February 12, 1998: Fat Guy in the Sky

Touring Japan in a bus, 2 buses altogether. Man falls from a great height, with no buildings nearby and no planes overhead. He's a dumpy white guy, somewhat like Chris Farley, and he hits the ground with a splat of blood. Opens his eyes and talks. A woman from the bus rushes out to help him, but I am suspicious. He is smarmy and pathetic, souding like he's in love with her for helping. We all cringe as she gives him her phone number.

The bus moves on, but to my dismay stops somewhere before reaching its final destination. It's the driver's house, where he has stopped to pick something up. My friend and I stay on the bus, sensing that something is not right. There are bison on the front lawn.

Suddenly, the bus pivots in place and rolls down the road. I say, "That was odd." Building sense of dread.

I am outside the bus on the pavement. There is yelling from above. Looking up, I see the fat man appear in a clear sky, falling from a great height. He almost hits me, splatting bloodily on the pavement. As I expect, his eyes open and he floats up and onto the back of the horse I am now sitting on. There is something evil about him, unholy. I understand now that we are up against some sort of powerful demon, but am unsure whether there is personal danger. He vanishes, ominously. I look around.

Suddenly his voice rings out, resonant, massive, and sarcastic: "I'm crumbling with love." (Referring to the woman who helped him, clearly.) Some distance away, he materializes AS a high-rise building, immediately cracking and collapsing in a spray of blood. I'm getting scared. He keeps reappearing, dying horribly, persistent, mocking our initial dismissal of him as a harmless geek.