I start questioning my existence when
a second grader eating cereal from a cracked coffee mug informs me that I have
the handwriting of a serial killer. I tell him that he is a serial killer of
cereal. His mother approaches us and asks if I am ok. Ok is relative. I adjust
my watch. I swim a couple of laps in the community pea soup pool and Murphy and
his mother decide to tag along when I say I’m heading to the cactus zoo. My
friend, Interview, texted me seven jelly beans and explained that there are
four new exhibits. Delirium. On our way, we see a dog sticking its head out of
a car and what’s more cliché than that?
So here we are at the gates of Party
Foul Prison, the misleading name for the cactus zoo. We give the lady who makes
paper look black our names along with our smiles and she gives us back name
tags and chuckles. The cactus like knowing the names of the people watching
them. Murphy pitches his idea for the next Disney movie about a salmon princess
who gets rescued by her knight in shining armor: Salmonella. Disneyland is a
depressed person’s nightmare. It’s also a nightmare for anyone who hates
waiting in lines, like me. But we aren’t at Disneyland so it all boils down to
people confusing intensity with love. We make our way to the first new exhibit
and Murphy’s mother sneezes out of excitement.
The cactus on display is very exotic
looking and its name is PAGE 3 OF 4. It sits on a mahogany table and I was
instantly escorted to memory lane. Where’s the reciprocity? I was there when
PAGE 3 OF 4 was born. I watched from outside the delivery room. Was I
remembering the past or just the last time I remembered the past? It’s great to
see PAGE 3 OF 4 doing so well. Life chooses me and a decision entangles itself.
We move on to the next exhibit even if fishing’s a camping façade.
We stay at this exhibit only for the
amount of time it takes us to realize what it is. Murphy likes it but I don’t
because I thought this was just a world myth like cafeteria food fights. There
are two cacti, 9:53 and 48%, and they both have droopy expressions. Murphy says
he is positive that he knows 48%. I ask him how positive he is and he replies
HIV positive. 9:53 and 48% are being tortured with cameras. They have their
every move under surveillance and this is detrimental to their psychological
well-being. This is cacti abuse in my opinion. Thomas Edison accidentally
invented the light bulb when he was trying to make ice cream for the first
time. There’s a man who flirts with ideas. My ignorance. Cemented and frothy, I
can’t continue so I go home. Murphy and his mother come too.
Every four years, the greatest
sporting event takes place. Competitors from nations all over the lexical gap
huddle into our television screens and compete to see who the best sleeper is. Only
a few athletes remain and they are honing in on 164 hours of uninterrupted
sleep. I watch with envy. I’m an insomniac in a sleeping lexical gap. Murphy
comments something to his mother. Did you hear about the guy that knew exactly
what the future entailed? He killed himself because he didn’t have the joy of
not knowing what was going to happen next. But did he know he was going to kill
himself? Murphy and his mother. Murphy and his mother. I yawn and tell them I’m
falling awake. I hear chimney sweepers hard at work cleaning a chimney in the
middle of the road. The green smoke fumes out. I pass from one state of existence
to the next. I pour myself some cereal into a cracked coffee mug and inform a
man wearing a watch that he has the handwriting of a serial killer.
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