Submarine Dreams
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My father, Calimari, is about to spray the area with pesticides from an old fashioned hand-held sprayer. I'm in his line of fire (a pest, perhaps?) and yell at him to hold his fire!
Now in the hallway of an odd, high windowed mall where I work, walking with the wealthy blonde girl (her father owns the mall). She asks me if I took (implying "stole") her submarine. I say "NO! I don't have it". She's not that upset.
Now I'm an usher in a theatre that she owns, standing in the balcony. The movie is a loud slapstick thing and the kids watching it (mostly early teens) are hooting and hollering. I'm about to step forward with my official usher's flashlight and tell them to calm down and shut up. Just then I realize that it's all part of the movie.
Now a small boy, maybe 4 years old, is tugging on my trousers and telling me to look over at the wall where his work of art is displayed. It's his entry in a childs' art contest. I look down at him, and over at it. It makes me smile, this movie.
The blonde girl is still looking for her submarine. She laughs.
I don't know how my father got along with his pesticide.
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(c) r.a. evers, 1998