Munmun(2)

So the doctors couldn’t fix her spine, and they didn’t cut her legs off but the legs didn’t work anymore, and on top of that our mom went blind in one eye and the sewing job on her slashedup face was all sloppy with giant stitches half as fat as a littlepoor finger. One nurse pitied us and gave us a chair from his kid’s dollhouse to make a wheelchair out of. Mom was a little too big for it but toobad, we had to use it. It was that or just carrying her around in a rag hammock.

Our dad was dead, our mom couldn’t work anymore, Prayer was fifteen, I was thirteen, we lived with women and children, and prettymuch all of our day was trapping ants, roasting them, trying to sell roasted ant to other littlepoors, and getting the crap robbed out of us anytime we tried to take munmun to the bank. It was grim.

“Prayer, Warner,” our mom said. “The Lord King God is wise and great but at some point you two will need to come up with some kind of a plan.”

I was so mad all the time, it kept me from making a good plan. My plans all had to do with getting strong. I wanted to get superstrong through constant workouts and stunts, also fashion a knife or a sword or some type of weapon to carry around, basically become a guy who guards other littlepoors on trips to the bank in exchange for a cut. Or else join one of the squads that hangs out near the bank and follows you home to rob you if you didn’t hire a guard. But Mom and Prayer had no respect for any of these plans.

“Nope, no way should you do any of that,” Mom said. “Warner, you’re going to make the Lord King God sad and mad with such dumb plans.”

“My plans are actually kind of smart,” I suggested.

“Bro, they’re super dumb and here’s how,” Prayer said. “Your plans are all about muscles and weapons, so, ay kay ay, they are how your lazy brain tells you, Don’t use me, use your muscles and weapons instead. That is an unmistakable sign of very stupid planning from a rightnow lazy brain.”

“No, you’re stupid,” I argued, “because here’s what my smart brain did, it asked, what are Warner’s top gifts and resources lying around, hmmm probably these good muscles and running ability, nottomention handtohand combat skill.”

“Manohman do you need to do some work on that brain,” worried Prayer.

“Also think more about the Lord King God,” suggested Mom.

But meanwhile Prayer’s plan didn’t involve working on the brain either, or the Lord King God forthatmatter.

Instead it was a very basic and common plan for littlepoor girls of Prayer’s age who were cute, specifically, find a nice smart godfull middlerich guy, probably in Dreamworld, and maybe if he loves Prayer enough he’ll agree to get married and join his munmun with all of us and scale down while we all scale up to him, middlepoor atleast, the size of average dogs.

“How come my brainless plans are dumb but Prayer’s brainless plan is not,” I said.

“It’s not really my plan,” said Prayer.

“Yes it is,” said Mom.

“Fine,” said Prayer.

“It’s our plan,” said Mom.

“I said fine,” yelled Prayer.

“Just got to find a middlerich guy who loves Prayer’s face more than his really good life,” I said.

Mom and Prayer ignored this.

“Maybe that guy’s in Dreamworld rightnow, how about I go look for him,” I suggested, but they kept ignoring.

I continued, “I’ll just conk out and fly around Dreamworld yelling, Hey, sister for sale, fifteenyearold sister with aboveaverage face, one annoying sister for the lowlow price of you have to lose a bunch of scale joining your munmuns with not just her but also her mom and bro,” at that point Prayer interrupted that actually Warner you won’t get to join muns and scale up and if you want to live with us it has to be as a pet, cooped up in a littlecage stapled to the side of their middlehouse, Mom made Prayer say she was kidding but I knew she probably wasn’t.





DREAMWORLD


The littlerpoorer you are, obviously the more you love Dreamworld. Dreamworld is where you and everyone else is exactly middlescale and no one can get attacked or robbed or killed, and you can drive the cars and dial the phones and shoot the guns and use all the things they don’t make little enough for you in Lifeanddeathworld.

Infact Dreamworld is unspeakably better than Lifeanddeathworld and plenty of littlepoors love it so much, it kills them. Here’s how. They decide they need to spend all their time dreaming, but without chemicals you can only sleep so much. So they get sloppy and goofy knocking themselves out with some beers or some weeds and they get super careless and prettysoon they’re asleep somewhere unsafe like a gutter or a parkinglot, and a bus squishes them or a sewer drowns them or a snake or a hawk eats them or out in the desert even bigenough spiders.

You have to be a little mistrustfull of Dreamworld obviously because anything can get dreamed into your head by anyone. Although not really anyone and infact mostly no one, because most people don’t dream super well. So actually if you’re good at it, you can be the one dreaming into other people’s heads most of the time.

And if you want to put something nice in people’s dreams, beautifull pictures in people’s heads, that can feel really good and even great. Infact I would say that’s the best part about Dreamworld if you have the talent and the energy for it, making nice wild things everyone’s seeing for the first time and saying, wow, holy crap, who made this beautifull dreamstuff.