Sonic you Snowboarding Champ
Hi
Ha
Song of the Day: Alvin Band - Vanilla Dome
Been a while. A long while. I have just returned to Knoxville from a place called Aspen, CO where I spent the last 3 and a half months. Heard of it? Quite a trip. Snow. Boards. Hot Tubs. Mountains. These were all included, and somewhat enjoyed. But that's another story. The one I have to tell today is a novella I have been working on starting approximately 11 hours ago. Though it may have never have the joy of being finished or subsequently reviewed, here at least is an excerpt from what I have so far:
You are floating. I am floating. He is floating. Floating in some undefined cosmic space, some result of an expanding universe or black holes and event horizons or whatever the top thinkers of our age enjoy talking about nowadays. No light. All he knows is infinite darkness, and no theory can describe to you what that’s like. No hope. No point. No fluffy animals. Just floating.
Fisher wakes up. No longer floating in the traditional sense, now floating in covers and blankets and unusual stuffed animals possessing a strange resemblance to Ewoks. He hugs one cause he feels lonely, but the Ewok doesn’t hug back. He hopes one day it will. That would be nice. Ewok hug.
Deep in the cavernous blanket cavern he hears a vibration. Have the Ewoks come alive? No. it’s a cell phone, the ring tone a fanciful MIDI interpretation of some Burt Bacharach song from 2,000 years ago or something like that. With no rush in mind, he dives under the covers in a desperate attempt to locate the phone, fumbling his hand around in little nooks and crannies only cell phones have the ability to find. Quicker than usual, his fingers grasp the metal receptor. He quickly hit’s the talk button and raises it to his ear. Trained Dog.
“Hello”
“Fisher, hey…”
Images and ideas flash through his brain. Caroline. Green eyes. Stars. Penguins… Girlfriend.
“Hey Caroline.”
There she is. She’s pretty, isn’t she? Dark hair, curly. No, wavy. You could get lost in it. Fisher hopes there are no poor Ewoks lost in her hair. What else? Pretty smile, full set of teeth. Caroline.
“Are you at home Fisher? I left some paint I needed there, bring it to me?” She might as well have batted her eyelashes over the phone. Nice eyelashes too, if you’re into that.
“Uh..” For a second, he has the strangest sense that he’s out of place, a foreign man in a foreign land. Gypsy. Traveling Salesman. Buy this stranger!… Composure. “Of course, but only if the Ewoks aren’t using it.”
“Ewoks?”
“Uh, never mind.”
“I’m assuming that’s a yes.”
“Yes.”
“See you soon then.”
“See you in 31.8 minutes, you know, the approximate time it takes to deliver explosive paint.”
“Its not explosive.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
“In that case, be careful, and hurry.”
Click. What a strange conversation. Fisher wonders if they have always had strange conversations. Oh well. Then he thinks about the paint. Caroline, artist, creator extraordinaire. Canvases fill the bedroom, explode out the closet, fall on the cat, etc… Some people think the Mona Lisa is a fine work of art. Fisher thinks Caroline is a fine work of art.
And End.
