“Duck, sucker!”
I tripped over a white rabbit hole and skidded a few feet, skinning my hands, as the myfather/DeNiro lookalike fired a strange looking gun. Glass shards streamed over my head to the paper monster behind me and the DeNiro lookalike burst into the Nick Lowe’s song “I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass.”
Very appropriate since the glass was breaking. Looking back I could see the damage on the paper too. Paper and glass were being shredded and ground into nothing more than dust. As the pieces got smaller so did the tornado until it was nothing more than a small pile of dust and a very dispirited dust devil scampering off to yet another Brazil.
“What are you waiting here for?” DeNiro spoke in my father’s voice again. Shoving an old fashioned pocket watch, with chain, into my shirt pocket he picked me up by the ankles and dangled me over the rabbit hole. “You got to hurry or you’ll be late.”
I think I screamed when he let me go and I fell into the pitch black tunnel.
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The Tunnel at the End of Brazil
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The Tunnel at the End of Brazil
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The Tunnel at the End of Brazil
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