Nightfall after the madhouse (with apologies to Issac Asimov)

It has now been three days in bedlam. Ia teeters on the brink of insanity.

M, meanwhile, seems to have lost it a long time ago. He does not even try to raise a thought against the insanity.

The high beings come to take Ia. She is suddenly enclosed by an unseen barrier; a dark envelope in which the world outside is just a dim memory. She feels rumbling from without; it become stronger; a sensation of movement. For Ia, it is a nightmare, and the screams she hears chill her heart. She imagines she can hear M's screams, gut wrenching cries of one staring into the infinite darkness of eternal sleep.

She feels her blood drain away, and an insane panic creeps into her. As she desperately tries to search for a way out of the madness, the heavens open.

All is well. Ia is home, so is M.

One of these days

"As the days shorten, the air clears, the trees are stripped, and the land is cleansed by the arctic air, minds are muted by nonsense."
-- M (Also known as Dr. T), December 2003.

M curls up on the cold white leather; his eyes are half closed, his mind completely so.

Ia, meanwhile, ponders on the purpose of existence. With the holidays drawing closer, the morning sun sets her thoughts off on a journey into years past. She remembers the cold season out near the eastern shore, and M's words come to mind.

Ding

Insignificant aide (a.k.a. Ia, curses be to her and her ignorant lot) has a sex change. She is now a female. A rabid speciescist, she ruthlessly slashes the innocent leaves that sprout forth from the black soil.

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him, the leader of the free world): "What the f*** do you think you are doing, you moron? The gentle one loves those leaves."

Ia: "Forgive me sire, but it is not under my control. I tear these leaves because I am forced to. I am not responsible for my actions, O great liberator."

M: "Suit yourself, you pig-headed dolt. Don't come whining to me when you get your ass whipped."

Declawed in the name of preservation

M (Also known as Dr.T, a thousand praises be unto him) dreams of lumped crabmeat and breaded pork tenderloins with a mushroom reduction. His whiskers twitch, and his paws shudder.

His insignificant aide (Ia, a hundred thousand curses unto him and his wretched lot), however, is lost. Ia sits at the window, mesmerized by the bright and colorful world outside. Although the courtyard seems to be a sight straight from heaven, Ia knows he will not survive a day in its confines.

As M concludes his dream with a piece of burnt almond cake and some chilled muscat, sweet as honey, Ia wakes him up.

Ia:" Shall we go out and play, O defender of the faith?"

M: "mmmmm... huh? What the f***!!? What in the name of the lord our dear God have you been smoking now, you moron?!!"

Ia: "Shall we go outside, great leader of the free world?"

M: "Lets wait for the tall biped. He usually opens the door in the evenings. Get his ankles, I'll go for his throat. Once we have him wedged between the door, we are free!!"

Ia: "Genius, my lord!"

Ia bows deep.

M:" Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a piece of burnt almond cake to finish."

M goes back to sleep. Ia waits for the tall biped.