All I can taste is pennies. It’s the taste of body oils and sweat and corroding copper. I spit out the 3 cents and it’s not 3 cents at all, it’s a canine, a molar, and a smooth, shiny front tooth. Damn. My tongue already knows what’s missing and moves around my mouth to assess the bleeding holes.

I grab my phone to call someone, I can’t remember who. I look down at the screen and there is no screen at all, it’s a rock. 

Well maybe it’s in my bag.

I reach for my bag and there is no bag at all, it’s a spot on the concrete where my bag should be. 

Well, shit.

I look up to gauge what the hell is going on and realize I had been unconscious, because the last time I was taking this shortcut, it was still light out. 

The street lamp buzzes like a cicada and emits a toxic green glow onto the leftmost part of the alleyway. I look down at my watch to check the time. There is no watch. I don’t think I’ve ever even owned a watch. 

The sound of a little tinkling bell interrupts my confusion. It’s a man and his dog, a big, pointy, muscular thing, and they’ve stolen the green spotlight that shines on the leftmost part of the alleyway. Their long shadows sheath my dazed face and I gurgle out a pathetic “Hello?”

He runs towards me and his legs grow long and contort into a double helix. His pointy, muscular dog is running backwards. 

What the fuck is happening?

I close my eyes and brace for whatever kind of impact this may be. 

I should have just played dead or something. 

When I open my eyes again, it’s daylight. No man, no dog, just two pigeons pecking at a pile of crumbs. I sit up and one of them looks at me. It opens its chipped beak and belts the most pulchritudinous, deafening opera aria I’ve ever heard. A singular tear falls from my left eye and when it hits the porous concrete, the birds explode, their avian guts painting both my flinching body and the alleyway like the late, great Caravaggio. 

If you’re wondering why I haven’t gotten up and walked away yet, I don’t know either. But, here is the moment you’ve been waiting for: I stand up and carry my crimson-splattered, stumbling body out of the alley. 

I’m late for class but I don’t care. I rinse off my bloody self in the sad fountain at the strip mall until I’m clean enough. I let the concrete cherub spit water into my mouth and I swish it like mouthwash. 

This is heavenly.

On my way to campus, I stop at the mirrored window of a senior living home and flash a big, partially-gummy grin. 

I didn’t need those teeth anyway. 

Behind the mirrored window, the seniors sitting in the senior living home dining room watch and applaud as I walk away.