I had lunch with Preston today. Well, I was eating. He wanted to talk. But my health matters more to me than words, so I focused on my food rather than him. His voice, a muffled buzzing against my eardrums, was just another reason to ignore him. We finished quickly and I said "thank you" and left. No, wait. I said "Thank you, Preston" and left. He doesn’t like it when I call him Preston. He prefers I use his title.
He apologized as I left.
It was cold and cloudy, but I decided I’d walk home this time. The bus driver wouldn’t miss me now, or ever. He’ll drive his habitual route, permanently ignorant. His job description is “move the masses but stop for no one.” And no one asks if that’s wrong. It just works, so they just work. They’re drones in this big beehive, and one day someone’s going to ask to see the honey and there won’t be any. They can’t produce.
They can only reproduce.
Those busy cars raced by me all the way. They were going places, but so was I. What made me different was that, while all they could see were the other cars, I had time to consider the road they were on.
It was in rough shape.
On the other hand, my sidewalk was covered in mud. But my shoes were dirty from before, and I didn’t have to worry about soiling my socks, because I wasn’t wearing any. So I trudged onward, soon letting my mind fall on other things. Something occurred to me.
I can’t remember what Preston said.
The crown of Wilshire Tower soon came into view over the rooftops of less important structures. That sight of it, the pinnacle of this localized world, the high point sitting over this godforsaken kingdom, reinvigorated my trek. I hurried my stride.
Suddenly the world started spinning.
Losing sight of the building, I panicked. As sleet began raining down on my body, nausea rose in my stomach. I went down on my knees. It didn’t help, and I was sick right there. No one saw it happen. The car windows were rolling up and not coming back down. The beggars were scurrying into their hovels, cursing their hardships. Even that young boy on the corner, who tries every day to seem like a man, was abandoning his darling lemonade stand to get out of this wicked weather. I retched again and the wildest thought came to me.
I don’t have much time left. That’s what Dr. Preston said.
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*Yawn* Well that was a good night's sleep. There was a bit of ruckus going on outside though, like they were constructing something behind some building-like structure. Gave me the worst headache, that it did. Hmm curious, my Red Crested Bat potion bottle is empty...wonder what happened to it. Come to think of it, I don't remember anything after walking in from the rain.. ahh well, I'll investigate that later.
ReplyDeleteI still need to find a job though, so I'll head out as soon as I check Lt. Statone's updates on what to avoid. His posts have been so helpful. One of his previous, and perhaps most helpful posts was "Don't eat the chicken." I did just that and nothing happened! I feel bad for those blokes who ate the chicken though. They have no idea what that could do to them...not even I know actually, but who am I to question such authority? He is a lieutenant after all. Anyway, Lt. Statone is pretty much the epitome of safety precautions. Once you read about what's safe and not safe, it'll blow your mind! He's like an effing mind grenade!!! Awesomeness aside I have to check his website every day. And believe me if you think that's extreme or obsessive, it isn't.
I have a friend named Neb Theblam, completely obsessed with Macs and various other Apple products. We went to high school together and he would always have his computer out. This led to the belief that he was a studious person, always taking notes. He wasn't. Every chance he got, he was on MacRumors.com. But I digress, he's not important. He doesn't even have a blog character.
I began my quest though, deciding at the last minute to focus on losing weight rather than getting a job. Taking a jog on streets with popular food places seemed like a good idea. Along my jog, I noticed two people eating lunch while having a conversation. Although from my point of view the conversation seemed one-sided. One was blathering away while the other was eating up a storm. An odd bunch indeed. My next stop led me to the famous Jorri Rae's. I noticed a girl eating a waffle. I took a closer look...and determined she was eating a freshly baked waffle. Well, time to move on!
Ah I just realized the large structure protruding from behind a large building. It looks like a carnival, but nothing is lit or running. Guess it's a night carnival.
Altan was in a better mood this week - the rain had lifted for the most part, and the sun always reminded Altan of home, which made him think of simpler times. He tottered through the door of the mosque and out onto the street, his still sore, swollen wrist tucked into the front of his jacket. Like Napoleon, he thought, and he smiled a little, thinking about what it would be like to be an emperor, rule the world, and not have to worry about money...
ReplyDeleteOsiris Stien was walking toward Altan, eyes forward and cold, not seeming to register his surroundings. Altan nodded to the other man as they passed one another.
"Good afternoon Mr. Stien!" Osiris said nothing nor gave any other sign of acknowledging Altan's presence. He proceeded purposfully into the mosque behind Altan. Altan sighed, disappointed. No one seemed to take notice of him without his coffee cart. Not that many people did when he was with it, but someone always came by to ask him the price of a cup ("25¢ as always!") or tell him he was only wearing one sock ("Oh me, how unprofessional..."). It was human contact that Altan looked forward to most in his job. He had grown up in a very friendly home and it was something he had just gotten used to. Altan had become accustomed to the social detachedness of Americans over the years, so he was just happy for someone to look in his direction. He would always respond with a smile, or a nod, or a wave.
Marie sat at her windowsill an looked out at the partly cloudy atmosphere. As she smoked her cigarette she wondered what the smoky smell was that slowly filled her apartment through her open windows. Marie's stomach began to churn from the heavy buzz of her cigarette the craving for a juicy hamburger. Marie's mother would never allow her to eat red meat due to it's calorie and fat percentage. Her mother's greatest fear was to have a fat child. Without putting out her cigarette she waltzed out the door toward the elevator. Before entering the elevator Marie thought about putting out her cigarette but didn't.
ReplyDeleteThe pavement had that sort of smell it gets just after it's been raining. On the way to the kosher deli Marie lit another cigarette. The air must have had a lot of moister because each time Marie exhaled smoke, and partly steam, plunged from her lungs creating a momentary cloud with each drag. The Smorgaboard was a lot closer than expected and Marie lingered outside to finish her cigarette. Once finished, she entered and purchased her kosher hamburger. Since she was alone she didn't want to sit by herself even though on the walk most of the heat and freshness of her meal would diminish. This seemed, to Marie, a fair trade off.
Off in the distance was the library, and even though the burger was growing colder by the second Marie decided her need for a book was prevalent. The stale smell of the pavement made Marie question the class of her new city. Thoughts such a these filled her mind as she approached the library, surprisingly without lighting, yet again, another cigarette.
The library look grim. Just behind Marie another person entered the library. There was something peculiar about this person, but Marie turn around to see, all she noticed was the sound the door made as it opened and closed. The organization of this library was unfamiliar so Marie just walked to the first isle she saw, the magazine rack. There must have been something in her upbringing that gave her the innate ability to sense magazines wherever she was, it was embarrassing. She wanted to know what it felt like to be intellectual. The person who entered behind Marie b-lined right towards fiction and Marie followed. The smell of the hamburger trailing behind her. Through the rows Marie tried to observe the books this character was contemplating. Marie was never very good at sneaking about and after about 20 minutes the person she was stalking noticed.
Looking back at Marie through the shelf she heard, "Can I help you?," they said.
Marie was mortified, not only had she no idea what any of these books were, but now the person looking at them was looking at her. She had not idea what to say, and so, used the charm that her mother drilled into her head as a child, "Oh, hello," she said cranking up her french accent.
"...yes?" this person was very strange.
"I was just looking for a new book, I'm sorry."
"Well, I've always like this one," out thrusted was Lord of the Flies.
The book looked old and ragged, sort of like an old law book only much smaller. The person she had been talking to began to walk away. Marie was suddenly filled with sadness that this person was walking away, it was the most interaction she'd had in about a month.
"My name's Marie," she said stepping infront of them to make sure they wouldn't keep walking.
"I'm Osiris." Marie could tell that Osiris had no intention of furthering the interaction. So, Marie said the typical, "nice to meet you, thanks for the book, have a good day," and the two parted ways.
Marie checked out the book and began walking home, the burger now cold. Just before entering Wilshire a voice from the parking yell out, "HOW MUCH, BABY GIRL?" Marie was so completely terrified that she ran through the lobby, nearly had a heart attack whilst waiting for the elevator and crashed on the floor upon entering her apartment. This is no Saint-Nazaire.
5:30 PM
ReplyDeleteHome at last. I told all the cats what happened to me. The medium lady asked me for money afterwards. The gall! All she did was spout garbage. If I weren't a lady, I'd say she spouted absolute shi--but I'm a lady, and I shan't say it. I shall tell Macy to not bother to go to the carnival. It will be a waste of her money.
Funnily enough, I saw something odd on my way home. It was raining--surprise, surprise; I don't believe the sky has taken a break from dripping like my plumbing for a solid month--and I saw a man fall down to the ground and start vomiting.
5:35 PM
You know what I think? I think he ate meat from that butcher shop. I felt a bit peaky from just smelling the place. I didn't say anything to the man; no telling where he'd been. Other than the butcher shop, of course.