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.
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