It was on lay-away (your Christmas present(s))

I was prepared. Prepared for the next step that is. Sometimes you have to wonder just how your multiple facets interact with one another. I had no time for that thinking now. So during these times you have to eliminate the troublesome portions. I had a full set of thoughts from different brain areas, so I was told by my school counselor way back when. According to her, I had the top skill level in ability, which is a “highly prized scientific characteristic.” I planned on speaking to Doctor Torque Taylor later this day to receive some short bursts of AC current across the lobes. It would eliminate the passive aggressive demons that were plaguing me. They were increasing my state of mania, and only causing me to recall certain key portions of my life and wander to and fro while wishing for that little puppy and a breath of truth. The last few hours of my existence have been nothing short of disastrously chaotic, so much so that my thinking was now nothing more than a tangled web of wet rope. The treatment was part of the program anyway, and if I wished for any success at all, Myron said I would need it. My Uncle did it once, and look at him now, owning his own store and all that, hell of a man. I already had a strong inkling that this treatment would be the only way I would be able to concentrate on the heavy amounts of paperwork I would need to do to 1) complete the required forms and 2) finish my poetry set for the contest I had entered. I was indeed an up and coming poetic leader, and needed to produce my part for society to enjoy. Hopefully, the electric pulse setting of “maximum acceleration” would not defeat or impose on my poetic justice.

After putting on a nice clean pair of pants I picked up a small steel bar and put on my best pair of mirrored sunglasses. I lightly swung the bar and into my other palm and muttered, “We won’t be taking shit from anyone... from now on. Oh, I have a high voice you say and I sound like a young lad? What’s that? You don’t like that sandwich? Well, I’m afraid that’s all your gonna get. Oh, is that package for me? Wow, it’s got such shiny wrapping paper, it must be something great.” Just practice for any up and coming interview I might have, possibly as some type of security guard at a local mall or possibly a nursing home job. In this area, the elderly are known for organized uprisings and angry chanting. They once strolled about with unlit torches and empty threats. Quickly, I wiped the stupid smile off my face. The still unplugged clock indicated my schedule was all messed up, and I had to meet with Torque sooner than later. He had many appointments and was very important. His office was in my favorite strip mall, so I could do some dwizzling about after my appointment. I gathered up a small basket of fruit from the yard to pass out at the office. People appreciate a good gift when it comes from my yard and heart. Regardless of what Dr. Torque does in that office, people still have the stomach to enjoy a juicy peach or a guava.

An example of my poetry:

Along the breech line
Fronted with alien gold
Bitter blackness still sweet on the tongue
Between the prairie and the prayer
Quench my thirst old man

As I uttered those words last week in my class, the reaction was silently jovial. People applauded in the mind much more than with their hands, and that’s the proper way. The poetry followed a short story reading by Mark Grobner, who is still taking pocket change for his status-quo type readings outside the gas station where he works. His story revolved around a rowdy steakhouse and the owner that sold his soul for a questionable price to religious outfits repeatedly. I think it was a scam. He’s a gas pumper, but he used to be a coke pusher, and we’re talking the opposite of ‘pure as the driven snow’ – he worked in a coke plant where wonderful black clouds are built. When his hands aren’t filthy with dirt and gas, they are filled with a small portion of ideals. I might stop by and collaborate later. Until then, certain priorities needed my attention, that is, the ones I was just sidetracked from. I had to get into the mode of the program or else hell would be paid in full. After gathering the fruit, I instinctively picked up the phone one last time to see if anybody was trying to reach me. That may be my own compulsive disorder, done away with in the upcoming procedure.

The atmospheric conditions were highly unbearable with all the heat and the wetness mingling in the still spring air. Unusual. The sun wasn’t even viewable through the heat haze. Those fresh air factories must be working overtime. Most certainly, without them much less tolerable conditions would prevail. The journey was a short one though, and I was pleased to see that the parking lot was relatively empty. Upon entering the office, I received a warm welcome of smiles and general agreement stares. That was unusual, but believe me, I take what I can get. I realized that my style was still in minor disarray, with the exception of my new shoes, which I had planned for sometime to wear for the first time in front of my favorite doctor. “Oh, Maria, it’s been so long!” I said to the secretary as I lightly touched her hand over the desk. She looked up slowly as if to say, “Please don’t contact me physically.” Long day probably. I didn’t take it personally. I took a seat and waited nervously. I’m usually extremely nervous at the doctor’s office, and on most occasions I end up being treated for diarrhea rather than my initial condition. Today I had a strong, cold sweat and a fidgety leg. I began to breathe heavily as time wore on and I had the feeling that the little children were crying because of my light crying. Once the treatment was complete I would be cured of this ailment. The brochure in my left shirt pocket assured me of this. This particular clinic smelled different from the usual sterile smell that one would expect, and this sense stimulus was the only thing that was holding me together, albeit by a thin, tattered paper wire if such a thing exists for any good use. I felt like I would lose it soon, so I put my sunglasses on and pretended I was just at the office, waiting to pick up my large cash settlement. I imagine that quite a lot when I’m in trouble, and usually it’s effective unless I have too long to think about it. When I’m given a good budget of time, I start to think that the cash got lost or that the whole thing was just some sort of mafia setup and I was set to get chopped in half.