:II:
Epiphenomenon
The waitress places a plate of grilled meat in front of me. Ah, the glorious smell of lamb. A decanter of dark red table wine sits at my elbow. I dreamed or I remember that they strapped down one of my arms. Did they strap down the other? Must have, eh? I feel like I'm wearing a neuro-helm. I can feel the weight of it pressing down on me, but it's not on my head. There's wires and darkness, but there's no wires, and the sun is out. I'm undecided, but I think I may have gone crazy.
I'm sitting here in the café digging on the wafts of salt mist coming off the harbor, watching the occasional olive-skinned girl walk by the open patio. There's that damned goat again, doesn't seem to remember where home is. It wanders back and forth, back and forth. And whenever I eat, which is every time the waitress brings my food, which...seems to be all the time, a visitor pops in to say hello and eat with me. All my visitors bore me to death, and I'm starting to build up a great resentment for each and every one of them. I wish they'd just leave me alone. I've got everything I need here at the café, squared. I've my past to try and remember, you see. I've sins to pay for. I fact nothing that came before or what's to come after, but I fact I'm here now, and it seems I've decided not to ever leave. And I fact the sun will never set. I fact I will never fill my belly again, that I will always hunger. And I fact I am a prisoner, but that's snake with me. Gives me time to remember my past sins.
Only one thing bothers me. Every time one of my visitors asks me a question that I don't fact the answer to, the information needed to answer the question magically pops into my head and I feel obliged to answer. I don't fact where the data comes from, and I have no desire to find out the source, but I do wish all these questions and answers would just stop.
As I sink my teeth into a juicy chunk of grilled lamb, in pops my next visitor, complete with her own bowl of nasty-looking oatmeal or whatever it is at her elbow. She's one I haven't met yet, and she's all popeyed to see me sitting across the small, round table from her. She tells me, "You're a young one. I'll have to remember this code." She's young herself, but that's no reason to be impolite. I hate her already. I continue to eat my lamb, and I ignore the freewalking bitch as best I can. As I chew, I focus on the electricity dancing along my fingertips.
Comments (closed)
rorschalk
2011-07-15 12:55:30
I love the snake sentences at the end of the paragraphs. Dude is not so snake at the end, though. What the hell is with the goat. Where's the GD tractor, yo? This Slaven's kid's got the straight dope.
Matt
2011-07-16 09:16:01
Nice one "J",not what i was expecting,and thats a good thing.....
bigmurraytastic
2011-07-19 06:06:47
j damn good read !