The thunder storm was fast approaching. Yet, there was no apparent sign of the same? But it had been foretold by Doppler radar over this day’s news scheduled to arrive promptly at six that evening. The topic of the afternoon in the meantime was the proper identification of the stages of the opening of some unknown woman’s cervix. A tiny pate with a baseball sized little brain with a skull fragile an eggshell caught short in its breach. The attitude of stainless steel pincers inserted one by one into the tight sides of the peripheral maw. And the results after a few tugs laid crosswise in salad tong style. Six hours of this tedious narrative reviving every gory detail and then reviewing it for the sake of ceaselessly vouchsafing the Utopian future of every hopeful future generation. The starting point of all humanity being through some version of that hoary little stinky hole in question.
And he with this damnable laptop across his thighs like some overly mouthy unwanted companion holding him down as if a bossy female lover demanding to be saddled upon him up high. A failing will to enforce his own desires now a fading proposition that once had some teeth in it. But now long over since those little recalled bygone days lost in the long ago past. The only bearable means of string and tin can communication afforded to the outside world being through this latest gold standard of corporate technology via a pirated laptop and its accompanying I-Phone parrot that was nested upon the shoulder. A process of mining the wealth of his experience addled mind for mere peanuts. Six hours plus of the electronic transverse of ceaseless petty facts and nagging circular arguments while he was required to piano key tap out a Pavlovian mousey tune. He like any other easy lab rat animal prey caught within poverty’s maze and simply looking for another corn kernel. Struggling to find an eventual way out of his perpetual present tense financial dilemma. The underlying elements of this dilemma centering on a withering usefulness to that inflexible standard of useful relative worth in current society’s eyes.
Being flat broke for months on end never an attractive form of sexy cologne for soliciting random females as a band aid to heal the festering scratch of those big unanswerable questions like why he fucked up his own life in the first place! Other storms that came and went and were forgotten. And here he still was with a roof over his head and a few phone numbers left to call when the shadow of his own emptiness floating in the sky overhead threatened to fall in. That fickle nature of the universe to consistently overturn his logic behind every careless act of the moment. Abstinence and hesitation being the only reliable wolf bane to stave off more unexpected losses. Life being a school of hard knocks based only upon the application of relentless punishment for minor offenses. Women, in general, attractive women, being the highest form of danger. His heart like a moth always seeking their heat to fly towards. The hope of burning bright and brighter, and brighter still with no stopping till the resultant flames engulfed all. And he hated it!
His kind of born sucker arriving fifty-nine seconds earlier than all the rest! A favored plaything of the wrong type of woman that looked to transfer her own pain of the past to the first unlucky chump to show up. He always becoming number one at the top of that list. What sort of a strange unholy sense of worship had grown up within him over those ensuing years of uninterrupted solitude interceded only by the knife sharpness of irreconcilable romantic affairs? Those twin steel edges from love’s ‘gladius‘ held within expert hands. Each stab instilling both a desire to enslave the offender and then be enslaved. Those Eve Kendall’s of the world traveling by train North by Northwest versus the other types of solitary Maxine’s who were ready to book for some far off show lounge in Texas to mend their perpetually broken hearts. A solid indifference now detected in the midst of absorbing the throws of kneaded mortal flesh despoiling the perfect illusion of the chase with one’s elusive catch too easily now in hand. Only the one’s ever elusive having any chance to tame that eventual restlessness of his to quickly move out and move on! The worse kind of moth whose wings had been burned too many times before to ever be affected again.
The eternal guise of the femme fatale. One that all modern women seem to aspire to live up to frequenting fully stocked store shelves for bargain prices. The goal to emulate that cardboard illusion, downloadable from online movie screens everywhere. Ridiculously trite, but amazingly effective! The faux facade of always wanting to play house ad perpetuum . And yet, there were always those other shadowy phantoms whose dimly illuminated presence long left off and unresolved somewhere back in memory along the way. The ones that sat somewhere along the wrong fork in the road still waiting. The same ones that the angry beast within him fantasized about tearing limb from limb. Or at least shackling naked indefinitely within an Arab tent. An embodiment of the combination of all the dreadfully amassed personal fantasies of his life. The more endurable parts cobbled into a hybrid female form of lasting perfection. Those symphonic aspirations of this muse of a greater love dispelled by the incessant staccato ghetto downbeat that repeated meaningless phrases only suggesting the possibility of perfect love. Who among them could lay a greater claim to the level of desire required for the this impossible form of fulfillment demanding by his definition of ‘affection’? At the end of the day despite this unanswerable impulse, he remained persistently drawn to all of them.
How savage can this general sense of universal repression be, as favored by society, in stilling hands and turning away lips to cut off connections that might cure the parts lacking that exist within all? What sort of natural grace is there to turn incurable angst created by a society demented by an endless quest for securing emotion through pursuing monetized wealth? Those innumerable females since time immemorial that had taken advantage of his incurable awe of their animal power as with other young solitary fools just like him. Flirting to their own advantage in so many ways to suggest a lasting felicity at the price of a ‘few small favors‘. But only to obtain whatever they felt they absolutely ‘needed‘ from the relationship in the moment. A movie from far back in his youth describing this pattern where he would be a protagonist equally as heedless of the real world and any common sense. Those current shallow buried sentiments of cynical distrust now unearthed by too many rotten apples spoiling the barrel for other young willing femmes of a type that he never seemed able to attract. He stood out as a sucker to be quickly snatched up by those others that stepped up to the front of the line.
And now there he was, caught up in latter years of late bloom and knowing better to abstain from all delights in the garden of all things formerly attractive. Suspicious of both young and old, plain and beautiful, giving and eventually taking the view that anything feminine was naught but a corollary of the worst of his own. Little difference between them beyond the annoying intercession of that swinging part of his own anatomy. The other half of the species not as vigorous in application of brute force strength, yet ever superior in the application of guile. How easily this new edition of mentally reordered priorities favored the interests of the numerically superior biological progenitors of society! The same ones that had defined his kind as replaceable, dispensable, and easily disposable. Any waning sense of animal attraction detectable within him reserved only for their cinematic avatars. The same one that his own older now lost generation found to be rapidly disappearing. The effect of the current crop of same safely beyond unbreakable plate glass of dead emotion. The relative condition of the fragility of the patchwork of his own broken heart now longer in question. The long years of intervening solitude having reconditioned it into a stale state of immunity.
What did it matter? His kind was soon to die out anyhow! Their inability to rise above all this Bridett O’Shaunessy Maltese Falcon ‘tom foolery‘ being society’s own fatal flaw. And though their kind might persist for a few generations more they would slowly disappear as with the issue of the uterus being now under-taxed by any further male intervention. An institutional sense of nagging emptiness part of the toolkit of basic emotions. Recognized as the most significant unavoidable factor of social necessity in furthering the view of modern life. This sort of modified human species not to be remembered too long save for having been too smart for its own good.