Arabian Frights part1

Tell you what. I’ll dance and then you dance and then we can eat some Chinese. After that we will dance hand in hand. Or arm in arm. With cheek to cheek.
But then whatever will happen of undying love and everlasting promises? Those too. In good measure. Not now. Now we dance.
Shake those hips cha cha cha. Pout those lips waah waah waah. Not too fast now and mind don’t step on my feet. When you twirl me around I can see the shadows. They flit past me in an unhurried semblence of order. In their half mist they capture our memories. Each shadow a personal camera. Each twirl a recording sequence. Stop now. Enough with the round and around. Let me sit down. I must recollect. Examine my shadows as it may.
Do you want to know the story of my life? What will you do once you have devoured it whole? Let me tell you other stories. Of nature incoherent, of value incomplete, of circumstance callous. You would rather dance? But who will have you?
Listen


1.
V:Fallen as I am on hard times judge, you will please forgive if I sound wrong.
Judge: Proceed.
V:I sat on a chair very different from this one here. No leveraged blue cushioned plastic muffin, a real wooden rickety wicket with wobbly legs and a bolster that made you wince.
The Jester: Government Issue.
V:We were a private entity sir. No meddling and such things. Cutting costs maybe but that chair made sitting hard. Still it was a relic that one. I can still see it if I look hard enough
Judge: I am not quite sure. Private you say
Scribe who describes: It is of archaic time your honor. There existed elected groups of people who could hold entities in the name of a collective yet selective population for the good of that collective yet selective population. Apparently sir, these entities were run in the name of welfare. The word “private” was used to describe the other groups who ran things for money.
Judge: Obfuscation. I do not see the difference between the two. They were both groups you say. Welfare you talk about. And who selected what?
Scribe who describes: It involves countries sir. And minorities.
Judge: Country! The very word scares me. Well then. A Minority must be in some way related. Next you shall be bringing up Religion. Quite boring all this. Let us just get on with the matter at hand.
The Jester: God save us from the anarchists!
V:The chair was what drove me to resign. One fine day they come in and take it away. And the next thing I know we are each sitting separately in these little boxes. Like an unopened set of garden gnomes. Cubicles they called them.
Judge: We all sit in cubicles witness. It is most gratifying to have your personal space. Of course one cannot have too much personal space. Many a happy time have I spent in my cubicle secure in the thought that in the next cubicle, a person I do not know is uniformly happy. Still, since you have been away from the mainstream for so long.. You worked in what they called a “room” did you not? Tell me more about this - this “room.”
The Jester: The pompous ass. He shares his walls you know. They are not his. Still someday he might get a corner cubicle.
V:I ran away didn’t I? But it wasn’t the room that drove me to it. The room was quite dandy. It had blue walls and I put myself up a photo picture of a beagle. I always liked that breed. And it had my easel in it of course. I was quite sentimental about that easel. Then that old man from accounts retired and they moved his desk to my room. I miss the desk, what with its panel woodgrain and brass knobs. Now no one came to take it back, so I gradually made it a part of my room. On one side I put my swan pen stand. It isn’t a real swan but somehow the feathers seemed quite authentic…and on the other corner I had my “I love NYC” coffee mug. Quite a find that one. I am still at a loss as to what NYC means. After extensive research I have come to the conclusion that at some time it musta been how they spelt nice and Oh! So many other bits and ends…
Judge: What a verbose person you are. But see here, it is to the room that I allude. Not these varied articles that you so impudently conspire to acquaint me with. What kind of geometric proportions did it have? Was it square or rectangular?
The Jester: Punch and Judy are they not? An odd couple for any era.
Scribe who describes: Maybe your honor should if he so wishes, get on to cross examination of a more pertinent nature.
Judge: I am quite capable of doing so I must assure all. Do you paint witness?
V:I paint. Rather I did used to paint.
Judge: What did you paint Witness?
V:This and that. All most harmless I assure you. There was some funny going ons though. Once I drew this face with the nose all inverted like and the eyes lost in what I assume were ‘is cheekbones. No hair either.
Scribe who describes: Picasso I believe sir. Lot number 57.
Judge: Still in storage then. Is that the one that caused all the controversy then? Not sure weather to tag it “heureux ‘d art “or “ triste ‘d art”. Most upsetting this amorphous nature.
V:What’s thi bout lort’s then?
Scribe who Describes: Earlier in this century it was decided in infinite wisdom to restore the art of painting. The pictures produced are to be placed in abandoned parking lots until they can be tagged and properly distributed. You cannot after all be allowed more than your fair share of happiness or sadness. In my opinion the whole exercise is a waste.
The Jester: He has opinions. That’s very disturbing.


I will continue.
Hopefully
Also "bob" was quite uninspiring. But i will continue that too
inbetween.
Note: There are no spelling errors in the above piece. Supposedly tis intentional.