Preface: I've been writing other things for quite some time and regret to admit that I have neglected sharing my dreams. Though luckily for you the reader I recently had a dream far too powerful not to share. So I present it here for you to enjoy.
My feet were cold but my chest was seething with dripping heat. The numbing blue tiles on the floor were indifferent to the blood I was spilling out of me. The adjacent rooms were silent. The hallway empty of any other patients. I managed to scream,
"Help! Anyone?!" before my mouth was too choked with my own juices. My balance had left me with the last pool of blood I ejected from my body. I used my right hand to grab the operating table close to me. My left hand was too busy clenching my chest trying to dam the estuary of blood. I managed to lift my head once I had reestablished some balance. At the other end of the room there was a phone attached to the wall that matched the floor. Edging towards it was easier as long as my right arm remained anchored to the table; though my thoughts could not focus on the task at hand.
'Who did this? Why is no one here to help me? What did I do?'
I had no answers.
I was desperate for a noise. Anything that might indicate activity, life, just anything! I was almost in reaching distance of a tray by the table that held the shiny operating utensils. They were pristine, not even a fogged up blade from my heaving breath. I could see my face in one of the wider blades. Dark eyes and ever paling skin looked back at me. My beard was trying its hardest to soak up the blood spilling out from my jaw; but beards can only do so much for a man, especially a beard as thin and disproportionate as mine.
A large sharp pain slammed against my back. This was too much for my right arm and I collapsed to the floor clawing for anything to keep me on my feet. My left arm scraped at the tray and the knives, picks, and clamps erupted from their stainless steel bed. My head cracked the tiles as it slammed to the floor, which was the only retribution I would probably get, so I smiled for a second. Alas my thoughts felt it paramount to address something far more important.
'Who just hit me? Are they trying to murder me? If I turn my head can I see them? Can I turn my head? Have I been murdered?'
I could not turn my head. The fall had also broken the dam my left fingers had worked so hard to create. My shirt quickly became drenched by the warm lake emerging from my chest. I stopped trying to get up or lift my head. The cold tiles suddenly felt good against my brow. The heft of my head, legs, and arms left me with every breath. I could only attribute it to the fact that there wasn't enough blood to reach them so my body had to prioritize. Once again my thoughts couldn't help but race to the end.
'I'm only 24, is this really the end? I never thought it would happen this way. Is this really what this feels like?'
My limbs felt light enough to leave the ground as if gravity had reversed. They were ready to betray me and head for the ceiling they felt so light. The white in between the tiles started to swallow up the blue. I didn't move my limbs anymore I had to spend all my energy squeezing out thoughts.
'I thought this would feel far worse. I thought I would be terrified. Sure I didn't get to do all I had set out to do, but this isn't the worst...
This light feeling is pretty relieving actually...
At this rate I'll just evaporate out of here...
My head feels tired...
It's almost all white now I might as well close my eyes...
Things will be okay...'
I awoke at 7:30 that morning and got ready for work a bit earlier than normal. My mind occupied making mundane decisions about which items of clothing to wear, to make breakfast here or get something close to work, and which book to read on the train.
The walk to the train was like most others. I listened to a short song, one that would end before I got to the station. The cold morning air freezing the tips of my hair that hadn't quite dried from the shower yet. I stood at the platform while the train passed searching for where I would sit once the doors opened. I snagged a corner seat by the door and rummaged through my bag for a book of short stories, but before I could get past the cover it was as if a droplet of blood from above had landed on it to remind me of what had transpired.
Though the rest of my day was like any other, I will never forget it, because that morning I remembered what it was to bleed to death on a cold hospital floor.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
On the Shores of Hollywood
Preface: This was a dream I had long ago, and its taken me even longer to write about it.
I found myself at a fancy dinner party surrounded by old people in tuxedos and gala dresses. We were all stuffed in a hallway filled with antique dining room fixtures. Most of the party attendants slowly circulated around the antiques or other conversation circles and were mingling. A white-gloved hand was carrying a silver tray over the crowd while passing out flutes of sparkling wine. I grabbed a glass and "admired" some fancy candlesticks so I wouldn't stand out. I chit-chatted with whoever engaged me, nodded my head when appropriate, and said things like,
"Oh yes, things in the southern hemisphere are just deplorable!"
"I wish someone would fix the commonwealth." and
"My my! What an interesting subject!" I couldn't take much more though, I decided to flow with the tide of conversation circles. Who knows, maybe I'd wash up on a shore that would lead me out of the party.
I was passed from one circle to another not caring what rot left the mouths of the well-to-do party guests. Along the way I noticed there were periodic staircases leading up and out of the hallway. I tried desperately to break away from the school of guests, but they were too oblivious of my presence. I might as well have been a small child that had left the kids table, futilely trying to compete with what seemed like giants all around me. I was tossed about for what seemed like hours. It felt like I had been sucked into a torrent of people. A ballroom dance with an endless and obvious pattern but no music dictating the conclusion of it. Eventually I didn't waste energy instructing my muscles what to do, knowing well that I was no match for the shuffling feet and elbows of the unforgiving party guests. My body went limp and I stared at the ceiling and it's shining chandeliers.
"I bet this is how seaweed feels," I thought. Though before I could get anymore existential than that I was spat out of the sea of shiny shuffling shoes and collided with someone. I got up off the carpet apologizing profusely but paused when I saw who I had run into.
My high school heart-throb Emma was staring at me her mouth slightly open. Neither of us moved while the party guests continued to circulate with no mind to us whatsoever.
"Hi."
"Hey," she replied.
"What are you doing here?"
"Family invited me and some of my friends, its been a while."
"Yea..."
A sharp clang of cutlery and glass resounded throughout the hall and the guests came to a synchronized halt. An elderly British voice instructed everyone,
"Ladies and gentlemen it is time for the waltz!"
The party guests fanned out an appropriate distance choking what little space me and Emma had, making us very uncomfortable. While the guests started to twirl about the room Emma turned to me. I sucked in my gut but she definitely noticed. Damn. But then she said something very unexpected,
"You wanna get out of here?"
I nodded fervently and Emma yanked my arm and we weaved through legs, coffee tables, and coattails. We headed up one of the staircases out of the hallway.
When we emerged from the stairs a salty wind slapped my cheeks and filled my nostrils. We were atop a grassy plateau looking over a vast ocean that cascaded against the cliffs with its tide.
"Much better right?"
I looked over to her and gave her a big smile, I was so happy to be out of the hallway. The wind felt incredible brushing through my hair. The grass was soft and lush, I wanted to frolic in it this for hours. Though it wasn't what Emma had in mind.
"Hey follow me, lets play hopscotch!" She ran off down toward one end of the plateau. Frolicking in the grass wouldn't be as fun by myself so I headed after her.
I caught up to her at a corner of the plateau trying not to reveal that I was a little out of breath. A bridge divided into interchanging squares labeled with corresponding numbers lay before us.
"Where does the bridge take you?" I asked.
"It's not about where it takes you..." I rolled my eyes in anticipation of an empty platitude or sappy philosophy.
"...It's about hopscotch!" Before I could bring my eyes back to their normal viewing level she had already lunged forward and began to hop down the bridge. I studied her movements and hopped after her in hopes that this was indeed how you played the game.
Halfway across the bridge I saw Emma was already on her way back. While trying to make more progress I came to the conclusion that this game had too much hopping and not enough scotch. Since each hop rippled out the rest of the bridge I kept my eyes on my foot-work and minded my balance. Taking in my height above the water and the integrity of the bridge I also started to think this was a hopscotch game meant for Olympians, not for pale-legged lads who spent their childhood playing cards to earn enough money to go bowling or to the movies.
My whimpering thoughts were halted when a blunt force hit my bent over head. I looked up to see Emma holding her forehead and muttering curses. After we each took a moment we looked up at each other and discovered that we hadn't stepped away from each other as much as we thought. The ocean's spray hitting the rocks below us had more to say than we did.
"Twice in one day eh?" Hoping this comment would break the silence, it didn't. Though it couldn't compare with one of the boards breaking and Emma falling through the bridge, that got a lot more chatter going.
"SAM, HOLY CRAP! SAM! SAM HELP!" Emma had grabbed onto some rope before plummeting to a surely sharp and rocky death. I slowly lowered myself and gave her my right arm. After getting back onto the bridge she held onto my arm a bit longer and pulled me until we were both on the other side and off the bridge.
"Well I wasn't keeping track but I think you won that game," I said. Emma smiled,
"Thanks."
She abruptly turned her head from me, her smile soured, and she stared blankly out towards the ocean.
We walked further and further from the bridge until it became a speck behind us. My eyes were looking everywhere except next to me. I figured it would be safest to keep my eyes in the shapeless clouds, focus on the shapeless. When we both finally stopped walking I noticed we were closer to the water. I breathed in more of the salty air and exhaled assuming it would relieve some of the stress, but the only thing that felt different was sand slowly sinking into my shoes. I was due for a new pair anyway. The soles were old enough to open up mouths and jabber about the harsh concrete whenever I would walk to work. Who wants to hear they're shoes yammer on?
"I have to go meet my friends."
I turned my head from the ground to her.
"But we never got to catch up, and who knows when we'll run into each other again."
She gave a weak chuckle and a smile.
"At our rate probably sooner than you think."
Her eyes darted down the beach and she broke into a hot sprint. Her figure eventually disappeared behind a protruding cliff on the beach. She didn't even say goodbye. I stood there and let a few more grains sink into the cracks of my feet.
No! This wasn't going to end like this. I tore my shoes from my feet and cast them out to see so their mouths could be filled with salty foam. The balls and toes of my feet knew what had to be done. I shot after her and almost fell flat on my face. I've never been a runner but my feet were enjoying the foreign feel of the sand, and who was I to deny them? I was glad no one else was attending the beach. Who would want to see an out of shape pale legged boy stumbling through the sand? Maybe more people than I suspect.
I ran far. I got past the cliff and saw a dirt trail lead up and away from the beach. Rocks and course dirt attacked my feet as I hoofed it further up the trail. Tall grass scratched and tickled any exposed skin on my body. Was the land punishing me? My lungs burned as if battery acid had been poured down them, but my legs refused to stop. Would I have to be put on life support after this? Would my legs still function after all of this? My eyes saw a beach house on the horizon of the trail and my medical thoughts washed away.
I heaved and wheezed on a hill made of sand and some roughage. Outside the house were two parked police cars. I crouched and tried to find a side entrance in.
Around the back of the house was a porch with glass sliding doors leading out to it. Inside I could see Emma and a few others being held at gun point by two officers. I slowly climbed over the porch railing. The sun-baked wood pressing against my stomach made my insides feel like boiling knots. I eased against the glass door careful not to make any betraying sounds. I could hear the murmur of one of the officers.
"We know the fortune is here, just show us where and we won't kill any of you."
Emma's eyes saw me and began to shiver but quickly turned back to the officers. The porch didn't have any weapons but my eyes stumbled on a ladder leading up into the attic. I crawled to it not knowing exactly what would be up there but it would be better than being on display behind a pane of glass. The planks of the porch felt like they were charring my skin, as if some giant chef above me was putting grill marks on before plating me.
I climbed the ladder quite deftly despite my hands quivering with every grab. I poked my head inside the hole to the attic. I thought my hair was going to melt off, but what was more surprising was the smell. It was some hot syrupy smell. I looked below to discover the whole attic was filled with melting gummie bears.
"Ugh!"
The smell was unbearably powerful. My vision started to blur and I could feel myself leaving the support of the ladder. My body plunged into the goop. I was on fire and drenched simultaneously. This is it, I had traded in my shoes filling with sand for drowning in sticky artificial candy. My back hit the floor of the attic and suddenly there was air again. I had broken a whole in the floor and the goop was pouring me out into the living room onto the policemen. I gasped for air and tried to get to my feet. The police were getting plastered with half solid half liquid gummies, and Emma's friends were staring at me like I had leaped out of a horror movie. I couldn't believe they were just standing there.
"Run, you idiots!"
Everyone made for a different door. We powered down steps and ran for the beach. I wanted to wash this terrible goo from me. Before I could make it to the waters a hand grabbed my wrist and nearly slid right off. I turned to see Emma's face smiling, I just smiled back. Despite man made candy bears scorching my skin I was content for a moment, but the happy moment was all too short when it was interrupted by a charismatic voice ripping through the air,
"Coming this summer!"
I heard a stage alarm ring and Emma let go of my wrist as soon as she heard,
"Aaaaannddd cut! That was great everybody!"
The people who I thought were her friends and guests from the ball started walking into my field of vision. They were shaking hands and patting backs. A few came and high-fived Emma. She turned back to me with the neutral demeanor of a stranger on her face.
"It was great working with you."
I couldn't say anything back. She walked away and started chatting with the other people who I thought I knew.
I woke up in my bed in a hot sweat and panting. I stared blankly at the wall in front of me clenching my sheets to the point of ripping. A bead of sweat rolled onto my lips. I had never tasted something so bitter in my life.
I found myself at a fancy dinner party surrounded by old people in tuxedos and gala dresses. We were all stuffed in a hallway filled with antique dining room fixtures. Most of the party attendants slowly circulated around the antiques or other conversation circles and were mingling. A white-gloved hand was carrying a silver tray over the crowd while passing out flutes of sparkling wine. I grabbed a glass and "admired" some fancy candlesticks so I wouldn't stand out. I chit-chatted with whoever engaged me, nodded my head when appropriate, and said things like,
"Oh yes, things in the southern hemisphere are just deplorable!"
"I wish someone would fix the commonwealth." and
"My my! What an interesting subject!" I couldn't take much more though, I decided to flow with the tide of conversation circles. Who knows, maybe I'd wash up on a shore that would lead me out of the party.
I was passed from one circle to another not caring what rot left the mouths of the well-to-do party guests. Along the way I noticed there were periodic staircases leading up and out of the hallway. I tried desperately to break away from the school of guests, but they were too oblivious of my presence. I might as well have been a small child that had left the kids table, futilely trying to compete with what seemed like giants all around me. I was tossed about for what seemed like hours. It felt like I had been sucked into a torrent of people. A ballroom dance with an endless and obvious pattern but no music dictating the conclusion of it. Eventually I didn't waste energy instructing my muscles what to do, knowing well that I was no match for the shuffling feet and elbows of the unforgiving party guests. My body went limp and I stared at the ceiling and it's shining chandeliers.
"I bet this is how seaweed feels," I thought. Though before I could get anymore existential than that I was spat out of the sea of shiny shuffling shoes and collided with someone. I got up off the carpet apologizing profusely but paused when I saw who I had run into.
My high school heart-throb Emma was staring at me her mouth slightly open. Neither of us moved while the party guests continued to circulate with no mind to us whatsoever.
"Hi."
"Hey," she replied.
"What are you doing here?"
"Family invited me and some of my friends, its been a while."
"Yea..."
A sharp clang of cutlery and glass resounded throughout the hall and the guests came to a synchronized halt. An elderly British voice instructed everyone,
"Ladies and gentlemen it is time for the waltz!"
The party guests fanned out an appropriate distance choking what little space me and Emma had, making us very uncomfortable. While the guests started to twirl about the room Emma turned to me. I sucked in my gut but she definitely noticed. Damn. But then she said something very unexpected,
"You wanna get out of here?"
I nodded fervently and Emma yanked my arm and we weaved through legs, coffee tables, and coattails. We headed up one of the staircases out of the hallway.
When we emerged from the stairs a salty wind slapped my cheeks and filled my nostrils. We were atop a grassy plateau looking over a vast ocean that cascaded against the cliffs with its tide.
"Much better right?"
I looked over to her and gave her a big smile, I was so happy to be out of the hallway. The wind felt incredible brushing through my hair. The grass was soft and lush, I wanted to frolic in it this for hours. Though it wasn't what Emma had in mind.
"Hey follow me, lets play hopscotch!" She ran off down toward one end of the plateau. Frolicking in the grass wouldn't be as fun by myself so I headed after her.
I caught up to her at a corner of the plateau trying not to reveal that I was a little out of breath. A bridge divided into interchanging squares labeled with corresponding numbers lay before us.
"Where does the bridge take you?" I asked.
"It's not about where it takes you..." I rolled my eyes in anticipation of an empty platitude or sappy philosophy.
"...It's about hopscotch!" Before I could bring my eyes back to their normal viewing level she had already lunged forward and began to hop down the bridge. I studied her movements and hopped after her in hopes that this was indeed how you played the game.
Halfway across the bridge I saw Emma was already on her way back. While trying to make more progress I came to the conclusion that this game had too much hopping and not enough scotch. Since each hop rippled out the rest of the bridge I kept my eyes on my foot-work and minded my balance. Taking in my height above the water and the integrity of the bridge I also started to think this was a hopscotch game meant for Olympians, not for pale-legged lads who spent their childhood playing cards to earn enough money to go bowling or to the movies.
My whimpering thoughts were halted when a blunt force hit my bent over head. I looked up to see Emma holding her forehead and muttering curses. After we each took a moment we looked up at each other and discovered that we hadn't stepped away from each other as much as we thought. The ocean's spray hitting the rocks below us had more to say than we did.
"Twice in one day eh?" Hoping this comment would break the silence, it didn't. Though it couldn't compare with one of the boards breaking and Emma falling through the bridge, that got a lot more chatter going.
"SAM, HOLY CRAP! SAM! SAM HELP!" Emma had grabbed onto some rope before plummeting to a surely sharp and rocky death. I slowly lowered myself and gave her my right arm. After getting back onto the bridge she held onto my arm a bit longer and pulled me until we were both on the other side and off the bridge.
"Well I wasn't keeping track but I think you won that game," I said. Emma smiled,
"Thanks."
She abruptly turned her head from me, her smile soured, and she stared blankly out towards the ocean.
We walked further and further from the bridge until it became a speck behind us. My eyes were looking everywhere except next to me. I figured it would be safest to keep my eyes in the shapeless clouds, focus on the shapeless. When we both finally stopped walking I noticed we were closer to the water. I breathed in more of the salty air and exhaled assuming it would relieve some of the stress, but the only thing that felt different was sand slowly sinking into my shoes. I was due for a new pair anyway. The soles were old enough to open up mouths and jabber about the harsh concrete whenever I would walk to work. Who wants to hear they're shoes yammer on?
"I have to go meet my friends."
I turned my head from the ground to her.
"But we never got to catch up, and who knows when we'll run into each other again."
She gave a weak chuckle and a smile.
"At our rate probably sooner than you think."
Her eyes darted down the beach and she broke into a hot sprint. Her figure eventually disappeared behind a protruding cliff on the beach. She didn't even say goodbye. I stood there and let a few more grains sink into the cracks of my feet.
No! This wasn't going to end like this. I tore my shoes from my feet and cast them out to see so their mouths could be filled with salty foam. The balls and toes of my feet knew what had to be done. I shot after her and almost fell flat on my face. I've never been a runner but my feet were enjoying the foreign feel of the sand, and who was I to deny them? I was glad no one else was attending the beach. Who would want to see an out of shape pale legged boy stumbling through the sand? Maybe more people than I suspect.
I ran far. I got past the cliff and saw a dirt trail lead up and away from the beach. Rocks and course dirt attacked my feet as I hoofed it further up the trail. Tall grass scratched and tickled any exposed skin on my body. Was the land punishing me? My lungs burned as if battery acid had been poured down them, but my legs refused to stop. Would I have to be put on life support after this? Would my legs still function after all of this? My eyes saw a beach house on the horizon of the trail and my medical thoughts washed away.
I heaved and wheezed on a hill made of sand and some roughage. Outside the house were two parked police cars. I crouched and tried to find a side entrance in.
Around the back of the house was a porch with glass sliding doors leading out to it. Inside I could see Emma and a few others being held at gun point by two officers. I slowly climbed over the porch railing. The sun-baked wood pressing against my stomach made my insides feel like boiling knots. I eased against the glass door careful not to make any betraying sounds. I could hear the murmur of one of the officers.
"We know the fortune is here, just show us where and we won't kill any of you."
Emma's eyes saw me and began to shiver but quickly turned back to the officers. The porch didn't have any weapons but my eyes stumbled on a ladder leading up into the attic. I crawled to it not knowing exactly what would be up there but it would be better than being on display behind a pane of glass. The planks of the porch felt like they were charring my skin, as if some giant chef above me was putting grill marks on before plating me.
I climbed the ladder quite deftly despite my hands quivering with every grab. I poked my head inside the hole to the attic. I thought my hair was going to melt off, but what was more surprising was the smell. It was some hot syrupy smell. I looked below to discover the whole attic was filled with melting gummie bears.
"Ugh!"
The smell was unbearably powerful. My vision started to blur and I could feel myself leaving the support of the ladder. My body plunged into the goop. I was on fire and drenched simultaneously. This is it, I had traded in my shoes filling with sand for drowning in sticky artificial candy. My back hit the floor of the attic and suddenly there was air again. I had broken a whole in the floor and the goop was pouring me out into the living room onto the policemen. I gasped for air and tried to get to my feet. The police were getting plastered with half solid half liquid gummies, and Emma's friends were staring at me like I had leaped out of a horror movie. I couldn't believe they were just standing there.
"Run, you idiots!"
Everyone made for a different door. We powered down steps and ran for the beach. I wanted to wash this terrible goo from me. Before I could make it to the waters a hand grabbed my wrist and nearly slid right off. I turned to see Emma's face smiling, I just smiled back. Despite man made candy bears scorching my skin I was content for a moment, but the happy moment was all too short when it was interrupted by a charismatic voice ripping through the air,
"Coming this summer!"
I heard a stage alarm ring and Emma let go of my wrist as soon as she heard,
"Aaaaannddd cut! That was great everybody!"
The people who I thought were her friends and guests from the ball started walking into my field of vision. They were shaking hands and patting backs. A few came and high-fived Emma. She turned back to me with the neutral demeanor of a stranger on her face.
"It was great working with you."
I couldn't say anything back. She walked away and started chatting with the other people who I thought I knew.
I woke up in my bed in a hot sweat and panting. I stared blankly at the wall in front of me clenching my sheets to the point of ripping. A bead of sweat rolled onto my lips. I had never tasted something so bitter in my life.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Pretzels and Iced Tea
Preface: In this particular adventure of the mind I felt more like a ghost witnessing life. It is only near the end that I participate at all.
Mr. Chambers walked down the sidewalk admiring the night air whilst his polished shoes slammed against the thick slices of concrete. His wife would have told him to catch a taxi but he knew better. Tonight was a rare night in the winter when it was warm enough that the blind could swear it was a pleasant spring day. The wind would only tickle the hairs on your skin to remind you just how alive you are. Mr. Chambers refused to miss an opportunity to soak in such a rich evening. He removed his leather gloves because they were unnecessary tonight. As he strolled he took in a deep breath and had planned to breath out if his nose wasn't suddenly aroused by an alluring aroma. His eyes lit with glee and started to dart back and forth searching for the source of the yeasty, salty, and warm smell that poured into his nostrils. Despite the passing cars muddling the smell Mr. Chambers soon discovered a pretzel stand near the parking lot of his office.
"Providence!" he shouted to himself with great elation.
Doug Larchmont or as many called him "Big Doug" was tending to the state of his pretzel stand. "Big Doug" was a name not without merit. Doug looked as though he descended from Nimrod the great giant of Babel. With the height of a basketball player and the girth of a football player a complete stranger could understand from afar why he bore such a nickname. Doug was using his leather like hands to tend to the coals. He took the term "hand-made" to a whole new level of commitment. He was prompted to look up when he heard the hard click of fine shoes in a quick staccato rhythm headed his way.
"Mista Chamebas, 'ello to you good sir!" Doug smiled at Mr. Chambers and was excited to make another sale.
"Hello Douglas, wonderful to see you and your pretzels this evening!"
Mr. Chambers began to rub his hands together in anticipation.
"Well then what'll it be? Regula'? Non-salt? Extra Salt? Cinnamon? Brown Suga'? Brown Mustard? Yellow Mustard? Honey Mustard? Honey? Molasses?...uhhh I think tha's it."
Mr. Chambers smiled at the absurd selection of such a tiny pretzel vendor.
"I'll just have the usual Douglas."
"Right away!"
Doug retrieved a regular pretzel from within the cart and began to drizzle brown mustard on it as if he were an accomplished pastry chef. Mr. Chambers gasped at the finished product,
"Wonderful Douglas, you have a true calling here my good fellow."
"Three quid sir."
Mr. Chambers laughed as he gave Doug the money.
"This pretzel is worth far more than that."
There was a pause for a moment and Mr. Chambers had a thought when he saw Doug's hands handle the new bills he would add to his drawer.
"Douglas I've always noticed that you leave your hands to the elements of the weather and your craft. Don't you wish you had some gloves to keep them protected?"
Doug's mouth wrenched into a goofy grin at the idea,
"Oh most certainly sir! I've always wanted a pair of my own!"
"Follow me then to my office, I happen to have another pair which are far too large for me, and I would love for you to have them."
Doug quickly shut up his pretzel stand and tied it to a nearby street sign. Then they both marched across the parking lot towards the post office. Mr. Chambers pulled out his key ring with enough keys to lock up Buckingham Palace. The keys jingled around as Mr. Chambers jostled the right one into the door.
"Alright now they are just in my office this way." Mr. Chambers said this as he guided Doug behind the counter.
"Now just wait here a moment and I'll go fetch them."
Doug looked around the front of the post office while he waited. Doug didn't write many letters or get much mail so the post office seemed quite exotic to him. He continued to peruse behind the counter and admire the large amount of cardboard and envelopes. His eyes soon focused on a large white bin on the bottom shelf behind the desk full of money. He thought it strange to have so much just lying around, he had never seen so much money in one place before. His hand drifted towards the small pool of bills that laid in the plastic so effortlessly.
"Where on earth did I put them?!"
Mr. Chambers' voice erupted from the back office. Doug jolted his hand back when he was reminded he wasn't alone, but he still wasn't ready to give up on the loot. He soon noticed an empty mail bag that had been lazily tossed on the ground at some point. He fetched it and began filling it with the lush multicolored bills.
"Oh how silly, I wager I left them in file cabinet, how odd of me."
Doug knew it wouldn't be long before Mr. Chambers returned, he zipped up the bag and hustled his expansive frame out of the building. Once outside he noticed it had started to rain and remembered he didn't have a getaway car. Doug panicked, he hadn't thought this through. He began to ask himself many questions: Where do I keep the money safe? What will I say to Mr. Chambers the next time I see him? Will I be on the run forever now? Why didn't I bring an umbrella?
Before he could decide his next move a young postal worker spotted him and ran up to confront him. He carried a newspaper over his head as a feeble attempt to stay dry. Doug was freaking out under his mask of flesh, and his legs froze in place from uncertainty. The postal worker was young and light footed and seemed to carry a cheery disposition with him.
"Oh my gosh thank you so much!" The worker said exasperated as he reached Doug.
"I completely forgot to put that last bag of mail in the pile. I had left it on the floor with the intention of putting the last bit of mail in, but I guess it slipped my mind."
Doug stared blankly at the fellow after hearing this. There was an awkward silence except for the rain beating down on everything. The worker's newspaper began to look more like paper mache and Doug's shoes had become one with his feet.
"I'm Todd!" the worker thrust his hand out for a business-like handshake. His hand was greeted with stillness and pellets of oncoming rain.
"If you'll just carry that a bit further I'll show you where it goes," suggested Todd.
Doug just wanted his breathing parts to stop pressing up against his skin, he felt like he was running a marathon while his legs were stiff like tree trunks.
"Ok," was all he managed to utter.
Todd beckoned him with one hand and jogged off ahead of him through the massive puddle of the parking lot. Doug snapped his trunks into action when he realized that Mr. Chambers might be out the front door at any moment.
His sodden sneakers splish-splashed behind the ripples left by Todd. Doug found that when the ripples stopped he was in a back compartment of the post office building. A sort of out-cove that was used for storing trucks and cargo. Todd pointed to the far left corner,
"Just drop the bag there with the others."
Doug found his body was obeying all of Todd's orders without any assistance from his own mind. His brain was more of an observer of actions that his body had been pre-programmed to do. Doug decided while watching his hands toss the bag into a pile of identical ones that this was for the best.
"You need a ride home?" asked Todd. Doug nodded and trudged behind Todd until they climbed into his pick-up truck.
Todd glanced at Doug in the passenger seat,
"Where to?"
"The roller derby building."
Doug trudged head down through the hallway of his floor reflecting on the evening he had just had while periodically looking up at the apartment letters to see how close he was to his place. ...Apt S... alright only a few more to go. Though he trudged wearily because he did not want to be noticed by his neighbors Chad and Winston. They were a rambunctious pair that loved to make fun of Doug because he wasn't the brightest. Doug had made many attempts to rid the building of these two but was never successful. Apt Q...Apt O...S#%T! Doug had noticed that the door to apartment N was open. It was their apartment and he knew they would see him walk past as he made a break for his own place, apartment M. He decided to walk past casually and make as little sound as possible.
"Oy Winston, look oo' it is!" said a voice of a person who was trying to make people believe he was British. Suddenly the jingle jangle of metal clanging together could be heard rushing towards the door.
"Its Dim Dougie! 'ello there Dougie!" said a second voice which was making a similar attempt as the first. Doug continued to leaf through his keys so he could open his door and put a two or three inch barrier between himself and them. It was too late though, the duo had emerged from the open doorway into the hall. They were dun up in a cross between S&M attire and skateboarding gear. What was most unique and idiotic about their attire was that they were chained to each other at the waist, so one couldn't go far without the other. Doug looked them up and down,
"Well looks like you're all geared up for another race."
"Yea this evening me and Winston are finally gonna beat Lady G!" said Chad like a school boy who has a secret that he is just bursting to tell.
"Winston and I..." sighed Doug as he finally got his door open. The two chained idiots looked at each other.
"Goodness, and I'm dim,"and he entered his apartment slamming the door behind him so nothing else would be said.
Downstairs a tall and slender woman was strapping in her roller-blades. Despite her sporty outfit and equipment she looked into the glossy sheen of the hardwood floor to check the excessive amount of make-up she had applied to herself. A slightly shorter but equally slender woman entered the room and she smiled,
"It seems you're all ready!"
The first of the ladies got up and smiled back,
"I am Lady Gaga, I am always ready."
Both of them let their roller-blades glide a few inches on the floor, so they could be cheek to cheek. Then their shallow breathes preceded a series of intimate kisses. They inched away from each other and regained their competitive composure and bladed off into a larger room. This room consisted of a winding racetrack made of equally shiny hardwood floor and two ridiculous looking competitors chained to each other awaiting their arrival.
"Well Lady G an' Lady H. Were glad you could make it," said Winston as he milked his artificial accent.
"Lets win this quick, we are meeting Lady I after this," Lady H reminded G.
A butler carrying a silver tray with a flare gun on it soon entered the room after this was mentioned. The racers crouched in their ready positions. The butler promptly handled the gun and after a moments pause he fired into the air of the massive room.
My girlfriend and I were walking down a very large residential road.
"Ughh where on earth is this place?!" I groaned as we meandered down the road looking for the right building number.
"It's got to be this big white building on the left over there, it looks like it could house an army."
My girlfriend was right, she usually was on those sort of things. So we climbed the stairs toward the grand entrance. I squinted my eyes most of the way up because the sun was reflecting too brightly off the matching white steps. I opened my eyes a bit more at the top and noticed a giant man leaving the backyard of the grounds through a side gate. His pace quickened the further he was from the house and it seemed as if he was muttering something to himself. I felt a pull on my arm, she didn't like when I dawdled.
We pushed into the main entrance and were guided by a butler into the grand hallway. Upon entering we were greeted by four people on roller-blades. Two of them were strangely dressed men heaving on the ground trying to recuperate. The other two were well poised women who were getting the last of their pads and blades off. One of the women, who's hair and make-up could light a city block, approached us,
"Ohhh goodness you're here to see the open apartment, correct?"
There was an awkward silence, and I looked to my side to see my girlfriend was silent with her jaw dropped. I turned back to the woman,
"Yes we are."
"Excellent," she said "just let me take off this make-up and get some not-so-sweaty clothes on."
While she was away the butler had swooped in and cleaned up the roller-blading equipment and the black soot left by a bright orange flare that had died out shortly after we arrived. Meanwhile the odd looking men gathered themselves and headed out into another hallway. The woman soon returned with simple clothing, and her real hair which was short and brown.
"Since were closest to it would you like to see the backyard first?" she asked with the grace of a hostess holding a dinner party.
"Certainly."
I said this quickly so their wouldn't be another awkward silence on our end of the conversation.
She guided us to a set of sliding doors that led out to a very large square of lush grass, decorated with large smooth rocks. We looked around and admired the scene but our thoughts were soon interrupted by,
"Oh my, I forgot! Would either of you like a glass of iced tea?"
I nodded and she quickly disappeared into the previous vast hallway of the building. I turned my head back to the yard for inspection, though I soon was deterred from that task again when I caught a glimpse of a blue bag stuffed under one of the ornamental rocks. I pushed the rock aside and reached to grab the bag, but I soon froze on the spot when I heard behind my head,
"Freeze!!!"
"Step away from the bag and turn around sir!" commanded another voice a bit further than the previous one. I raised my arms and slowly pivoted my body towards the voices and got up from my knees. As soon as my vision permitted I discovered that I was surrounded by a S.W.A.T. team at least a dozen strong. At that moment the nice land lady emerged from the darkness of the building, brown tray in hand with drinks glistening in the sunlight,
"Who wants some Iced Tea?"
No one answered, the air was tense, citizens and police frozen in place, guns pointed, and fingers on triggers. All that could be heard was the tiny clinks of the ice cubes colliding with each and their container. I was sweating bullets, my throat felt like sandpaper, and the barrel of a gun was three inches from my face. This was certainly a time for a tall glass of iced tea.
Mr. Chambers walked down the sidewalk admiring the night air whilst his polished shoes slammed against the thick slices of concrete. His wife would have told him to catch a taxi but he knew better. Tonight was a rare night in the winter when it was warm enough that the blind could swear it was a pleasant spring day. The wind would only tickle the hairs on your skin to remind you just how alive you are. Mr. Chambers refused to miss an opportunity to soak in such a rich evening. He removed his leather gloves because they were unnecessary tonight. As he strolled he took in a deep breath and had planned to breath out if his nose wasn't suddenly aroused by an alluring aroma. His eyes lit with glee and started to dart back and forth searching for the source of the yeasty, salty, and warm smell that poured into his nostrils. Despite the passing cars muddling the smell Mr. Chambers soon discovered a pretzel stand near the parking lot of his office.
"Providence!" he shouted to himself with great elation.
Doug Larchmont or as many called him "Big Doug" was tending to the state of his pretzel stand. "Big Doug" was a name not without merit. Doug looked as though he descended from Nimrod the great giant of Babel. With the height of a basketball player and the girth of a football player a complete stranger could understand from afar why he bore such a nickname. Doug was using his leather like hands to tend to the coals. He took the term "hand-made" to a whole new level of commitment. He was prompted to look up when he heard the hard click of fine shoes in a quick staccato rhythm headed his way.
"Mista Chamebas, 'ello to you good sir!" Doug smiled at Mr. Chambers and was excited to make another sale.
"Hello Douglas, wonderful to see you and your pretzels this evening!"
Mr. Chambers began to rub his hands together in anticipation.
"Well then what'll it be? Regula'? Non-salt? Extra Salt? Cinnamon? Brown Suga'? Brown Mustard? Yellow Mustard? Honey Mustard? Honey? Molasses?...uhhh I think tha's it."
Mr. Chambers smiled at the absurd selection of such a tiny pretzel vendor.
"I'll just have the usual Douglas."
"Right away!"
Doug retrieved a regular pretzel from within the cart and began to drizzle brown mustard on it as if he were an accomplished pastry chef. Mr. Chambers gasped at the finished product,
"Wonderful Douglas, you have a true calling here my good fellow."
"Three quid sir."
Mr. Chambers laughed as he gave Doug the money.
"This pretzel is worth far more than that."
There was a pause for a moment and Mr. Chambers had a thought when he saw Doug's hands handle the new bills he would add to his drawer.
"Douglas I've always noticed that you leave your hands to the elements of the weather and your craft. Don't you wish you had some gloves to keep them protected?"
Doug's mouth wrenched into a goofy grin at the idea,
"Oh most certainly sir! I've always wanted a pair of my own!"
"Follow me then to my office, I happen to have another pair which are far too large for me, and I would love for you to have them."
Doug quickly shut up his pretzel stand and tied it to a nearby street sign. Then they both marched across the parking lot towards the post office. Mr. Chambers pulled out his key ring with enough keys to lock up Buckingham Palace. The keys jingled around as Mr. Chambers jostled the right one into the door.
"Alright now they are just in my office this way." Mr. Chambers said this as he guided Doug behind the counter.
"Now just wait here a moment and I'll go fetch them."
Doug looked around the front of the post office while he waited. Doug didn't write many letters or get much mail so the post office seemed quite exotic to him. He continued to peruse behind the counter and admire the large amount of cardboard and envelopes. His eyes soon focused on a large white bin on the bottom shelf behind the desk full of money. He thought it strange to have so much just lying around, he had never seen so much money in one place before. His hand drifted towards the small pool of bills that laid in the plastic so effortlessly.
"Where on earth did I put them?!"
Mr. Chambers' voice erupted from the back office. Doug jolted his hand back when he was reminded he wasn't alone, but he still wasn't ready to give up on the loot. He soon noticed an empty mail bag that had been lazily tossed on the ground at some point. He fetched it and began filling it with the lush multicolored bills.
"Oh how silly, I wager I left them in file cabinet, how odd of me."
Doug knew it wouldn't be long before Mr. Chambers returned, he zipped up the bag and hustled his expansive frame out of the building. Once outside he noticed it had started to rain and remembered he didn't have a getaway car. Doug panicked, he hadn't thought this through. He began to ask himself many questions: Where do I keep the money safe? What will I say to Mr. Chambers the next time I see him? Will I be on the run forever now? Why didn't I bring an umbrella?
Before he could decide his next move a young postal worker spotted him and ran up to confront him. He carried a newspaper over his head as a feeble attempt to stay dry. Doug was freaking out under his mask of flesh, and his legs froze in place from uncertainty. The postal worker was young and light footed and seemed to carry a cheery disposition with him.
"Oh my gosh thank you so much!" The worker said exasperated as he reached Doug.
"I completely forgot to put that last bag of mail in the pile. I had left it on the floor with the intention of putting the last bit of mail in, but I guess it slipped my mind."
Doug stared blankly at the fellow after hearing this. There was an awkward silence except for the rain beating down on everything. The worker's newspaper began to look more like paper mache and Doug's shoes had become one with his feet.
"I'm Todd!" the worker thrust his hand out for a business-like handshake. His hand was greeted with stillness and pellets of oncoming rain.
"If you'll just carry that a bit further I'll show you where it goes," suggested Todd.
Doug just wanted his breathing parts to stop pressing up against his skin, he felt like he was running a marathon while his legs were stiff like tree trunks.
"Ok," was all he managed to utter.
Todd beckoned him with one hand and jogged off ahead of him through the massive puddle of the parking lot. Doug snapped his trunks into action when he realized that Mr. Chambers might be out the front door at any moment.
His sodden sneakers splish-splashed behind the ripples left by Todd. Doug found that when the ripples stopped he was in a back compartment of the post office building. A sort of out-cove that was used for storing trucks and cargo. Todd pointed to the far left corner,
"Just drop the bag there with the others."
Doug found his body was obeying all of Todd's orders without any assistance from his own mind. His brain was more of an observer of actions that his body had been pre-programmed to do. Doug decided while watching his hands toss the bag into a pile of identical ones that this was for the best.
"You need a ride home?" asked Todd. Doug nodded and trudged behind Todd until they climbed into his pick-up truck.
Todd glanced at Doug in the passenger seat,
"Where to?"
"The roller derby building."
Doug trudged head down through the hallway of his floor reflecting on the evening he had just had while periodically looking up at the apartment letters to see how close he was to his place. ...Apt S... alright only a few more to go. Though he trudged wearily because he did not want to be noticed by his neighbors Chad and Winston. They were a rambunctious pair that loved to make fun of Doug because he wasn't the brightest. Doug had made many attempts to rid the building of these two but was never successful. Apt Q...Apt O...S#%T! Doug had noticed that the door to apartment N was open. It was their apartment and he knew they would see him walk past as he made a break for his own place, apartment M. He decided to walk past casually and make as little sound as possible.
"Oy Winston, look oo' it is!" said a voice of a person who was trying to make people believe he was British. Suddenly the jingle jangle of metal clanging together could be heard rushing towards the door.
"Its Dim Dougie! 'ello there Dougie!" said a second voice which was making a similar attempt as the first. Doug continued to leaf through his keys so he could open his door and put a two or three inch barrier between himself and them. It was too late though, the duo had emerged from the open doorway into the hall. They were dun up in a cross between S&M attire and skateboarding gear. What was most unique and idiotic about their attire was that they were chained to each other at the waist, so one couldn't go far without the other. Doug looked them up and down,
"Well looks like you're all geared up for another race."
"Yea this evening me and Winston are finally gonna beat Lady G!" said Chad like a school boy who has a secret that he is just bursting to tell.
"Winston and I..." sighed Doug as he finally got his door open. The two chained idiots looked at each other.
"Goodness, and I'm dim,"and he entered his apartment slamming the door behind him so nothing else would be said.
Downstairs a tall and slender woman was strapping in her roller-blades. Despite her sporty outfit and equipment she looked into the glossy sheen of the hardwood floor to check the excessive amount of make-up she had applied to herself. A slightly shorter but equally slender woman entered the room and she smiled,
"It seems you're all ready!"
The first of the ladies got up and smiled back,
"I am Lady Gaga, I am always ready."
Both of them let their roller-blades glide a few inches on the floor, so they could be cheek to cheek. Then their shallow breathes preceded a series of intimate kisses. They inched away from each other and regained their competitive composure and bladed off into a larger room. This room consisted of a winding racetrack made of equally shiny hardwood floor and two ridiculous looking competitors chained to each other awaiting their arrival.
"Well Lady G an' Lady H. Were glad you could make it," said Winston as he milked his artificial accent.
"Lets win this quick, we are meeting Lady I after this," Lady H reminded G.
A butler carrying a silver tray with a flare gun on it soon entered the room after this was mentioned. The racers crouched in their ready positions. The butler promptly handled the gun and after a moments pause he fired into the air of the massive room.
My girlfriend and I were walking down a very large residential road.
"Ughh where on earth is this place?!" I groaned as we meandered down the road looking for the right building number.
"It's got to be this big white building on the left over there, it looks like it could house an army."
My girlfriend was right, she usually was on those sort of things. So we climbed the stairs toward the grand entrance. I squinted my eyes most of the way up because the sun was reflecting too brightly off the matching white steps. I opened my eyes a bit more at the top and noticed a giant man leaving the backyard of the grounds through a side gate. His pace quickened the further he was from the house and it seemed as if he was muttering something to himself. I felt a pull on my arm, she didn't like when I dawdled.
We pushed into the main entrance and were guided by a butler into the grand hallway. Upon entering we were greeted by four people on roller-blades. Two of them were strangely dressed men heaving on the ground trying to recuperate. The other two were well poised women who were getting the last of their pads and blades off. One of the women, who's hair and make-up could light a city block, approached us,
"Ohhh goodness you're here to see the open apartment, correct?"
There was an awkward silence, and I looked to my side to see my girlfriend was silent with her jaw dropped. I turned back to the woman,
"Yes we are."
"Excellent," she said "just let me take off this make-up and get some not-so-sweaty clothes on."
While she was away the butler had swooped in and cleaned up the roller-blading equipment and the black soot left by a bright orange flare that had died out shortly after we arrived. Meanwhile the odd looking men gathered themselves and headed out into another hallway. The woman soon returned with simple clothing, and her real hair which was short and brown.
"Since were closest to it would you like to see the backyard first?" she asked with the grace of a hostess holding a dinner party.
"Certainly."
I said this quickly so their wouldn't be another awkward silence on our end of the conversation.
She guided us to a set of sliding doors that led out to a very large square of lush grass, decorated with large smooth rocks. We looked around and admired the scene but our thoughts were soon interrupted by,
"Oh my, I forgot! Would either of you like a glass of iced tea?"
I nodded and she quickly disappeared into the previous vast hallway of the building. I turned my head back to the yard for inspection, though I soon was deterred from that task again when I caught a glimpse of a blue bag stuffed under one of the ornamental rocks. I pushed the rock aside and reached to grab the bag, but I soon froze on the spot when I heard behind my head,
"Freeze!!!"
"Step away from the bag and turn around sir!" commanded another voice a bit further than the previous one. I raised my arms and slowly pivoted my body towards the voices and got up from my knees. As soon as my vision permitted I discovered that I was surrounded by a S.W.A.T. team at least a dozen strong. At that moment the nice land lady emerged from the darkness of the building, brown tray in hand with drinks glistening in the sunlight,
"Who wants some Iced Tea?"
No one answered, the air was tense, citizens and police frozen in place, guns pointed, and fingers on triggers. All that could be heard was the tiny clinks of the ice cubes colliding with each and their container. I was sweating bullets, my throat felt like sandpaper, and the barrel of a gun was three inches from my face. This was certainly a time for a tall glass of iced tea.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Riding Home
Preface: Alright happy to be back writing about the shenanigans that happen in my sleep. I just moved into a new place which took a lot of my time and money. But I have finally settled in a bit and have time for more of the things I like to do. I'm still working on trying a possible video entry, more news on that later. This next entry is from one train ride home from work.
I am in the kitchen at my friend Mike's old house. His mother staring me square in the face with Mike at her side. Light is beaming in through the surrounding windows. A plate of toast sits on the squeaky clean kitchen counter with an open jar of jam.
"Mr. Davies!" Mike's mother began to exclaim, "Jam just doesn't go well on toast!" Before I could utter a response Mike barked,
"Davies! Its peanut butter or nothing at all!"
I backed away from their fuming nostrils. They stood in front of me awaiting a response they could shoot down. I gathered myself and knew that I had to change their minds. I tried to create a dramatic air about me to stress the seriousness of what I was about to say. So I straightened my posture, put on my game face, and put one hand behind my back as if I was about to announce something regal.
"My friends! We live in a world of cynicism and ugliness! I will not live my life where my condiment choices are scorned and rejected. Peanut butter and jam can live in harmony. Will you both go through life with your heads down staring only at cobblestones, when all you have to do is lift yours heads and see all the avenues around you. I petition you to step outside your presumed flavor preferences and try peanut butter with jam!"
I watch their faces cringe and their legs scurry to the kitchen drawers. Soon jam was being spread over their already PB'd piece of wheat toast. They both gave me a sort of scowl before taking large bites out of the corner of toast. They each took a brief moment for chewing and soon a look of excitement and astonishment emerged from their faces. I looked at them back and forth waiting for either to say something. Mike's mother finally broke the silence,
"Well Mr. Davies you may well be onto something!"
I woke up to the rattling of the sheet metal from the train. I propped myself back up and looked out the window to gauge where I was. An announcement for the next stop soon erupted from the train intercom and I realized I was only a few stops outside the city. So I relaxed and rested my head against the shaking window.
"My goodness giant Jesus Lizards are attacking the New England shores!" I open my eyes and see that I am standing in the middle of a road. I raise my head and see a horde of panicked people running from their suburban homes. Before I could react their shoulders were soon brushing past me as they fled to whatever was beyond me. One man runs up to me grabs my shoulders and shakes me vigorously.
"For the love of Pete! Run west man! Run west!"
I say nothing because I am still overwhelmed and uncertain of the situation. The man centers his line of vision with my own.
"Check your smart phone! Goodness gracious!"
As the pressure from his firm grip left my shoulders I reached for my phone in my pocket. I browsed the big news network feeds. I eventually came across a video of the ongoing news story that everyone seemed to be buzzing about. It was an aerial view of the Atlantic Ocean. There was a flying-V formation of lizards the size of cruise boats skidding across the water with their webbed feet. The newscaster in the video reported in the background,
"As you can see the lizards have finished Europe and are now heading west to the United States. It is only a matter of time before they take a bite out of the big apple."
I opened my eyes to the sound of the train slowing down.
"I can't keep falling asleep, this is ridiculous." I smacked my cheeks a bit and watched the passing waterfront outside my window.
A loud repetitive pounding sound smacks against my eardrums. I turn to my friend Colin lying next to me on the pebbled roof of a building. An extremely long machine gun resting in his arms. He had loosely fitted an army helmet over his head and had to keep adjusting it after a few shots from the weapon. He turns to me and says,
"Now remember to be efficient with your ammo because wasting a single bullet means one more zombie without a hole through it's head." He awaits a show of understanding from me. I shake my head vigorously in acknowledgment. I look out over the edge of the roof to behold a sea of moaning corpses slowly wobbling towards the building. I sigh and look back towards Colin,
"This again?!"
Colin nods back,
"Yep, I know it is frustrating."
He looks back into his scope and begins to shake with the gun as he squeezes off more shots. The blasts from the gun slowly turn to monotone beeps from the intercom of the train. I began to panic and scrambled for my stuff. The intercom soon calmly stated the next destination and I slowly relaxed once I realized that it is my stop. I put my coat on and walked to the nearest exit and waited for the train to come to a complete stop. I exhaled in relief and muttered,
"I have gotta stop falling asleep on the train."
I am in the kitchen at my friend Mike's old house. His mother staring me square in the face with Mike at her side. Light is beaming in through the surrounding windows. A plate of toast sits on the squeaky clean kitchen counter with an open jar of jam.
"Mr. Davies!" Mike's mother began to exclaim, "Jam just doesn't go well on toast!" Before I could utter a response Mike barked,
"Davies! Its peanut butter or nothing at all!"
I backed away from their fuming nostrils. They stood in front of me awaiting a response they could shoot down. I gathered myself and knew that I had to change their minds. I tried to create a dramatic air about me to stress the seriousness of what I was about to say. So I straightened my posture, put on my game face, and put one hand behind my back as if I was about to announce something regal.
"My friends! We live in a world of cynicism and ugliness! I will not live my life where my condiment choices are scorned and rejected. Peanut butter and jam can live in harmony. Will you both go through life with your heads down staring only at cobblestones, when all you have to do is lift yours heads and see all the avenues around you. I petition you to step outside your presumed flavor preferences and try peanut butter with jam!"
I watch their faces cringe and their legs scurry to the kitchen drawers. Soon jam was being spread over their already PB'd piece of wheat toast. They both gave me a sort of scowl before taking large bites out of the corner of toast. They each took a brief moment for chewing and soon a look of excitement and astonishment emerged from their faces. I looked at them back and forth waiting for either to say something. Mike's mother finally broke the silence,
"Well Mr. Davies you may well be onto something!"
I woke up to the rattling of the sheet metal from the train. I propped myself back up and looked out the window to gauge where I was. An announcement for the next stop soon erupted from the train intercom and I realized I was only a few stops outside the city. So I relaxed and rested my head against the shaking window.
"My goodness giant Jesus Lizards are attacking the New England shores!" I open my eyes and see that I am standing in the middle of a road. I raise my head and see a horde of panicked people running from their suburban homes. Before I could react their shoulders were soon brushing past me as they fled to whatever was beyond me. One man runs up to me grabs my shoulders and shakes me vigorously.
"For the love of Pete! Run west man! Run west!"
I say nothing because I am still overwhelmed and uncertain of the situation. The man centers his line of vision with my own.
"Check your smart phone! Goodness gracious!"
As the pressure from his firm grip left my shoulders I reached for my phone in my pocket. I browsed the big news network feeds. I eventually came across a video of the ongoing news story that everyone seemed to be buzzing about. It was an aerial view of the Atlantic Ocean. There was a flying-V formation of lizards the size of cruise boats skidding across the water with their webbed feet. The newscaster in the video reported in the background,
"As you can see the lizards have finished Europe and are now heading west to the United States. It is only a matter of time before they take a bite out of the big apple."
I opened my eyes to the sound of the train slowing down.
"I can't keep falling asleep, this is ridiculous." I smacked my cheeks a bit and watched the passing waterfront outside my window.
A loud repetitive pounding sound smacks against my eardrums. I turn to my friend Colin lying next to me on the pebbled roof of a building. An extremely long machine gun resting in his arms. He had loosely fitted an army helmet over his head and had to keep adjusting it after a few shots from the weapon. He turns to me and says,
"Now remember to be efficient with your ammo because wasting a single bullet means one more zombie without a hole through it's head." He awaits a show of understanding from me. I shake my head vigorously in acknowledgment. I look out over the edge of the roof to behold a sea of moaning corpses slowly wobbling towards the building. I sigh and look back towards Colin,
"This again?!"
Colin nods back,
"Yep, I know it is frustrating."
He looks back into his scope and begins to shake with the gun as he squeezes off more shots. The blasts from the gun slowly turn to monotone beeps from the intercom of the train. I began to panic and scrambled for my stuff. The intercom soon calmly stated the next destination and I slowly relaxed once I realized that it is my stop. I put my coat on and walked to the nearest exit and waited for the train to come to a complete stop. I exhaled in relief and muttered,
"I have gotta stop falling asleep on the train."
Thursday, November 10, 2011
"Oh No!"
Preface: I have been busy with a new job so I'm still getting used to the schedule. But I want to assure you that I still have many dreams that I have yet to retell.
I find myself walking down a street with familiar houses and lawns ahead of me. I look toward the sky and wince at the bright sun staring back at me. I feel a course, dry surface in my hands. I remember a perfectly square box wrapped in brown paper and tied up with brown string in my clutches. I begin to plod along knowing where this package must go, but I am halted by two voices shortly after I begin my journey—“Hey, Sam! Wait up!"
I turn to see my friends Colin and Chris running to catch up with me. They slow down once they appear by my side and Colin mentions,
"You never told us where we are taking this package." I turn to the road ahead and point down to where there is a thick brush blocking any pedestrian's view of the house above it.
"We just go down this road a bit more and we should get to my Grandma's house shortly."
"Fantastic, let’s get to it," said Colin.
So we begin to gambol down a road I have almost grown up on. I take in the foliage and front yards of neighbor's estates I know so well from visiting my Grandma so often. A cool breeze chills our faces as we trudge down the suburban avenue. We crack jokes and chuckle in the revelry of our own company. I smile and look up towards the sun and feel its warmth compliment my good mood. Colin, though walking behind me, is quite a bit taller than I, so he notices my smiling face absorbing the sun. He looks up towards the bright ball of gas but soon shock and worry drench his face. He stops and slowly tilts his head downwards glaring at his hands—“Oh no..."
These two words are uttered with such terror and weight they might as well have been demons loosened from his mouth. Chris and I turn to Colin because he will not leave the spot where he is stopped. Chris beckons to Colin,
"C'mon buddy we're almost there."
Colin mutters under his breath,
"I forgot it was going to be sunny today..."
Chris and I exchange quick, worried glances. We start towards him to see what is wrong with his hands, but our movements are quickly halted.
"Don't get any closer!" barked Colin. I look at him with his mask of terror staring back at me,
"Colin what’s wrong?" He winces for a moment then tells us sternly,
"RUN!"
Before Chris and I could decide what to do with the situation, thick dark hair erupts from Colin's forearms. Colin looks towards the sky and roars with an unearthly voice. His kind and placid face soon darkens and births a large snout. I’m frozen in place awe struck by this display of horror before me. I feel a forceful tug on my arm and hear Chris say frantically, "Sam let’s get out here! No time for staring!"
Chris and I break away from what used to be our good friend Colin and sprint towards my Grandma's house. I grip the package to my chest to protect my thumping heart. The wind that was once cooling our faces was now working against us as we ran from our transforming friend. I periodically look back to see less and less of the friend I knew. Chris shouted back to me,
"Damnit, Sam! Stop that, it's not going to help him!"
We soon turn into the driveway of my Grandma's house. As we power up the steps to the front door, I could hear the gallop of paws and the panting of the beast getting closer to us. The trees and bushes around the house that I was cherishing earlier had now become insignificant blurs.
Chris attempts to open the door but realizes it’s locked, so he begins elbowing the small panes of glass on the door to gain access.
"Hurry up, he's getting closer!" I shout as I see the dark fur through the bushes in front of the estate. "Shut up, Sam and help me!" Chris barked.
Once Chris shatters enough glass, I point out the latch he needs to undo for the door to open. The paws of the wolf scamper through the front yard's grass and reach the front steps. Still struggling with the door, the wolf lunges for us. I block its jaws with the package and shove it along with the wolf to the side of the porch. Chris pulls me inside the house with him and secures the door after finally gaining access. I see the big monster thrash the box around as I watch to get a glimpse as to what is inside.
Chris shatters my concentration, “Forget the package, Sam!”
I run up the stairs pulling Chris along with me and hide in my Grandpa's study. We lock the door and guard it—panting while trying to stay as quiet as possible. All we can comprehend is the scratching of paws at the front door, constantly breaking down the two inches of wood that keep it from entering.
I find myself walking down a street with familiar houses and lawns ahead of me. I look toward the sky and wince at the bright sun staring back at me. I feel a course, dry surface in my hands. I remember a perfectly square box wrapped in brown paper and tied up with brown string in my clutches. I begin to plod along knowing where this package must go, but I am halted by two voices shortly after I begin my journey—“Hey, Sam! Wait up!"
I turn to see my friends Colin and Chris running to catch up with me. They slow down once they appear by my side and Colin mentions,
"You never told us where we are taking this package." I turn to the road ahead and point down to where there is a thick brush blocking any pedestrian's view of the house above it.
"We just go down this road a bit more and we should get to my Grandma's house shortly."
"Fantastic, let’s get to it," said Colin.
So we begin to gambol down a road I have almost grown up on. I take in the foliage and front yards of neighbor's estates I know so well from visiting my Grandma so often. A cool breeze chills our faces as we trudge down the suburban avenue. We crack jokes and chuckle in the revelry of our own company. I smile and look up towards the sun and feel its warmth compliment my good mood. Colin, though walking behind me, is quite a bit taller than I, so he notices my smiling face absorbing the sun. He looks up towards the bright ball of gas but soon shock and worry drench his face. He stops and slowly tilts his head downwards glaring at his hands—“Oh no..."
These two words are uttered with such terror and weight they might as well have been demons loosened from his mouth. Chris and I turn to Colin because he will not leave the spot where he is stopped. Chris beckons to Colin,
"C'mon buddy we're almost there."
Colin mutters under his breath,
"I forgot it was going to be sunny today..."
Chris and I exchange quick, worried glances. We start towards him to see what is wrong with his hands, but our movements are quickly halted.
"Don't get any closer!" barked Colin. I look at him with his mask of terror staring back at me,
"Colin what’s wrong?" He winces for a moment then tells us sternly,
"RUN!"
Before Chris and I could decide what to do with the situation, thick dark hair erupts from Colin's forearms. Colin looks towards the sky and roars with an unearthly voice. His kind and placid face soon darkens and births a large snout. I’m frozen in place awe struck by this display of horror before me. I feel a forceful tug on my arm and hear Chris say frantically, "Sam let’s get out here! No time for staring!"
Chris and I break away from what used to be our good friend Colin and sprint towards my Grandma's house. I grip the package to my chest to protect my thumping heart. The wind that was once cooling our faces was now working against us as we ran from our transforming friend. I periodically look back to see less and less of the friend I knew. Chris shouted back to me,
"Damnit, Sam! Stop that, it's not going to help him!"
We soon turn into the driveway of my Grandma's house. As we power up the steps to the front door, I could hear the gallop of paws and the panting of the beast getting closer to us. The trees and bushes around the house that I was cherishing earlier had now become insignificant blurs.
Chris attempts to open the door but realizes it’s locked, so he begins elbowing the small panes of glass on the door to gain access.
"Hurry up, he's getting closer!" I shout as I see the dark fur through the bushes in front of the estate. "Shut up, Sam and help me!" Chris barked.
Once Chris shatters enough glass, I point out the latch he needs to undo for the door to open. The paws of the wolf scamper through the front yard's grass and reach the front steps. Still struggling with the door, the wolf lunges for us. I block its jaws with the package and shove it along with the wolf to the side of the porch. Chris pulls me inside the house with him and secures the door after finally gaining access. I see the big monster thrash the box around as I watch to get a glimpse as to what is inside.
Chris shatters my concentration, “Forget the package, Sam!”
I run up the stairs pulling Chris along with me and hide in my Grandpa's study. We lock the door and guard it—panting while trying to stay as quiet as possible. All we can comprehend is the scratching of paws at the front door, constantly breaking down the two inches of wood that keep it from entering.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Occam's Razor Fists
Dream: I'm staring at a thick white tablecloth with gleaming stemware. Soft relaxing music is playing in the background and I hear the clinking of glass along with the pitter-patter of people's jaws creating small talk.
"Do we have a deal?"
I break my gaze from the tablecloth and look towards the origin of the voice. A tan man with brown hair and a sharp goatee is staring back at me. From the look of the blazer he was wearing I could tell this was a man of money.
"Mr. Davies?"
I didn't know what we were talking about.
"Could you run the major details by me again?" The man looked back at me insulted as if I wasn't paying attention.
"Ok...well what we are prepared to offer you Mr. Davies is the starring role in the new film ‘Occam's Razor Fists’..." as soon as he said that I started day dreaming at the table of what it would be like to be in an action movie. The idea was very exciting! I saw myself with a ripped shirt and pale belly punching through sets and blocking camera flashes as I rushed into buildings.
"...project should take a little over a year." I snapped out of my thoughts and stared back at the man.
I looked down at my plate and saw I had a healthy serving of contract and a fountain pen lay on the napkin beside it.
"Give me a moment to think about this."
I got up from the table and walked towards the kitchen's double door entrance. I walked past round white tables with smiling patrons chewing and sipping their meals. While I looked around I began to realize how massive this dining room was. I closed in on the double doors that were leaking delicious fumes from its crevices.
I eased my way through the right door so I wouldn't crash into the whites of any staff. I found a corner of the kitchen where I would be out of the way. I looked by the counter tops and line workers for someone but I couldn't spot him. Luckily I spotted the Sous Chef,
"Lisa! Have you seen Edward?" A face emerged from a counter top accompanied by blond hair and a white skull cap. She smiled and gestured towards the back door,
"He's probably out back by cigarette mountain." I looked towards a lonely green door. I thanked Lisa with a hand wave and made for the back.
On the other side of the door I was greeted by overflowing garbage bins and some steps that lead to a back parking lot. Sitting on the steps by a monument to tobacco companies was a man in chef whites and a bandanna.
"Edward, there you are!"
A man massaging his brow looked up at me.
"Not a great time Sam," he said as he looked back down to the stairs.
"I just wanted you to have these." I reach into my back pocket and pull out my expensive headphones. Widened eyes greeted my gift and Edward gasped,
"You can't give me these it's not that simple."
"Yes it is."
I leave them in his hands and head back into the kitchen. I scoot around hustling cooks, and duck out of the way of hot skillets. When I emerge back into the dining room a few things had changed. In the center of the dining room there was live piano music next to a bar which seemed to be made of glass. As I walked back to my table I noticed more diners than I did before. Some of my neighbors that I had known all my life wave to me from different tables. I hear a voice from a distant table to the left of me say,
"Looking snazzy Sam!" I look down at myself and I'm wearing a white suit with pristine jacket buttons. With my new threads I swagger over to my table and pick up the pen. I look at my dinner companion and start scribbling my name on the paper,
"Lets do this!"
The man picked up the papers and quickly shoved them into a manila envelope. He shouted back to me from the table as I walked towards the bar,
"You won't regret this sir!"
I wink back at him and walk to the rhythm of the piano to the bar. As I approach the thick glass I notice there is one patron stashing a cocktail napkin into his suit as he waves farewell to a women in a slick cocktail dress. He swivels his stool back towards the barkeep and he breathes in with satisfaction. With his profile now available to my eyes I notice it is my friend Paul. I saddle up next to him at the bar,
"She looks nice," he turns to me.
"Damnation! How's it going Sam?" I wave the bartender over and ask him to craft me a drink. "Just recently a lot better Paul...a lot better," I take a sip of my amber cocktail.
"You should join me and Joe, we were just grabbing a bite to eat," Paul then directs me to a table in the corner.
Waiting for me at the table was my old professor and good friend Joe.
"Hot dog it's Sam! I didn't know you ate here."
"I actually used to work here, but I finally got a job in this movi..." A sharp pain erupts from my back and I soar over the table and hit the wall.
I get to my feet and dust my jacket off. On the opposing side of the table a back waiter with a pencil thin mustache slowly retracted a fist and returned to a fighting pose. I looked about for a weapon nearby. I eventually saw my broken highball glass on the floor. My fists tightened and I quickly flipped our table onto the waiter. Joe still in his chair looks me up and down. Patrons gasp at the sight, and blood begins to leak out from under the table. A loud amplified voice emerges from above me,
"Alright cut! Can we run that scene back from where he is about to sit down with Joe?"
"Do we have a deal?"
I break my gaze from the tablecloth and look towards the origin of the voice. A tan man with brown hair and a sharp goatee is staring back at me. From the look of the blazer he was wearing I could tell this was a man of money.
"Mr. Davies?"
I didn't know what we were talking about.
"Could you run the major details by me again?" The man looked back at me insulted as if I wasn't paying attention.
"Ok...well what we are prepared to offer you Mr. Davies is the starring role in the new film ‘Occam's Razor Fists’..." as soon as he said that I started day dreaming at the table of what it would be like to be in an action movie. The idea was very exciting! I saw myself with a ripped shirt and pale belly punching through sets and blocking camera flashes as I rushed into buildings.
"...project should take a little over a year." I snapped out of my thoughts and stared back at the man.
I looked down at my plate and saw I had a healthy serving of contract and a fountain pen lay on the napkin beside it.
"Give me a moment to think about this."
I got up from the table and walked towards the kitchen's double door entrance. I walked past round white tables with smiling patrons chewing and sipping their meals. While I looked around I began to realize how massive this dining room was. I closed in on the double doors that were leaking delicious fumes from its crevices.
I eased my way through the right door so I wouldn't crash into the whites of any staff. I found a corner of the kitchen where I would be out of the way. I looked by the counter tops and line workers for someone but I couldn't spot him. Luckily I spotted the Sous Chef,
"Lisa! Have you seen Edward?" A face emerged from a counter top accompanied by blond hair and a white skull cap. She smiled and gestured towards the back door,
"He's probably out back by cigarette mountain." I looked towards a lonely green door. I thanked Lisa with a hand wave and made for the back.
On the other side of the door I was greeted by overflowing garbage bins and some steps that lead to a back parking lot. Sitting on the steps by a monument to tobacco companies was a man in chef whites and a bandanna.
"Edward, there you are!"
A man massaging his brow looked up at me.
"Not a great time Sam," he said as he looked back down to the stairs.
"I just wanted you to have these." I reach into my back pocket and pull out my expensive headphones. Widened eyes greeted my gift and Edward gasped,
"You can't give me these it's not that simple."
"Yes it is."
I leave them in his hands and head back into the kitchen. I scoot around hustling cooks, and duck out of the way of hot skillets. When I emerge back into the dining room a few things had changed. In the center of the dining room there was live piano music next to a bar which seemed to be made of glass. As I walked back to my table I noticed more diners than I did before. Some of my neighbors that I had known all my life wave to me from different tables. I hear a voice from a distant table to the left of me say,
"Looking snazzy Sam!" I look down at myself and I'm wearing a white suit with pristine jacket buttons. With my new threads I swagger over to my table and pick up the pen. I look at my dinner companion and start scribbling my name on the paper,
"Lets do this!"
The man picked up the papers and quickly shoved them into a manila envelope. He shouted back to me from the table as I walked towards the bar,
"You won't regret this sir!"
I wink back at him and walk to the rhythm of the piano to the bar. As I approach the thick glass I notice there is one patron stashing a cocktail napkin into his suit as he waves farewell to a women in a slick cocktail dress. He swivels his stool back towards the barkeep and he breathes in with satisfaction. With his profile now available to my eyes I notice it is my friend Paul. I saddle up next to him at the bar,
"She looks nice," he turns to me.
"Damnation! How's it going Sam?" I wave the bartender over and ask him to craft me a drink. "Just recently a lot better Paul...a lot better," I take a sip of my amber cocktail.
"You should join me and Joe, we were just grabbing a bite to eat," Paul then directs me to a table in the corner.
Waiting for me at the table was my old professor and good friend Joe.
"Hot dog it's Sam! I didn't know you ate here."
"I actually used to work here, but I finally got a job in this movi..." A sharp pain erupts from my back and I soar over the table and hit the wall.
I get to my feet and dust my jacket off. On the opposing side of the table a back waiter with a pencil thin mustache slowly retracted a fist and returned to a fighting pose. I looked about for a weapon nearby. I eventually saw my broken highball glass on the floor. My fists tightened and I quickly flipped our table onto the waiter. Joe still in his chair looks me up and down. Patrons gasp at the sight, and blood begins to leak out from under the table. A loud amplified voice emerges from above me,
"Alright cut! Can we run that scene back from where he is about to sit down with Joe?"
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Occupational Hazard
Dream: "Hey, are you alright?"
I lift my head up from a cold wooden surface, open my eyes and take in my surroundings. A man whose jacket is way too large for his slender body is staring me in the face. Eyes intense and concerned, he waves his hand in front of my face making sure I blink a bit. Just above him I see tiny liquor bottles jostle with the room I am in. I look out the window and see foliage and brush whizz by the thick shivering panes of glass. I look back to my left past the concerned man sitting next to me and I see well dressed man with a white rag cleaning saliva off the counter-top. He looks up at me and asks,
"Would you like another one?" I look down at my left hand and find a stout empty glass with elegantly rounded ice-cubes looking for a swim.
"What am I having?"
"Sidecar."
I take in my surroundings one more time,
"Seems quite appropriate, yes please good sir." I reach into my jacket for my wallet but I am halted by an arm from next to me.
"I've got this round fella." I look back to the man in the big jacket,
"Well thank you Mr..."
"Call me Jaimie." I retrieve my arm to reclaim the glass that I had temporarily surrendered.
"Well thank you Jaimie, can I get you anything?"
"No thanks, very thoughtful but I'm working this evening." He looked down at the counter and smiled. I took the first voluptuous sip from my fresh glass and I noticed Jaimie's head was incredibly clean shaven. Besides having an innate tan, he was bald to the point of reflecting light with his noggin, and a chin that could open a mighty can of beans if it needed. No trace of a five, six, or even a seven o'clock shadow. He notices me looking him up and down so I decide to stare back into the abyss of my drink.
I allowed my fingers to skate around the rim of my glass as I let the familiar warm feeling ooze through my body. The laughter of children erupted from just beyond the room. I swiveled my head and glared at the door. Jaimie happened to notice my "subtle" body language,
"Not a fan of kids?" I swivel back to face the bartender.
"Can't stand 'em."
"What do you do for a living?"
"English teacher," I finish my drink.
We soon came to a stop, I got up from the stool, stuffed some bills in the jar on the counter, and nodded the bartender farewell.
"You teach little kids English?!" I glance over at Jaimie and see his eyes have returned to their intense and concerned state.
"Well they're kids with dorm rooms, debt, and beer money if that makes any sense." Jaimie gets up and follows me out of the car.
"So you work at the college here in town?"
"Well I've been hired to start a new course."
"Oh well good luck! I'd chat more but I must use the lavatory."
"It's just as well, I'm heading to the nearest pub." I turn to wave farewell to Jaimie.
"Don't stay out too late now..." I chuckle and thank him for his words of wisdom and the drink. I make my way for the exit as he ducks into the last lavatory.
I saunter off the train and find myself on a series of diverting cobblestone roads, most of them heading up a hill. I follow the only one with a street sign. With a hopeful heart and an empty drinking hand I wondered around the dark bends of the road I had chosen. My legs eventually found my butt a stool at a raucous college bar. My hand was soon fulfilled with a glass with some brown liquid inside it. It was hard to savor the warm liquid with the layers of sound this bar was pumping out. So I got myself two more units of brown liquid and downed them promptly, suddenly I didn't care about the sound that much.
"Hey, you alright buddy?" I lift my head up from a wet wooden surface. I noticed the bar has emptied substantially and the only ones left are sucking the only alcohol left in the place off each others faces. I turned to the barkeep that woke me,
"Why'd you wake me?" She gave me a look and said,
"Your head was lying in a pool of saliva and whiskey. So I wanted to make sure you weren't dead! My apologies! Also that lady you were chattin' up paid me to send you home." I looked towards where the barkeep was pointing and saw a bobbing head of hair disappear behind the bar door. I fumble some bills out of my wallet onto the counter and scramble for the door.
I burst out of the bar exit onto the sullen cobblestones. I see the increasingly bright head of hair accompanied by flashy red pumps turn into an alley. I sprint/stumble to the alley coughing and wheezing the whole way. When I get to the entrance of the alley I stop to catch my breath. I hear a loud crack and a scream ring out into the cold night air. I turn into the alley and see the woman I had been following was in the clutches of a dark figure with a riding crop. A raspy masculine voice cried out,
"What do you mean you don't have all the money now?!" The cracks of the riding crop began again this time with increased frequency. I felt all my muscles tighten with anger and I rushed the dark figure. I brought him to the ground and vice his neck with my hands. Up close I see that I am throttling a rough looking man with a scratchy beard and black pearl eyes. I watched him writhe in desperation as his ocular jewelry trembled at the sight of me. Eventually his body stopped shaking and went limp. I slowly rose and turned to the woman to see if she is alright.
"Hey, you alright?" She says nothing. I bring her into the light of the nearest street lamp.
"Ma'am, are you ok?" The head of hair slowly rises up to meet my eyes. I am greeted by a face covered in bruises and tears, but as I look closer I realize that this is a face I have met before.
"I told you on the train that you shouldn't stay out too late..."
I lift my head up from a cold wooden surface, open my eyes and take in my surroundings. A man whose jacket is way too large for his slender body is staring me in the face. Eyes intense and concerned, he waves his hand in front of my face making sure I blink a bit. Just above him I see tiny liquor bottles jostle with the room I am in. I look out the window and see foliage and brush whizz by the thick shivering panes of glass. I look back to my left past the concerned man sitting next to me and I see well dressed man with a white rag cleaning saliva off the counter-top. He looks up at me and asks,
"Would you like another one?" I look down at my left hand and find a stout empty glass with elegantly rounded ice-cubes looking for a swim.
"What am I having?"
"Sidecar."
I take in my surroundings one more time,
"Seems quite appropriate, yes please good sir." I reach into my jacket for my wallet but I am halted by an arm from next to me.
"I've got this round fella." I look back to the man in the big jacket,
"Well thank you Mr..."
"Call me Jaimie." I retrieve my arm to reclaim the glass that I had temporarily surrendered.
"Well thank you Jaimie, can I get you anything?"
"No thanks, very thoughtful but I'm working this evening." He looked down at the counter and smiled. I took the first voluptuous sip from my fresh glass and I noticed Jaimie's head was incredibly clean shaven. Besides having an innate tan, he was bald to the point of reflecting light with his noggin, and a chin that could open a mighty can of beans if it needed. No trace of a five, six, or even a seven o'clock shadow. He notices me looking him up and down so I decide to stare back into the abyss of my drink.
I allowed my fingers to skate around the rim of my glass as I let the familiar warm feeling ooze through my body. The laughter of children erupted from just beyond the room. I swiveled my head and glared at the door. Jaimie happened to notice my "subtle" body language,
"Not a fan of kids?" I swivel back to face the bartender.
"Can't stand 'em."
"What do you do for a living?"
"English teacher," I finish my drink.
We soon came to a stop, I got up from the stool, stuffed some bills in the jar on the counter, and nodded the bartender farewell.
"You teach little kids English?!" I glance over at Jaimie and see his eyes have returned to their intense and concerned state.
"Well they're kids with dorm rooms, debt, and beer money if that makes any sense." Jaimie gets up and follows me out of the car.
"So you work at the college here in town?"
"Well I've been hired to start a new course."
"Oh well good luck! I'd chat more but I must use the lavatory."
"It's just as well, I'm heading to the nearest pub." I turn to wave farewell to Jaimie.
"Don't stay out too late now..." I chuckle and thank him for his words of wisdom and the drink. I make my way for the exit as he ducks into the last lavatory.
I saunter off the train and find myself on a series of diverting cobblestone roads, most of them heading up a hill. I follow the only one with a street sign. With a hopeful heart and an empty drinking hand I wondered around the dark bends of the road I had chosen. My legs eventually found my butt a stool at a raucous college bar. My hand was soon fulfilled with a glass with some brown liquid inside it. It was hard to savor the warm liquid with the layers of sound this bar was pumping out. So I got myself two more units of brown liquid and downed them promptly, suddenly I didn't care about the sound that much.
"Hey, you alright buddy?" I lift my head up from a wet wooden surface. I noticed the bar has emptied substantially and the only ones left are sucking the only alcohol left in the place off each others faces. I turned to the barkeep that woke me,
"Why'd you wake me?" She gave me a look and said,
"Your head was lying in a pool of saliva and whiskey. So I wanted to make sure you weren't dead! My apologies! Also that lady you were chattin' up paid me to send you home." I looked towards where the barkeep was pointing and saw a bobbing head of hair disappear behind the bar door. I fumble some bills out of my wallet onto the counter and scramble for the door.
I burst out of the bar exit onto the sullen cobblestones. I see the increasingly bright head of hair accompanied by flashy red pumps turn into an alley. I sprint/stumble to the alley coughing and wheezing the whole way. When I get to the entrance of the alley I stop to catch my breath. I hear a loud crack and a scream ring out into the cold night air. I turn into the alley and see the woman I had been following was in the clutches of a dark figure with a riding crop. A raspy masculine voice cried out,
"What do you mean you don't have all the money now?!" The cracks of the riding crop began again this time with increased frequency. I felt all my muscles tighten with anger and I rushed the dark figure. I brought him to the ground and vice his neck with my hands. Up close I see that I am throttling a rough looking man with a scratchy beard and black pearl eyes. I watched him writhe in desperation as his ocular jewelry trembled at the sight of me. Eventually his body stopped shaking and went limp. I slowly rose and turned to the woman to see if she is alright.
"Hey, you alright?" She says nothing. I bring her into the light of the nearest street lamp.
"Ma'am, are you ok?" The head of hair slowly rises up to meet my eyes. I am greeted by a face covered in bruises and tears, but as I look closer I realize that this is a face I have met before.
"I told you on the train that you shouldn't stay out too late..."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)