The5thCandidate

Here we go.

Number one, I was flying down the old Neco and she told me to watch out, so I left the car in the back and took out seventeen of them old catloon blinder and gave her a terrible headache. She left me alone in the desert and I had to walk to Los Gueno with nothing in my pack but a pile of snakes and four carrots.


Number two, I had these trees in the back of the lot and they were looking pretty beat up, so I gave them each a new suit and hat and told them to straighten up and fly right. They looked at me and said nothing, but I know that on the inside they were cursing me, telling me that I had no right to leave them now, no right to show them what they were missing. I figured they'd get over it and headed out the front door.


Number three, the time was 4:37 pm on a quiet Tuesday in the middle of May and I was on my way to Kathmandu to meet up with the guru. He'd told me in a dream that if I came to find him he'd show me the way back home. Even I knew, he meant my real home. I was looking through the last tavern in town, trying hard to find anyone with a couple of winters worth of hate and suffering, trying hard to find the one who could let me know where I was, but there were only smiles and "how do you do"'s and laughter and clear, wild liquor. I was lost now, and the guru wasn't talking anymore. The truth is he was long dead, but that's not the point of this story.


Number four, I knew it was late, but I had time for that sort of thing. She was looking at me like I was some sort of wild creature, trapped and injured, like she wanted to set me free but she was afraid I might kill her if she did. I was all right, though, and she had nothing to worry about. I think she may have been a little drunk, but the real issue was the fact that she had a gun and all I had was a bottle of White Star and half a walking stick. She led me out of the station and into a dark room full of noise and calamity. She had a plan, you see, and I wasn't going to enjoy it. Her only trouble was my left leg, which had pretty much healed by now.


Number five, I was crying, see, when they came and took me away. They stared at me for hours, days even, and all I could do was cry at them, scream at them, throw stones and dust and long howls at them. They didn't seem to mind, though, and when I was done they took me back to the centre and held me there for a fortnight. I was tired and lonely, but they kept me warm and full. They had long legs and quiet eyes, and they let me think about whatever I could manage. They took long walks together when they thought I was sleeping, but I was really watching them. I suppose I could have gone, then, but they knew I wouldn't, they knew I was safe and calm and lost at the same time. They knew me.


Number six, it was a particularly dark evening on the 16th of June, and I was walking alone on the beach by the lighthouse. I was getting toward the rocks, and was thinking about going back, when it struck me: I was walking right into a trap. By the time I had turned around to run, they were on me, tying me, pulling and pushing me, throwing me into the ocean. I was left there for a while, tied to the bottom by a huge grey rope attached to a huge grey boulder resting on the huge grey ocean floor. I guess it was the following Sunday before she came and got me, but I had been dead for a long time, by then.


Number seven, I knew she had come for the money, but I wasn't about to let her take my life away like that. She was guilty and greedy at the same time, so she just stood there for a while before I finally said anything. "So I guess it's about that time, isn't it love?" And she looked at me hard and cold and said, "You told me that it was going to be alright. You could have lied, you know. You could have told me that I was in trouble and that I wasn't going to get out of there alive. You had your chance to tell me, and you just said, 'Oh sure, you'll be alright, I know these folks.'" I looked back at her and started to scream and she just took the money and left. I followed her after about half an hour, and that's when the real fun started.


Number eight, I had a lot on my mind when she tapped me on the shoulder that cold December morning. I was thinking about how much I loved her and how little she needed me. I was worried that she'd finally decided that she was through with me, through trying to cheer me up, through trying to make me smile. You see, she meant a lot to me, but when I had finally worked up the nerve to do anything about it, when I had finally decided that there might be something there, a chance for me to love her, she'd decided that I wasn't worth cheering up anymore. So when she tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around to see her smiling at me I thought I was dreaming. I took her head in my hands and kissed her, right there, in the middle of the street. It was the first time I'd ever kissed a woman and meant it. It was about half a second into the kiss that I realized what I was doing.


Number nine, the west was calling my name, again. I packed two bags, one with food and clothes and money and such things, the other with two forty foot lengths of good rope and a couple of good canes and twelve books, all completely blank save one. That one was special to me. I'd had it ever since my little trip to Los Gueno so long ago. When I woke up in Los Gueno I found it in my bag, next to the last of the snakes. A black mamba if I recall correctly. It told me everything I needed to know, and whenever I read from it I found what I was looking for. It was as much a part of me as I was it. I knew what it had in mind for me, and I was planning on showing it that I could be the master of my own fate.


Here's what it told me:

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Muthtard?! Don't let'th be thilly. Lemon, now that'th different...