"...now, concerning the Greek mainland itself..." I said, to no one in particular.
Snapping suddenly to attention from what had felt like a total reality collapse vis-a-vis a heavy dose of high grade psilocybin mushrooms, I found my mind shockingly clear and collected... and suddenly under assault by several unexpected realizations.
Firstly, I realized that I had been babbling on about the Hellenic mainland - which, upon reflection, might have made sense if anything remotely connected to Doric or Ionian matters had been occurring in that moment. Considering that I had just been in the midst of a final and apocalpytic confrontation with the ancient Nemesis of my people - the hideous, worm-mouthed Danes - deep in the high halls of their mythic home of Asgard, I was rather baffled as to why I was in the midst of delivering what sounded like a lecture on the nature of Aegean geography.
Apart from being long overdue for a "sabbatical" touring the ancient and sacred sites of said region, particularly those blessed with the capacity to offer alcohol, sex and opiates for hard American tax-payer provided currency - I couldn't for the life of me imagine why I would be babbling on about...
"THULE!!!!"
The piercing, high-pitched scream of an oceanic demon, like an Irish kelpie gone irredeemably rogue from spending too much time amongst disgruntled Christianized First Nationers, brought me prematurely into the second point of realization.
That voice was what had snapped me back to this reality - a reality which was possibly grimmer than the one I had left. A reality which, at least at this moment, consisted of me realizing I was sitting in my own office, door carefully closed. Carefully locked. Painstakingly secured. Lovingly dead-bolted, barricaded and protected by ancient sigils, spells and incantations (some of which would make the Wendigo blush). And, most potently of all, graced with a sign that read in large, assertive letters "OUT OF ORDER".
The hammering noises, animal-fury growls and occasional shouts of my name in the previously referenced hell-birthed tone forced me to conclude that my current coordinates in the space-time contiuum put me at the University of Alaska, Anchorage... and that my cunning scheme to be located undetected, and hence unmolested, in the "annex" of the annex of the Anthropology department (which was in fact a storage area in the basement that I had found a way to semi-legally occupy by invoking my right as a Alaskan Native Person to do as I damn well pleased), had finally come to an end.
That voice.
None other than the infamous miscreant, Dr. Silms. My arch-nemsis, my foil, my Jungian Shadow...
...my boss.
Fuck.
I will spare you the tedious and time-consuming account of the long stand-off, the tired, vexious and completely overwrought exchange between myself and the university's Senior Custodian, the on-call local locksmith, the poor adjunct psychology professor who happened to pull the short straw as the on-call HR liason for the day, and my incorrigible asshatted nerfclowning jackhole of a boss. Delivered and riposte'd through a very well-built and, (as previously described) well-secured door of entry into my (until recently) secret lair, with myself doing very well if I do say so myself, in a particularly acerbic emotional environment complete with threats of termination, my own bold counters to (if I recall correctly) "burn this motherfucker to the ground with the dirt I have on you sorry Anglo bastards", with waves of distempered fungal energies flowing through my slowly sobering mind and soul.
I may have been half-coaxed, half-dragged out of a partially axed door...
So needless to say, the process was a bit messy.
"You're not even a fucking Inuit!"
This, again. The same tired argument, thrown so... COLONIALLY (must check to see if that's a real word, later) in my face - it almost made me want to cry. The abuse, the racism, the goddamn IMPERIALISM. And after being dragged out of my own office, like some sort of criminal...
So of course, there I stood after this long, sorry and sordid ordeal - replete with screams, accusations, counter-accusations, desultory asides, embittered observations, savage retorts, and a few choice discoveries for the gathered bystadners that may or may not result in a class-action lawsuit against the university....
"Are you listening to me??"
UGH. Yes, yes! I am, you ugly roundeye asshat! I screamed this all through what I thought was my throat, but it appeared to actually have just been through my third eye. Considering the unblinkered ignorant lack of enlightenment of the being I was dealing with, it was sadly utterly ignored. I found myself forced to respond via a more vulgar route.
"I AM INDEED!" I retorted, loudly - maybe too loudly. "ON BOTH COUNTS!" We were in Dr. Silms office. Indoors. With other staff present. And guests. Someone official from the state might have been outside. I was keenly aware of some last lingering fuck that I had urging moderation under those circumstances. I was having difficulty receiving its wisdom fully though, it seemed.
"Based on what evidence, EXACTLY?"
Damn you Silms.
"Goddamnit Silms, this is a distraction! And an outrage! How dare you!" I yelled back. I think I yelled rather than screamed. Last Fuck seemed a mite relieved at least. What could have been the sage hand of a venerable ancestral spirit seemed to place itself gently upon the back of my soul (or would it be soul of my back?) in approval.
"You attack me in my own office - interrupt critical anthropological research - embarrass me and insult me in front of other staff members..." I continued, gaining momentum.
I was brutally cut off though.
"You were tripping tits in a storage locker in a unversity-rented warehouse -"
"That was my office-"
"-TRESPASSING-" Ouch. Ok, that was Loud loud. I really always forget that his voice can get so LOUD so quickly.
"ILLEGALLY..." As if the point that trespassing was against Alaskan State Law was lost on me...
"But..." I attempted to regain the offensive.
"...ILLEGALLY" He continued as if I wasn't even there. "and illegally occupying; AND! forced to exit the property while physically restrained!" He finished with a smug fury that can only be born from the dire self-satisfaction of watching your most hated foe suffer in front of you.
"I made... every good faith effort to come out and confront you and your torrent of... abuse, the distortions of the FACTS, your, your... and your outright SLANDER against my professional character..." I saw him about to launch off again but this time was ready to smack down his hijacking of the conversation. "...AND WAS THWARTED BY YOUR INCOMPETENT DIRECTION OF THIS DEPARTMENT AND THE EFFORTS OF COMPETENT PROFESSIONALS TO AID IN MY EXIT FROM MY OWN OFFICE!"
That took the wind a bit out of his sails. The bastard. I heard shuffling outside the door - based on the amount of shuffling, muttering, breathing and clunking, I was fairly certain that everyone in the building had gathered in the reception area to hear this.
It then suddenly occurred to me that I had made a very unconnected disparagement of the Dr.'s capacity to run the department that was bafflingly interlinked with his direction of the opening of the door to my lair, er... office, which I confess was heavily compromised by the sheer quantity of psilocybin I had consumed and its lingering impact on my motor function. Had the asshole simply waited ten more minutes (after yelling back and forth for approximately 45 or so) I could have comfortably and easily exited my office through my own means - but nooooo, someone had to be impatient, and angry, and asshated, and verbally exacerbate my agitation and impairment... which may have caused me to confound my own security and turn it into accidental imprisonment.
This realization was assisted in no small part by the gentle hand of ancestral reassurance slowly turning into a vice grip of restraint and demanded discipline, somewhere between my 2nd and 4th thoracic verterbra. The pain did manage to refocus my attention on several things: the building fury of Silms, the fact that I had gotten closer to him in the course of that last outburst than was wise or comfortable (for either of us I'm sure), the possibility that he might have a slight rage erection forming - and that I was still a little too under the influence of said psilocybin to trust my first instincts for rebuttal during this part of cross-examination.
Whatever the case, and ancestors be damned - its still his Godsdamn fault, and he can pay the five figures in damages done to the door, frame and walls of what was storage unit A/A-18C.
Anglo imperialist bastard. I spat in my own mind. At least I hoped that was just internal monologue.
Dr. Silms started in again, with a lower and more violent register to his voice. He definitely had at least half hate-wood going. His proximity was now beginning to verge on menacing and was triggering animal instincts to leave. Rapidly.
"If you think for a second that I'm going to take that sort of bullshit from some borderline, crusted, drug-addled Inuk-wannabe..."
"WANNABE?" I yelled. "Wannabe???" This was absurd and disgusting. My wounded pride short-circuited ancestral and animal wisdom.
"YOU ARE NOT A GODDAMN INUK!" He screamed... screamed with a fervor that would make a Baptist preacher performing an exorcism at a revival proud. He slammed both hands down on the desk between us to reinforce the point and loomed in over his desk.
"THAT is not, nor has EVER been conclusively proven."
Dammit fungus, you are not helping me now.
"THULE..." He growled. Growled, like a rabid dog or like the last living polar bear hell-bent on revenge for its entire species. "Scientifically... you can not PROVE a negative!"
"Exactly! My point the entire time! I'm glad you finally are coming around to see my side on this." I smiled, broadly.
However, my victory in the moment would prove to be... painfully... short-lived.
To be continued...
