This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Sunday, June 1, 2014
Sunset in Your Eyes (Blogophilia 15.7)
“Some things never change. “ I-85 might as well be a parking lot, the traffic
was so heavy.Filtered brown sunlight wormed through the gap between the visors. Using a gesture than looked liked a condemned man reaching for supplication, he mad a vain attempt to block it out. The outline of the pickup truck
ahead barely registered as it slipped forward. He dutifully followed the herd
as the light slipped back behind a warehouse.
Generic heavy metal music boomed from the radio. Some group
he never heard of, Texas Hippie something. The lead singer kept screaming for the
listener to “turn it up”.No. he thought.
Noise attracts attention, especially when the songs were about preacher girls
turning into strippers.The concept was
amusing, though. Evil Galloway’s demon daughter dancing on
the pole brought a smile.He could imagine
the look of fire, then ice across his bearded wrinkled countenance. The one set in perpetual
rage about everything about the world, while he was doing the exact same thing.
The traffic started getting faster.Stone Mountain was a beached whale off to his
left.Mother would never let him go
there. Groups of men sacrificed babies there, was what she had said.Jeremy never believed that. All he knew was
there was a sculpture of some dead white people carved on the side. It was good
that they were dead; they had always been the evil acquirers and en-slavers of
the weak, like him. It didn’t matter whether he was white, either.
The sky began to tint from pale blue to orange.Reaching up to adjust the visor, the round
snout of the police cruiser caught his eye.His spine quickly felt like ice. It didn’t matter the cop was several cars
back. The equanimity of preacher whores was replaced by Pig anxiety. Making
like he was looking straight ahead, he quickly assessed the contents of the
car.There was nothing in particular to
set alarms off.Relaxing his grip on the
steering wheel, he very lightly lifted the pressure on the gas pedal.
“Why am I worried? It isn’t like I have guns or anything
like that.Jeremy said to himself.But a Pig is a Pig and they can smell fear if
they are close enough. He tried to think of strippers and sinning preachers, but it
didn’t work. His eyes were glued to the mirror. Approaching Jimmy Carter Boulevard, a
couple of cars passed him on the right and another on the left. He used that as
a signal to slowly pick up speed of the Toyota and put some more space between him and the cop.Finally, the cruiser turned on his signal and began to move towards the
As the cop reached the point of no return on the ramp, Jeremy began to relax.