You Have My Word.

 

Their names aren't likely ones you've heard much about in recent months, weeks or years. Even their appearances on some obscure shows are guaranteed to raise the proverbial snoozefest in all but name only. But their handiwork can't be avoided, no matter which direction you fancy yourself to be pointing, position-wise, if that. You might find it somewhat remarkable to learn that I had a habit a number of years ago to take one and then another of them underneath a wheelbarrow for an indefinite period in an attempt to find out what they're 'really' made of, constitution-wise. And I can tell you this, not one of them impressed me as the type of person that one would want to engage in any kind of complicated set-up, even if narrow strictures could be eventuated for a purpose just such as this. Because you know what? Even the fastest person will once in a while find it advantageous to take a moment before thinking of what they might want to think, say or do, and just go over it, again and again and again, in their very head if needs be, and try to iron something out, even if for the very last time. You have my word.

Now when I met my last one, this would be about a year prior to my kidney surgery, he approached me at right angles to the way I habitually faced. He said he was curious to know my opinion of his taste in applications. I replied that I would have to take him at his word, or else I wouldn't stand a chance if he decided to play rough. This was the moment when he said something that would change to course of my life in a way that no one would have ever guessed. In fact, even if someone offered me good money at this very moment, I don't think I would hazard a guess unless it seemed apparent that my time had finally come. Then there would be no choice. Grinding my teeth in anticipation would prove a 'bitter pill', and not one that I or my extended family would have any trouble swallowing, without help from our local Committee. You know how it works. Do you?

By the time I arrived at the San Rafael First Aid Station after midnight on August 13, 2007, I was convinced that our Family's trip-mount was a goner. I was reassured by Chief Hazelton that I was being recorded on a nightly basis and no harm would come to anyone if our statements added up. 'Added up to what?', I asked, even as I was quite sure that I knew exactly where he was going with this line of utter bullshit. He played it cool as he underwent a procedure at the office of a guy I know in town. I made sure his vehicle was disabled and, just to be sure, appended my signature to a petition likely to raise more than a few hackles once word got out. By that time I would be high and dry, riding out the whole thing from my four-path skids in South Rahway, New Jersey. No one would ever get to find out what I really knew, if anything. And I would get to sweep up all the too-hot-to-handle clippings for my own fat self. And that, ladies and gents, is where I will no longer draw any kind of line, come heck or a surfeit of rather ordinary liquid. Don't snatch.

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