First there's a part where I give a bit of personal information to someone I briefly encounter near a well known highway. Then it moves into a segment where I'm employed as an assistant to a painting contractor and we're working a job at a shoestore in the Lower Midwest. There's some kind of altercation—it's difficult to hear from where I'm stationed—but when I come to, my Uncle, who's had a hand in more than a few unsavory events, is beginning to tell me a long involved account of his childhood on the Southern Plateau. For some reason he seems somewhat prideful concerning his style of dress and his choice of cologne. I cut him short and tell him that I require immediate hospitalization. He avers that he thinks I'm 'joking' but I don't let that put me off my feed.
Next we're asked to follow a medium sized woman, known by only a single initial, as she putters around her one bedroom apartment on her day off. We notice that she seems more docile than is strictly necessary. At a few minutes after eleven (there's a clock in every frame, even while none of the pictures are framed), she pulls a scrap of paper from a side drawer, waves it in a mock threatening manor and then unfurls it and holds it adjacent to where she thinks our device is located. All that's visible on the paper are some quite provocative erasures. She 's been thoroughly hoodwinked since there is no device. We are there, though, at least six of us. She doesn't know that however. Looking for present, if unseeable, observers, is an action she'd never considered. I feel sorry for her, but not her brother, Dr Randy Stevens. He's kind of a shitty person. Ask anyone.
Now it's two years later and I find myself dating the woman in an on-again off-again sporadic basis. Her future husband will ask me to help have her confined for her own good. It turns out she's been seeing spots —not the kind where you'd put something, like a 'hiding spot'. I've spent long hours in the library to see if her condition is in any way 'serious' or just a laughing matter. I've come up empty but that doesn't mean I'm going to give up, in or over. Not by a long shot! In the last part some guys come out and do a bit. People pretend to be bored, but that's just because they're jealous. They'd never have the guts to try this kind of thing. Why? Because they all have allergies. And also they get 'cranky' if it goes on too long. Before the sun goes down I offer each of them a false cookie. They politely decline. Now I'm fucked.
_______________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment