And out past them out there right then the reversals began—
Oof! ram-air-sutchra?
Yes, quite true, but finally, deep in = X = the polesitter/proffo’ planetary science “researcher”, and their one best pal n’ near-friend, sat down at a longer than usual table in the research building’s faculty dining hall this day, since a party of “specialists” up from Lima, Peru, here to attend an annual symposium of some kind, had got to the dining hall first and hogged virtually every good table. {“Good Table” being defined as any table close enough to if not directly under one of the seven ten inch square heating/air conditioning ducts up in the popcorn-looking ceiling [which spread too far above for them to know for sure that popcorn’s actually what it was |what it was| purr said the cat by the fireplace purr +Carmen Basilio+]}.. After loading their lunch trays at the surprisingly tempting plus free of charge [to all organizationally recognized great big top-heavies] sandwich line, they discovered their usual table to be so full of Peruvians, that they were forced to navigate across the unusually congested eating space to the last empty table against the far wall in the shadows. No one typically took that table because it—yes—odd as it may seem it seemed longer than the others [and generally disproportioned “in” several other aspects as well] in a strangely disquieting, off-putting way. The material of this table’s surface was an unpleasantly dirty-looking material somewhat like plexiglass, in that on first glance it seemed to be saying you can look right on through me and and see things which’d been deemed worthy of being sealed down “under glass” for preservation—these things being precious to someone and/or somebody—thus subliminally urging anyone taking notice of said surface, to move in and look through to see what lay under, only to find the surface just exactly opaque enough to not be seen through totally, but to be seen through “just enough”, that yes yes there is something down under there yes yes but well, okay, it can’t be seen, so—BUT, wait—hold perhaps with a slight squint of the eyes it could be seen, so look back and try again but no, no; yes yes there is indeed something down there but well, okay, it can’t be seen so—BUT wait hold; perhaps, with a slight angling of the head, and, yes there was—yes there was a stray lash hung off an eyelid, brush across and try again, yes yes sure, hey there you go yes yes of course, that was why we couldn’t see so swipe ‘way any hanging hairs, try ‘gain, rub the eye clear of any excess half-dried tears or “allergenically generated overdribbling”, yes yes look back and look down and try again, but, no. No. No no no no—
Say there—what’s so interesting in the tabletop there? Should I come over and have a look too? Must be something amazing in that tabletop.
Uh uh—ooo—the cloudy elusively ethereal masses beneath the tabletop swung down and away as the polesitter/proffo planetary science “researcher’s” face pulled up into the face of the other at the table, which set their way wearing a “bemused quizzical look”. Bang! Band-Aid plastic strips dove breath first inna tabletop patteren’d w’ lysergialistically inspired one great Heilbronn of a time patooey hasta wassa such things can happen hasta wassa such things can happen and such things are happening ten times or more a day each and every o those Romantic Triangle BAH! Romantic Triangle BAH!
What?
Never mind. Better eat your lunch before it “gets cold1”.
What—oh—this? It’s a tuna sandwich. It’s already “cold2”.
How do you know that? Did you feel it yet?
Sure, I—here—
No! Don’t touch it. I need to ask a couple questions before you touch it.
Okay. What?
You said it was “cold3”. Before ever touching it(!). On what did you base that?
Tuna sandwiches are “cold4”. Everybody knows that.
Oh, God. You are so good at stepping in it. Everybody? You mean—everybody?
I said it, didn’t I?
Oh sure, but—many times people just say things without thinking. Did you think, before using the word everybody, if everybody was the exactly right word to use?
The “researcher’s” mouth having set to a tight line, tightening further with every new point raised by their friend, felt the phrase of course forming in their brain-mouth passage, which “typically” activates repeatedly, normally out of earshot of either party involved, through the entirety of nearly every classical one-on-one casual conversation such as this—the phrase of course, which normally would simply plummet impotently down its chute, slither out of range of any guiding thought, and utter out to the opposite party to the conversation yes no but eh la la, ‘t stuck right there on the “lip” of the “chute”, having been grasped back tight by the thought “that being”, hold it, hold—think! Think! Think that this time you’re on the verge of being blown apart, ripped to shreds, stabbed to death, clubbed down yes, clubbed down so, ah do not talk this time, simply stare, shut up, and listen quite deeply, but what tickles me, Panama? ; suh, Go!
The “researcher” gripped up the sandwich, pulled it back facewise, bit out a “big chunk”, and, chewing hard in an exaggerated way, glared hard as possible at their near-friend.
No!
YES
Wow! What an answer!
At that, the “researcher” slowly and mindlessly chewed, with great relief, as their near-friend relaxed, sat back, and finally picked up their fresh-baked “Ham Willy”. [which had been today’s “First Base” special] They bit free a chunk, and together they chewed slowly, the “researcher” relaxing full blast in the few moments now provided by both being too busy chewing—which usually “puts the pause” on any “cross-table conversation”. Slowly savoring the tastes | Gingleto Gonertips! Paging Gingleto Gonertips {esquire}| mixing in their mouth, as their || Gingleto Gonertips! Paging Gingleto Gonertips {esquire}|| eyes momentarily having no real purpose, entered power-down mode, as programmed in their new improved Autopilottm, and found real rest back at the place behind the tin’ lids which seem to be flailing—in the wind of—some something. Still not identified. An uncomfortable loose end the lettuce the tomato ||| Gingleto Gonertips {esquire} ||| hasp Still not identified. Who first thought to try merging the lettuce the tomato tastes good slow down enjoy with the tuna thus inventing the classic tuna club sandwich WOW chew gulp gulp wow, l-l-l-look at you go to town {hey} you’re eating that “fast” {or even “that fast”} like there’s “no tomorrow” {hey hey hey} nobody’s timing us now, you know, so so, slow down; okay then, immediately causing it to slide back the pipe-down to t’ deeply gone dark, and the “researcher” let go, leaned back, casually answering.
Yah I know. But this is so damned good. How’s yours? The “Ham Willy” good today?
Oh, sure. (chewing)
Hey, y’know, said the “researcher”, “Ham Willy” is one of those dishes whose quality swings back and forth crazily depending on what chef’s on that day. Y’know?
hmm hmm bite chew s-w-w-w-w-w-w-allow
Oh. I don’t know. It seems pretty consistent ugh to me. take a bite
Wait. Hey. There’ve been days that you’ve said it was lousy and actually threw it out and got something else. How can you now claim that its quality’s consistent?
Oh—I don’t know, but. What kind of meeting did these south Americans come up to attend? Do you know?
What? Wait. No. Never mind these people, said the “researcher”, tightly—I asked you an interesting question about the “Ham Willy”, and you didn’t answer. Why you skipping it over like this?
I did answer you. I said—I don’t know.
Did you give it any thought at all?
half-glare quiet still
To be perfectly honest, no. Why are we getting stuck on this?
Stuck? On this? I don’t think we’re stuck. I think you’re stuck.
m m mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmm tight hot tight hot stare
Why is this important? Why are you getting so red in the face?
I’m not red in the face. Plus I’m the one asking the questions right now. You like to jump the line, don’t you?
Jump the line? What line?
The line of conversation. Every conversation is a line. Some of the things in the lines are questions. We’re having a conversation. It was fine ‘til you jumped the line. Nobody should ever jump the line.
What? What?
Never mind what-what. No one should ever jump the because jumping the line will get you banned from the park. So. You’re still here. Go back and think about the question I asked you. Give it the thought it deserves, then answer crisply. I will wait. I will wait. It’s noplace near closing time.
Park? Banned? Closing time? What the hell are you talking about?
God! How can you not know? This is a park. All life’s a park. And every park’s got lines like the kind people wait on to “take a ride” [ now you’re probably going to ask “What kind of ride?”, right? Sure—the kind of ride what triggers a “printed-public-notice” onto the nearest regional n’papers that “this weekend” the park will be celebrating the grand opening of the ____pillo_______ biggest, fastest, tallest, and widest, most thrilling ride which we urge you to go and enjoy starting this Saturday! Everybody wins! Nobody loses! Everybody and their Mother gets a very very one-time free “thrill ride” for applying early!
(God) jaw-dropped speechless bbut-t-t-t
I get it. Very funny. I—you’re trying to be funny, right? I mean, that’s just cr—
NO!
The researcher whip-slapped the half-eaten tuna club splat on the plate (thus jumping the other!)
You know what? You’re stupid! DAMN you’d not last a moment working in my planetary sciences research department. DAMN, not a secon’ w’ d glare rolled out twined ‘bout the point of that statement heating the friend hot enough to lean forward and give the reply in a wholly different tone than the prior.
Listen, okay? Stop right there. This is not funny any more. Okay? Just stop.
hollow’d stomato-pit vacuum-phase entered in the ‘tween
Stop what?
left eye lid This flicker silly game you’re lip-tic playing.
gloom-doom bright sun glare attempt one attempt two attempt ha a ha hey oh, hey
Oh, hey, come on, I’m just funnin’. You ought of seen your face.
My face? What?
Never mind all your “what’s”. Your face looked—amazing.
And in time with that syllable “the researcher” flipped up the second half of their tuna sandwich with such a snap of a whip that a tiny bit-fragment of “loose tuna” flew off to the right, cleared the end of the table, skidded out to a stop ‘cross the floor against the wall, in a spot always in shadow, never reached by any broom—where, it remained slowly decomposing/decomposed or whatever up to this very day, down to a tiny mere stain, then to less, but—still remaining. As this is how things go you see, things go on and on you see, that one instant seeming slow as a year slid out past itself and lapping and lapping and lapping on over, until at last, lunch was done, niceties were exchanged { simple reason being only a clock nagging down with it’s time, yes yes time }, SO; “the researcher’s” eye targeted the faux-plexi tabletop again, just down-past the far curve of the tuna plate and, those same elusively vague roiling great big ethereal masses down beneath the tabletop, where one can’t possibly go, nevertheless rose them up, made them say, Wow! Look at that, damn! I plum forgot! I got a meeting in five! Got to get going!
Really? Oh! Okay, yes. Me too.
Come on - all rise’s secky-snensnational great forces beyond struggled them hard to get down and away, this time p-pulling the polesitter/proffo planetary science “researcher’s” face up and out into the face of the near-friend, the two joining up nodding t’gether wearing polite, civilized, professional glances, meaning = we will continue enjoying this endless lunch tomorrow but now it’s time to be “opposite people” ha ha ha ha what the hell are “opposite people” {!?!} they are us ha, they are everyone ha, see them finalize all by walking ‘ut the exit back to the ‘tever, wearing bemused quizzical looks as thought somehow satiated but unsure by of what. What? set who the hell knows what nobody knows? Nobody
My how time flies! How time flies! And I damn well knew the tuna sandwich was was cold. ‘cause that’s how it ought to be. did not have to check at all yes yes yes
Yes; yes; That’s how it ought to be
Bon-Ton forever.
?arhctus-ria-mar !foO
—nageb slasrever eht neht thgir ereht tuo meht tsap tuo dnA
Jim Meirose's short work is widely published, and his novels include "Sunday Dinner with Father Dwyer"(Optional Books), "Le Overgivers au Club de la Résurrection" (Mannequin Haus), "No and Maybe - Maybe and No"(Pski's Porch), "Audio Bookies" (LJMcD Communications), "Et Tu" (C22 press), and "Game 5" (Soros Books). info: www.jimmeirose.com, X id @jwmeirose
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