The Day Gary Fled For His LifeA Story by Alene Parr Gary doesn't have much to do with the world, and the world doesn't have much to do with Gary, until today. Gary was happy.
Gary had a house with a garden. Gary had a pantry full of food. Gary had a cat.
Gary didn’t know that soon he would have nothing. Soon, he would have to flee
for his life. And not too long after that, Gary would be dead. But that all
comes later in the story. Today, Gary was
shopping for a new car. Oh, his old one ran just fine, but he wanted something
new. He had the money for it, so why shouldn’t he? Money got humans
whatever they wanted. Gary wanted a new car. Now,
remember, Gary was happy. He was so happy, in fact, that he didn’t even mind
navigating his way through the hoards of protestors at the entrance to the car
lot. They had signs that said things like, “Driving cars is murder!” and
“Petroleum is a drug!” They shouted things at Gary like, “You’re killing our
Earth!” and “You’re a piece of s**t!” It was a minor inconvenience, but nothing
that bothered Gary too much. He just tipped his hat and went on his way.
Protestors were usually spouting a bunch of nonsense anyway, Gary thought. Gary
looked at cars. Gary said, “I like this red one. What’s it called?” The
salesman (he had sparkling teeth and a big smile) responded, “That’s the
Eternity. It’s a big seller here.” Then he smiled. The salesman wasn’t happy,
but he sure was good at pretending to be. “I’ll
take it!” Gary said, and he smiled too. Gary’s eyes squinted up when he smiled,
because Gary wasn’t pretending. The salesman didn’t care if Gary was pretending
or not. Gary
filled out some paperwork and wrote a cheque. A cheque was a piece of paper one
wrote a dollar amount on and then signed. That paper was then somehow turned
into money. Cheques were a fast way to give someone lots of money. People liked
lots of money. Next,
Gary drove his new red Eternity out of the lot. Protestors threw tomatoes.
Tomatoes were red like Gary’s car. Blood was red like his car, too, but Gary
didn’t like to think about blood so this thought never crossed his mind. Gary
got home and turned on the TV. He didn’t ever watch TV, he just liked the sound
in the background while he went about his business. Usually, his business was
with his coin collection, or with moving the furniture in the den around. Today,
while he went about his business, the TV was saying things like, “Completely
out of oil,” and, “country in crisis.” But Gary didn’t hear a thing. It
was 3:26 am when Gary awoke from his sleep to the sound of a commotion. Gary
lived 12.9 kilometers away from town and his closest neighbor was 4.1
kilometers away. There was rarely a commotion in front of Gary’s house. Gary
sat on the edge of his bed and stuck his feet into his slippers. They were
green. Green was the colour of money. Gary’s slippers had cost more money than
slippers ought to. Some people didn’t have money or slippers. Mittens
was Gary’s cat. She was annoyed that Gary would even think about awakening her
from her slumber. Mittens was grey. She was grey and fat. Cats who lived with
rich, happy humans were often fat, because they got fed food from a shiny dish
and didn’t have any predators to worry about. Mittens would have plenty of
predators once Gary’s house was burnt down and she had to live in the wild. But
we’ll get to that later. Gary
put on his green slippers and tied on his housecoat. In hindsight, Gary would
wish he got fully dressed, because, you see, fleeing for one’s life becomes
difficult if one is dressed in slippers and a robe. (You can imagine how it could also be
comical, to someone who is watching the fleeing from afar.) Of
all the items in his house (which was very large), Gary chose to take with him
only a battery operated flashlight. The batteries had not been replaced in
years, and had very little charge inside. Batteries were important to humans.
Batteries made things turn on. Humans liked when things turned on. Please
recall that before this point in the story, Gary was happy. Now, Gary was
scared. Gary liked order, Gary liked ordinary. Gary liked to keep to himself
and let the rest of the world go on mostly without him. Gary
had forgotten about a cheque had received many years ago. The cheque was signed
by a man named Jonathon H. Coleman. The H stood for Herbert. Herbert was his
grandfather’s name. Jonathon H. Coleman had a smile like the salesman who sold
Gary his red Eternity. He was also the head of a company that mass-produced a
so-called “synthetic gasoline” called Fabroline. People called it Fabroil for
short, or Fab for even shorter. This
company was a scam. A scam is a dishonest scheme. Fabroline
was made from 7 parts real gasoline and 3 parts other chemicals that most
average people couldn’t pronounce. These average people bought Fabroline
because they were told that it was an environmentally friendly alternative to
regular gasoline that contained no natural petroleum. They thought they were
preserving oil supplies and saving the environment. They were incorrect. A
man named Steve had recently released Fabroline’s secret to the press. Steve
was currently being savagely beaten for speaking out. Steve had a wife who was
pregnant. He had been trying to save the world for his unborn daughter. Steve
was too late. Years
ago, Fabroline had needed a place to build their facilities. They discovered a
large piece of land owned by a bachelor. He lived in a small house with no garden,
little food, and no cat. That man was Gary. That Gary was unhappy. He had no
coin collection and very little furniture to move about his house. Gary
had accepted Jonathon H. Coleman’s offer. The offer had many zeroes in it.
Humans generally enjoyed monetary offers with many zeroes. Perhaps
if Gary had paid attention to what his TV had said earlier, he might have made
a connection between the cheque that was signed by Jonathon H. Coleman and the
mob that he was now witnessing outside of his home. However, it does us no good
to dwell upon ifs, so we will continue with the story. Gary
saw the mob out his front window. They were shouting and they were throwing
things. There was no doubt that they were approaching his home. Gary started
towards the back door. First he walked, then he trotted, then he jogged and by
the time he was at the door he was sprinting. He left his home just as the
first mob member began to pour Fabroline all over the roses in his front
garden. Gary had reached
the woods behind his property just as another mob member struck a match and
dropped it onto Gary’s roses. The roses were glistening with Fabroline. Men and women of
all ages were throwing rocks and bottles and cans at Gary’s house. These acts
were quite irritating to Mittens, who had had a long day of catching spiders in
the cellar (or she had been trying to. Remember, Mittens was fat, and so not
very good at catching things.) Mittens
proceeded down the stairs, to glare at whomever was making all the racket. It
did not take long for her to discover the flames that were currently engulfing
her home. Mittens ran out the cat door and into the backyard. I don’t think I
have to tell you that Mittens did not prosper in the wild. Mittens met a
coyote. Coyotes were usually very hungry. Mittens was fat. Soon the coyote
would find his hunger quite satisfied. Fabroline was
very good at helping things burn. By the next afternoon, Gary’s house would be
burnt to the ground. The mob drank whisky and beer and watched with delight as
Gary’s walls and furniture and belongings turned into ashes. (It’s funny how
something that was once a thing can be so easily reduced to dust.) No one in the
mob knew Gary personally. All they knew was that his name was found on a
document in the files of the Fabroline company, and so without any questions
asked, they assumed that he must be partially responsible for the scam. Also, the mob
members liked to see things burn. Gary was too far
away now to hear what the mob members were shouting. If he had been closer he
might have heard things like, “Burn, you f*****g scum” or, “F**k you, old man!”
“F**k” was a word that humans used when they were angry. And when they were
excited. And when they were sad. Some humans used it for no reason at all. Gary used this word
several times during his flight. Once, because he got his robe caught on a
thorn bush. Another time, because his expensive slippers slipped in the mud.
And again, when the batteries in his flashlight died. Now, if I were
to start this story again, I might add a detail into the second or third
paragraph. That detail would be this: Much like his pet feline, Gary was fat.
Or, to put it more kindly, Gary was out of shape. Many well-off humans were out
of shape. Well-off humans could afford to buy fast food and soda pop and rarely
needed to be in shape for things such as physical labour or running for one’s
life. Oftentimes, well-off people who were out of shape would do some kind of
physical activity, and would experience a thing called a heart attack. This is
what happened to Gary now. Having a heart
attack made it very difficult to continue running. Having a heart attack also
made Gary dead. Being dead meant that Gary wasn’t happy anymore. He wasn’t
unhappy either. He wasn’t anything. And although I
said it doesn’t do to dwell on ifs, I will include this: No one was chasing
Gary. If Gary had known this, he might have stopped running. If Gary had
stopped running, he would not have had a heart attack. If Gary hadn’t had a
heart attack he would not have become dead. If Gary had not become dead he
would have lived to see the world become a smoldering, chaotic mess caused by a
company called Fabroline. This company had taken advantage of average humans.
These average humans rebelled and destroted the company and everyone involved
in it. Then they destroyed everything else. It was a good
thing Gary had fled for his life that day. © 2013 Alene ParrReviews
|
Stats
773 Views
12 Reviews  Shelved in 4 Libraries
Added on September 30, 2013Last Updated on September 30, 2013 Tags: humor, world issues, news, satire Author
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
prev
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing