Iglesia Returns………………………..Episode 57

(Iglesia is a serialized novel, published on Tuesdays and Saturdays at midnight ET, you can read all of the episodes by clicking on the tag.)

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Rogers opened the door and led his shocked charges into a typical suburban type soothing beige living room with nice enough sofas and recliners and lamps and rugs and electronic equipment. He lead them through to a dining alcove where the table was set with a veritable steaming feast of comfort foods…and then led the tour past it. On to the two pleasant, large beige bedrooms with large fluffy looking beds with lots of pillows and opened doors to closets full of clothes and to the private baths where both tubs were full of bubbles. He clapped his hands and soothing amorphous music began to play as he led them back to the dining table and sat them down, pulling out Abe’s chair and then Iglesia’s. And then sort of shoving them down into them one at a time.

Who then both proceeded to stare down at some of their favorite foods without moving…. or blinking.

Rogers told them to cheer up. Neither showed any indication of hearing him. He made a funny face. Nothing. He tried to tell them a knock knock joke…no one asked who was there. He sang Hail Brittania in a outrageously campy manner…for him. He jumped up o to the table and danced a little jig in the mashed potatoes. When he jumped back down again, both the mashed potatoes and his shoes went back to their original form.

He sighed and walked over and slapped Iglesia’s face.

Iglesia nearly instantly had him in a sleeper hold from behind and was kicking his Achilles tendons over and over. After the split second it took him to rise, Abe was delivering punch after punch to Rogers’ face and body as Iglesia held him.

After long seconds of intense assault, Rogers finally crumpled out of Iglesia’s grasp and lay on the floor in a heap.

He mumbled something from between swollen and bloody lips and spit out a tooth. He fumbled for his broken glasses ad pulled them on. Abe and Iglesia stared at each other in shock for a second and then Abe gathered him up and carried him to a sofa while Iglesia went and got ice and towels from the kitchen. When she got back he was mumbling again.

Sharing their mysterious synchronicity again, she and Abe said as one, “I’m sorry, Rogers!”

He mumbled and when Iglesia told him to speak up he said clearly, “I guess you are not quite as dead as all that after all then, are you?” He was smiling and all the blood was gone and his glasses were no longer broken.

“You BASTARD!” screamed Iglesia….and, apparently with his consent since it laded nice and solidly, punched him square in the nose.

As Iglesia lay in Abe’s arms later, she couldn’t help but smile when she thought about it.