The Birth of Road Rage
(re-printed from The Birth of Road Rage — find the book here)
This is just a reminder: all your daily discomforts that upgrade as the day wears on — they’re real. That piece of string around your finger that cuts off circulation — it tells you all you’ve forgotten. That face you see when you’re alone without mirrors — that’s your face. The nickel, two dimes, broken pencil and a quarter that greet you when you lift up the couch cushion — a direct link to God.
Something enormous is trapped in the bread box. Something sleek is afoot in the attic. Down in the basement the unthinkable happens, while up in the living room we settle down to TV.
This is your life, Charlie Brown. This is your judgment call, Pontius Pilate. This is as high as you fly, Sky Pilot. This is the bull pen where you warm up for that one sizzling pitch — ninety miles an hour right over the plate, the swish of the bat, strike three.
An instant of silence that encompasses everything, and then the players jog in from the outfield. Everything goes back to square one, as if nothing has happened.
Spectators stream onto the freeway and are devoured by road rage.
Find John Bennett’s novels, short stories, and shards at Hcolom Press. You can contact him, or get on his Shards list at: dasleben@fairpoint.net
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