ANOTHER DECADENT SUNDAY

"I've tried to escape from this planet on a number of occasions."
"No shit."
"Each time the aliens caught me and brought me back."
As the woman talked, apparently without end or continuity, the man drew dreamily on the long ornate ivory and hardwood opium pipe, with its carved gods and dragons, and brass mouthpiece. "Motherfuckers those aliens. I hope you avoided the anal probe."
She didn't appear to hear him. On the other hand, the man may not have actually spoken, only fantasized that he did. She frowned. "I also escaped from the nuns. A number of times. But they always caught me too."
The man shook his head as if to clear it. He had totally lost the thread. "Nuns?"
The woman gestured with stoned impatience. "I was raised by nuns in a Catholic orphanage of great barbarism. The benefits were few and the penalties severe. They administered enemas for our health and cruelly whipped us for the most minor infraction. I'm not sure which was worse, the nozzle or the cane."
The man didn’t feel he was obliged to say anything. He merely contemplated the opiate enhancement of the images the woman was creating.
"Those nuns..." She shook her head in search of a word strong enough to express her contempt. Her English was poor and her vocabulary small. "...those bitches in black and white were enjoying themselves. I used to wonder what they did when we couldn't see them."