https://youtu.be/0SIKDBEAdXM
Joe Ingles squeezed his eyes tighter shut and grimaced, having just been awoken by the sensation of one of his dogs licking him in the face. He mentally prepared to get out bed, thinking that he had overslept. The sun was already shining brightly into his bedroom, piercing through his closed eyelids, meaning it was probably mid-morning already. How had he overslept so badly?
Eyes still closed, Joe realized with confusion that he was supposed to be on the road, sleeping in a hotel. His dogs would be at home with his wife. So what was licking him? He opened his eyes.
Wherever he was, it wasn’t a hotel room. There was open sky above him, filled with placid silvery clouds that glowed gold with sunlight. What filled most of his view, however, was the face of a wallaby which was giving him a bath with its tongue.
Startled, Joe quickly sat up, an action which also startled the wallaby. It hopped back, stared at Joe for a second, and then, determining that Joe was not a threat, hopped into his lap to get comfortable. Its weight was uncomfortably crushing Joe in some rather sensitive areas, but it didn’t seem to want to move, so Joe let it get comfortable while he looked around to get his bearings. He was sitting on a smooth floor of marble which looked to extend forever in both directions. Stately stone walls rose up to the clouds on either side of him. Large arched windows gave a view to nothing at all. It was vaguely heaven-like, minus the deities and angels. Probably a dream, Joe decided.
He wrapped the wallaby in his arms and forcibly moved it off him so he could stand up. Looking down the grand hall in both directions, neither seemed to offer an advantage over the other, so he picked a direction at random and began to walk. The wallaby hopped after him, and the only sound was the wallaby’s toenails clacking on the marble in a steady rhythm.
Occasionally, Joe would pass a fountain or a bench, but even after walking for a very long time, he never saw any indication that there was anybody there other than himself. This fact didn’t bother him too much. He found that the extended period of solitude was having a very positive effect on his mental state. With the sun warming his nude body and the sudden diminishment of his real-life anxieties, he thought he could stay in this dream forever.
He stopped by a burbling stone fountain which was in the center of the floor. Underneath a few inches of crystal-clear water was a beautiful mosaic. As the wallaby lapped up water with its tongue, Joe gazed into the waters. In the reflective waters, he could see the face of a man who was utterly at peace. The reflection looked impossibly young. Joe felt like he had unlocked some sort of great cosmic secret as he stared at the rippling, distorted mirror of himself.
Suddenly, the reflection of a new face appeared next to his own reflection. Joe turned around and saw a man in a white robe standing nearby. The man was holding out two offerings to him, one in each hand. “Welcome, Joe, to The Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers.”
Joe took the robe that was offered him and pulled it over his naked body. The cloth was very soft, softer even than his most comfortable bathrobe at home. He also took the package of Tim-Tams. He wasn’t hungry, but he ate one to be polite. “I think I recognize you. You played for the Argentina national team, right?”
“Indeed,” said the man. “My name is Carlos Delfino, and in a past life I represented Argentina in international competition. Now I am the Appointed Guardian of the Hall of the Thirty Point Scorers.”
“Nice gig, mate” Joe commented. “Too bad it’s all a dream. I don’t want to leave.”
Carlos chuckled. “It’s not a dream, Joe. It’s the same reality you’re used to, viewed from a different angle, so to speak.” Carlos was about to explain more, but was interrupted by the puttering sound of a motorized vehicle quickly getting closer.
The two men turned to look. A lanky man with his long hair in a ponytail was approaching them in a go-kart. “I WANT THAT WALLABY,” yelled the man, who was wearing a World War II-era helmet and an unwieldy, oversized pair of aviation goggles whose straps flapped behind him. He took his hands off the small steering wheel, accelerated faster, and prepared to grab the wallaby, which seemed unconcerned by the prospect of abduction.
Carlos’ face was contorted with rage and he muttered something under his breath. His body glowed green with a mystical force. Suddenly, the Go-Kart exploded, and the man was instantly incinerated by fire. The wallaby hopped over, sniffed the charred human husk, then began to urinate on it.
“Nobody violates the sanctity of the Hall,” Carlos snarled. “Nobody.” He stalked off in a foul mood, leaving Joe alone with the wallaby and the corpse.
Joe sat down on the edge of the fountain, feeling like he had had enough human interaction for a lifetime. “You’ll be my friend, right mate?” he asked the wallaby. The wallaby licked his face in agreement.