I was on the road again, driving, no commuting, in my old rusty vehicle. It was easy to fix but I didn’t have the tools. I was going to be home soon. Theoretically I would fix the car if left at home long enough.
Sadly I hated spending money, so I wouldn’t. The muffler was rusting out, so was the suspension. The muffler was the easy fix, the suspension a little scarier. Mainly due to springs.
The people who were passing me in their beater were not cute women, they were old foreign women who probably worked for below minimum wage.
Or perhaps they were men in their work trucks. Or commuter trucks.
I’m a little ashamed I don’t drive a compact myself.
I stopped at a stop light a women with a child in a stroller jogged by. An old man in a big coat walked casually along the road.
In front of my car he stopped, he produced a handgun with a square orange tip. He fired below my vehicle.
*Clunk
I could hear my oil pan draining on the road.
I got out of my car, a tallish sport utility. I could break back in if I locked myself out. Which is why I liked the vehicle.
The face of the man in the truck behind me was judgmental yet understanding. They themselves could do nothing.
I saw in their eyes, the grim exhaustion
I examined my undercarriage.
Sure enough, a bullet had passed through my oil pan. And my oil was leaking up on the road.
This would be a quick fix I just needed to plug the hole and refill my vehicle with a little bit of oil.
Leaving traffic to deal with my vehicle now stuck at the intersection never turned off
I’ve been shoot up the strides to the nearest auto part repair store. I got a rubber plug, some oil, and asked the clerk for sandpaper.
The clerk was the old man shooter, they offered me sandpaper and nuts.
We walked back into traffic, cars gracefully avoided my stuck vehicle in the intersection.
I climbed under and the old man who shot doubted my abilities to fix cars.
“Hurry up you are wasting everyone’s time!” He said.
“You owe me the parts.” I said.
I asked if he had a hammer, he said he had one on his gun.
I looked around for a makeshift hammer and decided on a landscaping rock from the median.
I was about to retire to the underneath of my vehicle when a boy on a bicycle rode counter to traffic towards us.
The old man yelled and drew down his water gun looking pistol on the young but suicidal and irresponsible boy.
I made a hasty retreat to the median and was fixing to jump down a hill and wait out this man’s rampage out in a Mexican restaurant.
The boy called out “STOP THIEF!” And pointed at me. “HE DIDN’T PAY!”
Well now it was foolish to run, the entire intersection would see.
I turned around to face the public, and announced. “You shot my car you owe me!” I briskly walked back towards my car, refusing to be fooled into actions of guilt.
“Shoot him!” Yelled the boy.
The old man realized I was a thief, and pointed his gun at me. In front of the entire intersection. Our previous agreement where he supplied the parts to repair my car that he shot forgotten.
My queen woke me up,
“I lion… darling? Behold our opponent!”
Why didn’t I attack that guy? Because he had a gun. Why didn’t I shoot that guy? Because he didn’t threaten me until it was too late? Because I didn’t want to play with guns?
Guns is a bad game. Anyone who sells otherwise is selling fantasy.
But when tyranny becomes law…
My mind snapped back to reality, a cute little women in chess patterned pajamas was looking into my eyes, her face had grown on me.
She was so cute.
Maybe it was just a wood morning. I’m not always rational at those times.
Something was wrong, I looked at the chessboard.
Black had mirrored my moves so far, a black knight at F six.
“Who is our dark bishop?” I asked.
“The quartermaster!” Only yesterday I had considered my queen haggish, what changed?
I moved “the quartermaster” to G five from C one.
“How can you be so confident?” The queen asked.
“Ignorance.” I replied.
“But you know the quartermaster! And you know you threaten the knight of the panther!”
But I didn’t know my next move, the other knight to E three? Perhaps the safe move was pawn E two to three or four. No I needed to block their own bishop from threatening me the king.
Get that preemptive turn advantage.
I stretched, I was not sore.
Odd.
I craved soreness, and food.
“My good queen, how have I become so strong? I meet many people and they are not. Do I swing a heavy mace all day some days?”
“You eat lots of meat and eggs like any good knight!” She replied examining our clothing.
Seemed reductive.
I wore only underpants and slid on my sleeping robes. I walked for the first time through our little living room and looked down from our odd little open floor.
There was our green garden of a castle courtyard. Smoke and labor had woken long before the royal couple had.
It was so nice not to work.
The day was lightly cloudy, a stiff but ultimately comfortable breeze made the spring air gently cool.
I admired the bright yellows and greens of trees along our mountains. Summer would come soon.
Perhaps a king could hunt. That was a nice mix between domestic and feral.
I hope my opponent blunders, that’s what they call it in chess isn’t it?
“My king don’t you want proper clothing?”
I could feel wind on my bare chest. Part of me wanted to flex and throw furniture from our room.
Where was this energy coming from?
My wife approached me, I picked her up and gave her a small toss.
She yelped playfully “be serious be serious…”
I set her down.
She looked at me, puzzled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her, gently stretching my legs, I was flexible and I could finally feel where muscles of mine ached.
My stomach growled for food.
I wonder where that little dog has gotten off to.
“My lion has seemed distracted these last two days.” She put a hand in between my shoulder and my chest. “I ask you instead what is wrong.”
“I’m lost, I am suffering from an inability to remember.”
“Yes and you are having bad dreams?”
“Yes.”
How did she know? I suppose I move a lot while I sleep.
“Are they of war?”
“No”
“I knew you had a bad one when I woke you up.”
“Yea.”
“You were attacked by a man with a deadly weapon.”
How did she know that?
“Tell me about the weapon, you understand it don’t you?”
“The man was a wizard, his magic haunted me.”
“I think you are being cowardly my lion, not telling me the entire truth.”
What was this women?
“It’s a silly dream, if you know so much about it why don’t you explain it to me?”
A little dove alighted on a large loveseat on our odd balcony/living room and immediately distracted my queen.
“No no” she called, “don’t poop there!”