Sunday, June 12, 2005
Impetus
"You know, we're all kind of living on borrowed time," came the whiskey treated Voice from the other end of the telephone. I sighed, nodding in agreement as I leaned back against the cabin and stared down at the Aspens surrounding the pond. A duck was circling lazily in the placid water.
"I'm getting the feeling that this is just the start of it. We're all going to be nabbed systematically. This is part of a greater plan to snuff us all out," I offered. "I keep waiting for black vans to start appearing in my rear-view mirror."
After a brief pause, I could hear smoke being exhaled on the other end of the phone.
"I'm heading to Guam in a few weeks. I've been offered a gig training dogs to hunt the invasive brown snake," The Voice answered.
"Seems like the reasonable thing to do in this situation. After your arrival and subsquent employment, send a manilla envelope to the ranch containing a list of dive bars and hourly-rate hotels near Nimitz Bay. I've decided to make a pilgrimage to the cave of Yokoi the Straggler."
The voice at the other end of the phone laughed heartily for what seemed like a solid 2 minutes. This was followed by a period of intense coughing and unbridled profanity. He had been taken by surprise by my decision. The burden of paranoia had finally gotten to us. After all, this was the final straw that broke the camel's back. In the silence that followed, I was visited by an auditory hallucination of a giant curved spine snapping like a wet pine. I grew pale as a wave of fresh nausea rolled through my stomach.
The duck came back into view, beginning his third lap around the perimeter of the pond. Finally, The Voice regained its composure.
"You know, this really isn't going to do much to quell their pursuit," The Voice said. "Of course, Japanese warriors believe that to be captured alive is a fate far worse than death. Maintain a level head and a clear conscience in the weeks to come."
I shrugged and hung up the phone as a red sun set over the horizon, bleeding all over the sky like a gouged thigh in dire need of a tourniquet. No amount of asian philosophy could save me now. I was to go into hiding, and follow The Voice when the word came.
The mailbox awaited at the end of my dusty driveway, a silent sentry with baited breath.
"I'm getting the feeling that this is just the start of it. We're all going to be nabbed systematically. This is part of a greater plan to snuff us all out," I offered. "I keep waiting for black vans to start appearing in my rear-view mirror."
After a brief pause, I could hear smoke being exhaled on the other end of the phone.
"I'm heading to Guam in a few weeks. I've been offered a gig training dogs to hunt the invasive brown snake," The Voice answered.
"Seems like the reasonable thing to do in this situation. After your arrival and subsquent employment, send a manilla envelope to the ranch containing a list of dive bars and hourly-rate hotels near Nimitz Bay. I've decided to make a pilgrimage to the cave of Yokoi the Straggler."
The voice at the other end of the phone laughed heartily for what seemed like a solid 2 minutes. This was followed by a period of intense coughing and unbridled profanity. He had been taken by surprise by my decision. The burden of paranoia had finally gotten to us. After all, this was the final straw that broke the camel's back. In the silence that followed, I was visited by an auditory hallucination of a giant curved spine snapping like a wet pine. I grew pale as a wave of fresh nausea rolled through my stomach.
The duck came back into view, beginning his third lap around the perimeter of the pond. Finally, The Voice regained its composure.
"You know, this really isn't going to do much to quell their pursuit," The Voice said. "Of course, Japanese warriors believe that to be captured alive is a fate far worse than death. Maintain a level head and a clear conscience in the weeks to come."
I shrugged and hung up the phone as a red sun set over the horizon, bleeding all over the sky like a gouged thigh in dire need of a tourniquet. No amount of asian philosophy could save me now. I was to go into hiding, and follow The Voice when the word came.
The mailbox awaited at the end of my dusty driveway, a silent sentry with baited breath.
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