Feb. 21, 2012 at 12:01am
God is not dead. He just doesn't want to get involved.
Lyman Hall carved off a hunk of steak from his dinner plate and wolfed it down with fried potatoes. Daisy Wright, his petite housemate, watched anxiously from across their small wooden table--her hands clutched to her heart.
"Is your steak all right?" she asked.
Lyman hooked a gulp of coffee and then wiped his lips with a drive-in paper napkin. "I swallowed it, didn't I?"
Daisy glanced down at her plate and then rose from her chair and walked toward the stove. As she untied her gingham apron she said in a low voice, "Would you like more coffee?"
"No thanks, but you can bring me the newspaper."
When Daisy returned from the front room and placed the newspaper next to Lyman's plate, she began clearing the table and with a faint smile she asked, "How did work go today?"
"S.O.S..Watching the world through the windshield of a garbage truck is hardly a life of adventure." Lyman unfolded the newspaper and then held it up like a shield.
Daisy settled back into her chair across from Lyman and clasped her hands on her lap. "My Aunt Martha stopped by this afternoon."
"Really?" Lyman answered from behind the paper. "Hey, listen to my horoscope. It says 'If you feel far from God, guess who moved?'"
Daisy raked back her long wavy hair. "Martha and I talked about a lot of things. You know Lyman, I'm the first one to break a family tradition by living with a man out of wedlock. Martha said that my parents still won't mention my name around their country club friends. I guess I understand. My father worked hard to establish his business. Integrity is everything to him. Think about it. He spent most of his life looking up and now having attained a position to look down from, he'd pay nearly any price to keep me on track with propriety."
Lyman set the newspaper down and locked eyes with Daisy. "Don't you get tired of hearing that highbrow society-piety rap? For your own sake Daisy, jump orbit from that cavalier clan."
Daisy's mouth tightened as she threw her shoulders back. "You know I've never liked shacking up. I'm tired of making excuses for my lifestyle. After a year of this you should know what you want."
Lyman folded his arms. "Look Daisy, if you don't like the ride you're on then get off. I'm full-time with you, but your idea of forever-love will have to wait."
Daisy stiffened and folded her arms. "Oh I see. Maybe you're working on something big that I don't know about."
Lyman winked and said, "Yep, my upcoming book on interpersonal dynamics."
"Right Lyman. Maybe what our relationship needs is a dynamic collision with reality. I think you forgot what it was like to be the hungry wolf, always on the beat, pitching sweet talk for a soft touch."
Lyman smiled slightly. "C'mon Daisy, think back on me. I was the one who pulled you from the void. You're the veteran from the walking wounded. Not me. That plastic society that you came from, with all its manufactured appearances and chic chicanery is no match for what I've got in my trick bag. I reeled you in with a whistle and a wink. Go ahead, shake it on the street again. There's a cast of thousands waiting to chew you up and spit you out."
Daisy wiped her fingertips across her brow with a smirk. "Christ, Lyman. I didn't fall off the back of a garbage truck yesterday. I've played operation identification up and down the wisecracker line long before you were logged into my book of who's who."
Lyman leaned forward and stared deadpan at Daisy.
"I just want you to get it straight Lyman. Don't treat me like a schoolgirl. I could teach you things that you never could learn."
Lyman pushed himself away from the table and strolled to the refrigerator. Daisy's domestic thrift was evident as Lyman reached inside the cooler and pawed over and between crowded Tupperware and foil-covered plates. "You keep the beer hidden better than your persuasions."
Daisy laughed. "If you want it bad enough, you'll figure out a way to get it."
"Well here it is," Lyman said, "staring right at me from the door." As Lyman slid back into his chair at the table he said, "Tell me Daisy, why are you so eager to seal your fate?"
"C'mon Lyman, I'm not in the third grade. We're the best of friends and the best of lovers. I know I come apart sometimes, but can you really pass up something this right? This tight?"
Lyman chugged half of his beer then looked at Daisy. "Hey no doubt, we're the dynamic duo; but when something works, you don't fix it."
"Right Lyman. I hear you. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk through the fence for free?"
Lyman protested, "Who's milking who? I've got something you want and you've got something I want. That's free enterprise baby."
"Lyman, we can't go on much longer living under the scene like rebels, defying all the rules. Laughing at convention is fun, but imagine the possibilities if we worked with the system."
Lyman gulped the last of his beer then slammed the can on the table. "Whose system Daisy? Yours, mine, the media's, the church's, the god-forsaken government's? When are you going to wake up and shrug off the years of hive conformity that you've been tattooed with?"
Daisy sighed and shook her head. "Cool out, Lyman. Nobody's controlling me. It's just that I'd rather face reality than live stupidly. The rules were already made when I got here. I'm not even sure anymore if it's a social or a biological pressure but marriage is what I need."
Lyman stood up and stretched. "Well its been a hard day Daisy. Nothing went too good; and I'm not sure if it's a social or a biological pressure, but do you know what I need?"
Daisy stared straight-faced at Lyman then said, "You're morally handicapped... Race you to the bedroom!"
comments  | posted under Mofo from the Hood, TacomaComments
by NineInchNachos on 2/21/2012 @ 8:49am
|somewhere in the distance a dog barked. (dog is God backwards)|
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"Sunday Scriber" series. 36 episodes from May 2008 to July 2011. Perpetual status. A practical look at why survival and freedom depends on knowing what is good, acceptable, and perfect.
*MFTH was born and raised in Tacoma, Washington USA. As a lifelong resident, uninspired by money, power, or fame, he eventually resorted to reading internet blogs, sometimes at the public library. In May, 2008, during the Great Recession, he started "Mofo from the Hood's Blog" on FeedTacoma.com, because it was free. If this blog ever helps him to attain money, power, and fame, he will probably stay in Tacoma.