Story by Alvaro Villanueva.
Concept and illustrations by Adam Christopher Strange.
Copyright © Famous Postmodernist 1994
503 Metairie Rd Suite 2
Metairie LA 70005
Adam Christopher Strange 1996 sings it all the time, "I'd
like to thank my buddies for sticking the knife in
my back, back, back, back."
 His hair, parted down the middle, hangs down symmetrically.
He says, "Madam I'm Adam." And even when
he has three arms, he manages to make the middle one
stay straight up or down and its pinkie is another
thumb.
He comes to pick me up and, before anything else,
gives me string and says, "Tie a knot; I die heir
of ebb-time's might before I die tonight." His
games are strange but fun to follow. I tie a knot.
Then he sings the knife song. He dances around with
his hands behind him as if he were pulling it out.
We go in his convertible. He drives it in reverse
down the block. Fast and straight, as if he were still
on other planets lifting clouds of colorful dust, chasing
the picture of a girl full of holes.
On the avenue I ask where we're going. He doesn't
answer because he is singing songs that surprise me.
Lyrics about people I'd like to meet or people who
might actually be in love.
We stop at the supermarket. The door on the passenger
side is broken and hasn't opened in years. Normally,
I can just jump in and out, but because it is cold
and he put the convertible top up, I have to get out
through the door on his side. I'm clumsy and get stuck
on the gear shift.
Walking through the parking lot with two six-packs,
we see a boy climbing into his mother's car through
the driver's side. Adam says, "Now we know exactly
what's going to happen." He's right. I climb
in through the driver's side too. There is no other
way. The beers get shaken as I stumble getting in.
It's his obsession and I get annoyed--he's so in the
middle of the lane, he sets his watch for ten-oh-nine
and thirty seconds and doesn't wind it.
Both hands of the wheel, he says, "We're almost
halfway there and we're almost at some large ewe and
we're almost halfway there."
A car gets in front of us and he slams on the brakes.
I hear the beers fall from the back seat. He says, "See,
there it is."
* * * * *
(Time's line is a clothesline hung between the end-walls
of Infinity's back yard. When little boy god chases
his dog and accidentally gets tangled in mother Infinity's
drying bra, he causes all objects on the line to move.
Events occur, the Big bangs, all particles vibrate
and--even as we finally come around to notice--the
seasons turn and turn, hearts beat and beat.) |
