The Clog

You might call this entry a “Fantasy”, but I like to call it a “Feel Good” story. Either way, it’s a mini escape, and perhaps a bit of “food for thought”. Enjoy, xxoo.

They had always had access; access was easy. It had been a not-so-secret secret for decades. The tunnels were intricate, yet direct. Once under the main source, it was a vertical climb up to the White House kitchen, where stealth moves were required to sneak beneath tables, alongside blazing hot stoves, towards the massive mother-load. The pantry was easy to raid. Entire loaves of bread could go missing, without anyone noticing. They were careful to avoid leaving a crumb trail, and the growing rat family stayed healthy and happy.

Every few years there was a turnover, and the food staples would change. The rats were overjoyed that the prior host was finally gone, as there had been a severe shortage of starches and junk food for far too long. Eight years to be exact. The new tenants were a welcome supplier of white bread, processed crackers, and yellow cheese. To top it all off, there was a delightful supply of fast food to be pilfered from trash bins. Fries, burger buns, and the fried chicken were absolutely irresistible. The rats gained weight, and within a year, a few had become too fat to get through the tunnels. This was when a disaster occurred. Two of the rats got jammed inside the mainline to the kitchen, causing a major back up. They needed help, and they knew just who to call. Sure, they’d risk losing the two fat buddies, but collateral damage was a burden they’d simply have to shoulder. The boa constrictors resided in the sewers of the surrounding city. Long ago, an escapee from the zoo had mated with a female who was let loose by a lousy pet owner. They had bred, and now the family of snakes had countless cousins, all living within the under water system of Washington D.C..

As the oversized elderly rat informed the snake boss of their “clog” problem, the big boa gathered his extended family around. Eagerly, they slipped away into underground tunnels with ease, until they reached the trapped rats. After devouring the “blockage”,  the boas swiftly continued along route towards the jackpot. Upon arriving in the kitchen, they glided in silence behind the walls towards the pantry. By now, it was late, and there were workers busy stocking shelves, so they decided to bypass the kitchen and check out the second floor. Silently, they headed up a narrow opening behind an ancient dumb waiter, and emerged onto a dim upper hallway. In the stagnant air, the snakes detected a strong scent of chicken. Slithering along dark red Persian carpets, they felt their way against plastic gilded moldings. It was well past midnight, when the lead snake paused, startled by an electronic pinging sound. He slowly headed towards the noise, which was coming from behind a door. A weak stream of light seeped through. The smell of chicken filled his nostrils. He waited there for his partners to catch up. They gathered by the base at the door, contemplating how to flatten enough to slide beneath it. Aligning themselves, the five snakes pressed together as one.

Silently, they burst through, and into the bathroom where they saw a large fat man in a white hotel robe, hunched over on a gold toilet. His eyes were closed,  as he ate KFC from a box on the shelf. While chewing loudly, he hummed in a monotonous tone, gripping a phone in his free hand. He was too busy to notice the snakes heading towards him. Suddenly, one gripped each of his legs, and wrapped tightly around the limbs, as the other three slid up behind the toilet, winding effortlessly around his thick neck. In unison they began to squeeze. The giant lurched forward, and tried to yell, but no sound came out, other than a loud belch. A half- eaten chicken leg dropped to the gold tiled floor, followed by his cell phone, which shattered into pieces. His heavy head flopped down, a stringy yellowed hairpiece flapping forward over a distorted face. Large dirty dentures clattered to the floor. The man’s stomach bulged, and he let out a long fart. The snakes untethered themselves, and snatched the remaining fried chicken. With that, they seamlessly slipped under the door. Making their way down the halls, they passed a few of the rats along the way, and shared a swift knowing glance. With a low hiss, they headed towards the exit tunnel, disappearing back into the underworld of D.C.

Mythical

Simple Definition of mythical
  • : based on or described in a myth

  • : existing only in the imagination

He stood 6’3″. A large man, cutting a figure with his flaming toupee billowing in the wind. He carried himself as though always on camera, in part because he had spent a lot of time in front of one, but mostly because he was completely and utterly self-involved. Every word and motion was contrived to portray what he thought people wanted to see. He knew it was all a farce. However, he also knew that if he surrounded himself with the right individuals and paid them enough, he could get anyone to do anything for him. And so it went.

He had what he liked to refer to as “powerful persuasive skills”. These methods involved intimidating, threatening, and other sorts of bullying. It worked. He powered his way to the top. Tenacious, you could call him that. Greedy, for sure. This was America, and he was getting his American dream, by hook or by crook. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. He wanted more and more. He would never be satisfied. One day, he pondered that it might be fun to run for president of the U.S. At first, it was basically a flight of fancy for him. He knew he had no patience to do the job, and he had other priorities, like building his empire of excess all over the globe. However, times were ready for something different. Many of the people were desperate, and feeling angry. The climate of hatred had been brewing for a long time, and they wanted a hero. He came along, and appealed to that part of the population. Intoxicated on the publicity, there was no way he would back out now. He convinced them that he was their man, making promises appealing to their every deep desire. He won the role as leader of the U.S.

It didn’t take long for the facade to crack and crumble. Continuously distracted, his impatience got the best of him.  He tried to keep his best face forward, but the mask kept slipping off. What many had seen as their hero was nothing of the sort. When the truth surfaced, the people finally realized that he was a narcissistic, mythical monster and nothing else. But,  by then, it was all too late.

Bad Vibrations

Today is November 8, 2016. Election Day. I haven’t been sleeping well for weeks. Tossing and turning, I feel the negativity spinning out of control. Trump has brought to the surface everything ugly about this country. Angry racists, bigots and misogynists…..to all of these, he has given license to hate. “Make America Great Again”…should really be “Make America Hate Again.”

I am going to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.

“America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.” Abraham Lincoln