Will I make it in time?

I’m on the clock here.

Anytime now, Tetrodotoxin.. Do your worst!

Why go through something so excruciating, and self destructive? I have been cursed to end a life, only to start over every month, for .. shit, I don’t know, for as long as I have fallen from above to this cesspool. In doing so, I somehow keep the karmic balance for the world. I was told it’s a ‘-great service-’, and that I would ‘-Prove my worth-’.

Thanks, Dad.

The karmic debt collectors apathetically mentioned, “- In order to counterbalance the prophecies, you must take on the burden of death from a mortal, and be resurrected for a total of a Hundred consecutive months. Only then, would you be considered Karmically solvent, and thereby freed from this obligation.” Basically, I’m just a recyclable sacrifice to appease the balance of the universe.

Yeah. You’re welcome.

If I slip up, and oversleep like I did in April 1986, and again on September of 2001, or be too hungover like I was in January of 2020, very bad things would happen. Not only that- my solvency also gets scaled back to zero. In total, this is my 499th month in this realm, so I definitely cannot fuck this up.

So, what is the prophecy that makes the gods shake in their fluffy, judgemental robes? The END OF THE WORLD, of course! As much as they are so wise, and rule over us, they barely seem to have the exact goddamn time this would happen. Apparently, it’s very hard to pin point, and a real mixed bag; You do NOT want to be the one that drops the ball, if the prophecy is around the flip of the next calendar page. Basically, the wall that keeps the calendar up, and the whole foundation= turns into a pile of rubble.

Being a human again has sucked. I haven’t enjoyed swapping lives for four hundred ninety nine months, 8 hours, 43minutes, and 12 seconds… Wait. The fact I can still see my G-SHOCK indicates that the venom isn’t working! I’m nauseous, feeling sharp abdominal pain, and feeling numbness in my hands and feet… But, I still have 20/20 vision. What gives? Was Wikipedia and Reddit not right about the Fugu? Ugh.

…So, it turns out- Northern Pufferfish are NOT the same as its famously pernicious Asian cousin- Fugu . What do I know? I’m just a fallen angel, not David Fucking Attenborough, or Jiro the Sushi dreamer! Now if I could just get my limbs to work again, maybe I could stumble into the river, and count how many skeletons are down there, wearing concrete shoes? Maybe that famously MIA Teamsters boss would be down there, and not at the goal post of Giants stadium? Hmmm… Well, option B seems imminent; One way freediving excursion of the NYC river system, comin up! Too bad, since drowning is not my favorite way to go.

Just as I began rolling my numb body towards the kayak ramp by the water, my phone buzzed in quick succession. I really shouldn’t answer, but it could be from the BOSS above. Lord works in mysterious ways, and he also tends to butt-dial often.

Best to check.

November 5, 2024 8:05PM- “Just got up. Where R U??”

November 5, 2024 8:05PM- “Did u vote? Which geezer will u pick lol”

November 5, 2024 8:05PM- “It’s getting cold. Hope the line isn’t too long..”

November 5, 2024 8:06PM- “Hey could u pick up Black sesame Kale salad & BanBan chicken from Takumen?? I’m craving them.”

…Ah damn. I forgot the human I currently took over is engaged and they’re expecting. He’s also in crippling debt- which I am oh too familiar with. He has been contemplating ‘offing himself’, in order to give life insurance benefits to his surviving family. The only problem is- She doesn’t know. Nobody does, well… Except for my BOSS, and the Karma Inc, with yours truly. – “This is right up your alley” he said. -That dirty cotton candy bearded prick.

November 5, 2024 8:07PM- “Hellloooooo? Where U@?”

November 5, 2024 8:07PM- “We talked about keeping phone lines open in case of the baby wtf”

November 5, 2024 8:08PM- “HEY CABRON”

November 5, 2024 8:08PM- “tENGO HAMBREEEE”

…Oh shit. She’s switched to the native tongue, and called me the ‘C’-word. If I don’t respond ASAP, she wou…

November 5, 2024 8:09PM- “Ey findmyApp says ur phone is in Gantry plaza? Porque??”

November 5, 2024 8:09PM- “U better not be fishing now?! U said ur voting. Mentiroso!”

W..Wait! Give me…I am trying to respond! Hold up. If I could only get my hands to work. I am going to have to reply, quickly. I have done my best to isolate and withdraw from the mortals that would get left behind, days and weeks before I execute my deed. After all, I get to come back- But the ones they lose are permanently gone. It’s for the best. I was really hoping to not have to deal with her overbearing affection, and prying tonight. This is as far as I have gotten to a near hundred consecutive months. I can’t have her, or anyone trying to thwart off the inevitable.

I struggled to text. Writing sentences was impossible at this point. I began to type back- “K”.

SENT

Ooops.. Damn Twinkie fingers.

The looming dots of her responding immediately surfaced impatiently, right below my one letter reply.

November 5, 2024 8:09PM- “K?! ‘Ok’ o ‘Que’? Which1?”

November 5, 2024 8:09PM- “U r pissing me off. Can u call me?”

November 5, 2024 8:10PM- “ Lo siento. I get cranky. I just worry u r scared of being a papa. We don’t talk anymore. u been so shut down lately.”

November 5, 2024 8:11PM- “ I miss u. Call me, porfa.”

…That’s my queue. She will not let me go in peace, if she heard me drooling in this poisoned, stupefactioned state. Must speed this up. I am so close to paying back my Karma debt in full! I wiggled over the boardwalk, and crawled with all of my might, scraping my numbed face along the way. The Seagulls perched by the Pier erupted in an a cappella of wary cackles. Shhhhhh! Stop making a ruckus…

-Incoming Call: Preciosa-

Her designated ringtone muffled in my Patagonia windbreaker pocket. I will not answer. She is just going to ruin my plan. If I go now- the second high tide, and the brisk water temperatures would put me in shock, before I drift downwards to the bottom of the Long Island sound. It would not be as pleasant as toxic shock, but it will have to do.

-Incoming Call: Preciosa-

I am finally down to the concrete slope that’s the kayak launching area. It’s all wheelchair accessible, so no steps to tumble down, face first. Now all I have to do, is- Imagine myself like a Roly-Poly and just roll myself down into the water. That’s when I locked eyes with the guy trying to make out with his date at a dimly lit park bench, right across from the Kayak launch area. It overlooks the Manhattan skyline, and the UN building. I nodded, as if to say ‘-Enjoy yourselves. Don’t mind me. Really, I am doing this for a great cause. Y’all do y’all… I am going to do Me, Myself, and I.’

“Ey, man. Yo! BRO!! You wack? Don’t go in there!”

…Are you serious? Why, oh why do you care? No need to be a hero. Go on- Get laid, make memories… But forget that stereotype that NYers are ‘cold hearted’, ‘pretentious’ and ‘mean’. This stranger decided to go all Baywatch on me, all while his date looked on from the park bench, with her phone camera pointed at me. I tried to explain, but no words would come out. Completely tongue-tied. Damn, the toxins are working in the wrong areas of my body. Since Hasselhoff was adamant about pulling me back to the boardwalk, I was trying to bite him, but in slow motion; Like a slug, trying to eat a lettuce. Oh how embarrassing.

The ringtone went off again. This time, my overbearing savior took out my phone from my pocket, and pressed the speaker button.

“Eh, hello? Do you know this guy? He was just about to go into the fucking east river. Hello?!”

There was a pause on the other end, then a familiar voice. Preciosa. Ah shit. This is a total derailment. I could also hear the two lovebirds discussing calling 911. Oh for God sakes! Come on-! How come out of all of the days, in the busiest city in the world, in one of the yuppiest part of Queens, are people intervening, ruining days, weeks, months, years of my planning?! Do they have any fucking idea how long I have endured being stuck down here?!! Do they have any idea what will happen if I don’t..

“Hey, Armondito, baby. Come back to me. I need you right now. Ahorita! Water just broke. I have to get to the hospital! Holy shit, it’s happening.. OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod.. Babe! Mi amor, you there? I’m scared. Please porfa! Please I need you now..”

Since I was unable to speak coherently, Hasselhoff delegated and set up the ambulance to get to Preciosa’s place, as well as one for me. Although I was happy that Armondo and Preciosa are going to be parents now, I was crushed. Total mission failure on my end. With my luck, the prophecy would come to fruition in a blaze of glory, all because I wanted to cherry pick the way I sacrificed myself for the greater good. Now, I am fucking stuck, yet again. Is this hell?

In the ambulance, my vision went, how strange that is; It’s like the old TVs where the technicolor would fade, and the screen becomes black and white. Voices and sound all echo and muffle, like being under water, and things move in slow motion. Oh wait, am I.. Going into shock? Is the Tetrodotoxin finally doing the lord’s work? Oh look, they’re resuscitating me.. The EMT pair are doing everything they can to keep me awake. Not working…

It’s so surreal to see myself, or the guy I took over for the past few weeks now, in his final moments. “Sorry, Armondo. This is just business, you know?”

I hovered over the body that was mine for the month of November, getting higher and higher towards the ceiling.

I waited. Patiently. In limbo, in the chaotic interior of the ambulance. The end of life highlight reels should kick on any moment now.

“Mmmk,… Any time now. I’m redeemed!! I finally get my wings back!! Cannot wait to be way above these mortals, up in the clouds! Alright, Beam me up!!”

Then, something caught my eye. Everything was still ash colored, except one thing; On the left chest of Armondito’s pullover windbreaker, right below the ‘P-a-t-a-g-o-n-i-a’ stitched emblem, there’s a half peeled crescent shaped object that radiated. It was blue, with one white star on one line. Then I noticed a blue colored ‘C’ letter, and a faded red colored ‘E’. There was also a red line on top of it all, with another white star… Why is it that in a world of grey, I am still seeing those images in color? Oh,.. wait…

“Mr. Garcia. Can you hear me? You have to stay awake. We are almost to Mount Sinai. Your fiancée will be there too. You will become a FATHER. Do you understand? I need you to stay awake. You have to..”

Is… Armondo actually fighting to stay alive? Bro! It was your idea to die, and get out of debt. You can’t have it both ways! You can’t back out now.

…And why in the hell am I seeing more color now? Now I could identify the clement blue color of his windbreaker, and the half peeled vibrant sticker on his, er.. MY chest is a..

‘I VOTED NYC 2024’ sticker, with the patriotic good ol American hero colors. The key lime colored interior of the life saving truck is becoming more apparent, as well as the sounds.

It’s all coming back..

No

No

NonoNO!

I am descending back inch by inch, closer to Armondo’s comatose face, lying on the EMT stretcher. I began to panic, and screamed downwards to him, er.. ME- “This is bullshit, Armondo! We had a deal! You’re fucking me, You’re fucking your new family, You’re fucking the way of the UNIVERSE! THIS IS BIGGER THAN YOU! WILL YOU DIE ALREADY?!”

That’s when those big brown eyes of his snapped open, and he, I, .. WE uttered the words..

“NO!”

“Not Yet.”

I then found myself staring at the ceiling of the ambulance, with the two EMTs frantically pointing their pen lights in front of my eyes.

Now, I could see everything. The EMT really ought to trim his nose hairs.

Now, I could hear everything. For god sakes, turn that fucking siren off!

Now, I could smell everything. Oh, good God. Did I step in shit? Why do I smell like the Bowery Bay sewage facility?

Now, I could feel.. Oh Holy godddammnnn! Why does every inch of my body feel like I’ve been bashed with a mallet?? I could feel every pothole we drove over.

This only means one thing…

I survived.

FUCK!! I had one job.

I blew it.

Armondo, lives.

As I got reacquainted with my own body, the ambulance looped around and came to a screeching halt. The key lime double doors swung open, and a slew of helpful hands pulled me, and ushered me inside. The fluorescent lights above me passed over in rhythmical waves. I heard the R2D2 beeps from all of the ER machines, the squeaks of the nurse’s rubber Crocs, and coughing and crying from every corner.

I heard the intensive care staff, and the long nose haired EMT discussing my situation;

“26, Male. Food poisoning, possibly self inflicted. Also attempted self drowning. Recommend suicide watch.”

The other EMT added;

“The patient’s partner is also here. She is in labor.”

Both EMTs clutched my hand, encouragingly;

“You’re going to make it, Mr. Garcia. You’re going to be a father. Fight.”

I was fuming, but for some reason, my eyes became blurry again. This time, it wasn’t the East river puffer Toxins.

It was Armondo.

Tears of joy

Tears of relief

Tears of regret

It all came rushing out. Hell, I joined in too.

I haven’t cried this much, since the Mets lost against the Royals in 2015.

What the hell are we going to do now, Armondo?

We are alive.

We are stuck where we started.

We are going to face a whole plethora of uncertainties.

We, are so fucked…

Despite all of the chorus of blurps and beeps of the hospital machines, and all of the coughing and screaming- I could only hear the small arm of the clock on the wall across from me strike each second, louder and louder.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

November fifth is about to end. I am about to lose my day count. I was so close. I dread what will come because of my failure.

…The clock, now read November 06, 2024 12:00am. Back to Zero…

At 12:04am, my battered phone screen lit up.

“Felicidades! Eres Padre, Armondito!”

The looming dots began to form immediately, as relatives responded on the group chat.

Simultaneously, I also heard cursing, and cheers from people in the ER.

“Looks like the crook is back in office. What a fucking disgrace!”- Said the companion of the patient across from me with a blue tourniquet around his arm.

I don’t know what those outbursts were, but I hope it’s not part of the prophecy. I will never hear the end of it from my BOSS.

“Relax. Calmate. WE will figure it out. WE, are Padres now.”

…Did,… Armondo just speak to me?

As frightening and unbelievable as that is- There was a sense of acceptance within me as well. Maybe settling down, and seeing life here- beyond the usual Month-to-Month-*croak*-*REPEAT*-cycle won’t be terrible?

I mean, I never really tried before;

Living through.

Now that, is terrifying!

Now, I would most likely face the prophecy that ends us all, as a mortal- All while bearing the shame of my failures as the Karmic angel of death.

But, it isn’t over. Not yet. There is time.

Armondo is right; WE will make it. WE figure it out together.

Fuck the prophecy.

Fuck being their monthly subscription sacrifice.

In the end, I was never in control of destiny.

If death changed anything, then after 499 times of it, why does the same bad shit still happen?

Perhaps rather than dying on repeat, I will focus on just this lifetime, in its entirety.

WE, are parents now. I owe it to our Preciosa.

I owe it, to our newborn.

No more simply counting days and months.

WE, are going to make each day count.

So now- Day one begins.

Come, whatever may.