and search for that inner hand, find it, and squeeze the light back in. When I open my eyes, I'm me again.
     
     
I get dressed and run down stairs. The gift shop is directly across from the elevator and it's about to close for the evening, but I convince the clerk I have an emergency. I don't tell her I just burped light. I grab an XXL sand colored swimsuit and an XXL t shirt emblazoned with a sea turtle swimming under water, throw three twenties at her for a $50 outfit, and run for the elevator.
     
     
The room is dark and I leave it that way, returning to the bed in my naked meditation pose. I close my eyes, find the hand, grasp the light. It slips out. I try again, but now I can't find the hand. I'm way too anxious and not being helped by the light laughing at me, the bastard. Can a light have parents? Is it possible that they were married? Bastard. Pretty sure that's the truth.
     
     
I spend more time just breathing. The hand is easy to find now, I gently hold the light and speak, "Fuck me," which apparently is full of intention. A rush of something courses through me which I know is the light. Then there is light in the room for a couple seconds, but I really don't care. This is better than sex, or at least better than all but the last 20 seconds of sex, and it's in every inch of me, feet to head. I breathe a couple of times just to enjoy the after glow.
     
     
I can't see my face, but I grab for the salami and it's there. Still in the dark, I carefully exit the bed, realizing now that my longer legs will take getting used to. I put on the outfit and grab my room key. I am tempted to just leave, but I decide it's better to check and make sure that I look human before I go, after all, I did not buy underwear so I am going commando. The same new face stares back at me, shakes it's head, and barefoot, exits the room.
     
     
Without any doubt, I could get to the ground floor by going through the concrete to get there, all I'd have to do is step harder. I would describe the feeling better, but no human being has the words for it. I've never moved so fast. I head down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and I am able to travel from landing to landing in great leaps (single bounds?). I break the lock on the door to the street I'm in such a hurry to get it open, forgetting that it's after 10.
     
     
There's no real beach in Kona, so I jog up the road toward Kahalu`u Bay. I get there after it's technically closed, except that a couple homeless people are always hanging around. I don't know what to do with myself, how do you learn to be Superman? I decide to see how high I can jump. My normal hops are about 18 inches, so in my mind I think 150 feet? Then I think about coming down from that height. I turn toward the ocean so whatever happens I'll end up in the water. The light can barely contain itself laughing.
     
     
I bend my legs, take a deep