Friday, March 28, 2008

The Dumpster Gods Must Be Crazy, Part 2 of 8

The legs started jerking spasmodically . . . slightly, and from the movement I could see that this thing, this red-eyed dumpster cyclops, was a blonde, a natural blonde. I was a little un- comfortable, yet mesmerized, by this spasmodically twitching pair of legs with a butt on top of it. It was rude for me to be staring. It was sort of like I had walked into someone's bathroom and accidentally caught them on the john.

Anyone else in Los Angeles would've just kept walking. I've seen it: Angelinos stepping over bodies on the sidewalk. Anyone else here would've minded their own business, but not me. I've got the stupid gene. I've got the Walk Over To A Sweating Stick Of Dynomite And Pick It Up Saying "What's this?" gene.

Suddenly I heard laughter above me. No, it was more like . . . snickering. I jerked my head up and there on top of some stacked cardboard boxes next to the dumpster about three feet above my head, was the biggest, meanest-looking, giant-assed, pitch black black cat you ever saw, his teeth bared, his head jerking up and down, up and down, snickering!

Snickering? Snickering? Oh wait. I'm losing it, I thought. My synapses are misfiring. I've just slipped into some sort of Salvador Dali, surrealistic, Twilight Zone, fucked up, hallucinatory Halloween siezure.

That's what I FELT, not what I thought at the time. I wasn't forming thoughts at the time. I was pure sensory INPUT. I don't think I was thinking a single thought at the time; standing there in the dark, alone, an ass wriggling in the dumpster, a cat the size of a Puma snickering "Cheee hee hee, cheee hee hee."

There were preternatural forces at work here, but even with preternatural forces involved, there was something askew here. Something not quite . . . legal. I've been sensing dark things around me for weeks now: dark things, things that go bump in the night, not wiggle their asses at you and snicker out of cats' teeth. The dumpster gods must be crazy. I DO remember thinking one thing when I looked up and saw the cat snickering at me . . .well, not really

THINKING: remembering. I remembered a scene from an old thirties or forties horror film. The black comic relief character sees a ghost or a monster, I forget which. Pan to a closeup of his face and head. His fro stands straight up on the top of his head like a cat arching its back to do battle and he says: "Feet, don't FAIL me NOW!"

Yeah, that was my primal reaction: FEET, DON'T FAIL ME NOW!

But I was frozen in place.


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