Friday, February 9, 2018

Filled with the Spirit 3

Most of us who have the benefit of having our High School days behind us look back and see that they were not, after all, the best days of our lives, though the lonely and overworked staff of the establishment continued to tout it as such.  The past is, as the Greeks said, in front of us as we back into the unknown future.  It is framed on the shelf, remembered poorly, and filled with sweet reminiscence and chest compressing regrets.  It is static, safe, and preserved.  To fly forward, as it were, back into the crystalline past is not something that the human mind is designed or acculturated for.  It is a shock not only to the cardiovascular system; and in the case of Andromeda Crab the digestive system, it is also a debilitating jolt to the mind.  Andromeda was full of carbs and pork fat, the caffeine beginning to coarse through her system and she strode confidently out of ShoeHorn's FlapJackStack, the brass bell on the door triumphantly announcing her arrival into a world that had just met its match.

The warm sun shone on her griddle-food flushed face and she began to strut down the street, ready to save the world.  She passed a few noble citizens, eyes cast down to the pavement, but she had bigger fish to fry and in our marvelous age of mass media telecommunication she knew she had to go straight to the top.  After only a few steps however her strut degraded to a saunter which degraded into a shuffle.  The bright morning sun pierced to the depths of her hung over mind with a cleaving pain that quickly expelled the authoritative posture of righteous justice and salvific fury.  Her confident, bright eyes quickly turned into a one eyed squint as she edged sideways up the sidewalk.  One hand on her throbbing temple she made her way, more slowly now, to save the world.  She wanted so badly to lay down, to rest.  She would have cried had she not been so afraid that sobs would bifurcate her brain into neat hemispheres.  The TV station now seemed like a distant mirage, a dream of extraordinary distance 5 excruciating blocks away.  As she leaned against the rough brick facade of a shoe repaireman's shop ("Save your sole with Jesus Peletero"  Hours: T 10am-12pm TH 3pm-5pm) she saw an officer of the peace standing wide legged at the next intersection in the shadow of a giant Greek revival edifice. 

As she approached she saw the giant white marble structure before her was, indeed, City Hall.  She had made it to A top, if not THE top she intended to go straight to.  With the police office overwatching traffic it was as if she had her own escort, a personal entourage as she brought her treasure of revelation to the world.  Grateful for the shade cast down from the huge government building, she stood up a little straighter and headed towards the granite steps across the street.  The moment her booted foot stepped down on black asphalt she heard from behind her a confident, slow but sharp, "Excuse me, miss?"

Andromeda turned around: one foot in the street, one foot on the sidewalk and saw the officer was looking at her with the casual curiosity of a bear waking up from hibernation.  "Good morning ma'am.  Where are you off to this morning."  Suddenly Andrea was painfully aware of how this whole situation looked to the officer: A hard partying, partially inebriated woman was shambling towards city hall.  Whatever her intentions, if City Hall was her destination something needed to be said.

"I'm ssorry offfisser.  I know what thiss looks like..." {suppressed burp] "...I have something very important for the mayor.  We are all in danger, the whole worldsss in danger.  I need to see him...right away.  You can esscort me if you like."  And with that Andromeda Crab turned and took a step across the street.  And with that Andromeda Crab felt a hand upon her shoulder.  And shortly after a stream of words in which "Public intoxication" were two and "Not seeing the mayor today" were a few more she finally received her police escort along with another change in destination.

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