Sperry’s protests prove so unsuccessful that he wound up wiggling himself into a mini coma. The hand carries the exposed shower-goer over power lines, asbestos-laced schools, bullies putting their wet fingers into defenseless ears, corporate complexes, bigger bullies putting their arms around new employees, hospitals, screaming ER patients on stretchers, shaky bridges, stolen kites, and trees, before dropping him on a sandy bank sandwiched between a forest and a lake. Sperry is unresponsive, so the giant finger nudges him awake.
Sperry’s eyes dart back and forth in a hurried daze trying to get his bearings and when he finally does, realizing he’s underneath a mammoth hand-shadow, he loses them again. He bolts from the ground and runs away from the shadow. Faster and faster this confused nakedness runs. Faster and faster until his foot glimpses a spiky object on the ground, tripping him into a forward roll. Once inert, Sperry slowly crawls deeper into the water with more concern for his privates than his pain.
The giant hand floats over to this pathetic neo-nudist.
“Here you are” The booming presence is back again. Sperry looks around.
“Where am I? This is nowhere near my show- Oh no! The water’s still running! That’s going to cost a fortune.” Sperry gives the water a backhanded smack.
“Sometimes when people ask for things…we listen.” The voice sounds as powerful as a unified chorus of motorcycle engines.
“I can’t afford to leave the water running that long! You know, I’ve budgeted everything out weeks in advance and my showers are supposed to last no longer than 10 minutes.” Sperry’s mind is still back at his newly-destroyed cleansing closet.
The hand picks Sperry up so easily it would make bullies of all size jealous. It gently puts him down with his head facing the middle of the lake.
“Do you know where you are?” calls the voice beyond the hand. Sperry gives a timid horizontal head shake.
“You should. You asked for this.”
TO BE CONTINUED