I wrote the first part of this a few years ago, but tonight I managed to write an ending that I like much better.
With a nod of his head, Manuel began playing the third of his seven funeral dirges. Even so, the audience sat motionless. The group of now-familiar raisins fought the urge to rush toward Manuel and plead their cases to him. There were various non-dairy parlor ants listening to ten times their own weight in music, impressing everyone who could notice them. Dreams gazed through a nearby window at anything that would move, enjoying the blend of pleasant weather and self-taught instrumentation. Science sat to the left of Dreams, quantifying each tone without regard for the artistic qualities they lacked.
Science had never been successful at hiding the fact that he had a crush on Dreams, and wanted to be with her night and day. Dreams never suspected as much, and was never rude enough to presume that everyone in the room was attracted to her. As Manuel began the second verse with a bellow, Science leaned in to whisper in the ear of Dreams.
"Are you at a 45-degree angle to the surface of this kiosk?" Science had never been very good at making small talk.
"Your statement and this music make me think that chocolate might someday cover the surface of Connecticut." Dreams made precious little sense, and yet Science was completely fascinated. He began trying to imagine a villa in Connecticut where chocolate might someday invade, but Science could only manage a measurement of the velocity of a train going to Connecticut.
Science shifted his position in the uneasy chair where he was perched. Manuel gurgled with glee as he strummed away on the harp of his forefathers. Time stood still. Science rebuked Time, then glanced sternly in the direction of Dreams. "I do not understand why you always encourage Time to defy me. If you keep filling his head with your mumbo-jumbo, we will end up with another Gravity fiasco all over again. Why do you always tease Time and Gravity so?"
"Time and Gravity love to visit with me. They say that all you give them are rules, but I let them participate in online fantasy baseball leagues and ride ponies. Here, climb in this envelope and I will mail you to a land where pudding pops grow in every front yard."
"That is impossible," Science retorted.
"Elvis and Santa Claus say hi," Dreams replied.
Science left the kiosk in the middle of Manuel's sixth dirge. Dreams gave Manuel 33 candy bars and a minivan before disappearing. Manuel opened his eyes to find a banjo on his knee.
Science ambled aimlessly down the street with his head hung low. It was very unlike him to pay so little attention to direction or location. He could feel a gentle breeze ruffling his hair, but he made no attempt to measure it. He could hear the faint song of a whippoorwill in the distance, and the song sounded lonely but unafraid. He turned his gaze heavenward and tried to make out the shapes being drawn between the dots of the stars. His eyes arced and swept across the blue-black canvas of the night, and then a playful, gentle voice cooed his name from the lowest branch of a nearby tree. Science turned and shuffled slowly toward the tree.
"Why are you sitting in a tree at this time of night, and barefoot to boot?" His eyes smiled upward as he questioned Dreams.
She clapped her hands to the rhythm of her response, "I was dancing in the woods, and I thought I saw a poem racing up the trunk of this tree."
Science chuckled as he loosened the strings of his shoes.
Created: Sep 04, 2009Document Media