Nine dollar notes

I have no idea what to say about this story so I will let it say for itself...

A part time snake with the hands of a ballerina was emptying the cash-box of nine dollar notes when the real thing walked in and did what can only be described as a modern move and then began banging the sandwich box of her expectations down on the counter and expecting nothing but misery in return and was granted her wish.

The remainder of what was left over from chopping the kindling of this was not impressed with her fate and scanned from left to right and then up and down in a clockworks manner the want ads and hoped against all odds to find something better.

“Sirocco’s the name,” said the birdie popping out of the clock on the wall. It said this a half a dozen times and stopped.

“Doom, doom,” said the guns of the war in synchronicity with this.

“Well what do you expect?” said the recording working overtime.

“I want nothing,” said the voice that wasn’t there but could be seen on the news discussing the new world order austerity measures with the bank of England.

“We have come to pay you back,” said another voice from out of the blue.

Everyone’s ears perked up at this but then dropped back down again in the silence.

“In dreams we are proud,” mumbled the artist with a wet paintbrush in his hand, and then began to paint his canvas in strong strokes of green that opened up the sky to rain gifts down on anyone who could see them.

A passer-by looked up and was astounded and carried on her journey skipping and remembering when she was a child.

On coming to a puddle in the road she threw of all her clothes, left her Wellington boots to the side and dove into it naked and spent the afternoon skinny dipping for all she was worth.

A policeman on a secret mission to look for terrorists joined her and forgot all about his programming and became lost in the moment too, happy as happy could be.

When news of this came in, a search party was sent out with instructions not to be nice to whatever they found there, but panic set in when the search party approached the duo in the puddle until suddenly, not knowing what else to do they too dove in and had tremendous fun splashing around naked for all the world to see.

A crowd gathered to watch and take photos to put on the internet and then they all took selfies to put on their homepage.

It is here that the shadow swung down from his tree and made a yell for all to hear.

“Happy Christmas shadow and a merry new year,” said a drunk riding home on his bike. The shadow gave the man a wave and carried on into the jungle.

“I am hungry for my redemption that is late in coming and there are too many bullets for the guns that keep on firing; so I race on to keep up to where I should be but fall back on it every minute that the sun turns not in my favour,” said the shadow as he raced on.

“If you run so fast then how can it find you?” said the voice of wisdom coming from a worn out shoe that had nowhere left to go and so was growing flowers quite happily.

“This bug ridden city is eating me alive and all I can think about is nine dollar notes floating around in my mind as I run into the darkness of this place that turns me and turns me and keeps me so hungry I could die,” said the shadow.

“Try thinking about what you really want for a change and see what happens,” said the old shoe faintly as the shadow ran on.

“I have the feeling my thoughts are not my own and are coming from all that I pass through, and as I pass through it all I pick up on it and initiate it into the force that drives me. How can this be, am I some kind of sponge to absorb it all?” said the shadow to himself now, the old shoe left far behind.

“The full moon came and went again and I’m sure I saw it, I usually do, though I feel I missed the profound of it as I entertained something else that came along to take my attention,” said the man drinking coffee in a cafe with a look of perplexity on his face.

The shadow couldn’t agree more as he came along with his cape on and cap in hand and talking in the same language.

The man didn’t feel much about this because of his veiled illusions, but his toes were turned nonetheless in the shadow’s passing by of him.

The shadow came across another wind that enabled him to run faster but quite why he was running in the first place he just could not remember.

In the graveyard under the moon where the blackjack card players went to curse and lose their money to the ghosts was a sign that said: go that way, so the shadow did but found it was a diversion left over from the war so he turned about and hunted high and low until he found a girl making pancakes for breakfast.

“I’m lost,” he said to her.

“I know you are,” she said and sat the shadow down to eat.

As the shadow ate the pancakes they spoke together in whispers and shades of sighing that won’t be mentioned much here, suffice to say, it was enough for the shadow’s redemption.

“I have to go,” he said.

“I know,” said the girl and gave him what he was looking for and then the shadow was off running fast again.

The shadow carried his redemption with him and thought not to fall down until after he was dead or he might find it hard to get back up again.

Everyone cheered when the shadow jumped over the jumping party in the street.

“Go shadow,” they all chanted after him as he grew smaller and smaller in the mind’s eye. And who would not keep on running in a world that bombs its people in the name of peace and prosperity?

The French eggs were done and scrambled nicely even though the French spelling had confused the Russians in their getaway car initially, but anyway it was a nice touch to enjoy as they counted the nine dollar notes in the back.

The begging bowl of this was an awkward size 9 but the counting was done and that was that.

When the bank robbers took a wrong turn onto a misshapen bridge that took them all the way to the top of the mountain they gave up trying so hard and threw all the money out of the car window where it fluttered down into the hands of all those so far below and caused wails of glee at all the money delivered in such a wonderful way.

Sometime later they found an unsinkable boat and became a bored lot of rowers making their way to the border to get out of this story in a boat that should have sunk long ago with all the holes in it but as no one noticed it was okay.

The unsinkable boat carried on through the waves of its long journey and maybe we shall come back to it one day to see how it is doing.

“We have no way of knowing if all this is true or not but because it is written down then maybe it is,” said the man in the cafe getting up to go and leaving a nine dollar note to pay for his coffee.

“As above so below,” said the wind and blew a nine dollar note all the way to China where it was looked upon with scorn by the Chinese in their trenches digging for gold.

“We do not do nine dollar notes here,” they said in Chinese and carried on with their digging in their field with the sweat of their brows overseen by the machine that was hungry for every soul it could eat.

“So pray after me: we belong to thee,” said the machine to its slaves.

“If you want to take the system down then stop serving it, it is as simple as that,” said the nine dollar note from its grave.

“Very-very, boom-boom,” went the machine that never sleeps blowing up people to the graveyard where they will lie forever, bleeding and playing cards with the blackjacks.

In a foreign part of this story where English as a second language is used to ease the flow of the subversives, nine dollar notes as opposed to a dollar really, don’t go very far, and even fuelled by two cups of coffee it goes no further than this.

“Ignite primary indifference sequence and bring out the cover story,” said the machine having the last word.

End of part two

Images from Pixabay

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