Silent lucidity

My name is Emma B and I'm a... dammit, I have to be a something.  Everyone's a something in this wretched world.  Everyone but me, apparantly.

*

My name is William MacKenzie and I am a rebel.  I lost my tail somewhere, it broke off... no, that's not right.  Mack's my lizard.  So who am I?

*

My lizard is Emma MacKenzie and she's been shot in the tail by a man whose face is always in the shadows.  I know that can't be right, but it makes me want to cry again.  Wait, I was crying already?

*

My name is Lizard Emma and I've been shooting at shadows with the help of a man called Mack.  No, the man's called Joel.  He's my ex-boyfriend.  Why am I called Lizard though?  What was my mother thinking?

*

This time when I wake up my mind's much clearer, and I know who I am.  My name is Emma B, and I'm in a stolen car, hotwired by a street kid I think I might have dragged into a disaster, and I've been shot.  Heh, I think I preferred some of the other things I was thinking the last few times I woke up.  And I could use a salted caramel right about now.  Or chocolate.  Actually chocolate would be a lot better.
    I'm still sitting in the car, and my watch says it's after two in the afternoon.  That means I've not been to work and I've not called in sick.  There will be hell to pay for that.
    The car is a write-off.  I think I hit something after I left the bus depot, but everything's a bit hazy at that point.  The windscreens front and back are shattered and there's glass everywhere, all over me, all over the car.  I drove out here, a patch of scrub wasteland in one of the rougher areas, because I knew that the car will be taken and joyridden to death, then burned out.  It's no guarantee it'll hide my presence here, but it'll definitely confuse it.  And then I couldn't get out of the car.  That's when I discovered that the last bullet, the one that broke the rear windscreen, had gone through the seat-back, shattered my mobile phone in my pocket, and gone into the top of my left-leg from... a lady doesn't talk about that part of her anatomy.  Except to her boyfriend, her girl-friends, her therapist, and nationally syndicated advice columnists.  Oh, I shouldn't have thought that, it's making me laugh, and that just makes me blac--

*

My Emma is named for a lizard and I live with the voices of rebels.  That doesn't sound right, but it would explain a lot.  Why does my leg hurt so much?  Am I leaking?  Oh bu--

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Critical System Error.  Please tap out Ctrl-Alt-Del in morse code to reboot.  This message was brought to you by the red number 5 and the letter Q.  I wonder if there'll be puppies on today's show.  Wait, what show?  I can see a broken window, and someone is approaching on the other side of it.  They're wearing a suit, and that's not a happy face.  I've never seen a tyre-iron in my life, but the word is suddenly crowding out everything else in my skull.  I thi--

*

I'm a little teapot, short and stout.  Here's my handle, here's my spout.  A man is standing over me saying something over and over again.  I should tell him that I'm made of china, that I might break some more if I'm roughly handled.  I should...

The End

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