alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay
pollytrance

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Someday I'll Be Gone

Tonight I went to dinner with Mya at Fresh Choice, and all would have been hum-drum, except for the fact that a) They've stopped selling the Newsweek with the director on the cover, and b) I was mauled at Fresh Choice. Perhaps 'mauled' is putting a bit of exaggeration on it, but there most definitely was a violation of personal space.

*Note to self-- buy this month's Rosie magazine... Donny Osmond is on the cover!!!*

Donny Osmond is a sexy beast. And he has nice, big teeth, and good grooming and breeding, and the capacity for many wives. I want to be one of them! Har har! Donny Osmond loving!

Anyway, dinner. Mya and I were wearing our anti-space invader helmets (same as the tinfoil hats seen in Signs) and minding our own business, eating our strange food. Mya likes to put Fresh Choice chicken broth over vanilla ice cream and eat it like that. She says next time we go to a nice restaurant we have to order rosemary chicken a la mode. Vanilla ice cream only!

So we're eating, and suddenly I feel furious hands on the spike of my helmet, trying to pull it off my head. This was not possible, as it was pinned. But I turn around, expecting to see someone I knew, like Stefan for instance, just playing around. Instead, I turn around to see a little boy, couldn't be more than 6 or 7 years old at the most, panting furiously with a look on his face that was part exhilaration, part fear, and part anger. His mother yelled at him from across the restaurant, having seen what he'd done, and he high-tailed it to the bathroom or somewhere.

Mya was laughing, but trying to hide it because I was extremely freaked out, I was gasping and saying, "What the FUCK?". It really scared the shit out of me.

Later on in the evening it made me laugh, because Mya said, "He's just a little kid. I mean, he probably thought, 'Fuck, it's pointy and shiny, what the fuck is it?'" It's still scary as hell though, because the thought crossed our minds that he could be an alien and not want us to protect our minds. When he came back across the restaurant about 20 minutes later, his mom demanded loudly that he apologise to me. I accepted his apology and waved in their general direction.

"Thowwy," he said. His speech skills weren't advanced enough for him to know what he'd been doing, really. Perhaps the mother was an alien too, furious that he had blown their cover? I overheard her saying, "Don't you ever touch anything that doesn't belong to you!"

Then we thought perhaps he did things of this nature often, like maybe he had a problem with kleptomania.

Either way it was half hysterically funny, half terrifying.

Only to me do strange things of this sort cling, and follow me everywhere and happen at all the turns. It's very frequent in Fresh Choice, too. Even more frequent in Concord.

The point is, hang around me and you won't be bored, whether I am doing something strange or someone else is doing it to me.

Everyone we passed who had seens Signs as well knew what we were up to, and that was gratifying. It meant we had crafted the helmets correctly. I was even approached by an older man in the Safeway parking lot, who told me that he had the same idea. To think that someone besides a silly teenager would wear this sort of helmet about town gave me a bit of faith in humanity. I wonder how much his wife would object, however...

There I go with the married men thing again. *sigh*

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