Our Different Words

I was walking down the street on a Thursday night, definitely knackered from a crazy night at work. The streets were quiet and deserted. Most of the buildings loomed as dark, silent witnesses, bending their necks to try to catch a glimpse of the warmth; like the soft, buttery glow of that bled into the street from Suzy’s Kitchen

The diner was sparsely populated with some wonkey looking characters. I took a seat at the counter next to a couple of hippies.

“whadda’ya have?” asks the waitress.

“Something with caffeine,” I reply.

“You can stand a spoon up in the coffee,” she says. “You want it?”

“Definitely.”

Turning to me, the hippie man says, “You look like you could use some happy, summer colors in your life.”

“I don’t go out for all that bubbly crap,” I say.

“I’m talking the kind of bubbles you get between your toes at the beach, friend,” he smiles back. “You look like you need a day off.”

“Maybe,” I allow. “But nobody else is gonna pay my bills for me. You wanna get by, you gotta do it yourself. You can’t count on nobody but you.”

“Fungo.” my furry friend replies. “A nasty concept if ever I heard one. Why take it all on your shoulders? Why not cut yourself some slack?”

“I got kids,” I say. “Gotta support ‘em somehow. No, I think I better keep ole nose to the grindstone.”

“Hey, we got little goobers at home, too. Aint that right. Sugar?”

“That’s right, Monkey-darlin’,” she says, dreamily. “And crazy little terrors they are, too.”

“Well, that’s all well and good,” I say, with strained patience. “But I hope that you won’t find me rude in saying that I have nothing but disdain for your crazy, hippie subversion. I’m an American, damnit. No, there’s no way I could support my family on whatever it is that you two pull in.”

Sugar looks up again. “You are laboring under the assumption that our lifestyle is indicative of poverty, man,” she says. “It doesn’t work that way. We live in a community. What comes around goes around. Everything is cyclical. We make it with alittle help from our friends.”

“Yeah, well, no offense, But I think I’d rather tongue-kiss a badger,” I say evenly. “I think it’s about time I hit the old, dusty trail. Waitress, how much do I owe ya for the coffee?”

The grizzled-old waitress saunters over. “Here ya go, Hun,” she says with a smile. She hands me the ticket. Scrawled all across the front is a phone number and a little message: Call me sometime, Sweetness. XOXO, Margaret.

“Nooo,” I state, flatly.

Rising to leave, I slap some cash down on the counter and get the Hell out of there.

 

Hal
Indicative- is something that seems to directly suggest something else by being a kind of product of that something.

Disdain- an almost exaggerated hate or severe distaste for something else.

Subversive- and action or idea having a kind of undermining effect of some other idea or structure.

Cyclical- of or relating to cycles. a suggestion of continuity or balance.

Badger- a medium sized North American Land mammal known for its ferocity, ill temper, and strength.

Red

Red is the color of passion, I supose; unless it is pink... Hell, I dont know. Red is, however, the color of violence, rage and fury. Red is used by a madidor to antagonize the bull. If you drive a red car you have to pay more for insurance, so I guess, theoretically, your red car either indicates that you are a more aggressive driver, or that the sight of your red car will somehow inspire others to violence.
Even without the promise of violence, red carries with it a history of severity or seriousness. A code red is always a very serious affair- It never indicates a shortage of puppies, anyway. The emergeny phone in movies is always red. I have always wanted a big red phone for this reason, with a little flashing light, so that all of my phone calls would seem like the hight of urgency. The red in peoples eyes, that a biological response not subject to metaphorical contruity, is usually indictative of some kind of serious strain or stress; anger, fatige, ect. And of course it must be stated that red is the color of blood. How ohsovery appropriate. So, are all of these other serious implications of red due to the fact that the color of blood instills strong emotions in us? Or is that fact that blood is red just another happy coincidence is this interesting little chain of events?
Not that red isn't a lovely color.