Found on the desk of Mr. Worldly
To create drapes for people’s windows, exactly measured so that they gently touch their window sill, that’s what he does, and with an artistic eye too. He always wanted to do just this. So today he stares out his worn twisted, broken, drape-less window for motivation, and thinks just this, almost as fast as I write this, as he feels the stares into his unprotected home from miles away.
To him, the eyes feel like knives through his drape-less window pane, they pierce him, like a purely objectified …thing ---as he sits all day long, visible and vulnerable, and every single day, because he’s tortured or pissed just enough to actually want just this ---to create drapes to rest on people’s window sills: To give the people just enough peace and especially privacy so they continue with smiles. Ladies and gentlemen, please recognize …A missionary man!
But we take a step down a labyrinth, just underneath where he rests his feet, and the mission he’s embarking on unfolds. Down the labyrinth the apparatus he’s constructed is overwhelming in every detail; height, width, strength, also hidden, but most extraordinary, I believe, the novelty, or just the fuking balls needed to achieve such a far-reaching goal. But, too actually see the idea, to see the philosophy come to complete fruition is the stuff novels come from, and little short-stories too. So let’s get started, because there is absolutely no need to hold back. They did it. But to be completely truthful, they didn’t have a choice, or ---did they?
As he punches the clock in the morning hours, does his drape schematics, he waits to be noticed in his home, centrally located in the heart of the city. This is the easy part. His home rests atop an overpass, and every left turn a car takes, seemingly only happens after eye-contact ---driver to Missionary Man. Anybody or everybody that chooses ---or is so frigging bored can look directly in his home …but not after the sun sets. At night is when our man gets to work …
He counts the seconds until complete darkness. Finally, when it’s completely dark he slips on his lab-jacket, takes out his nerd pen-holster, sharpens some pencils, loads his assault rifle, has his pit-bulls attack and kill whatever he points to ---and gets to work! He opens the horizontal door underneath his feet …with a pitcher of water …
At first, of course, it’s one easy step down the labyrinth after the other. But with all his years of Drape Schematics, he’s somehow managed, as they say ---to bottle the sun. Quickly now, the steps become more and more precarious. But he continues downward with the sun shining bright ---where it shouldn’t be? He’s almost blind with the sun coming at him in every direction, even from below. He goes down one floor and then another floor, plus more, to almost complete blindness. He’s in the heart of it and puts on some ‘special glasses’.
But now, with the ‘bottled-sun’ slightly diffracted, he’s face to face with …it! They call ‘it’, if you will allow me such latitude ---A lot of medicine, or ---pot …so now, yes, he thinks, the people can have their privacy, and especially, peace, and he can sit all day noticed but not really seen, as he does what he’s always wanted ---watching fast-ass birds almost unravel as they crash to the earth only to scrape it ---untarnished!
The End
