People’s Messenger–flash fiction, Difficult People

People’s Messenger

 

 

          I could go on…I’m feeling plenipotentiary, beyond flabbergasted. Odious miles to go. Hammer break kaphlumpf! The quotidian marble pinging over the steps, happily we go, hand in hand.

          I had dressed. I had breakfasted. I was ready for my most exciting day. Period…the universe awaits. God was very unhappy with the little people he created on the tiny world…a slightly flattened sphere. My role in all this noise, bringer of light and happiness…yes…messenger of joy. Let’s see, who’s available for my ministrations? The postman has already rung off…too bad. He’s been looking a bit pale. Joy…joy…joy…maybe I’ll just sit in my car in the driveway, the engine off. Just sit and it being wintry the sun will heat the interior and with all the talking I’ll be doing, and don’t forget the singing, the radio on and off (I can’t listen to commercials for long…the nerves…I mean, who likes to be screamed at?), my improved karaoke flights of musical innovation, the recording studio sound quality …sound proofed–but enough for passers by to notice the rock n’ rollin’, the car on its shocks, and that voice.

          They’ll be magnetized on the spot, a crowd will gather, and as I really work up a sweat…writhing on the fully reclined driver’s seat…by now the windows fogged (and of course the doors locked) the crowd outside will assume two (or more) famous rock stars are mating in their own barrio; and the crowd will grow into an angry, desperate mob of fanatics who will join the rocking until the car flips over. The police and fire siren sounding, I will flip the door locks and emerge—

          The people’s messenger of good times.

 

 

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