Enjoy The Ride

Driving your car after four weeks – four weeks of driving another and four weeks after you’ve seen it wrecked – is like sleeping with a lover from the past. One you loved and never quite got over, I should add. At first sight, it’s love all over again- excitement, desire and nostalgia blended in one cocktail look.  And then things turn a bit awkward. You look for flaws that remained, for differences between now and then. You make mistakes, you compare, you are extra careful.

But you know. You know everything will fall into place and you know this is good. This is great, in fact. 

A week later, still full of appreciation, everything is granted again. 

Saturday Night

When I said my Saturday was uneventful, I didn’t mean for it to become this eventful. At 2:30 am, no less. 

My car became one of four car-casualties of an (obviously) drunk driver who hit, hit, dragged, hit again and run from the scene, leaving behind his license plate as a souvenir.

I heard it all and I saw him drive away, though i didn’t know it was him. In the couple of minutes it took from getting out of bed to getting to the scene, I was revising the first aid course in my head. When I realised what had happened, I started revising all the words we were not allowed to use as kids.

My mother was worried about the driver. “Is he ok? Judging from the car damages, he must be hurt!” My mother is obviously a much nicer person than I am.

The first one to join the little neighbourhood gathering was, of course, the mechanic (vultures are always first). The police came later. I was busy playing CSI with the cool (and taken) neighbour, putting together the pieces of the license plate. The police had CSI flashlights. I wanted to ask for one, but I chose not to sound mad for a change -though the pink pj’s-black shoes combo didn’t do me any favours on the looking mad front.

An hour later, I lost on the sounding mad front, too. “Wait a minute! That’s NOT where I had parked my car!!!!”

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“So, how would you like your Saturday?”

“Uneventful would be just fine, thank you very much.”

Do Not Pass Go *

It happened in every game.

Just as he was leading the race to the purple properties on the board, he would pick the card. “Go To Jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.”

Every single time, while he was waiting in jail, others landed on the free purple squares. He always ended up paying rent for what was supposed to be his.

He remembered a time when he did not even notice. It was then when he was still learning to play. He didn’t even bother with strategies back then. Eventually he did; he knew he could win, if only he could get to the purples first.

As soon as he discovered this, he also discovered the “Do not pass Go” card – or it discovered him, he wasn’t quite sure.

Every time, every time, every time…

Every time he would lose.

And every time, his obsession would grow. Even when he learned to devise other strategies. Even when – in anticipation of jail time – he bought whatever was free. Even when he built hotels that made him rich. Even when he won.

Until one day, the game changed. He rolled the dice and landed on a free purple. He looked at it, took his time to decide and did what he had to do. He bought it in silence and passed Go.

In the next round, he picked up the card.
“Do Not Pass Go”, he read.

He got up and with a smile he said:

“I’ll Go”

* Thank you for the idea, N. This is for you.

Some Of Them

The old man approached me just as I was ready to cross the street.

Disoriented and unkempt, he’d easily make a Crazy or Lost sign on his chest redundant. He looked harmless enough so I went for Lost.

After the necessary “I don’t speak the language” introduction, I concentrated on his gestures. He was holding a folded paper napkin in his hand. He unfolded it and waved it in my face, showing me the name printed on it, while muttering words I didn’t even try to understand. It was the name of a restaurant. I scanned my head for it, but nothing came up. Disappointed, I apologised for not being able to help.

Still. The old man looked so desperately determined. I confess. Pity got the best of me. “One last try”, I thought, but this time I would concentrate on his words.

In an instant, the invisible sign on his chest was torn apart. Not Crazy. Definitely Not Lost.

« You. Me. Eat here. Afterwards…Hotel. Together. »

I cursed my way across the street, words carrying the energy of an undelivered punch.

On the bright side, he did have the decency to also propose lunch.

Fish Kiss

“Daddy, daddy look! The fish are kissing!”

“I don’t think fish kiss honey. Maybe they’re just looking at each other”

“No, daddy! Look! They are playing hide and seek behind that rock and then they talk and then they kiss!!!”

“You know what? I think you are right!”

“Yes, daddy. I am.”

Field Trip Day At The Mine II

Hug is to physical contact, as lion is to jungle.

King, that is…

Field Trip Day At The Mine

Hug is to physical contact as lion is to […] *

*Answers are encouraged. This blog is comment/email/message-in-a-bottle/sms-friendly.

Rationalisation

“Just had a rational thought!”

“Really? Ok, what is it this time?”

“I thought that when you take up a job you should finish it”

A Question For A Question

“Why are you annoyed?”

“Why aren’t you?”

Nothing At All

“So how does the story end?”
“In one continuous motion, she picked up whatever was left and left.”
“That’s it? Why?”
“Cause you can pretend to believe, then believe and then…Well, then you have to go really.”
“But what went wrong?”
“Something extremely basic. You wouldn’t believe. It was […].”
“No. That can’t be it.”
“You could bet on it. But you’d lose.”
“And then?”
“Then what?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”