Pothead Poltergeists
JARs
The Armstrongs wandered into a coffee shop and I sat outside on an old wooden bench outside that was all covering in graffiti from the people who daily sat there waiting for the bus. Maybe I’ll let the Armstrongs be and just sit here for awhile. Besides, this is nice.
A couple of the graffiti were just to complain about how the bus was so fucking late that day. And then another bunch of them that were just to say “fuck” or “shit” or something dumb like that which really doesn’t mean anything. I kind of wonder why people do it. It’s not very rebellious to write a word on a piece of wood or the side of a building when you think about it.
Sure “the man” will see it at some point, or an employee of “the man”, but a five year old girl named Phoebe sitting and waiting for the bus on her way to school with her grandmother Helen and their little dog Toto – who was specifically named after the Wizard of Oz because she has seen it a million times – is also going to see that same spelled out word “fuck” in big black letters. And that isn’t doing anybody any good at all when she asks her teacher what it means that day at school.
Well, it doesn’t matter all that much, but Joey and Jake are the same little kids like the little girl that I am talking about. At least I know that Billie Joe and Adie are good parents. And big black letters spelling “fuck” are never going to be completely cleaned up, even if it is just a word, but they do what they can. Just like every other parent.
So instead of the graffiti I look to a homeless woman feeding the pigeons on the bench a few stores over. It’s a really cute picture. Makes up for the graffiti. And wish I could feed the birds right now too. But again, not even the birds can see me. At least I think so.
After a few minutes of watching the silly pigeons, and one that looks like it’s sporting a Mohawk, pecking at the ground near me randomly where it looked as if there was nothing, Adrienne walked out holding a coffee cup with Joey and Jakob behind her. You know, Adie is sort of the mother pigeon here and the boys are baby pigeons. That made me giggle to myself.
Wait, pigeons don’t really do that. Ok, more like a mother duck. That is probably a better bird analogy. But the pigeons were funny though. There are so many fucking pigeons in the bay. Especially just across the bay in San Francisco. It’s insane. But there is a lot more tourism over on that side of the bay. It makes sense.
So the two baby ducks, who really aren’t babies anymore, walked along after Adrienne, each sipping on a cup of probably hot chocolate as she would stop to look in the window. They would stand there paused, looking mildly interested in the window and then moving on. Joey was wearing this really cute hat I noticed. It looked exactly like something his dad would wear.
The three disappeared from sight from my spot on the bench when Adrienne got a little more interested in one window, went across the street and into a thrift shop styled 70’s. Not styled 70’s because they meant to, but because that was how old all the slightly upper vintage clothing and things were inside.
A minute later, Billie walked out of the coffee shop holding a bag with probably a cookie or bread thing I’m guessing. You know. What you usually find in a coffee place. He looked my way and gave a quick smile as if to show me where he was going. You know, it’s a simple human gesture, but he really does care. You don’t do those quiet smiles unless you really do like a person, whether you know them or not. If you care, you’ll at least be polite. So I must not be too goddamn annoying.
Billie Joe turned the other direction, headed toward the thrift shop surely, and stepped between the thick white lines of the crosswalk across the uneven street.
He waved to an SUV to stop, eyes darting quickly back and forth in the usual manner one goes about when crossing a street. Billie hurried out into the middle of the street. I supposed I should not loose them, as the Armstrongs where my ride back still, and I stood up, and the SUV kept moving toward Billie Joe.
Then the strangest feeling occurred to me. That car is going to hit him. That car is going to hit him.
Then there was a second notion of No, that’s stupid. He’s fine. But the chaos of the street around me hit me. Everyone walking every which way, talking, shouting. And no one was looking at Billie. No one was watching him. Panic rose in me faster than I could beat it back down. I straightened up.
A split second decision. I ran.
I dashed out into the street as fast as my feet could go. I saw the look on Billie’s face as he realized what was about to happen, I was right.
And he stood caught like a deer in the headlights for another split second, and then Adrienne’s scream ran through my ears as the car passed straight through me in one wush and spiraled out crashing into another car with an ear-piercing screech. Two more crashes. And I was lying on the ground.
Just like that. I was flat on the ground again where I had started.
Where was Billie? I have to find him. Now! Where is he? But then someone called my name real quietly. I rolled over to find him lying on the ground looking at me. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry. But Adie had already burst into tears. Billie got up on all fours shaking. “Are you ok?” he whimpered.
“Yeah.”
“You fucking saved my life,” he said, sat on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. His words seemed so clichéd and predictable, but I couldn’t of anything else that he should say, or that I should either. Adie ran through me like a wind would, and threw her arms around him crying, not hysterically, but hard enough while trying to check that he was all right; running her hands over his face. Billie murmuring, “I’m fine. I’m fine, baby.”
Thousands and thousands of dollars blown on a couple of tin cars in those few seconds too, but by the looks on people’s faces, you could tell they could care less. Good. That’s the way it should be I suppose.
I sat up slowly, wobbly and off balance from Adrienne running straight through me. There were people everywhere looking, and the man in the SUV with his head in his hands too. The whole scene was so surreal…and strangely familiar.
A couple of the graffiti were just to complain about how the bus was so fucking late that day. And then another bunch of them that were just to say “fuck” or “shit” or something dumb like that which really doesn’t mean anything. I kind of wonder why people do it. It’s not very rebellious to write a word on a piece of wood or the side of a building when you think about it.
Sure “the man” will see it at some point, or an employee of “the man”, but a five year old girl named Phoebe sitting and waiting for the bus on her way to school with her grandmother Helen and their little dog Toto – who was specifically named after the Wizard of Oz because she has seen it a million times – is also going to see that same spelled out word “fuck” in big black letters. And that isn’t doing anybody any good at all when she asks her teacher what it means that day at school.
Well, it doesn’t matter all that much, but Joey and Jake are the same little kids like the little girl that I am talking about. At least I know that Billie Joe and Adie are good parents. And big black letters spelling “fuck” are never going to be completely cleaned up, even if it is just a word, but they do what they can. Just like every other parent.
So instead of the graffiti I look to a homeless woman feeding the pigeons on the bench a few stores over. It’s a really cute picture. Makes up for the graffiti. And wish I could feed the birds right now too. But again, not even the birds can see me. At least I think so.
After a few minutes of watching the silly pigeons, and one that looks like it’s sporting a Mohawk, pecking at the ground near me randomly where it looked as if there was nothing, Adrienne walked out holding a coffee cup with Joey and Jakob behind her. You know, Adie is sort of the mother pigeon here and the boys are baby pigeons. That made me giggle to myself.
Wait, pigeons don’t really do that. Ok, more like a mother duck. That is probably a better bird analogy. But the pigeons were funny though. There are so many fucking pigeons in the bay. Especially just across the bay in San Francisco. It’s insane. But there is a lot more tourism over on that side of the bay. It makes sense.
So the two baby ducks, who really aren’t babies anymore, walked along after Adrienne, each sipping on a cup of probably hot chocolate as she would stop to look in the window. They would stand there paused, looking mildly interested in the window and then moving on. Joey was wearing this really cute hat I noticed. It looked exactly like something his dad would wear.
The three disappeared from sight from my spot on the bench when Adrienne got a little more interested in one window, went across the street and into a thrift shop styled 70’s. Not styled 70’s because they meant to, but because that was how old all the slightly upper vintage clothing and things were inside.
A minute later, Billie walked out of the coffee shop holding a bag with probably a cookie or bread thing I’m guessing. You know. What you usually find in a coffee place. He looked my way and gave a quick smile as if to show me where he was going. You know, it’s a simple human gesture, but he really does care. You don’t do those quiet smiles unless you really do like a person, whether you know them or not. If you care, you’ll at least be polite. So I must not be too goddamn annoying.
Billie Joe turned the other direction, headed toward the thrift shop surely, and stepped between the thick white lines of the crosswalk across the uneven street.
He waved to an SUV to stop, eyes darting quickly back and forth in the usual manner one goes about when crossing a street. Billie hurried out into the middle of the street. I supposed I should not loose them, as the Armstrongs where my ride back still, and I stood up, and the SUV kept moving toward Billie Joe.
Then the strangest feeling occurred to me. That car is going to hit him. That car is going to hit him.
Then there was a second notion of No, that’s stupid. He’s fine. But the chaos of the street around me hit me. Everyone walking every which way, talking, shouting. And no one was looking at Billie. No one was watching him. Panic rose in me faster than I could beat it back down. I straightened up.
A split second decision. I ran.
I dashed out into the street as fast as my feet could go. I saw the look on Billie’s face as he realized what was about to happen, I was right.
And he stood caught like a deer in the headlights for another split second, and then Adrienne’s scream ran through my ears as the car passed straight through me in one wush and spiraled out crashing into another car with an ear-piercing screech. Two more crashes. And I was lying on the ground.
Just like that. I was flat on the ground again where I had started.
Where was Billie? I have to find him. Now! Where is he? But then someone called my name real quietly. I rolled over to find him lying on the ground looking at me. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry. But Adie had already burst into tears. Billie got up on all fours shaking. “Are you ok?” he whimpered.
“Yeah.”
“You fucking saved my life,” he said, sat on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. His words seemed so clichéd and predictable, but I couldn’t of anything else that he should say, or that I should either. Adie ran through me like a wind would, and threw her arms around him crying, not hysterically, but hard enough while trying to check that he was all right; running her hands over his face. Billie murmuring, “I’m fine. I’m fine, baby.”
Thousands and thousands of dollars blown on a couple of tin cars in those few seconds too, but by the looks on people’s faces, you could tell they could care less. Good. That’s the way it should be I suppose.
I sat up slowly, wobbly and off balance from Adrienne running straight through me. There were people everywhere looking, and the man in the SUV with his head in his hands too. The whole scene was so surreal…and strangely familiar.