"What are they waiting for?"

  By dawn's early light someone was trying to scrape an American flag sticker in tact from someone's car window.  Also, people were sharing sticks of Juicy Fruit and Big Red. 

  "Where's Dick?" Somebody asked.  "Hmmmm...maybe with Jane.". Nobody laughed.  

  Only one girl had a picture of the man in her photo album billfold.  

  "Have you seen this man?" 

 

The sound cut out on

  "REMEMBAH YOUR GOAL," the self-ascribed "political animal" had raised his arms like the Brazilian Jesus. 

  "Guy thinks he's the Savior of the world," one guy commented at a monitor.  "Maybe of the masses.  Turn it up," said another guy.  "Doesn't get any louder." 

  Two Corporate women were trying to guess how their boards would vote on uniforms when the elevators fritzed. 

"Can you take the houseplant please?"

  "No." 

  "Your trailer's too small?" 

  "It's an RV." 

  "Because you want it to die?" 

  "I have no deathwish for the plant." 

  "Oh.  You won't help me because it's not what you want." 

  The houseplant was left behind. 

  "Just got in." 

  "Smooth traveling?" 

  "Long story." 

  "Gist?" 

  "Supposed to bring organic matter for under the scope." 

  "You could bring yourself." 

  "How about that?" 

  "Fine.  I'll let you dismember it when we get outside.  I just vacuumed." 

"Construction's not done."

  "Perfect," said the tall man with a basketball under an arm. 

  Eventually the man cleared his throat and admitted he was kind of making this up as he went along.  (i)Tasked(i) with creating (i)an exercise(i). 

  "What's the point?" 

  "This is about, well, it's (i)not(i) about (i)why(i) you believe whatever you do, it's about (i)how(i).  Like how we are able to believe whatever we believe." 

  "I believe I could kick yer ass on the court," said a guy with Converse sneakers around his neck. 

  "Show us how!" Said a tiny buff woman who took off a jacket and made "a basket". 

  "You're on," said the exercise leader. 

"Okay, we'll talk."

  "It turns out a lot of them don't even know what Socialism is really." 

  "Some people just can't do things for themselves.  They feel lame." 

  "Some just are in an ANTI- mood.  Nothing worked for them very well in life and they're railing against whatever 'systems' they detect." 

  "Like who to blame?" 

  "Yeah." 

  "There's a lot of hurt." 

  "And no healthcare." 

  "It's not helping to call anyone who doesn't agree with you (i)crazy(i)." 

  The men weren't shocked but didn't either seem to know how to process the information.  "That's (i)entitlement(i)," a bitter personality said.  A younger man got up from the roadside table.  "I can't do this anymore." 

  "What do you mean?" 

  "I mean there's nothing left to rip apart.  The dogs, it's like any conversation is just into the dog's teeth." 

  The three reps from the three parties looked at the table.  None were all that ferocious as seen on TV.  But neither was any one of them willing to give an inch. 

  "So that's good right?"  

  People expressing physical discomfort. 

  "I mean it's like so-called peace, like there's a party for everyone!" 

  It wasn't a "secret" meeting.  But it wasn't negotiations.  It was informal and it was more or less to make some sort of public statement that politics is not war.  Even though in sentiment it comes close.  This was a pivotal moment (i)off the record(i) in the gearing up to be less violent.  Our own Country needed to start with being (i)less violent(i) or how could we entreat with Countries producing hitmen and terrorists? 

  "Shall we endeavor to dissect our ideologies?" A moderator asked once people had made the choice to participate or not. 

  "Dissect away," said somebody. 

  "Well, I can't be invasive here.  I don't know any of you.  I don't know what you believe." 

  "We're going to be out of here for lunchtime, right?!" 

  "I CANNOT accept that it's all the same God." 

  (i)Whoa,(i) the moderator got up from the seat and took up a whiteboard marker.  Wrote God in quotes on the board.  It looked little in a field of white. 

  "Let's list religions under that," a man who'd seemed indifferent to conversation said. 

  "What if we don't have a religion?" A guy asked. 

  "Are we defining ourselves here?" 

  "I'm just the moderator." 

  "If we are defining ourselves, how is that informing our decisions?" 

  "Put (i)political(i) up there." Someone said. 

"We work, take care of eachother,

buy dollar store crap, and sleep," the guy explained.  "Like duh.  That's what life is." 

  "I guess it must be so coming from you." 

"You can't go on this one." A man pulled the

  proverbial ripcord.  "Don't just leave." 

  A middle age man had photographs of dead civilians tacked up on the portable cork boards. 

  "He just wanted to," another man started to say. 

  "It's yet more reason." 

  "Reason for what?" 

  "Reason to know these are really bad world leaders." 

  "Some of us have known that for a long time.  But can't seem to agree on what to do about it." 

  "You're aging yourself.  But that's true.  If anything." 

  "Let's go get dinner." 

"It's too starched," one woman

  said to another.  "Poor thing." 

  "It's a be nice to each other phase, (i)remember(i)?" 

  "Yeah.  You're neck's all red." 

  "Almost a redneck." 

  The Quartermaster began signing allotment paperwork.  Clearly came to an issue and motioned specific people over to the field desk. 

  "Pick it up," one citizen said to another.  The citizen crossed his arms.  "PICK IT UP," a soldier barked.  The citizen kept his arms crossed.  A woman soldier bent and stabbed the piece of paper with a paperclip fish hook.  It had blown across the parking lot a little ways away from the field desk.  Since it wasn't butting in, the woman soldier had decided to act.  "What is it?" A journalist called out.  Of course the woman soldier wouldn't say.  Gave the paper back to the others at the folding table. 

  A voice exploded the still early morning soundscape.  A man.  "I PUT IT THERE!" 

  People looked at the man, minds trying to comprehend on top of higher fuel costs and then, higher food costs. 

  "YOU COULDN'T HAVE.  THAT STUFF WAS IN THE BRIEFCASE," a voice shouted. 

  "THE BRIEFCASE HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.  SECURITY, (i)SECURITY!!(i) 

  Some soldiers rushed towards the briefcase only to move everyone and themselves away from it. 

  The military had moved off and left the drawing of a hockey stick where the table had been with an ARMY keychain on it. 

  "What would be the point?" 

  A man reached for the piece of paper.  Took up the keychain and the drawing.  Contemplated. 

  "I think this has more to do with lazy assholes." Another man said. 

  "Did I ask you?" 

  "We're in a parking lot.  In America." 

  "How so?" Yet another man asked. 

  "Resource wars amongst lazy assholes who don't want to work." 

  "What about all the people who DO WORK and can't eat?" Asked a woman. 

  "We don't count in any of this," a kid with abundant bangs hanging over eyes looked up at the hockey stick drawing still being held up in the air. 

  A car drove up and sliced into a parking space.  Guys got out.  All tall, chested, and pointing fingers like guns. 

  "DON'T EVER COME HOME AGAIN!!!! IN FACT IT'S NOT YOUR HOME ANYMORE!!!!" 

  "WHY DID YOU BRING UP THE WORK THING????" 

  A big sigh.  A look at a watch. 

  "Because I DO." 

  "Here's lotion." 

  "For the bucket?" 

  "For your neck!" 

  "You know what else I learned today?" 

  "People suck and then we die?" 

  "Well, that, most people do.  But, in a wartime in Colonial days, the men were all militia and military, and," a drink of water, "They didn't have to let civilians vote." 

  "Really?" 

  "Apparently." 

  "So...we're just young people on the bottom of a big fucking pile of assholes." 

  (i)Sleep came easy(i).

"He's NOT DEAD!" a girl yelled

  at the guy who'd knocked the books out of a girl's arms. 

The box had been switched out with bigger

  and bigger boxes until the hat collection was really blocking the mudroom door.  So people stopping by for mini-meetings started using the front door. 

  "God Mom, you're gonna blow our cover." 

  "What's our cover?" 

  "We're the normal family." 

  The mom and some of the kids were in the backyard looking at a variety of people (i)not giving up(i) in the picture window of the dining room.  "I think the times are not normal," the mom said, "But we are." 

  "Dick, you're wearing too many hats at once to stay." A bossy but very skilled at being a lady woman said as she finished her coffee. 

  "What do you mean?" He grinned and turned his head with the seven hats on it so everyone could take a mental mugshot. 

  "Okay, I'm game," a radioman said as he entered the room.  He put three wrinkled and damp dollar bills onto the vinyl tablecloth. 

  Dick said, "I'm trying to express myself.  I'm having brain block because of being in so many piles of (i)working on it(i) cases." 

  "Piles of crap?" A kid asked. 

  "In for the lasagna.  Not sure I want to hear anything that guy has to say." He kept his hands in his pockets. 

  Two kids came in with hat brims pulled low.  "Offload.  Release all weight.  What's on your minds gangstahs?!" 

  "We're not gangsters," said the boy who took off his hat. 

  "You should take yours off too," the girl was told.  A hand reached and took it off when the girl didn't comply.  (i)Black eye, split lip(i). 

  "Your mother do that to you?" 

  Mouths dropped. 

  "Oh sure keep blaming everything on the mothers." 

  "How long've (i)they(i) been doing that?" Another woman had joined the getting dusky room. 

  Nobody answered. 

  After long enough for people to say the Serenity prayer, the girl said, "Have I got a story for you." 

  "They're ALL liars," said a boy. 

  "Girls?" Asked the radioman. 

  "Grownups?" Asked a girl. 

  "Drunks?" Asked the mom. 

  "What happened?" Asked a woman with a pile of papers to edit as she put them all into a manila folder. 

"I said creative, not pornographic!" A uniformed stood

  and covered his wife with a politician's blazer.  The nipple covers kept spinning. 

  "I don't understand." 

  "Sit down.  Understand what?" 

  An elbow sitting down in a (i)hummmph(i) rattled the martini glasses.  "Sorry." The woman said. 

  "Understand what?" The uniformed asked again. 

  "Why this emphasis on creative?!" 

  "Yeah," a kid on the floor with a board game shot a glance at the man.  "We can only make so many potholders." 

  "Did you make one for your father?" 

  The kid kicked the game.  "Wouldn't do any good.  Wouldn't get it anyway." 

  "War is like a chessgame," the man began.