"Spicebox" Flash Fiction Piece Author: Dillinger Steel Word count: 852

in prophetic •  7 years ago 

Spicebox

Once there was not a boy who learned about the values of a scuffle-free life somewhere far away from the place we deserted. He was a child bereft and one soggily rubbing bad dreamer eyes as he witnessed the breathing of her naked body writhing in the bed while she moaned his name but since he wasn’t there he didn’t really miss a thing now…or did he? This isn’t the kind of a dream you wake up happy to find yourself in. That being said: Here you are and there you be and if you stray someday you’ll see: The Light at the end of the tunnel’s another Train. Now this boy we speak of has not been seen nor heard from in a coon’s age and is not, in fact or fancy, expected to reveal himself again until the Pale Rider caroms along the slapping waves of sea-side and lakeside, polluting rivers and streams (lifeblood of the earth) with its foul pestilence. Don’t choose to believe? Your choice is made for you then…eternal damnation to the tune of old jazz standards left to rot within the cast-off bodies of ancient radios in the sad ink-yards of America. Land of hope and beacon of truth now rotting along the once Great Plains to Ponce de Leon’s fountain of youth. In absentia the boy learned hard lessons of the workplace: tire re-capper, cook of the line, he had once even solved ‘The Great Bedroom Hoax’. This dilemma proved to him that finite answers were not possible in this infinite world. Thank god he wasn’t really there because by this time he was truly a candidate, an adventurer near Manhood. One time he thought about how women tended to blame their counterparts for various physical “conditions” that plague them throughout life. In truth, our non-extant character empathized deeply about the fact that women bleed and suffer cyclic miseries that are very complex and ultimately are healed by other, more dire conditions such as Menstruation, Menopause or Death. So. Did you notice that two of the things “men” can’t experience actually contain that word in the plural sense of the term? Let us now change that false and invidious verbal nomenclature into something truer now, in this womanized world where the White Man has lost his way. NOT! (You May Think) Let it begin with language, a new change for the ages: Femipause and Femstruation, with no need to alter “death” at all due to its innate truthiness and common affliction: Got it Ladies? Good, then let’s advance to more livid and erotic realities where we all flow together “so to speak” and we all do so much better. I need your love girls. I mean it. I hardly ever talk about stuff like this but I had to and there’s a good reason you see because I actually need women, in all their forms and shades, their frustrating ambiguities right down to the basest and most finite organic complaints: such as why would a loving God wire men to run 15 degrees too hot and the women about the same amount too cold? One could, in fairness, ask why these small differences do not always bode well for love… Kisses of the flesh, your good advice—the knowledge that I am not mocked and neither are you or God on High. “What I’m trying to say / in my own cryptic way is please don’t leave me by myself / like the spice box of earth / and its treasures are worth—thyme and cumin absorbed by the shelf / and you Lady Sage beyond time without age, what do you hear from the road / the trumpets are loud and they infect the crowd with a psychotic overload / but the Hero is near (yours truly, my dear) Now the curtain is drawn for the show / observe how my mind keeps both reason and time / apart from those Dorks with their Boss / where thinkers like me / can never be free / till we die on their logical cross…
”And if they can’t mock god they can’t mock me Ladies…listen I’m older now and I don’t know if I’m better because my invisible condition (coupled with the overriding fact that I have never existed) has left me with nothing to compare myself to. Or Whom? Whom-the-fuck-over….over and out. Now FIRE FIRE CLASS ALPHA AND BRAVO FIRE IN FORWARD ENGINE ROOM. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Those years passed with typhoons of maritime-war peppered with good behavior by the way…and you know the rest of it, or should by now realize that there is a true element of evil bequeathed unto our Wayward sons and Wanton daughters; look for this when flames of ice rise from the swamp-water. In the long run, life’s a short proposition with all its complexity. There is the problem, reaction and solution hypothesis along with the usual ragtag way of just making it through the day until the peace that passes all understanding.

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