Waking up on a Tuesday morn i was worn out like a faded pair
of under pants. Limp and thread bare, I wasn’t getting up. So I banked the late
afternoon to get my mileage scribbled into my log book.
5pm and I was out the door, driving into the western setting
sun to Melrose Arch where id launch myself on MAPG’s Tuesday 11kay run. I
wouldn’t need to blow dry my locks for this was going to be a blitz krieg .
‘I don’t think you should go out so late, boy’ my mom managed to say. ‘But Maaa’, i moaned, ‘I run in the dark of morning anyways, it’s all cool’.
The ran began, and it came full circle. I made it to the junction where the fork to my right lead to the Melrose dump , a creaky road, car busy, pollution heavy and unpleasant for clearing my mind, the fork to my left lay an uphill slog my jellied legs weren’t keen to negotiate, and what lay ahead was a blanketed park sitting quiet beneath a blank night sky.
I chose the park run, not the fun run. I hot footed through Ethel Gray Park, at night. Alone. Moonlight, there was none. Silence. In abundance, but for a punctured sound that was extra ordinary. That sound?. In through this ear, out through that. Head down. I ran on. A little skittish though I was, but I was neither here nor there, couldn’t turn back so I motioned forward scaling the hill before me. As I crested I got scared for now I really was betwixt and between. Aaand so I plummeted down the hill rolling like a bouncing pin ball. There was no Sound of Music, just eery quiet, placid stillness. Then, suddenly, suddenly out of the unshaven grass, un-kempt bushes burst through some silhouetted cyborg yelping, ‘please, please help me.’
‘Sweet Jay-sus’, I blurted out loud, accelerating like an ADD kid jet fuelled on red juice, nearly soiling myself. My rapid speed frightening the begesus outa me, I cocked my neck, oliver twisting right around to see behind me. With my eyes refocusing rapidly, signalling to my marshmellowy brain, it appeared to me that it was now safe to stop. I threw anchors screeching to a halt and duly back tracked. ‘please help me find my shoe’, he requested. Feeling it safe, together we trodded and stepped and stomped in the long leathery grass seeking out his one and his two. ‘I asked what the Fujimori happened?’ ‘they mugged me, had me in a neck hold, took my phone and my watch.’’ ‘yasis, boet’. “are you a yid?’ i asked. ‘Yes’ he said. ‘Well boet you best daven your brains out in the morning.
With that he hollered, ‘I found it’. Moving back onto the path, we two stood. I asked of his name. ‘Mark’ he said. ‘I’m Dan’, I responded. And with that our exchange ended. He reverted back to his parked car in the parking lot of the park, and well I had to break out of the caked salt that had crusted on my brow and headed back to Melrose Arch.
‘I don’t think you should go out so late, boy’ my mom managed to say. ‘But Maaa’, i moaned, ‘I run in the dark of morning anyways, it’s all cool’.
The ran began, and it came full circle. I made it to the junction where the fork to my right lead to the Melrose dump , a creaky road, car busy, pollution heavy and unpleasant for clearing my mind, the fork to my left lay an uphill slog my jellied legs weren’t keen to negotiate, and what lay ahead was a blanketed park sitting quiet beneath a blank night sky.
I chose the park run, not the fun run. I hot footed through Ethel Gray Park, at night. Alone. Moonlight, there was none. Silence. In abundance, but for a punctured sound that was extra ordinary. That sound?. In through this ear, out through that. Head down. I ran on. A little skittish though I was, but I was neither here nor there, couldn’t turn back so I motioned forward scaling the hill before me. As I crested I got scared for now I really was betwixt and between. Aaand so I plummeted down the hill rolling like a bouncing pin ball. There was no Sound of Music, just eery quiet, placid stillness. Then, suddenly, suddenly out of the unshaven grass, un-kempt bushes burst through some silhouetted cyborg yelping, ‘please, please help me.’
‘Sweet Jay-sus’, I blurted out loud, accelerating like an ADD kid jet fuelled on red juice, nearly soiling myself. My rapid speed frightening the begesus outa me, I cocked my neck, oliver twisting right around to see behind me. With my eyes refocusing rapidly, signalling to my marshmellowy brain, it appeared to me that it was now safe to stop. I threw anchors screeching to a halt and duly back tracked. ‘please help me find my shoe’, he requested. Feeling it safe, together we trodded and stepped and stomped in the long leathery grass seeking out his one and his two. ‘I asked what the Fujimori happened?’ ‘they mugged me, had me in a neck hold, took my phone and my watch.’’ ‘yasis, boet’. “are you a yid?’ i asked. ‘Yes’ he said. ‘Well boet you best daven your brains out in the morning.
With that he hollered, ‘I found it’. Moving back onto the path, we two stood. I asked of his name. ‘Mark’ he said. ‘I’m Dan’, I responded. And with that our exchange ended. He reverted back to his parked car in the parking lot of the park, and well I had to break out of the caked salt that had crusted on my brow and headed back to Melrose Arch.
What quite happened that very eve, we will never know.
Nothing is ever quite as it seems.
from the roar of the Bear Hunter, raaah, grrrr, raaaaah
from the roar of the Bear Hunter, raaah, grrrr, raaaaah
1 comment:
Roaaaar. Raaaaa. Woooo. Hoohaaas
I think Ethal owes you an apology. You may be scared for life
Post a Comment