[Big McLargehuge]

I am playing bingo in a church. There are probably twenty or thirty tables in the gym that I am playing in. Aside from the caller I am the only person in the place actually paying attention to the game. The rest of the people are trudging about in the space between the tables, which happens to be filled chest-high with thick blue soup.

The people are trying to clean up the soup, a pointless task. They are comically dismal, with buckets and mops trying to soak up a sea of blue soup. They all have ridiculous frowns, except for one black-haired girl.

She is not really a girl, but hardly a woman. And she is smiling. She is smiling in a way that reminds me of a happy frown.

She sees that I am looking at her and trudges through the slop, battling waves with her hands. After losing her mop and bucket to the constantly sloshing sea of goop, she climbs up onto the floor then onto the table and sits across from me.

With a pen that produces itself magically out of thin air, she draws sixteen lines. She numbers them one through thirteen. I hardly notice this miracle because at this point she begins to sway. She sways with more violence than the blue sea. Her skin is now pale and quickly becoming translucent. She is shedding her skin.

She climbs out of the husk, with shiny skin and wet, obscenely huge, black eyes. She stands and straightens out her new wings. Smoothing them with her antennae she says, “Among the creatures that burrow in the earth, nothing is as impressive, or as irrelevant as the ability to fly.”

She then floats off.