The Calling Part 5

December 31st, 2010 by Wordsman

Since verbal communication had failed miserably at their first meeting, he tried a different approach.  Opening his bag, he waved it past her crooked nose.

No response.

Escobar was confused.  Surely only the most devout monks had powers of self-denial great enough to scorn that smell.  He opened the bag a little wider before making another pass, this time shaking it to emphasize the delicious rattling of excess sugar crystals.

Nothing.  The woman was unbreakable.  Far less breakable than Officer Escobar, anyway, who was forced to give in and eat one.  Then, because you don’t go to Paris just to look at the Eiffel Tower and fly straight back home, he ate two more.

As he licked his fingers, he stared at his indomitable opponent.  He wondered if she really was dead, but no, there was the breathing.  And it wasn’t just breathing.  She was muttering to herself.  Curiosity beat out concern for the woman’s privacy in a heartbeat, and he leaned in to catch what she was saying.

“Everyone could use a little adventure now and then . . . something to spice things up . . . something to let you break free of your daily routine . . .”

In some ways these words made a lot more sense than the ones she had spoken before.  In others, however, they were just as crazy, and maybe even a bit dangerous.  Escobar recalled a man from his childhood, whom the neighborhood kids called “Almirante Loco” because he generally looked like he had just fallen off a boat.  The Almirante had informed them that the moon was not to be trusted, that it had struck before, wiping out the dinosaurs and the Roman Empire simultaneously, and that it was biding its time until it was ready to come back and finish the job.

The woman frowned and shook her head, clearing her mental Etch-a-Sketch.  “Have you ever considered a career as a romantic fortune seeker?  The pay’s not always great, but there are fringe benefits . . . you get to set your own hours . . .”

But Escobar remained unconvinced that she was as crazy as she appeared.  These were not random, fevered mumblings; she was planning, maybe even plotting something.  Her voice, though soft, remained as clear as ever.  As he thought about it, he remembered that even the Almirante’s words had eventually found a sort of rhyme and reason, as he revealed that the only way to stop the moon was to donate to his Stop the Moon Fund.  Escobar had even given him a quarter once, and, in all fairness, the moon had yet to fulfill its cataclysmic ambitions.

It sounded like a sales pitch, though not a very appealing one.  A woman twice his age had no business using words like “romantic” and “fringe benefits.”

The woman seemed to agree, for she shook her head again, slapping it lightly against the pillar for inspiration.  Or perhaps not so lightly, for her voice picked up a few decibels as she said, “Don’t you feel that there’s something missing from your life?”

Officer Escobar decided to leave her alone.  He had other stations to check on, and she wasn’t in a conversational mood.  Besides, with a bag of donuts from the Dough-Re-Mi in his hand, there was nothing missing from his life.

As he leaned back and stood up, the woman said (possibly to him but most likely to herself), “Who am I kidding?  No one’s ever going to buy this.”

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

One Response

  1. Trying to Get Caught Up (TGCU) (a constant condition in my life) Says:

    Please keep the story going–I’m intrigued (although the imagined smell of mini-donuts is starting to drive me nuts!

Leave a Comment

Please note: Comment moderation is enabled and may delay your comment. There is no need to resubmit your comment.