CHAPTER 35
“This sucks!” grumbled Yippee.
“Miserable,” added Joe.
We were sitting on the cold floor of the Omniraja’s underground
jail, engaged in another fruitless planning session. We sat picking at
bowls of gruel and pondering an escape that would never happen.
The bars of the cell were too strong for even Joe to bend, and there
was simply no way we could dig ourselves out. Plus, no one even
knew where we were. It looked as if we would be history long before
the rest of the world perished from the fury of the Omniraja’s flood.
During the long hours when there was nothing to do, I
meditated deeply, trying to alleviate the predicament we were in by
leaving it altogether. It was all I could do to keep from going crazy
with boredom. Joe and Yippee, on the other hand, became very adept
at making gruel sculptures.
All looked hopeless until one day, a familar face was dumped in
the cell along with us. I couldn’t place her at first, but soon it came
back to me. “Wait,” I said, “I know you from Samrin, don’t I?” It was
the fat Juddhist hippie girl.
“Yes. I’m a disciple of the great Ozzy Lama.”
“How did you get thrown in here?”
“Ozzy Lama instructed me to deface a statue of the Omniraja,
and said that I would be thrown in the ashram holding facility, which
is this, I guess. That was all he told me.”
“Oscar’s going to break us out of here! Hooray!” cheered Yippee,
now totally manic, “How’s he going to do it? How’s he going to get us
out of here?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Well, did he tell you he was going to save us?” Joe asked.
“No. Actually he didn’t even mention you.”
“That fucker!” said Yippee.
“Well why the hell did he have you thrown in here? I prodded.
“I don’t know,” she maintained, “I just do as the Ozzy Lama
says.”
“Shit!” cried Yippee. “Well, welcome, darlin.’ Pull up a piece of
rock and make yourself at home.” Yippee put his arm around her.
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
222
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