Tag Archives: spice

New K2 News…Still Legal In Pennsylvania…

     Big, ugly Rep. Jennifer Mann today introduced legislation in Harrisburg, state capitol of Pennsylvania, to ban the use of K2, Spice and other synthetic cannabis products.  BTW, she is much older and heavier now than in the photo she uses on her website.  This photo is what she thinks she looks like and, even on a good day, she is still ugly on the inside.

     This action indicates that these things are still legal and there is no law against using them.  Look at the facts and do not let the press and media tell you what to do.  If they have to try to pass a law against it, like today, it shows that the action taken last year, HB176, was a failure.  Look at the facts.  There is no current law against JWH, K2 or any of the synthetic THC products in Pennsylvania, even though the news has been telling you different since November 23, 2010.  We repeat…LEGAL IN PENNSYLVANIA UNTIL BANNED.

     It is amazing how people believe anything they are told.  If you want the truth, you have to look for it, not wait for it to come conveniently packaged like Mr. Nice Guy Strawberry, whom I miss very much and may have to go look for again…

Advertisements

6 Comments

Filed under news, related subjects, Uncategorized

Final Installment of K2 Khronickles

     Fearless Readers, we have come to the end of an era of sorts, a very short era – the era of legal THC.  We missed our chance to get in on the legal LSD up until 1967 and this gave us a chance to try new drugs and see what we could see with the aid of them.  Now, the shelves are empty and we still have seen no legal notice of a final rule in the Federal Register.  The media won, again.

     There will be more fake marijuana products coming down the line.  They are already available in some places.  It is sort of like when the US made amphetamine use illegal and spawned the multi-million-untaxed-dollars-a-year ‘meth’ market.  Smith Kline and French could have made a mint with their Dexedrine Spansules or the good old Bi-Phetamine 20s (the original ‘black beauties’) and taxes would have been paid on every purchase, at one level or other, and they could even have been regulated.  Now, every bucktoothed hillbilly from here to Sheboygan and beyond is making ‘fake’ speed in bathtubs, sinks and even in moving vehicles.  No taxes get paid on this stuff and it is a thousand times more dangerous than the real thing, which is given to students in grade school for treatment of ADHD.

     Recently, we took some Roxanol brand morphine and noticed that the pills are banana flavored.  This makes them a nice match for the grape flavored dexedrine tablets, called Adderall, which is what the kids in school get.  What a lovely, fruity combination!  What spells ‘gateway’ better than candy-covered, mind-altering drugs? 

     Not anybody can sell these confectionary compounds.  It costs a lot of money to make grape flavored speed; only big corporations who can pay off the officials we elect are allowed to sell stuff like that.  Imagine the fuss if a parent were to suggest the inherent danger in coating powerful chemicals with Pandora’s powder of sweet, sweet, sugary goodness.  Imagine the outrage over all those young lives lost to swallowing sweets.  It would be even worse than our upcoming diabetes epidemic, scheduled tentatively for 2020…but this ain’t pot so that will never happen.  Just one of life’s little ironies.

     Gentle Readers, you may have any opinion you wish as regards these substances. If you are for them or against them, you can find plenty of support online in chatrooms full of people who share your views.  One funny thing about the chatrooms, websites, organizations and other entities that concern themselves with such subjects – there really is no correct answer or proper view.  There is always a question-mark hanging over all participants and nobody logs off with a real, concrete answer…more often, a feeling of anxiety lingers.

     Many find this lack of answers to be quite frustrating.  Most frustrated are the majority of us, who are lied to, manipulated, bought, sold and shoveled shit to, by the media.  Less frustrated are the so-called power brokers who create and develope the standards by which we are ruled. Ruled.  That is the status of the K2 law…pre-rule.  The rule never made it to print in the Federal Register so it is technically still legal, if you do your own homework and use documents provided by the government.  Ask anybody and they will tell you it is illegal, however, because they saw it on the news or on the web.  If it is on one of those places, it has to be true…no?

     You can’t fool all of the people all of the time…how many times have we heard that?  It doesn’t matter, just so long as you fool most of them.  As long as the majority is confused, people foolish enough to waste time spewing the honest truth can say all they want; they have been diffused.  They can tell the truth all they want and the bad guys will still fuck us all over.  People do have memories, though.  Honesty always prevails, eventually, but much suffering has occurred throughout history while waiting for honesty to prevail.  It takes time.

     We have reached a tipping point, in many ways.  The world’s foremost scientists say we have passed the tipping point, in terms of saving the planet from we humans.  Whales are getting sunburns because the ozone is so thin, which is documented fact, while our leaders tell us they still have no concrete evidence that global warming exists.  This is why we should not follow leaders.

     We feel bad for those Dear Readers who have children that will have to face the rapidly deteriorating quality of life in the Western World.  The Eastern World will probably just be getting the final touches of their infrastructures in place when the big shoe finally falls.  You can develop India and Bangla Desh all you want but they will still be underwater, with most of Florida,  if ocean levels rise two more inches.  It is just a matter of so much more melted snow and the polar bears are running out of room already.

     Then there will be mass migrations to the USA and there will be even less to go around.  American Dream – yes, that is what it is.  There is no future here unless things take a drastic and dramatic turn.  As complacent as society has become, all the drama has moved to Congress, a place where level heads lose to cheap dramatics.

     So, with so many things sucking so badly, we close the folder on the K2 Khronikles in order to focus on other, more pertinent issues.  We will report any new laws or findings or anecdotal information we come across, as regards K2, Spice, Mr. NiceGuy, Black Mambo and the others, of course.  The subject has not fallen completely off our radar.

     We shall return and we shall still be Celebrating 50 Years of Substance Abuse but we will take the forum in a slightly different direction, as you, Gentle Friends and Fiendish Foes, will see.

Leave a comment

Filed under essays, news, related subjects, Uncategorized

Ouchhy…I Need A Morphine

     Gentle Readers, many people make disparaging comments about the opiates. They are the drug that pot is the gateway to – even though there are 100 times as many pot users as there are heroin addicts. The point is, there IS NO gateway drug.

     After the accident on Wednesday, in the freezing rain, the usual paperwork and insurance covering ensued. Part of the process was loading the car onto a tow truck, since it could not be driven with the driver’s side window blacked out.

     In process of preparing the car for the tow, Your Humble Narrator backed out the passenger side door of his trusty automobile and, forgetting he was four feet off the ground on the bed of a tow truck, tripped over a six-inch lip that borders the truck bed and took a tumble four feet to the asphalt and ice below. Ever spry at 53 years, I popped right back up before a single, mean neighbor had a chance to laugh at my mishap.

     I must have landed like Spiderman, judging from the bruises on my fingertips and the small amounts of blood coming from beneath my freshly-trimmed fingernails. Obviously, the fall was broken by my quick thinking and my right side took the brunt of my weight crashing to Earth.

     While we enjoy abusing the substances as much as possible, we are using some precious Roxanol brand morphine to help the battered body deal with the pain. It is rather hard to type too much and so this is one of the shortest blogs you may see from CFYSA. We had it stored for mellow evenings, lackadaisically dropping the blue pills and washing them down with the thick, black Guinness. Today, the use is forced-therapeutic, and a waste of a good morphine sleep.

     Thank goodness the blog goes on, but there will be changes in days to come. We will still be CFYSA but we will no longer be writing The K2 Khronickles, as that drug is no longer available and we will explain in full once healing has proceeded a bit further.

     We have an ouchhy and we need our morphine and valium and…well, you know!

                                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     By the by…the newest issue of Beatdom is about to hit the stands! The artwork is brilliant!  The writing is top-notch, as to be expected. The subject of the issue is SEX.

     Watch for more Beatdom news soon!

Leave a comment

Filed under essays, news, Uncategorized

Another Janu-scary Smashup!!!

     Frozen Followers, last evening we on the East Coast of the US were treated with yet another storm.  This is not so unusual in and of itself, aside from the fact that our car lost control on the ice and while making a right turn, slid sideways to the left, introducing itself to the sign at the entrance of the shopping center where an emergency supply of Temptations brand cat treats were waiting.

     Luckily, the car has a good insurance policy, since the sign not only showed us where the market was, but also busted my windshield and sent a glorious shower of broken glass spraying from the hole where the drivers’ side window used to be. Nobody was injured and the car was able to be driven home, at which time we passed a few other vehicles resting inappropriately (creative way to say ‘smashed into’) lamposts and gaurdrails.

     This is our third Saturn, a deep sea blue, L300 Sedan. It is a nice car and got us back home. It is seven years old, almost to the day, from date of purchase and has only about 65,000 miles on it. In 2004, on Janu-scary (a bizarro word, lifted from Superman comics) the 24th, our second Saturn got, in the venacular, totalled. That was a smaller, red, sporty model with a cool decal of the planet Saturn on each side. We had traded in the previous model, which was exactly the same, minus the decal, just to get the planet on the side.

     Calculating in Leap Years, it would seem that this collision happened exactly seven years after the last one. This time the car survived, instead of ending up in a twisted mess of broken plastic connected to an engine. This time we did not break the windshield with forehead, like last time.

     Seven years ago, the accident occurred after nine hours of drinking Irish cidre at a traditional celtic bar, where the music started at 11am on Saturdays. Seven years ago, freezing rain was also the culprit since it was not discernable when walking across the graveled parkinglot. The streets were not slippery but the on-ramp to the highway was frozen and a car with four youths (yutes) lost control about ten yards ahead.

     We hit the brakes (the editorial we, as noted in The Big Lebowski) and watched as the shiny, red Saturn slowly and deliberately plowed into the haplessly spinning, white Toyota. The police came and were quite nice to us, giving us a ride to the police station to call a cab. The car had minimal insurance, even though it was only a year old, so your Humble Narrator had to make car payments on two vehicles for four years, a situation which sucked, to put it bluntly. This time we were armed with the ‘full tort’ premium insurance and everything is covered.

     Much medication was used in the process of calming down after the show last night but after awhile, everything melted together like morphine in a glass of Guinness.

Leave a comment

Filed under essays, news, Uncategorized

In the Poetry Corner With the Metal Machines

     Brilliant Readers,

     We were happily surprised that our last blog from the Beat CookieJar went over so well! We had been trying to think of new subjects, like K2, which would cause a stir but were happy to see that a bit of poetry gets more readers than a rant about our less-than-stellar form of government. The last poem got more views than anything we posted since the one about Obama getting the shotgun blast to the face.

     You may wonder what iambic pentameter is doing in the Beat jar but Allen Ginsberg told me I had a gift for the rhyme and that a lot of my poems would make very good song lyrics. It is on record in the Ginsberg Archives, if you care to see. Ginsberg, himself, had taken an interest in songwriting and rhyming meters at the time, which was during the heady ‘Punk’ days of the mid-1970s.

     All of my poems are open to interpretation since I will never explain them, so take it as you will and this one is titled, Metal Machines.

                                

                                    The metal machines move, mashing,

                                    gleaming, reaming blades all gnashing

                                     – a million daggers slashing,

                                     slicing, tearing, digging, thrashing –

                                     and chains that strike home smashing.

                                      like a billion forearms bashing;

                                      the victim stands alone.

                                      The victim’s skin flies, splashing,

                                       his life before him, passing –

                                       – before his eyes all flashing –

                                       like a flaming film impassioned,

                                       while the machine keeps fiercely crashing

                                       through the skull and finally smashing

                                       dead, bruised skin and splintered bone.

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leave a comment

Filed under essays, fiction, poetry, related subjects, Uncategorized

One From the Poetry Corner

     Gentle Readers,

     As much as we like to complain about the world, give advice, rib the politicians and insult as many people as possible while holding you, Dearest Readers, in the most humble regards, today we put aside the vitriol and dig into the Beat CookieJar to come up with a poem by Michael Hendrick, which is called, simply, Spider.

     We hope you enjoy it.

                                   There is a spider in my bathroom.

                                    I watch him from the toilet.

                                    He has webbed the radiator

                                    but I wouldn’t want to spoil it.

                                    So I roll a ball of tissue,

                                    barely bigger than a fly,

                                    then flick it into the gossamers

                                     just to fool the little guy.

                                     He rushes to the decoy,

                                     hanging from his silky thread

                                     but then he hears me laughing

                                     and shakes his fuzzy head.

                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leave a comment

Filed under poetry, related subjects

More Rights Down the Drain. Police Can Search Without A Warrant. NORML Stands By.

     Dearest Readers,

     Today we have more news on why AmeriKa is becoming less and less of the great country it once was.

     The Supreme Court has such a bone on for reefer that they are changing basic seacrh and siezure laws so that a cop can claim they smelled the odour of pot coming from your residence and kick your door down. If you live in an apartment and the person in the apartment next to you is omitting the smell of burning reefers, then they can kick your door in because ‘it smelled like it was coming from there.’  This is getting bad and they wonder why politicians are getting shot in the head. Laws like this will cause a lot more shootings and I will KILL anybody who forces their way into my home for any reason. I have the firepower and I am getting old, with not too much to lose…this from the ‘hempnews’…

Supreme Court Looks At Smell-Based Home Searches For Pot

by admin

January 19, 2011 – Police smelling marijuana coming from behind an apartment door can enter the home without a warrant if they believe the evidence is being destroyed, some U.S. Supreme Court Justices said on Wednesday.

More than 60 years ago, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that police couldn’t enter a residence without a warrant just because they smelled burning opium, reports Adam Liptak at The New York Times.

On Wednesday, during the argument of a case about what police were entitled to do upon smelling marijuana outside the door of a Kentucky apartment, two justices were concerned that the Court may be ready to eviscerate the 1948 ruling which stemmed from a Seattle case.

​ “Aren’t we just simply saying they can just walk in whenever they smell marijuana, whenever they think there’s drugs on the other side?” asked Justice Sonia Sotomayor, considering what a decision against the defendant would tell the police. “Why do even bother giving them a search warrant?”

The old ruling, Johnson v. United States, involved the search of a Seattle hotel room. The smell of drugs could provide probably cause for a warrant, Justice Robert H. Jackson wrote for the majority, but it did not entitle police to enter without one.

“No suspect was fleeing or likely to take flight,” Justice Jackson wrote. “The search was of permanent premises, not of a movable vehicle. No evidence or contraband was threatened with removal or destruction.”


Since the War On Drugs was re-started by President Ronald Reagan in the 1980s, the Supreme Court has steadily given police more leeway to search cars, travelers and baggage, reports David Savage at the Los Angeles Times. But the justices have been reluctant to allow searches of homes without a warrant.

In the new case, Kentucky v. King, police in Kentucky were looking for a suspect who had sold cocaine to an informant. They smelled burning marijuana coming from another apartment — where Hollis King and his friends were smoking marijuana — knocked loudly, and announced themselves.

When they heard sounds coming from inside that made them think evidence was being destroyed, they kicked the door in and found marijuana, cocaine, King, two friends, and some cash, but not the original suspect, who was in another apartment.

King was sentenced to 11 years(!) in prison, but the Kentucky Supreme Court overturned his conviction and threw out the evidence, ruling that any risk of drugs’ being destroyed was the result of the decision by police to knock and announce themselves rather than to obtain a warrant. The Kentucky court ruled that officers had entered the apartment illegally and that the evidence they found should not have been considered in court, reports Robert Barnes at The Washington Post.

The key issue is whether an “exigent” or emergency circumstance allows the police to enter a residence without a warrant. Sadly but no longer shockingly, Obama Administration lawyers joined the case on the side of Kentucky’s prosecutors.

The police who broke into the apartment “reasonably believed that there was destruction of evidence occurring inside,” said Ann O’Connell, an assistant to Obama’s Solicitor General.

Prosecutors for Kentucky and the federal government told the justices Wednesday that the Kentucky court had erred. They claimed there had been no violation of the Fourth Amendment, which bars unreasonable searches, because they claimed police had “acted lawfully.”


​But Justice Elena Kagan had doubts about that approach.

If the court looks only at the lawfulness of police behavior, Justice Kagan said, that “is going to enable the police to penetrate the home, to search the home, without a warrant, without going to see a magistrate, in a very wide variety of cases.”

All the police would need to say, Justice Kagan said, is that they smelled marijuana and then heard a noise. “Or,” she added, “we think there was some criminal activity going on for whatever reason and we heard noise.”

“How do you prevent your test from essentially eviscerating the warrant requirement in the context of the one place that the Fourth Amendment was most concerned about?” Kagan asked Kentucky Assistant Attorney General Joshua D. Farley, who claimed the police had done nothing that violated the Fourth Amendment.

Justice Sotomayor was even more direct, asking “Aren’t we just doing away with ‘Johnson’?”

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg asked why the police could not simply roam the hallways of apartment buildings, sniffing for pot, knocking whenever they smelled marijuana, then breaking in if they “hear something suspicious.”

“That would be perfectly fine,” Kentucky Assistant Atttorney General Farley replied.

Justice Antonin Scalia revealed some unflattering things about his worldview — which, God help us, seems to be that of a judgmental 10-year-old — as he said he was not troubled by the standard the government lawyers proposed. He said that police can’t go wrong by knocking loudly on the door.

“There are a lot of constraints on law enforcement,” Justice Scalia said, “and the one thing that it has going for it is that criminals are stupid.”

Scalia said that “criminals” often cooperate with police when not legally required to do so. They might open the door and let officers inside — and if not, the police can break in, he said.

“Everything done was perfectly lawful,” Scalia said. “It’s unfair to the criminal? Is that the problem? I really don’t understand the problem.”

1 Comment

Filed under essays, news, pleas, Uncategorized

Meet The New Boss…He Has An Eye On You

     All Dear Friends and Foes,

     Your Humble Narrator has noticed that Tom Corbett has been growing a third eye, which he plans to use in spying on people who say bad things about him…oops!

     As we related in this blog a few months ago, our new Governor was sued by the American Civil Liberties Union recently – and lost, for trying to bully Twitter into giving up account information on two people who blogged about him.  Outgoing Governor Ed Rendell publicly stated that he found the behaviour of then-Attorney General Corbett to be reprehensible. We most heartily concur.

     As someone who regularly posts negative things about the man, and as someone who is probably on his ‘list’ of detractors, my question is “What did he plan to do with those names and addresses?”...obviously, if you are willing to go through the trouble of breaking the law to summon Twitter execs before a Grand Jury, you must do something with the information. How is the retribution then dealt out by the agents of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania?

     While we are at it, what about the Pennsylvania Homeland Security Agency (ever hear of them before?) and the information they collect, mostly from blogs and emails, about people who make anti-government statements…like me???? What about me, Your Beloved Voice From the Page.

     So, he lost and did not get the names and addresses. Now he is your Governor. He Governs you. It is your fault, unless you voted against him. Do not mention the $4,ooo a day which he got in campaign funding from the big gas (not ‘big ass’ – that is Gov. Cartman in NJ, Corbett’s admitted idol) and oil companies, or the officers in those oil companies, to whom he gave seats on his Cabinet!!! No, no, no!!!! That could get a blogger in a lot of trouble.

     That third eye is not looking too friendly to me.

Leave a comment

Filed under essays, news, Uncategorized

Gentle Readers…Potential Foul Language (but legal) Ahead. Proceed With Open Mind!

     ‘Woman Is The Nigger of the World’…John Lennon.

     ‘Baby, Baby, Baby Is A Rock N Roll Nigger’…Patti Smith

     ‘Cunt Is the Nigger of the Nouns’…Michael Hendrick

     Now that I have your attention…

     Why do we need to use shock language? Why was your Humble Narrator missing in action from blogland due to an increased intake of opiates? Why is this country (USA) awash in the ‘New Racism’?

     If we avoid ‘dirty’ words, they become dirty by association.  Our Saint and Mentor Lenny Bruce proved that 50 years ago, right about when the staff at CSAFY was waking up to the world.

     As a caucasian, I have been accused of racism simply for not agreeing with the so-called president. I visited an African American friend of mine the next day and told her about it and she said she is fed up with this juvenile fecundity, as well. It is the second or third time I was accused of racism this month. The people who accused me did not know that I lost the highest-paying job I ever had because I was working for redneck/upperclass fools at the Virginia Stage Company in Norfolk and refused to fire a woman I had hired to work in my department.  The owners of the VSC felt that a black woman was not capable of representing them on the telephone. I told them, ‘fuck you.’

     The day they told me to get rid of her, I took her aside and gave her a cash bonus, even though she had no idea of the racist skullduggery which was afoot.  Months later, I was summoned to the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel In Manhattan and questioned about my pro-equality stance and summarily dismissed from my position for not being an oppressor of a 100 pound, five foot tall black woman who was a school teacher all her life and was as sweet a woman as one could ever meet.

    That was the 80s and nigger was a bad word. Now it is only a bad word if white people use it. Reverse racism is gripping tooth and nail to the coat-tails of the extreme factions we are seeing in this, what used to be our country, and the lesson we learned from the civil rights demonstrations of the 1960s are long forgotten. White man bad…black man victim…

    What does this have to do with cunts? Recent rulings in the state of Pennsylvania made such words legal to say in public, or even cajole the police with when they are trying to reason with you. If you recall, Freedom of Speech was once a Universal Right to all americans and now it is a joke. This is one very small victory in the fight to say what we wish to.

    So the narcotics are wearing off. I had to take them because they made the K2 illegal and I can have all the opiates I want with no fear of reprisal. So, if you must blame a narcotic stupor for the lack of scholarly advice which normally oozes from this page, blame your Uncle Sam…or is it Uncle Osama?

     Do I hate Obama because he is black, sorta? No! Do I hate NJ Gov. Chris “Buffet”Cartman Christie, who looks like he will be in the race to be out next leader (hahahahahahahaha)? Yes…I hate him because he is a fat, miserable fuck who is playing with the environment, not from his massive body mass and it’s affect on tides and orbit of the planet, but because he is a fucking idiot – like Obama! He is white, caucasian, whatever – he has so much skin that he could probably qualify for several different ethnicities, depending on where you take the skin from on his bloated carcass.  Do I hate General Tom Corbett, the other fat fuck who sold out his state for a million and a half dollars per cabinet position and will become ten times richer thanks to screwing the people who voted for him? Yes, I hate him and he is the same skin tone as I am.

     So, if you hear inklings of racism at the office or market, do your best to shut the mouth of the ignorant fuckwit who said such irresponsible booshwah! Most of the racism is coming from the young because they are oppressed and have no chance in the rich man’s world of the USA. They will die under a bridge due to lack of ambition and want to blame me for being a capitalist.

    Somebody wake up…Dear Readers, I know you are awake…but please try to waken a few others before the war of inequality swallows the USA before a Chinese bomb has a chance to wipe us out.

   Wake somebody up and you will awaken a new sense of purpose in yourself…if you want one.

     By the by, it was by pure coincidence and accident that I posted this on Martin Luther King Day. The lessons of Doctor King are being subordinated by feuds between white trashers and blacks with attitudes. It is the first battle in the Era of Class Warfare that our government is pulling this country into through flagrant ignorance of the Constitutional Rights of ALL citizens, no matter what colour, race or creed.

2 Comments

Filed under essays, news, Uncategorized

Flirty Perv Faces the Blade

Why do knives and perversity suit each other so well? It seems that they are often found together.

Both can be found at the grocery store, as well.

Waiting at the deli counter and chatting about the butcher’s kitties, my eyes wandered over the cooler shelves to find my favorite brand of pickles when the view was blocked. It was a person of indeterminable sex. Dirty looking, with a snotty upper lip and badly splotched glasses, the form wore a cap over amorphous mid-length hair and wore an dirty army fatigue jacket. Male or female, whatever, there was something wrong with the picture, so I looked away.

After a little more about the kitties and with cheese in hand, it was time to shop.

In the first aisle, I saw the creepy person from the pickle shelf. For sake of the tale, we shall presume it is a male. Walking past him, I grabbed a few cans of tuna from the shelf, then went around the corner to the next aisle. There he was again!

A foot and a half taller, in good shape and able to kick ass, the person did not worry me so much as annoy the hell out of me. There were options…like confront the bastard but that seemed too easy. Since all there was to assume is that this was some kind of pervert or an otherwise plain crazy person, why not squeeze a few laughs out of it?

Letting him trail me, it sort of startled me when he stood next to me, maybe two feet away, while I surveyed the crackers. Something had to be done soon. Something was going to happen.

While working down the aisles, one end to the other, he was fully ignored. No affirmation was given, not even eye contact since my shades, Rayban Wayfarers, had prescription strength lenses and only came off at home.

There was no question that he could be effortlessly hurt. It struck me that he was pretty brave for a demented fuck and wonder if he had worked up to it by practicing on women or kids, most likely kids.

We came to some coolers holding milk and juice. A child sat alone in a shopping cart, unattended…a boy, maybe two years old or a little younger. “Why me?”, he wailed, “Why me?” and I had to just laugh at the cosmic possibilities of his question and wondered what pivotal moment in his infant life had led him to such an existential query. He looked so serious and plaintive.

Why had he asked and why was some pervert following me through a supermarket during broad daylight? These and many other questions burned in my mind as the aisle containing housewares lay before me.

Strolling down the shelves with my shadow, I stopped fast to see if he would walk into me but he stopped just short of bumping me. The answer lay in front of me in the assortment of kitchen gadgets hanging from racks at the end of the row. There were sponges, pasta forks, soap dishes, bottle openers, plugs for sink drains, and knives, two rows of knives in assorted sized and types of blades.

As the shiny blades gleamed before me, the gurgling breath of the fetid figure following was audible. He was, again, two feet to my right. Psychologists contend that most people tend to react badly when the eighteen inch, personal barrier of space is violated. They may be right.

The largest knife, with the biggest and longest blade was a wooden-handled butcher’s job with a fourteen inch blade. The knives were lashed to colorful lengths of laminated cardboard, which bore information like what type of knife, the brand name and place of manufacture, as well as holding the bar code for scanning the price. Two bands of plastic, one halfway up the handle and the other halfway down from the tip of the blade, held the cardboard fast to the knive and gave it something to hang from.

My right hand found the handle and pulled the utensil down from the shelf.

My left hand grasped the edge of the cardboard near the tip of the blade and bent it back to where the plastic lash held it, exposing about six inches of shining steel, bright under the fluorescent lights of the store.

Now was the time.

Turning quickly to the figure, I held up the point of the knife and looked over the top of my shades, so that the blade was between my eyes and the eyes behind the filthy glasses. Smiling as wide as I could manage, showing every tooth possible and laughing, I stepped toward him, chortling maniacally.

As he ran down the aisle, I pursed my lips and went ‘tsk, tsk’ to myself and returned the tool to it’s place on the rack. “Sore loser,” the voice in my head said.

I thought, “I wonder if the pineapple cottage cheese is on sale?”

 

Leave a comment

Filed under essays, fiction, Uncategorized