13. A Triad of Deminished Existentialistics,Two who ‘Make it’ in the Outside World
Part 3
The faraway place where Elmo was used to looking out the window, and yearning to join, seemed much too active for him in reality,well more or less but particularly without taking in nourishment. And as with most cats the intense magnitude of new smells and his ability to freely walk about in the out-side world, especially as there was so much more to it than imagined, was over whelming. He thought it prudent to enter with great haste directly into the front flowers bed where he hunkered down and hid. There were some odd sounds that he experienced, the cars rushing by were less than ideal, but there were some of the birds coming and going, that recognized and knew him to be the cat who only watched from the inside. His sudden outdoor appearance set the cardinals and mocking birds into a tizzy, emergency bird calls were coming from the trees and from the many flying little wrens, also strange and fascinating insects were flying above him. Some he remembered to have that weird buzzing sounds like out of the old lady’s ‘noise machine’ she turned on every night for resting and sleeping like it was yesteryear and it was common practice to keep the windows open on a coolish, Texas night. But, What a day! He discovered a lizard and gave it the evil eye. And he found a couple of bugs that seemed good to eat. Well, who knows about whats good to eat out here, but he figured he’d give it a try.
Betty Jane and Data took off down the pathway closer to the houses to the north of the sidewalk. It would be a strange sight, indeed, if they strolled casually down the side walk like some of the walkers. Our house is on the top of a straight cut off hill, and the road runs almost horizontal, so people come from where ever to “work out” and walk in some most incredible styles and in astonishing out-fits and lots of bikers, riding bicycles not motorcycles, some with the nerve to wear yellow jerseys, but I’m betting they were not the infamous Lance Armstrong. Who knows, this is Austin, and supposedly “Keep Austin Weird” was the slogan seen here and there and on bumper stickers. I doubt, we’d have much of a problem with that, but that is merely my opinion. Although all of the walkers used the street, which did not vary quite so much, as the non- conforming side walks. Data noticed an unknown ship in a rectangular form approaching from the west. His experiences in the past with the “Borg” suddenly came back into his memory, as he froze with the suspicious eye of Sherlock Holmes, (although his were yellow) stating, simply “the game’s afoot”.[1]
It was a great mistake for me to define our post personage, Mr. Miller, as a perfect governmental worker; as he was a complex and intelligent person who probably sang along with rap in his truck, and it was obvious that he secretly and carefully watched every thing happening, on his route with great interest, keeping an eye on those people he found interesting, or who had packages to be delivered to their door, which he did in rain or shine, rather than simply stuff them into those strange mausoleum-shaped mail boxes, where letters and magazines and catalogues were left for the residents to stop by on their way in from work, or wherever, and bring into the house to ponder. Data sensed an emotion that overcame his ‘Intel’ but his programing kicked in as he searched every image before them. He was at a lost at what action to be taken, as he and Betty Jane were now hiding in the new landscaped house to the very north of our house, and Mr. Miller had parked his Mail van right in front of that particular side walk. He motioned for Betty Jane to be quiet and took out his phaser, leaving the violin unprotected – to his better judgement,which was a tad rusty, given all that lolly-gagging around the house with Betty Jane for so long. Seems like He thought Mr. Miller was a threat. hmmm, I used to think so too… Well, he was about 5’10’ and looked fit in his walking shorts. This particular “Data” was about 9″ tall with his hat on, much to Elmo’s curses. Betty Jane was a fairly small doll, however a good bit larger than Data, she wasn’t sure what to do about that approaching Mr. Miller either, so she took on her most serious Republican thoughtful expression, tried to act like she was a normal sight to be seen on a week day, as our Postman advanced, coming forward, coming closer to the two hiding dolls, This part with the mail personage was not in their well-thought out plans (?), As Data set his phaser off of “stun“. Thinking a good strategy would be to cause one heck of a distraction, so he raised it and aimed at the Mail truck, which he figured was the most threatening thing in the “Outside World” after all was said and done. A high-pitched, peircing unfamiliar mechanical blast was noticed by the remaining residents, and then: the KaaaaaaaaaBlllllam, of what it’s effect on the Mail truck was most unusual even for the truly Wierd Austin. What occurred was not just an explosion, strangely enough, what once was a Mail Truck and a flurry of catalogues and letters, sort of exploded and then disappeared and, the wind blew hard from the west, south-west, sending unrecognizable particles of what was left of the truck down the street into the ashes, dust, or sand on the street where the Mail truck once stood idling. For a decent moment, the noise level was so high that even the old lady inside their own house, was frightened by that strange sound, and arouse from her serious reading, put on her orthopedic shoes and grabbed her cane to go look out of the study window hoping to see what in the outside World had happened. Stranger than what she heard was the factor that she saw nothing changing, out doors. Except it was an exceptionally pretty day. She walked slowlyand unsteadily out the door and then stopped. Mr. Miller was not hurt in any way, but he was at odds with what to do, since his Mail Truck disappeared. “What a pity,” said the old lady with the cane, “probably taken by those teenagers that knock over the portapotties out side construction sites, don’t you think?”. Mr. Miller looked rather out of sorts, mumbled something to the effect of “…I can’t believe that happened…”
I offered to give Mr. Miller a ride to our local Post Office, and we both rode silently back through out his particular delivery route. You should know, that before we entered the car, he noticed my cat Elmo still hiding in our front flower bed. He looked rather guilty, Elmo did, but stood his ground when I called his name , and brought him back inside the house. A Cat is not much of a match when an automobile meet in the middle, so all cats of ours are inside cats, prisoners of love. Mr. Miller nodded his head, when I thanked him for finding my cat, and I drove down through some of the business parts of his route and let him off at the Post Office. Actually, I think he took that rather well, much better than when I met him at the door right after we first moved in with a base ball bat as a cane.