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ninanevermoreWith nothing better to do last night and a whole lot of questions that I wanted answered, I paid The Carney a visit. I've still being seeing him on my drives into work, and we've waived at each other, but I hadn't talked to him since the last time I wrote about it here. I just haven't had anything that I wanted to discuss with him urgently. I did consider asking him what he though about meeting Anna Nicole Smith, but I figured that since he met the real Marlyn Monroe when he let her off the Ferris Wheel, a cheap copy of her probably didn't impress him all that much.
When I approached him, he was leaning against his gate eating a corndog. Like his choices in beverages and his chain smoking, the item he consumed was something terribly unhealthy, but it's not like he has anything to worry about. He is death. He could eat a dozen corndogs and have a funnel cake for desert, with no detrimental effects whatsoever. His cigarette sat on the fencepost, a slow spiral of smoke rising from it's glowing tip and disappearing into the darkness around us.
"You killed my job,you son of a bitch," I told him. I didn't shout at him. I admit it was more whiny than angry.
The Carney raised his eyebrows and pointed at me with his corndog. Like me, he raises both eyebrows, not just one the way the Cajun Queen does.
"I had nothing to do with that," he said amicably, "I killed you mom, and your grandparents, your cousin, your uncles, and even a few of the people you went to school with. Your job died because of poor management and market conditions, among other things. If you wanna complain about that to someone, talk to Fate." He punctuated this speech by taking another bite of his corndog.
"I knew that," I admitted, "I just wanted to bitch to someone, and I don't really know anything about fate. I'm not even sure I believe in fate."
"She's real enough," he said.
Fate is a woman? That figures, I thought.
"You'd probably like her," he said.
"What makes you say that? She's been a bitch to me."
"She's been pretty kind to you, from what I've seen."
He had a point: she has been. Unemployement had put me in a sour mood. I watched the Ferris Wheel spin and wondered about what was in store for me next. I don't like uncertainty. I guess no one does, but I have a particularly strong aversion to it. I watched The Carney munch on his corndog and I found myself thinking I kind of wanted a bite of it, since I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. But I don't like eating after people, so I decided against it. Besides, he's Death, and if eating after him is not some kind of bad luck, then nothing is.
"So, about Fate. What's she like?"
"Well, when she's happy, she's beautiful," he said, "When she's in a good mood, she's as sweet and generous as anyone you've ever met. A real peach. But when she's in a bad mood, she's hell on wheels and ugly as all get out. That's when my workload picks up."
"No kidding?"
"Most of the time, though, she's just kind of fickle. She does things just because, to see what'll happen and how people will take it. She likes to play."
"What makes you think that I would like her, then?"
"Because she reminds me of you most of the time."
I looked at him long and hard as he finished off his corndog and stuck the stick in the pocket of his jeans. Death is a lot tidier than most people would think. The grounds around the Ferris Wheel gate are pristine. I don't know where all of his cigarette butts end up. I guess everything that he sticks in his pocket disappears, or maybe gets transported over to another part of the universe.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not fickle. And I don't play with people. Just because some of them don't get my sense of humor is not in any way my fault."
"I didn't mean it as an insult. She is what she is. You are what you are. The two of your should go out for a night on the town. I think you'd hit it off. I could introduce you to her, if you'd like."
I took a deep breath and exhaled while I thought about his offer.
"I'd rather you didn't. I've got to get out and look for a new job. I think right now it's in my best interest to network with people who exist somewhere outside of my head. If it gets to the point where all my friends are just immortal elements of human existence, people are just going to think I'm weird."
The Carney laughed and took a drag on his cigarette.
"I won't be driving by you so much," I said.
"I'll still be around."
"I know that. I just won't be out this way very often, until something comes up."
"You know where to find me," he said.
And I do. He's always there, always waiting, operating the ride of life and letting it's passengers off when their times come. The car I'm riding in just swayed a little, but it's no big deal and not exactly a life or death matter. It's just a shift in the speed of my trip around the Ferris Wheel. I was ready for a change anyway. It feels like this will be for the best, and I'm curios what the view will be as the Ferris Wheel takes me higher.
~ \ ~ \ ~ \ ~ \ ~ \ ~ \ ~ # ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~ / ~
When I approached him, he was leaning against his gate eating a corndog. Like his choices in beverages and his chain smoking, the item he consumed was something terribly unhealthy, but it's not like he has anything to worry about. He is death. He could eat a dozen corndogs and have a funnel cake for desert, with no detrimental effects whatsoever. His cigarette sat on the fencepost, a slow spiral of smoke rising from it's glowing tip and disappearing into the darkness around us.
"You killed my job,you son of a bitch," I told him. I didn't shout at him. I admit it was more whiny than angry.
The Carney raised his eyebrows and pointed at me with his corndog. Like me, he raises both eyebrows, not just one the way the Cajun Queen does.
"I had nothing to do with that," he said amicably, "I killed you mom, and your grandparents, your cousin, your uncles, and even a few of the people you went to school with. Your job died because of poor management and market conditions, among other things. If you wanna complain about that to someone, talk to Fate." He punctuated this speech by taking another bite of his corndog.
"I knew that," I admitted, "I just wanted to bitch to someone, and I don't really know anything about fate. I'm not even sure I believe in fate."
"She's real enough," he said.
Fate is a woman? That figures, I thought.
"You'd probably like her," he said.
"What makes you say that? She's been a bitch to me."
"She's been pretty kind to you, from what I've seen."
He had a point: she has been. Unemployement had put me in a sour mood. I watched the Ferris Wheel spin and wondered about what was in store for me next. I don't like uncertainty. I guess no one does, but I have a particularly strong aversion to it. I watched The Carney munch on his corndog and I found myself thinking I kind of wanted a bite of it, since I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. But I don't like eating after people, so I decided against it. Besides, he's Death, and if eating after him is not some kind of bad luck, then nothing is.
"So, about Fate. What's she like?"
"Well, when she's happy, she's beautiful," he said, "When she's in a good mood, she's as sweet and generous as anyone you've ever met. A real peach. But when she's in a bad mood, she's hell on wheels and ugly as all get out. That's when my workload picks up."
"No kidding?"
"Most of the time, though, she's just kind of fickle. She does things just because, to see what'll happen and how people will take it. She likes to play."
"What makes you think that I would like her, then?"
"Because she reminds me of you most of the time."
I looked at him long and hard as he finished off his corndog and stuck the stick in the pocket of his jeans. Death is a lot tidier than most people would think. The grounds around the Ferris Wheel gate are pristine. I don't know where all of his cigarette butts end up. I guess everything that he sticks in his pocket disappears, or maybe gets transported over to another part of the universe.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not fickle. And I don't play with people. Just because some of them don't get my sense of humor is not in any way my fault."
"I didn't mean it as an insult. She is what she is. You are what you are. The two of your should go out for a night on the town. I think you'd hit it off. I could introduce you to her, if you'd like."
I took a deep breath and exhaled while I thought about his offer.
"I'd rather you didn't. I've got to get out and look for a new job. I think right now it's in my best interest to network with people who exist somewhere outside of my head. If it gets to the point where all my friends are just immortal elements of human existence, people are just going to think I'm weird."
The Carney laughed and took a drag on his cigarette.
"I won't be driving by you so much," I said.
"I'll still be around."
"I know that. I just won't be out this way very often, until something comes up."
"You know where to find me," he said.
And I do. He's always there, always waiting, operating the ride of life and letting it's passengers off when their times come. The car I'm riding in just swayed a little, but it's no big deal and not exactly a life or death matter. It's just a shift in the speed of my trip around the Ferris Wheel. I was ready for a change anyway. It feels like this will be for the best, and I'm curios what the view will be as the Ferris Wheel takes me higher.
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 08:32 pm (UTC)Both of our cars on on their last legs :o/
Sorry I don't mean to be negative in your journal. That's actually rude of me. I'm just so frustrated because I need so much (dental work from purging for 15yrs, treatment for my bulimia, a working car...etc etc) and no one in my family cares :o(
no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 08:51 pm (UTC)People care about you, hon. It could just be that they've felt so helpless for so long about your bulimia that they are too emotionally tired to show they care any more. I know that that sucks, and I know that everything you are going through is very hard. Hang in there. (*hugs*)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-20 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-21 08:00 pm (UTC)On the other hand, the whole industry built around psychology and self-help books is grateful that families like yours exist... 0_o
no subject
Date: 2007-02-21 08:08 pm (UTC)