professionalism #10

"st. clair...get over here."

"what's up?"

"i was just at Milk's office"

"yeah"

"and i rounded the corner...and he's standing there looking in the mirror, putting his army hat on." the doktor gestures as if he's putting a cap on his head very carefully, and for a moment i imagined something French, a beret perhaps.

"an army hat?"

"yeah man...he's got the whole fuckin' deal on. shirt, pants, badges and shit."

"aw for fuck's sake. "

"yeah man"

"we gotta see this."

"too late dude...he headed up into the rafters about fifteen minutes ago...said he's got the whole floor plan laid out and memorized. he's gonna drop in the boss's office when she's in a compromised position."

"and then what?"

"who knows man"

"why is he so pissed off?"

"does it matter?"

"no, but..."

"said she cut him off in the parking lot this morning...he was going on about 'last straws' and 'principles' and 'taking to the hills' and other nonsense."

"word...look man"

"oh Yeah"

"she is...i don't even know man. i think i'm...wow...she blows my whole habit..."

"can you speak in a complete sentence?"

"..."

"go talk to her...tell her something"

"i..."

"i, i, i...you stutterin'-ass motherfucker. look, you say what you wanna say and i'll record it on my camera phone."

"i'm not even messin' around with that."

"look, it's ready, just say something..."

...and then...


i was sitting in a waiting room. it was something like a doctor’s office…all knotted pinewood paneling and chairs against the wall, a receptionist’s windows, a clipboard and a pen on a tattered line, a clock, some green plants…and i seem to remember children laughing and running. a man sat smiling against the wall with a shaggy dog on his lap. sunshine spilled through the windows.

i didn’t feel like sitting down, so i went to the door to look outside. it was dark and my truck was directly in front of me. i walked over and threw my bag in the backseat, next to my boombox. it had some clothes and my notebook inside, but not much else. there was something else that i had put into the truck, but i can’t seem to recall what it was.

i drove off since i was tired of waiting at the waiting room. i was on second avenue in hazelwood, headed away from downtown, and the sky was steel gray and the wind was blowing. the avenue ended just before the bridge and i got out of the truck.

“hello,” an old man said.

“i’m on my way to get her,” i said.

“oh…well, you can’t go that way. this road won’t take you.”

“how do i get out of here?”

“you gotta go that way,” he pointed to a wide set of cement stairs where the river should have been. there were scattered people walking up and down, some in pairs, some alone. i couldn’t see the top…they were obscured by some kind of sign, and there seemed to be stores on either side of the steps. “that’s the only way out.”

“i can’t get my truck up there.”

“no,” he laughed, “no you can’t.”

“and what about my stuff? and my girl? how am i supposed to get her out?”

“well, son, i guess you could hold on real tight, but i’ve never heard of anyone pulling someone out of here. why don’t you go look up there,” he pointed to the steps, “you know where to find her.” he clapped a hand on my shoulder and his laugh pushed me to the steps, half-way up.

i had to walk through a store to get out, and i was embarrassed about passing through without buying anything. the lady inside smiled wide and said something i can’t remember as she waved. i walked on through.


“wha…what…the fuck…”

“dude, you ok?”

“amyls…you should get him some amyls…that’ll wake him up!!!”

“dude…the Milkman totally crashed on your head…”

“johnny, you should have seen it…i was just about to slip the columbian necktie on the bitch…she went berserk…”

“dammit man…i had a fucked up dream”

“about what?”

“and she looked up like this, she did this when she looked up, she went…”

“i don’t even know…there was this guy…i don’t know man, it was strange...like spiritual”

“gay. black or white dude?”

“black guy”

“i see…the old mystical negro and the little white boy…you’re such a fuckin’ racist”

“how does that make me…ouch…man, my forehead is bangin' yo”

“…feel the pain, johnny, let it in…it’s good for you…”

“don’t worry man, i’ve got it all on video right here,” he said as he closed the phone. “wait until this gets posted on the internet. shit’s classic. you got knocked The Fuck out.”

“fuck!!! i had her cornered in the shitter! like a rat on its haunches…i remember this one time back in ’65 when i worked down near the tar plant renovating tractors…”

“don’t show that shit to the girl, ok? i don’t want her to know…”

“…like two squirrels fightin’ it out in a crown royal bag…”

“ouch…i’m in pain…i need something…and what the fuck is the Milkman talking about?”

“how should i know?”

“…history!”