Who am I?

Better still ... where am I?

I asked that question of the warrior women. Came right out and said it,

“Where am I?”

First it was funny ... as in; rolling on the floor funny. Laughing to puking. The whole floor cadre just busted out ... made a mess.

I wasn’t laughing. Not even a chuckle.

She of the excellent cheeks and recently well fucked pussy realized I was serious.

She wiped her running eyes, looked at my somber face and said it, even, “You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You’re here.”

“Where is here?”

That stumped ‘em.

“Here. Where else is there?”

“So9mewhere out there,” I gestured to the sky, “there are other stars ... what?”

“What is a star?”

I pointed at the red yellow circle just sinking below the horizon. About half the circle was still visible. “That’s a star.”

“That?” She said with convivtion. “That’s a furnace.”

“It’s going behind the hills so it can be cleaned out and refilled with wood and coal.”

One of the girls said, “That’s a job I’d like.”

Everyone agreed.

“They choose a few every year to work there. You have to be near perfect to work there.”

“I’ve never heard of a chosen one being rejected.”