Wander Off 2
“Of course the gate was unlocked!”
“The gate was always unlocked!”
“The gate will always be unlocked!”
“Anything else would be unacceptable, inappropriate (to say the very least), and unsafe!”
”I must say that I h…. Very strongly dislike your tendency to sit there in silent judgment!”
”Your eyes grow wider with each word that I speak!”
”You look like a cartoon character!”
”Delightful!” “Which one?”
”I don’t have time for your sloth-like, chess match, new age conversations!”
”Perhaps I should close my eyes, like this. Is this better?”
Many moments pass. I am the only speaker. I speak a simple universal language. All who choose to hear me understand what I have to say. Don’t be silly. I’m not god. I am ever-present though.
“The gate is always unlocked.”
”There is a BIG difference between unlocked and OPEN though.”
It is not my place to judge. But, truly it is plain to see the difference.
Do you hear me?
My message grows more pressing the longer you linger here.
Do you hear me?
”But, the other….”
”HA!” “Now your true motive is revealed!” ”Did your pet run away sweetie?” “Oh boo hoo hoo!”
”Surely you encouraged this!” “It is cruel and unusual……to say the least.”
”The gate was open.” “I have no control….”
She sits shaking her head in silent judgment, her eyes closed tight in mockery and defiance. He continues wrapping the scented candles in bubble wrap. Today’s scent: pig shit! it’s a silly little game they’ve invented to pass the time.
TICK,TOCK, TICK, TOCK
Finally you hear! A nervous glance confirms my assumption. I don’t mean to cause you worry;
It’s your fault, not mine, you have to hurry. Do you blame your preacher when you sin? It’s the doctor’s fault when you burn your skin?
Nag, nag, nag!
He finds himself more than a little annoyed by her display of closed eyelids. He lights his pipe in a futile attempt to drown out the scent of coconut, or pig shit. Whatever. It all smells the same here, or now. Of course, all can be , all will be blamed on the passage of time.
She slurps noisily at her third cup of tea. He tapes another cardboard carton closed. She’s nothing more than a filthy animal herself, he decides. One with a tantalizing proportion of eye to face width. Just the right distance from her slender nose. He thinks of himself as an artist and considers the proportions of people’s faces, and those of animal, at great length. He considers the tender closed eyelids, her foolish trust, and unspeakable cruelty with the aggressively sticky packing tape.
Slurp, slurp, slurp.
She has an impressively large bladder. She slurps tea all day long, rarely using the restroom (not that he tracks her restroom usage). It is quite a process to disconnect all of the wires that connect her, that connect him. So……..That’s her super power, he decides. I know different, as does he.
Where does the blue line go, he wonders silently.
“ Obviously, the aquarium,” she responds aloud from behind closed eyelids, sending a chill the length of his spine.
“Pissmeister” he mutters almost beneath his breath, with a smirk as he fetches a new case of candles. What will the new scent be?
“Turtle Vomit” she answers.
Almond. She is correct. He mutters her superhero name again, this time slightly louder, testing her hearing. No response.
He giggles. He is twelve.
A long ago trip to the “Wonderland” dog Track, and learning, With Luke under the guidance of John about trifectas, placing, and showing up. He had only known of winning and losing prior to that trip. The dog track……..such a desolate place. A cruel sport, to be sure. “Here comes lefty!” The announcer called out to the small, familiar crowd of old men, one time gangsters and wannabe gangsters rubbing shoulders. It’s a cute name for a torture device.
“Here comes lefty!” he repeats excitedly. I Look around to see the children. There are no children here. At least in Vegas they Hide the desperation with showgirls and bright lights!
A large square of bubble wrap drifts slowly to the floor as he wrestles the next batch of candles to the table.
her slow breaths indicate that she has fallen asleep.
He raises his foot high, then slams it down hard on for the bubble wrap. With the desired effect: She shrieks, demonstrating his idiocy and her vulnerability simultaneously. He decides that she may not be such a superhero after all, as she leaps from the chair, dragging a small fleet of priceless electronic equipment with her toward the restroom.
His moronic victory (and exaggeration to be sure) is short-lived. His brief chuckles are quickly rewarded by the sound of canine paws and claws on the polished tile floor.
“Play dead!” She mercifully reminds him as she enters the restroom at the far end of the corridor.
He dives to the floor, as there is not enough time to close the door.
“ where does the blue line go after Wonderland,” he ponders aloud.
“Here comes a lefty!“ The announcer repeats.
his face rests in a pile of discarded gambler’s dreams And stolen groceries, as the heat and stench of dog’s breath hovers inches from his throat.
Have you ever noticed the clocks are mysteriously absent in Las Vegas?
Despite their apparent disagreement, he shares our concern about the other.
A bit too quick to take advantage of an unlocked gate.