This piece is about a man who is confronted by a divine intervention where he least expects it.
The train segments turned one at a time with a slight successive delay and the passengers swayed sideways. A drop of sweat visible on a forehead of the pale man named West. The tunnel squeeze was tightening and and the walls were stretching, only at West's own discretion, ad infinitum. Whatever next station was West was either dying or getting off as he clenched with powers borrowed by the divine. The station was approaching. He stood up and kept his face as intact as he could. A psychological launch procedure begun: three: door slid open, two: he stumbled onto the platform, one: oh fuck. The escalators like mudslides with people cascading. West with chaos within headed into the chaos without and it was soon about to emerge. He clenched so hard to the point that he could no longer feel his face.
The metal door marked by a black stick figure in a wheelchair; he made it. It was one of those public toilets where you could enter without [financially] paying, with implied condition and clientele. A dark blue blazer in contrast with small ear extensions, neat beard and a flat cap and now fancy West had to risk by paying the optics of entering such foul place. He slammed the door open and the white throne was standing shiny, tall and proud. With every passing sequence the will of the load exacerbated but he made it all the way across and his ass finally touched the white rim. Just as the release commenced he glimpsed at another ass poking out of the bathroom wall. The male butt was on his knees and to the waist up stuck inside the wall. West probably had dropped a bit of the load but quickly undid the work by sucking it back into his body.
“Uhm?”, West asked.
“Is there anybody in there?”, a muffled voice made it through the wall.
“Sorry but I have to… Ugh... cannot keep it anymore. I’m sorry”, a barbarous cluster reminiscent of grindcore reverberated.
“Dude!", the muffling again.
“I had no choice, sorry”, silence befell the room and to camouflage the next wave West continued speaking a louder but forced, “and so what are you doing in there?”
“Fuck you. You can't charm me now”, the ass was saying. West fumbled with some toilet paper while eyeing the exit. The sweat from all the shame was crawling out of his forehead.
“You know... There must’ve been some dairy in that cinnamon roll I had at my client’s office”, West not heeding the advice of his daimonion. He wanted to redeem himself.
“Just let me enjoy this. Stop telling me shit. To some extent I knew this would happen but it is hard for me to accept”, the muffled tone was shifting, it was not angry but disappointed and poignant.
"What are you on about?! Why don't you just get out of here and let me have the room to myself?", West was freaked out and fumbled more with the TP, he bet this guy was high off his ass. West's butt was, however, not ready to transition to the next stage of life.
"Because you do not what I see right now. It is a rather strange scene we're having. Do you believe in God, my fellow man?", the poignancy was as strong as the smell.
“I wouldn’t say so”, West stuttered.
“A fool. Because this wall is the only thing separating us from that. A divine iridescent being is residing here. Cherubs descending like waterfalls on my skin and the siren’s perfect pitch I can hear as well as see. The aurora is coursing through me and there you are interrupting the beatitudes with your lactose intolerance. I hear you. God does not judge but I am”, the man said and got up. A man of dark wavy hair and symmetric face with a pink healthy skin. A choir of female voices harmonized and one male voice sang with a penetrative vibrato. The man looked West in the eye, an eye which was iridescent and he was completely naked. Unconsciously West was hunching defensively on the toilet seat.
“I am Adam and nice to meet you,” he reached his hand to West, "actually you should wash your hands first", and retracted his hand.
The room was pulsing, West thought he was living inside a lung of a Buddhist monk in deep meditation. An ear rested against the restroom wall. God is that you? The chubby cherubs whispered about eternal bliss and the waves of auroral joy bathed the two. Adam’s sensed synchronicity with God and it translated into sympathy and his eyes teared. God through creatures had heard the struggles on the train -- how West's face paled and gut twisted as he resisted the urge. West was a decent man for sacrificing his temporary well-being. Somehow that was one of God’s miracles - that man could withstand the pains on behalf of empathy and that humanity were not akin to animals that went wherever the instinct appeared. Truly transcendent behaviour, civility and honour. The breathing was heavy. God leaned in as deep as he could. The wall stretched and the embodiment and image of God translated. A torso was hanging into the corporeal restroom. Water was pouring from the tap and West thought he could do with that handshake.
This piece is about horrendous traffic, served with a soft serve.
Snow was whirling and the wind was blowing from multifarious directions. If you caught the snow scene at the right time it would look like a free floating soft serve. But of course without that sweetness. The children tried and concluded the free floating kind was not desirable. Tired drivers laid themselves to rest on the steering wheels after a long day. This caused the cars to sing a honking symphony and it was so terribly unsynchronized. Friday 17:30: one conditional problem with freedom is that it makes you unable to appreciate; even though being stuck at some job is way worse than being stuck in traffic, the desire for being elsewhere makes you unable to enjoy The Now and you frown upon relative minutiae rather than upon, you know, your shitty life or you just enjoy what you have. Anyway, the trick to get home was to not stop, the antagonistic ice caused a severe deficiency in grip. Then there was one prominent car and who knows what brand, there was just too much snow to tell. The parked car was detached from all the laws of symmetric traffic - geometrically skewed 28,93 degrees relative to the preordained lines of the street, that street that further on intersected beautifully and straight, 90/90 degrees across, probably a dozen times, before connecting the newly renovated highway. On this particular interstice between two intersections the cars were parked nicely but the discordant car blocked one particular Subaru and its owner was condemning a bit of everything. This man needed to get home to his girlfriend. It was his last weekend before being relocated to Bengalore, India for an engineering job involving sustainable energy. Fucking windscreen wipers were scraping.
Traffic was slow as half of the road was blocked and they took turns to pass. Every three minutes a car would lose its grip on the icy road which forced a driver to get out and into the snow and start pushing (which was usually the driver directly behind as it was deemed the most pertinent solution to everybody’s problem, while the rest were just to watch). Incapitated vehicles accumulated in lines on the lanes and a wife ordered her husband to check whatever was going on with that “fucking car”. It was locked and the handbrake employed. The husband scooped some of the snow away and looked inside. The dashboard was brimming with a variety of found vessels holding cigarette butts. From the rear mirror a miniature dream catcher hung and in the back seat a pack of condoms was longingly waiting.
“All because of one shitty car and who keeps a fuckin’ dreamcatcher in a car?” he cussed. GPS-technology eventually redirected the traffic and soon the congestion loosened up along with the whirling snow. The tow truck never made it in time; the owner of the obstructing vehicle made an appearance and together with him, a much younger attractive girl. She was laughing at his jokes which he made with animated gestures and lots of playful physical touch. They stepped into the vehicle and the wheels directly made full contact with the ground. Carefully the car left its improvised parking spot and the ones who were the most infuriated by the event were not even there to see it resolve, they were probably stuck in some other terrible intersection. Curses.