Patty Revere Pt. 6

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

A tall man with a shiny belt is driving a car. The car is painted in special colors and gives him special powers. The radio is playing. It's a commercial for a hardware store.

"Young's Hardware, where you can find just what you'd expect to find at a hardware store."

The tall man's fingers drum on the steering wheel. Signaling, he turns left and squints into the sun.

He likes this commercial. He also likes the hardware store. He's met the owner of the hardware store, and he likes him.

The tall man drives his special car through the town all day, and he looks at the houses and the people who live in them and he thinks, "This is alright."

The tall man is very dangerous.

A crackling noise announces the arrival of a coded message on his radio. He interprets the message and presses a button on the center console. Incredible lights and a very loud noise erupt from the special car as it accelerates through traffic.

Moments later, the shiny car rolls into an empty space in front of Patty Revere's squat aluminum-sided house. The sunlight reflects off its hood fiercely, making it glow like a tanning bed.

The tall man approaches the yellow door. He knocks.

Then again.

"Pittsburgh police! Open up!"

The paint on the door is fading. The tall man waits.

The noise of latches coming undone is the same noise vermin make when they've infiltrated the walls of a house, scurrying and scratching. The door opens and reveals Patty looming tall in her blue nightshirt.

"Ma'am we've had calls about a man trying to force entry into your neighbors' house. White, five foot nine, blond hair. A cut on his forehead."

He ended the sentence by bending the pitch of his voice upward, as if he were asking a question. But it wasn't a question. Patty was confused.

"Nothing to worry about, we're acquainted with the perp, just a local pill-popper. Someone thought they saw him on your front doorstep."

Patty continues to stare implacably at the tall man. His words are complete nonsense to her. But she lets him prattle on because she's struck by the way his clothes are so clean and crisp. His belt is very shiny in the noontime sun.

A cheetah is pressed against the aluminum siding of Patty's home. His heart pounds blood through his head like someone was boxing his ears. He is staring at the special car.

Alex sees himself in the car, feels his foot against the gas pedal. He imagines drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and squinting into the sun. His vehicle rolling down wide suburban thoroughfares and potholed city streets. Through the window he sees the citizens of Pittsburgh wave at him and smile. They wave out of respect and smile because they admire him.

Alex waves back and as he does he can feel the starched epaulet of his shirt rub against his shoulder. Looking down he sees he is wearing the uniform of the tall man, shiny belt and all.

He presses a button on the center console and the car becomes a howling banshee, flashing its multicolored lights like a toy. Other cars submissively drop out of view as he accelerates onward, faster, faster, exploding fuel in his heart and a stampede in his gas tank.

Blue Skies Ahead

On Tuesday afternoon I climbed onto my roof and looked at the ivory sky and thought, "White is the worst color a sky could have. Even grey is better than white because it has shade, character. White is the absence of character. It's a heedless halogen light fixture over the world that lays bare all the flaws, all the flat listlessness. I miss the blue sky."

It's not until Friday evening with 200 miles of highway under my wheels and 300 more until I reach Chicago that I get to see it. I-70 curves west towards the coming night, and a timid Sun casts furtive glances at me from behind a veil made of violet-orange clouds. The license plate on the car ahead of me reads, "CUBS GO."

Lonely days are gone, I'm'a going home. Baby just wrote me a letter.