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true story

The other day the kids are I were walking.

We passed by a small group sitting in a small yard in front of a small house. They appeared to be enjoying the effects of  more than a few beers. They were sitting in a semi-circle, two skinny scruffy dudes with regrettably unbuttoned shirts and un-regrettably buttoned pants and a large woman in a tight tank top and shorts, a shiny tan, a perm and a cigarette. They were sitting in those cheap white plastic chairs you can buy at the Walgreen's. The chairs with the thin legs that feel as though they will bend or break if you so much as shift your weight or fart. The chairs you see on their backs by the side of the road  road on garbage day with three legs in the right places and a jagged stump where the fourth had been until Jimmy wiggled in his seat trying to dislodge a wedgie. 

One of the scruffy men was carefully speaking in a slow motion slur that sounded raw and sore like a rug burn. This is what he said; "They rollllled me outa the ammmm-u-lance, an she was there an she lit a cig-a-rette and she STUCK it right in my mouth, an I took a long drag on that cig-a-rette...(he lit an actual real cigarette and took a long drag followed by a long satisfied exhalation to show how he smoked the smoke she stuck in his mouth) an' thhhhhennnn, the guard said..." 

Then we rounded the corner and were out of earshot. We'll never know what the guard said or why there was a guard in the ambulance, we'll never know who the cigarette lady was, (wife, girlfriend, mother?) or why the dude was in the ambulance in the first place but it's fun to think about.

Which brings me to my important point: life be an absurd ensemble performance piece and you are an actor and an audience member at the same freaking time! I want to shake everyone by the lapels because this is important. YOU"RE PART OF THE SHOW while at the same exact time  YOU'RE WATCHING THE SHOW.

Seriously, dude. Front row seats and your name in the program. Just make sure you're not sitting in one of those flimsy plastic chairs, unless that's part of your shtick.








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Comments

No Filter: The Book said…
Those chairs always scare me.
November 15, 2015 at 11:22 PM
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