THE MIGHTY PIÑATA #4


THE MAN WHO DRESSED as a piñata woke to find that he was no longer adorned in his colorful suit.

His uniform.

His battle togs.

Instead he wore a simple hospital gown of gray and pink, two colors that shouldn’t go together but somehow work.

He sat up only to find himself surrounded by turkey sandwiches. There six of them in all. They were about eight inches tall and they orbited his head, dancing and singing a song about lettuce—the root of all evil. So, he blacked out. The only logical reaction considering the circumstances.

When he woke the second time, he rose and found that the turkey sandwiches were back. But this time they each held a handgun. They still danced, they still sang of lettuce—the root of all evil—but as they cut a rug they pointed the pistols at his head. The apprehension he felt as he stared down the tiny black holes at the ends of each of the six guns was almost too much for any man to take, even one as such as he. And so, once again choosing to go down the logical path, he blacked out.

The man who no longer dressed as a piñata woke a third time, but rather than rising, he remained on his back. He was in a semi-upright position, the bed underneath him inclined just enough so that he could see around the room without much effort.

He was in a hospital, which should have been obvious from the gown. He touched his head to find bandages right down to the temple. To his right, sharing the room with him, was a mummy.

No, not a mummy. It was a man, or woman—or alien life form for that matter—in a full body cast that covered him/her/it from head to toe in white wrappings.

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