The Schedule

As I stood there on the corner the man repeated, “Can you please turn that off?!” He stared at my ghetto-blaster as I looked around in wonderment and my tape played an audio drama that consisted mainly of swears and references to “Perfect Strangers.” The lights were so breathtaking! I had no idea how else to react to the spectacle. Finally, the man hit the “Stop” button, snapping me out of my stupor. I immediately got angry with him. “Who do you think you are?! You come in here and start stopping people’s ghetto-blasters while they’re staring at the overwhelming lights of a place you call home?! Get out of here.” I pointed my finger off to the distance. “I said GO!” The man, speechless (as I had stolen his words from his breast pocket), turned slowly and walked away, shaking his head and muttering in a frustrated fashion about how he should have stood up for himself.

I have no idea how I ended up there, but I was smack-dab in the middle of a place called “Northern Empire.” It was like New York City, but one major difference; the police force was a pack of highly-trained sharecroppers. That and it was perpetual night. But the lights, the lights! They reminded me of a time I went to my greengrocer and asked for a sack of potatoes, and he accidentally gave me a big bag of mulch. The entertainment that mulch gave me was immeasurable. Nowadays, I’d say it gave me about 11.23 fun-units worth of fun – that’s a lot of fun! I took about half of it and funneled it into Charles’ gas tank – when he started ‘er up, it squealed in delight and booted Charles out of the seat, driving to the nearest overpass and serving ice cubes to the commuters stuck in traffic due to some jerk spilling footballs all over the road (that was me). Needless to say, Charles never saw the car again. At the time, I guffawed like a cucumber in a clothes dryer. The rest of the mulch was doled out in such a way to yield maximum fun-units.

Anyway, there was a payphone on the corner where I was standing. It began to ring. I looked at it as the bell got exercised. After a couple rings I picked it up.

Me: Hello?

Charles: Where the fuck are you?

Me: Northern Empire.

Charles: Northern Empire! How did you get all the way there?!

Me: Fuck you Charles.

I ignored the fact that he knew right where I was standing and slammed down the phone with such force that the coin bank broke open, letting loose a waterfall of quarters that some bums showered in. I decided to make the most of my predicament and see the sights.

As I meandered down the avenue I passed an all-night diner that was lit up like a beacon to lost foreigners. I bypassed it when I saw a man inside at the counter stooped over a bowl of soup. He was trying so hard to bring the soup to his lips, but his arm was trembling too much. The waitress wiped down the rest of the counter and looked at him with pity. Not wanting to be part of this bullshit tableau, I kept walking. I passed a row of smut-movie theaters, and I ran my hand along the walls as I passed them. I wiped the goo that accumulated onto a passerby’s face. He cringed and shouted in disgust, but he couldn’t see me putter away because he had too much goo in his eyes.

I walked this way and that for about an hour, taking cross-streets and really having no direction. I finally stopped walking when I reached a building that was completely dark and completely huge. I could just make out the giant letters above the great iron doors: “Northern Empire Times”. I thought to myself, This is it! This is the place where all the magic happens! I’m standing in front of a magic temple! I simply must go on a tour! Except, I didn’t think this – I was saying it aloud unbeknownst to me. As I was saying it, a car full of guys turned onto the street and slowly pulled up behind me. “Hey you!” said a voice from the car. I dropped a dime on the ground, placed my right heel on it, and spun to face them. Then I picked up the dime and rolled it in my fingers. “Hey fellas!” I shouted at them. The guy in the passenger seat got out and walked up to me.

Guy: You tryin’ to get in here?

Me: Yeah. I want to go on the tour!

Guy: Don’t you realize it’s closed?!

Me: I’ll be the judge of that!

I handed him the dime and he stared at me like I was the asshole that was driving the piece of shit car he was just in. I told him to drop the dime. He hesitated, then he dropped the dime. It rolled a few yards down the sidewalk. I sidestepped to it, put my right heel on it, and spun to face the building. I picked up the dime and sidestepped in front of the doors. Then I walked to them, grabbed the handles, and threw them open.

What happened next was amazing. A surge of light hit all of us, and we covered our eyes and cowered. I rose to my feet and walked in. There was a huge soiree going on in what looked like the most elegant ballroom ever created, and the five of us ran in and enjoyed.

For about 30 seconds. We all got thrown out when I ripped the bannister from the beautiful stairway and started throwing people off the balcony. Some fat lady was appalled, so I slapped her in the face.  Hard.

The guys from the car tried to get back in the doors when we got thrown out, pulling with all their might, but they were unsuccessful. I pushed them out of the way and said, “Guys, you gotta do it like this,” and I grabbed the two handles on those huge doors and threw them open. Again the light surged at us.  We ambled in and the soiree stopped. Everyone looked at us in fear. An older gentleman walked up. “So. You’ve discovered our secret. For years we’ve kept this building closed from outsiders. But now the outside has come in. So what is it that you want?”

“I want a fuckin’ shrimp cocktail,” I said. The man snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared with a gorgeous shrimp cocktail in a crystal cup.  I took it off his tray and sniffed it. “This smells like cherrywood,” I said, and I threw it to the marble floor. The cup shattered, and the shrimp squirmed away, cheering like a bottle of detergent on moving day. The older gentleman tried to form words, but only air came out. Probably because he was having a stroke. He was pretty old. “Boys, you should go,” I said to the guys with me. They slowly backed out of the hall, and I heard their car peel out as they drove away.  I almost lost my temper, but I took a breath and steadied myself. But in the end I lost it anyway. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW INSULTED I AM?! CHERRYWOOD IS MY LEAST FAVORITE WOOD! I CAN HANDLE PINE, I CAN TOLERATE CEDAR, BUT CHERRYWOOD?! THAT’S THE LAST STRAW!!!” With that I sprung from my haunches and slapped that fat lady on the other cheek. Hard.

She was on the balcony.

I almost walked right by the damn thing. Almost didn’t spot it and pick it up. Almost didn’t sniff it and feel the texture of its sides. Almost didn’t rip off its sweater and wear it as my own.

Of course I’m talking about the goat that was tied on the corner to the crosswalk sign. He was pissed. He bleated in anger and tried to eat the tin can I had tied to my belt that morning in an effort to make people thing I was a car carrying a newlywed couple. I got a bunch of rice thrown at me, so it must have been a success. Then again, I did go into China Palace and just start screaming in people’s faces. That poor family just wanted to decompress after a long day of backgammon, and I made them get upset. Very upset.

But not all was lost – on the way out of the restaurant, I noticed a peculiar item in the trash. See, China Palace has this habit of having an open garbage can next to the buffet, which one must walk by in order to get a table (a pretty good marketing idea, if I do say so myself – the only flaw is the guy that comes to empty the trash always has dandruff, so when he bends over the grab the can, flakes fall into the vegetables. Plus the can houses a small family of rats, so they can frequently be seen carrying tiny baskets and sampling the wares of the buffet). It was sitting right on top, looking mystical since the steam coming from one of the leaking warmers was floating over it. It was the cup. Oh, sorry, The Cup. Yes, It’s that important. Hypnotized, I observed Its many facets. It was a white paper Cup, approximately 12 ounces in volume. The white exterior was unsoiled save for the brown coffee stain on the rim – the drinker’s bottom lip could be seen clearly in the stain. I could see some coffee still sitting in The sideways Cup. At this point, I was able to break out of my daze, and I slowly reached for It. A hand shot from across the room and knocked mine away! Bewildered, I looked up and saw this gaunt man staring at me with sunken eyes. He told me to leave It alone. I told him to fuck himself. I reached for it again, and the same thing happened! I gave him a look, told him to stop, and reached again. Again he knocked away my hand. This happened several more times until I finally just picked up a chair and threw it at him. While he was busy slapping it away, I grabbed The Cup and ran as fast as my little legs could carry me. After I ran straight through the plate glass door, I ran and ran and ran until I got next door. There was still some coffee left! I drank it and felt empowered. I felt like I could bobsled. I felt like I could make a television out of a bushel of potatoes. I felt like I could sleep until the sun burned out. But all of these thoughts were thrown from my mind when the nasally dry cleaner into whose shop I had run started complaining about my making a mess. I looked down. There was mud everywhere. I lifted up my shoes, but they were clean. I looked at the clerk in confusion. I started to explain my case, but he was not having it. So I shook off the panic and calmly walked out through the plate-glass door.

I was full of energy. I felt like I could press license plates with my teeth. I felt like I could boil a spiderweb. I felt like I could push a ferris wheel along with a young sycamore bow that I found next to the gully. So I bolted over to the park and did some cartwheels. I squished about 10 bugs. Their families cried in sorrow. I shouted “EEEEEE” like a lemon in a cheap hotel. Many of the people at the park didn’t really care – they were elated at my ebullience.

I was awake for the next twelve days, completely happy. I hugged Charles until he developed rashes. I made amends with the asshole dog. Well, for about 25 minutes. Then I happily chased him down and shaved his tail, laughing all along. He whimpered. I laughed in response. After this, I even sold my collection of water bottles to the grocery store! I got 25 cents!!! Not the highlight of the experience, but definitely up there. I guess the highlight was when I went into the first-grade classroom at the local elementary school and wrote “doody” on the chalkboard, causing the young whippersnappers to laugh and the teacher to turn a bright crimson. Not because she was embarrassed by the word, but because she is allergic to the letter “d”. Plus she has AIDS.