Monday, January 16, 2017

Believe it if you want...

Believe it if you want, but a well dressed gatekeeper just gave me a key to the mansion he guards.  He told me to travel through the yards and use it to open a door.  When I did, I would know where to roam. 

It was the home of his brother from another mother who had died trying to hide from his wife in a river of lust with another man.  The plan was to flee the state and incubate their forbidden passion.  He was in fashion and his partner was a barista at the local café.  Neither knew he was gay until they locked eyes for the first time.  Only then, did they find the truth about who they were.  

In the spur of the moment, they decided to own it and leave in the morning.  However, they never came together again.  Mourning his loss, the boss of the coffee shop decided to chop up his employee so that no other company may enjoy his brew.  He knew that without this man, his shop was finished and would slowly diminish because he could never seep a cup of joe like this sage.  

In a fit of rage, the keeper’s brother called his mother, who was an assassin of sorts.  She killed for sport, whether it was man or beast.  Then, she would feast on the flesh of her kill until she was ill from stuffing herself full with its meat.  

She agreed to meet the boss for a “job” in which she would rob him of his life.  She plunged a knife into his chest and watched him come to rest in eternal slumber.  He was number seven that she had sent to heaven that year.  

It became clear to a cop that something was wrong when he stopped outside after hearing a song.  She often sang as she ate, it was the way her late husband always had his meal, bless his soul.  Her real goal was that of sacrifice to entice him back into the living.  By giving her voice to the choice people she killed, she steadily willed him back to the earth.  His birth would be known if a corpse started to groan after having already been dead. 

I stopped the gatekeeper and asked if his mother was sick in the head.  He was quick to explain that her crimes only caused pain to the people for a short while.  It was her style to kill quickly and not in a gruesome manner of repeated impaling.  I could tell that he was failing to understand the grand madness of the scheme.  Did he realize this tale as ghastly? 

Lastly, he told me that his friend was found to be a cohort of it all when they traced the call from the mother’s phone.  He finished with a tone of lament.  His intent was to get fired of his post and become hired at the most dangerous prison around.  He would join the grounds crew, which he knew was a way to free his friend.  In the end, all he needed was for me, he pleaded, to wander around until I was lost.  When I called for directions, an inspection would be made and he would be tossed out without getting laid.  

Once free from his job, he could finally rob the prison of his mate.  They would have to flee the state, but he would rather be a refugee that had freed his buddy than a cruddy cohort to this whole mess.  And, now that I knew his plan, it was best that I ran away once I made it back to the street.  If I wanted, he would meet me in a secret location to avoid probation for us all.  He would call me on the next full moon, which was soon, and all three of us could flee on a bus to the Mexican border.  

In order to succeed without being caught, he thought that we should use code words to move towards the culmination of the deed.  I would need a mask when wandering around, because if it was found out who I really was, then the fuzz would surely jail me as well.  

I couldn’t tell if he was serious with me or not.  Suddenly, I forgot that I was late for work.  I had to cork off this conversation, lest I catch reprobation from my manager.  He was a challenger of my consistently being late, but I was a great worker and no one made coffee like me.  I became increasingly interesting in this man, his story and the idea of glory in a far away land.  He had planned it all out and I was about to explain that I must refrain from his plea.  He saw that I might disagree and eyed me up and down.

What he found was that I might leave him in his endeavor.  However, he had never met anyone he was so connected to in so few minutes of time.  Now, I’m not going to lie that when I met his eye I felt a faint flutter in my heart.  I started to see him in a new way and just as I was about to say otherwise, our eyes broke away to look at the floor.  

Then, I saw the door open to the guarded home.  A lady with a dog started walking toward us and I became desperate to know if he would share his life with me.  It turned out that the lady was his wife to be and that he wasn’t a guard at all.  He said he would call me to leave in the morning.  An idea was forming in my breast that he might be the best thing that had ever happened to me. 

I decided to quit my job as a barista and become a tourista of another land.  I went to hold his hand, but knew that I shouldn’t.  I couldn’t wait for his call and just as I was leaving, his fiancé started to pray that his mother wouldn’t sing another one of her tunes.  It always ruins a meal, she complained.  I refrained from thinking about the sickly feeling that was creeping throughout my body.  

I oddly left the couple to tell my boss of his loss in a couple of days.  The phrase that stuck out on this page of my life was that of the friend’s boss and the knife used in the accused crime of his tale.  If I was to be impaled, I guess I had failed to prevent the event, because I continued to hustle toward my demise.

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