TO THE CORN

Just a very short story that I wrote in 2003 and rediscovered last week. I really liked so I updated it a bit and want some critique.

Eyes open to a dirty room. An odour permeates, socks. Laundry day, hooray. The alarm clock buzzes, clearing out the fuzz and I am up. Cigarette? You bet. Flicking the lighter into life I bring it close to my eye, the flame gently heats my eyeball. I light the cigarette and sit up in bed. The curtains are not closed and the neighbors are watching agape from the apartment across from me. I am naked. I pull the covers over my junk. Holding on to them I walk to the toilet, letting them fall to the ground like a robe as I lift the seat.

The routine.

Kitchen is dirty. Who gives? I make coffee and toast. The eyes are on me, those intense, dark eyes. Butterflies? This early? The toast is delicious. The coffee too. Stumbling to the couch I realize that it is Wednesday. The blues will not give sway.

I have to go to work. 

I sit down on the couch and look for the remote control. It is not working, so a few slaps and I am watching TV. There is a dude in a cornfield, peddling miracles, on the tube. Flicking through the channels I find that this s**t is on every channel.

Work. Yes.

Clouds in my head forbid me to look at myself in the mirror so I shut my eyes and droop a handful of moose on my head. Feeling around till it feels right, eyes tight. Brushing teeth does not really require a mirror so I do it over the toilet.

Laundry day. Hooray. Nothing is clean in the closet because it is all dirty and on the floor. Sniffing every item I choose the ones smelling reasonably fresh. Deodorant, the poor mans laundry detergent. Fumble for the keys and out the door. 

‘Morning.’

‘All good?’ I say.

‘Looser’

‘All right’ I say.

The clouds in my head forbid me to look at myself in the rear view mirror so a lot of cars are blaring at me.

The dark eyes are upon me.

I walk through the staff entrance mouthing the words “kill you all” to the receptionist. She giggles. My computer springs to life with a hum. Humdrum hum. The clouds in my head permit me to stare at myself in the screen of the computer.

‘Morning’

‘Morning’ I say.

She sits down next to me, rummaging through her bag. A teaspoon appears and she is off. My screen says my hair looks crap. 

‘Morning’

‘Morning’ I say.

She sits down and rummages through her bag. A bottle of ground Columbian appears and she is off. They disappear every morning and reappear an hour later, chewing.

I hate this. Everything. The clouds rub against one another and there is thunder. Rumble rumble through the rest of the day. The beast appears and her hair is big, she is growing a little beastling in her belly. I gag at the thought and switch of the computer. The screen says that my hair still looks like crap.

Tapping the steering wheel at a traffic light, I notice a shaggy looking fellow trying to get my attention from across the road. I am compelled to 'shoo' him away but the clouds dissipate and I find that I am curious. He comes over, wearing a grin. 

‘Hey stranger’

‘Sup’ I say.

‘Going my way?’

‘Depends on which way your going’ I say.

‘Your way’

‘My way’ I say.

‘Yes’

‘F**k off, hippie’ I say.

The grin gets bigger.

‘Just f*****g with you, I am headed towards the highway, I believe that is the way that you are going?’

‘Get in, stranger’ I say.

He smells like nothing. I become aware of my two-day-old clothes. He says nothing and the clouds in my head clear. 

‘Your that dude’ I say

‘Yes’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be up in some cornfield, peddling miracles?’ I ask.

‘I am’

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.

‘Hitch hiking’

‘Where to?’ I ask

‘Just hitch hiking’

We sit in silence for a while. A traffic light. Stop street. Another traffic light.

‘You want something, come to me and ask, anytime’

I look at him, perplexed. He gets out, shows me his thumb and winks. As I pull away I flip him my last bird of the day.

The clouds gather. The thunder rumbles and the lightning lights up the sky in brilliant white flashes. God is taking snapshots. The heavens start to vomit rain onto the earth. So much for laundry day. My light bulbs are flickering and the stove is not getting hot. The tub is full and the blades are sharp. Coffee isn’t curing anything so I go to sleep.

‘Evening’

‘Evening’ I say.

‘Do it?’

‘No’ I say.

The dark eyes look on in disgust. And darkness takes me.

There are bright eyes in the dark, like the eyes of animals in a child’s picture of the jungle. These eyes are not wild. These eyes are kind. They wink at me.

‘Hitch hike’

‘Where to’ I ask.

‘You will figure it out’

‘F**k off’ I say.

The bright eyes flicker and the darkness becomes warm. Rumble. I look up. God is looking down at me, magnifying glass in his hands. A smile creeps across his gigantic face. The darkness becomes brighter and hotter. His gigantic eye peers at me through the magnifying glass. 

‘DON’T LOOK UP, LOOK AROUND YOU’

His voice bursts into my ears that have become rabbit ears. I look down and around. Still bright and hot.

Thursday comes suddenly. After the coffee, I turn on the tube and see that dude in a cornfield, still peddling his miracles. He peddles them for free.

As I stare into my coffee I realize my fondest wish. I sure wish that I were not here, not now, not ever. The clouds dissipate a little to let through a little ray of light. It is proof that I need, of these miracles. Then the plan will succeed.

‘What plan’

‘My master plan’ I say, ‘everybody has one.’

‘It will not succeed’

Not even the smoke helps. The little wisps just curl and curl. I have become burdened. No flip-offs this morning. I feel soggy and dull. The sky is bright and shimmery and the trees beam their green at me. I put on my cartoon, puppy dog eyes. 

The beast waits for me, she wants to show me that I am wrong. My cartoon puppy dog eyes do not affect her. I sit and stare at the computer screen. My insides vibrate with sympathy for myself.

‘Morning’

The spoon then the disappearing act.

‘Morning’

The coffee then the disappearing act.

What is it with the spoon and the coffee and the disappearing? 

The day rumbles along relentlessly and it spits me out at five o clock. Cloudless and hopeless the day swims of into the west. I watch the a*s end through my windscreen. I look around. There are news headlines crucified to the lampposts. All of them have the man in the cornfield on them.

The dark eyes bore into my neck. I know what they want. 
The friendly lady across the hall from my apartment greets me. I ask her if she believes in miracles and she says yes. I ask her to pray for me. She says yes.

I close my eyes and fly. Across the city. Across the highways. Across the beautifully constructed bridges. The clouds forbid me to look at myself in the lakes and rivers. I stop over on a mountaintop. God is reading a magazine and drinking lemonade. He looks real casual in his sunglasses. He asks me where I am going.

‘Going to a cornfield’