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I have the hardest time understanding why

  • I have the hardest time understanding why my one hand is an exact mirror image of my other hand. How did my right hand know what my left hand was doing?
  • My hamsa hand was freaking me out. It insisted that Lefty gave it the stink eye and was always trying to cover it with oven mitts. Righty took the form of a fist, a paranoid fist.
  • I had no control. Well, the I that I still knew had no control. The I that I had come to share these hands with was in charge and I could not get her to listen. She was always
  • nagging me (the me she thought she knew), but the I that I knew lacked control decided to take back my power. I watched myself clench my fists (the fists I knew I had) & punched my
  • myself. To my surprise, I was suddenly able to speak and narrate fluently in English.
  • In fact, I went all Shakespearean on my abductors, but the one who seemed to be their leader only replied with variations on "Caw", "Meow" and
  • "Oink." I was disturbed by his lack of refined manners and elegant language. "Thou art a detestable lowbrow, worthy of great ignominy." I expectorated at him in a graceful manner.
  • My breeding and education were excellent, of course I was a Llama in a heralded lineage of the Dalai Llamas and this festering, squalid little porcine creature before me was
  • the Duke of Pork. I spat, forcefully, grinning like a madman, as my thick eyelashes beat quickly. His lineage was merely through blood, while my own was cosmic. Spiritual. Magic.
  • With such energy and power in my veins, I knew I would outlive even his grandchildren by centuries - so if this didn't work out, I could just marry his great-grandson instead.

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