The plane was leaking fuel, so everyone was waylaid in a Howard Johnson Hotel in Miami until the repairs can be made. They had to ground the plane on the evening of the 15th in Miami because the fuel was leaking, or they had over fueled, there were a few excuses, anyway, something was wrong with the plane. They missed their landing slot and the Scientists put everyone up in a roadhouse near the airport. It only fueled anxiety and the unrelenting anticipation.

Not knowing still what he was getting into, he’d taken some napkins from the airplane and written about his fears and excitement, jotted um down in quick bursts and mailed the napkins off to Yeli so she might root for him through the upcoming travails, or perhaps mourn him if he fell in what was looking like a shit show of unknown proportions they were about to fly into.

Sebastian also did what was in his nature, he went and ordered some Stoli from the hotel lobby bar. Doing also what was in his nature he ordered a drink for the slender, raven haired Israeli alone at the midnight watering hole.

She was slender but stacked, clearly Israeli.

“Toba,” she introduces herself.


“So you’re an EMT?” she says looking at his polo shirt which states that.

“Yeah, and you’re a Scientist right?”


“You know I don’t really believe half the stuff the media says about you guys. I think not paying taxes is an important step on the road to freedom.”

“Sebastian, I think you’re the kind of guy who says anything to get laid.”

“That is a mostly accurate picture of me Ms. Toba.”

“Why are you going to Haiti Sebastian?” she asks.

“To meet young women who like medical attention.”

“I’m quite healthy for now it appears.”

“Well you say that now.”

“It’s a very special island were going to. I hope you and the other volunteers appreciate the whole of what you’re embarking on.”

“I just know they killed all the white people in 1804.”

“Does that make you nervous?”

“I’m Hebrew, not white. I just hide in their skin,” he winks.

“What do you do back in New York, for the Scientists I mean?”

“Scientologists. I work in communications.”

“I had you pegged for their tractor beam operator.”

“Does it help you to laugh at the great unknown so you can feel less scared for your potential shortcomings?”

“I like to laugh at almost everything.”

“Wanna see a cool trick,” she was getting close to him.

“I always wanna see a cool trick.”  he replies.

“Do you like getting your dick sucked,” he hopes she asks him, but really-really she says, “Do you like getting your soul sucked.” And then he sees a strange blue light.

Drink me and grow enormous!

Sebastian Adon wakes up in cold sweat in a stranger’s bed at the Howard Johnson. He’s not awake but he sees some things that he’s never seen before. Or maybe just sees them in a new way? Like a taste of things to come. Like seeing his own corpse get up and walk across the hotel out into the future.

The Scientologist had hypnotized him perhaps. Or poisoned him and soon he was dreaming, or maybe also having a vision. What had she done? Certainly not sucked his cock off. Men will engage in very detailed wet dreams to avoid more frightening realities. She knocked him out with something. A fourth dimensional lift assist. Or the power of a suggestion.  Mother fucking Israelite spies. What the hell were they doing in Haiti?

“Everybody wants to be there when the world ends,” Toba whispers to him, “everyone wants to have a share in the world to come.”

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