if you look at the upper right hand of the above photo, there, at the end of the road, you’ll see a vehicle. it’s a late-model chevy SUV but i didn’t know that until i walked to it as i headed to my own car a bit further along, in the parking lot.
i climbed down from where i took this pic after eating a chicken sandwich.
it was the end of my “visit to a good place.” i wouldn’t be able to go here this wednesday because of my visit to bellevue, so it was good fortune that i went here today.
as i approached, i noticed the guy i had met who looked like omar sharif and sounded like eduardo cianelli. he smiled and revealed little, razor-sharp teeth.
“not wearing the dentures today?” i said.
“long time no see….no….i just had lunch, so the other teeth are in the glove box”
“lunch? out here?”
“not here…i was in manhattan an hour ago. we met with an AIG guy. i got him to skim some of that bailout cash – boy, that’s a doozie of a hustle, let me tell you – and i had a trainee waiting for him when he visited the washroom at tavern on the green. his last words to me were, “it’s days like these that i think, maybe, my shit isn’t gonna stink, heh-heh-heh.” my guy was waiting for him and we barred the door the moment he entered. his last words to him were,”mommy…” my guy was fast but sloppy – i just noshed a little. i trained him well, but apparently he caused a little bit of ruckus when he left through the kitchen. that was great, though – i was even able to skip out on the check. humans are so dramatic, especially when entrails are involved.”
he went on to say that he knew i was looking down at him because he has the ship up there that was looking down at me. he said that was one thing that was the same about them and us. there’s always someone else watching.
when i asked him who was watching them, he said he wasn’t sure, but figured they “were inhabitants of the eighth-electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension.”
“what the hell is that?” i asked him. i was very impressed.
“when the hell is that, he corrected me.
then he proceeded to go all carl sagan times arthur c. clark on me. as he spoke, his voice flowing in a tuvan monotone, i wasn’t sure if i was losing interest or losing consciousness. i wondered if i was dessert and a “new jacket.” i wondered if my luck was running out.
i stared out at the ocean and the ship that i recognized from when i first met him almost a year ago (back when he was with the olive-skinned woman and i first discovered the little sharp teeth), i felt myself drifting. i looked down at maxx and he was laying down with his eyes looking up at me. he seemed calm and serene and this let me know that everything was all right. “if he ain’t doing anything about this, neither am i,” i thought.
it was like passing out while standing up.
once, there was a ny telephone company worker who was stabbed and robbed down by the fulton fish market back when it was in lower manhattan. it was like 1980 or something. he lost so much blood that when they were rushing him to beekman downtown hospital, the medics slashed his wrists and shove tubes into his arms in order to try to get more blood into his body quicker. the story made the cover of ny magazine. the guy survived and was getting his fifteen minutes in an interview a few weeks later, recounting the story from his side of the ambulance and hospital gurney. he spoke about being in a place where he saw people from places other than earth and other than life and, at one point, he was being pushed from eternity back to this plane of existence. as i listened to his story, it took me to the gurney i rode in coney island hospital on january 22nd, 1962 and the two or three days i lost back then. i understood him so much that i decided i needed to not hear him talk about it anymore, so i said i have to go now and as i rose, i felt myself grow heavy and………
i came to about ten minutes later. i was laying on the floor next to the bed i was aiming for.
it felt just like that.
that’s what happened when the grifting lizard guy spoke about the eighth-electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension, except instead of passing out, i drifted to places i hadn’t yet dreamed about and was people i had yet to be.
at least, that’s what the guy said later in our conversation.
i remember asking him, “so, why the chevy? what happened to the mercedes and acura?”
“what was it like when you almost died?” he asked back.
“can’t really recall,” i said. except it was like being an almost-dead telephone repairman.
he knew what i was talking about because these grifting lizards from mars can read us humans like dime-store novels. they can sort us out like the cheesy sitcoms we think are so witty. they are the shiny things that catch our eye just long enough to miss the point.
“i have to get ‘with the people’ automotive-wise,” he said. martian lizards are pragmatic.
“it looks like i have to fish in a different stream on this planet for a while. we had a great run, but things….change. if there’s no steak, you still gotta eat….”
as i was leaving, i turned. i thought to ask if, while trapped in that stone-eyed reverie, i was being considered as a new suit.
“no” he said, smiling that grifting-lizard smile.
“see ya” i said.
“yes. you will” he answered.
i got home just in time to watch fred and ginger, then the marx brothers.
hello, i must be going……..