Too Cool For School

Too Cool For School

This guy!
I mean!
Oh my god!
Such a duder!
Caught in that addle-minded, lonely torpor beneath miles of gritty dirt and cold sharp stone for so many years, his body broke-back bent over a granite boulder like a rag doll; and what’s the first order of business? Does he salute the sun and thank God for his delivery? Does he dance and sing, skip upon the calm bay waters? Does he exultantly toss his able body from one skyscraper to another? Does he go seeking for his mate who recalled him to life with the world-bounding pulse of her love?
He’s all like, “Oh, good, she’s coming here. Let me get an iced tea and a cigarette and look out at the city and lose myself in vague, vapory, half-conscious contemplations.”
He casts his mind about; he teleports a freshly made iced tea from some hapless coffee shop (simultaneously–this is what passes for morality with this guy–transferring $3.00 to the company’s account and $1.00 to that of the dumbfounded kid who is so sure she had already made that large iced tea with extra ice and lemon), undertakes a similar maneuver with a pack of mediums and a lighter, and tosses himself up atop a nondescript Midtown Manhattan building, join drink and smokes on the wide concrete parapet where he’s arranged them.

She yells to him, her sweet hands upon her fine hips in that elegantly simple crime fighting one-piece of hers. Hey!, what are you doing!?
He swivels around on his blue jean seat–my how good the clear morning light feels!–so that his feet are now dangling a few feet above the graying white concrete rooftop instead of a couple thousand feet above the morning clatter of Midtown Manhattan on a sunshiny summertime Tuesday.
He yells to her, with cigarette and plastic tea flung wide as his open arms.
What are you doing!?
She demands again, having rigidly stopped ten feet short of their reunion, her eyes large with annoyance under a swirled-mad brow.
I’m, you know–I’m hanging out, waiting for you!
We haven’t seen each other in sixty years!
I know! Right!?
What is wrong with you!?
I’m just, you know; relaxing here for a minute.
I’ve missed you with my whole being!
I you too!
I you too?! That’s the story? I you too?! And a cigarette?! A cigarette before flying to meet me?! You should never smoke, but to stop for a cigarette in this moment!? Do you understand?! What am I to do?! I can’t find another man as super as you. I’m stuck with you. Anyone else would be inappropriate! Don’t you want love and relationship?!
Of course! Totally! I totally do!
Then put out the cigarette, brush your teeth, and make me feel welcome!

So I dunno; it’s their own private affair and it really isn’t our business to try an’ tell them how to run their relationship; but it’s pretty hard not to think he basically sucks and she’s in a hard spot, having to choose between men who can’t fling themselves at will throughout timespace, going alone, and making it work with this jerk.


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