I'll Cover You

What the hell am I doing here, anyway? I wondered when the creature attacked. In every piece of entertainment that Japan has ever produced, some monster attacks something, and people run around screaming. Well, folks, turns out it's not just some stupid joke or stereotype: it's real. And here was my proof.

Normally I would have snapped a few pictures, then joined the melee, but this thing looked so stupid and fake, no one back in America would believe me. I was hoping to get some pictures of the cops or a gun squad or the army or whatever fighting with it. Even then, no one would believe this was actually happening.

People were falling down around me. Some weird fog was worming its way through the crowd, and they were dropping like flies. Nerve gas. Great. It really isn't a monster, it's some sort of terrorist on crack. Or opium. Whatever they have over here. I know they wouldn't put it in my little traveller's dictionary, and if they did, I wouldn't know how to say it, anyway.

While I'm soliloquising on Japanese controlled substances, I hit the ground, too. Great. I can just see the headlines in the Journal now: Photojournalist Dies in Foreign Attack; story, back page underneath a Bloomingdale's ad. They'll be so heartbroken, maybe I'll finally get that raise. This is the life that flashes before my eyes. Money and sarcasm. Hey, that was my life. Hell. I'm already using past tense about myself. I never envisioned myself dying this young. I always wanted to grow up to be a salty old man. Oh well.

They must have sent me to the wrong place. I see an angel. Yup, and she looks like every picture you have in your head about angels. She's blonde with blue eyes, alabaster skin. Well, someone forgot to mention the short skirt and the sailor outfit, but other than that, typical angel. Someone really made a mistake if she came for me.

She isn't coming for me; she's tackling the terrorist. Here's where the fun begins. I realise I have enough strength left to prop myself up and watch what happens, however blurry it may be. Her talking cat (yes, I said that correctly) is shouting instructions to her, and this girl is ducking and tripping, trying to kill this thing with little luck.

I watch the scene with interest, wondering if I accidentally waltzed into some sort of performance art. The next Yoko Ono or something. The chick is the most inept fighter I've ever seen, but she gives this ugly thing a good kick, and while it's down, she throws her tiara at it, and it explodes. Tiara. Explodes. I wonder if I'm the one on crack here.

When it's over, I look around, expecting to hear the audience applaud this performance. No one's here. This was real.

Holy shit.

She picks up her talking cat, and I think she asked if it were alright. For all the Japanese I know, she could've asked it if it needed a sweater.

I push myself up off the ground, my strength returning. "Hey, lady!" I yell to the angel. I look around and realise I can see perfectly; the angel's the only one that's blurry.

She turns around.

"Who are you?"

She stares blankly.

Japanese, Shields. She's Japanese. She understands Japanese.

"Um...Dokko? Shit...uh...Doshite? Uhm..." I stuttered before trying the Tarzan approach. I pointed to my chest and said, "Uh...watashi wa Darien Shields." I pointed at her.

She smiles at me, and everything seems to glow. "Sera Muu." Before I can say another thing, she takes a high jump and disappears.

At least my sight's back to normal.

Of course, all of this means nothing to you if I don't start at the beginning.