at the National Anthem, Papa John takes a knee. he kneels hard, making sure to plant each knee firmly into the turf before he begins singing the Anthem. he gets through the entire song without disappearing.
Papa John: my pizza is bad. Domino's is better.
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at Maldark's house. bungalow. cottage. which is really just open space at this point.
Kelechi: you don't want to watch the race?
Maldark: i'd rather not know the final outcome. it's better this way.
his two purple cats are licking themselves. one, the tomcat, takes a veritable bite out of his own leg with his sharp teeth.
Maldark: and that is Thanksgiving dinner. it was a nice Thanksgiving.
Kelechi: Mr. Maldark i think i love you. you're the teen idol i never knew i had a need for. i'm so glad you entered my life.
Maldark: want not. don't worship me, worship your struggle. i have no special talent, i am only passionately curious.
a lone cat on the other side of the fence screeches and shrieks and yowls and howls and hisses and warbles.
Kelechi: i hate not adding to the meal. sure i can't scramble you up a few eggs?
Maldark takes the entire crate of Sun Valley eggs and slips on all the garbage around him, the trash which has intruded upon his space. Maldark begins to laugh.
Kelechi: you don't have to carry the entire wobbly crate. simply leave the crate as is and slide your finger through the various paper-cardboard layers and slide an egg out.
Maldark: my brain is malfunctioning.
Kelechi: your brain needs food.
Maldark spots the trashmen. he glances their shoulders and wishes them happy holiday.
Maldark: this was a dilemma for me. a moral quandary. do i touch the help's shoulders to signal i'm treating them as equals? a half-hug. or is it construed as a power-dynamics play? like i'm lording it over them? showing my superiority, deigning to dirty my hands with the lower class. more like pushing them, shoving them, directing them, leashing them, lashing them. common humanity or commoner catharsis crisis? everyone needs their space to feel safe. i'm glad i touched them tho.
Kelechi: you are a man of the people never forget that.
Halwa knocks on the door. the imaginary door. she basically just air-knocks.
Maldark: i can't see you, child, go home.
Halwa: but can you help me with my bonus question of my algebra?
Maldark: i said good day, madam. i said good day.
Halwa turns around crying.
Kelechi: how dare you speak to my niece like that.
Maldark: i cannot see her anymore.
Kelechi: *checking the scores on her watch* lost. the boy lost. Less lost.
Maldark: i was afraid of this. let's go.
at the racetrack.
the Bentley Azure won the race with aplomb. it was a tight race. the El Camino slipped and flipped on the buttery track but hydroplaned with such coolness cos of its carriage in the back. the Mercury Bobcat jumped the white lines and kept going, racing all the way to Disneyland. the Tesla rig was slow the whole time, proving finally that Tesla was not as smart as Einstein. Less in the grey DeLorean flapped its wings for a while and flew into first place but curbed hard right when he should have curbed hard left and crashed into the tree in the middle.
Less is in catatonic shock.
Maldark: snap out of it, kid! choose another state.
Less: c-c-c-c-c-c-cars
Maldark: did you pipe it through the French drain? check your gascolator?
Intendo: a-ha! i knew you were working with foreign nationals.
Maldark: when did you get here?
Intendo: i had an accident and ran. two more heats for you to redeem yourself.
Maldark: what happened, dude?
Less: the sea lions. the sea-lion crosswalk. i saw a sea-lion from the corner of my eye and made a split-second idea and applied the brakes. stopped suddenly. the screeching. from the tires. from me. from the scared sea-lion. i waited till the little guy waddled across. but by then it was too late. i was in a tailspin.
Mr. Maldark hugs Less rudely.
Less: the coast wasn't clear.
2 comments:
This is the best personal tagline ever:don't worship me, worship your struggle. i have no special talent, i am only passionately curious.
I think Gary Numan should turn up - In Cars
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Einstein’s own mystical words.......from beyond the cosmos...
Gary Numan thought we’d have flying cars by 1989
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