Page 28 of Tank

I try to fight down the tears but the only place the emotion can go is directly out of my eyeballs. And not in a cute way. In a very ugly, very snotty waily way.

“Oh no, we’ve broken her,” someone whispers. I think it was a lady voice.

“It was a matter of time. Besides, she needed a factory reset. Have you seen the weird shit that happens to her?”

“Chewy, that is not her fault.”

“Whose fault is it, then?”

The silence suggests that they don’t know which has me spiraling again. This time with loud sobbing.

“Hey, it’s OK, drunky, let’s get you into your room, yeah? You can sleep off whatever the hell happened here,” a deep, gentle voice soothes.

“Hey! I know that voice. That’s Tank’s voice. It’s so warm and it vibrates me. Like my whole body goes all vibratey. Even my special parts. The ones that Nana said I have to save for good. Am I floating? It feels like I’m floating. Like a massive, chubby angel floating to gift presents to children and take their teeth to make furniture for my teeny house.” My inside thoughts are so funny sometimes.

Whatever is helping me fly makes a funny rumbling sound and my head bounces around making me feel a bit sick. OK, maybe a lot sick.

“I don’t feel well Mr. Rumbly Voice,” I say weakly before lurching.

“Shit! Hold on!”

There’s some banging, actually lots of banging and then I’m on something cool, a white cold thing touching my face. Oh that feels nice. There’s a warm pressure on my back, moving from the top of my neck all the way to almost my bottom, and thenback again. Petting me like I’m that big luck dragon from The Neverending Story.

“He died you know,” I sniffle, moving my face to get more cold white onto it.

“Who died, sweetheart?”

“Falcor. He was the very best luck dragon. He was trying to find Ellora Dannon’s mom.”

“Ugh, I think she’s from Willow, not The Neverending Story,” the magic Tank voice says.

“Oh, do you know it?” I raise my head a little, I don’t feel so sick now that I’m not flying anymore.

“Yeah, I remember watching it when I was a kid. My neighbor loved it.” His voice sounds smiley. Usually his voice is measured and rumbly, not light and smiley. I like it.

“Oh, can you please sing me the song? My nana used to sing it to me when I didn’t feel good. Like now. If she was still alive she would be sitting right here with me, singing the theme song, making me feel warm and soft inside.” I sigh, closing my eyes and picturing my nana. Her gentle face and funny crooked fingers. There’s moisture on my cheeks but I keep my eyes clamped shut, so I can keep seeing nana in my mind.

“Shit, you’re killing me, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I whisper, a funny echo whispers back, and then buzzing in my mind.

No, not a buzzing, a hum. Why does the humming sound like the theme from The Neverending Story?

* * *

I roll over and a loud groan escapes. What in the jeewillikers happened to me? I crack one eye open and try to roll the dryeyeball around, taking stock of the room around me. It’s not the same one as the one I was in last night. Or was it the night before? What day is it? Who am I? My hands drift up to my face and I pat it, hoping that everything will feel familiar. Check. Everything feels like it should do. To be sure though I do a quick squeeze of the girls.

“What are you doing?” Holy Moses and that sea he parted, the rumble and grumble of Tank’s sleep-roughened voice punches me straight in the vagina. In a good way. A good vagina punch.

“Um, checking to make sure I’m me,” I squeak out.

Opening both eyes I turn my head toward the furnace that’s on my left side, coming face to face with Tank. Big, blonde, Howdy Doody gorgeous Tank. His blue eyes twinkle as he looks at me and his lips pull up, causing the crinkles around his eyes to deepen.

“Like a big, wise, jolly old walrus.”

“What?” he chuckles, the movement shaking the bed gently.

“Nothing. Just normal things. Normal people thoughts. Anyway, how did this all happen?” I wave my hand around in a big circle, encompassing me, Tank and the room in general.

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