by Jim Meirose.
Out the neverending transparencies of his gas, told as air whirlin’ n’ seething all ‘round him—which, though necessary—impeded his thinking, s’ soon as he knocked back a few forks of eggs—guk; there’s something in these, so yes there’s more to it, must be—the heavy of not home no more, ‘s extendidly rising and becoming a lie; yes, a lie yes, a le yes, a l es oot. Oot. And; here he was somehow, by the creator’s grace, he did believe, but would not know, that ‘til about fifteen years down the line—coming onto his Dell’s shoe store workshift just as any other time, thinking it’s just another time, but, by big Herculeses’ evil womanthrusted backquaff, as from old Omphale’s deep waters of forgetfulness, just anothrey’ll tool-day’s all fine at Dell’s, we’r’ going to begin about one hour back, but now here a bit further ahead, sort of right now, actually, yes; his next Dell day rolled out before him beautifully, and his stopped clock started again here at the very top, and he understood finally exactly where he was, and did greet several apparently real co-workers, in this great big lie of a day—but, anyway; hey Sandy, another great day ahead, don’t you think? Great day to be here at Dell’s. What’s better?
Uh?
Well, yes, and no, said Sandy. I am thinking it will be a dull day. The weather is bad. The economy’s down. A dead day. All tired, all listless. Not much to do. No customers. You know? A day like that, well—it sucks.
Ah, oh, eh—he smiled, not saying what came up in him; eh, Sandy, but we are Dell’s shoe store salesmen, there are never bad days for Dell’s shoe store salesmen, busy, or not—we’re all blessed to be with Dell’s—but, just then, in came the first customer here, turned fast into p-raring his or her welcome. See, I told you Sandy, I told you, I did, but here we go yes; yes yes yes, welcome to Dell’s! What’s the occasion that brings you to Dell’s t’day, bu’, ‘is custo-ver surfs in up and over this and up on his wide sandy beach, with, Yes I’ve a black-tie gala to prep over ‘nd just found out two slow moments ago; so, need shoes. ‘re best new shoes immediately, yes, and so, ‘e fades back, saying, Okay, fine, yes, of course, but; your size; we need to take your size, have a seat, but, another’s right behind piling in over mixing all up so again sa’ welcome into Hell heaven yes, no, The wives need three pairs each slack-blacked loafing boots and we need them now, and up! Your hand’s up! Comes another. Saying yes, buh’, yet another. Fine ‘o you all have seats off your shoes get your sizes ‘nd b-b-b-back hind his flat’s stood Sandy, bitching, ‘bout maybe we should shut shop early, yes early. Early for sure if it’s all dead like this. Answer quick, What? What’s the matter? You blind? But yanked hard he rolls back facing thirds and fourths flooding in, purposefully, chorusing sweetly we need; ‘vry-one needs; he, she, it, them, they and theirs need, pumps; all this very minute; for a really hot wedding, and, sandals; for some backhanded slapperfest, bu’, no wait, everyone be seated be barefoot your sizes wait I’ll take all your sizes one two three all elevendy-twelve of you Dell’s fits each shoe using space-age technology so but no, I want loafers; no, no, me here now do you sell brogans spike heels galoshes; no time, no non no, but; eh, ya, clogs clo’ cl’ c’ aw shucks, these are almost but not quite, perhaps you have something similar in the back? Yes, no—who’s that, eh, where’s Sandy. ‘mong these millions seeming to flood down our whole store, where’s Sandy; there’s Sandy, all; in denial, ‘n ‘ia; I’ del ut u, in denial, is what—is what he means to say—he tosses back, Come help me, Sandy. Please help me, Sandy. What’s the matter with you?
The matter’s I hate this kind of dull day, she goes, ‘nto his hot workflood. Don’t you hate a dull day? Who would know if we closed early? I won’t tell if you don’t tell—an evolution of show me yours, and I’ll show you mine, but—Sandy’s crazy eff’n da eff’n da on da de’ day when there’s customers atop customers, layersthick needing all needing swell shoes, given up he turned to the rising tide pushed backhind him.
Hippo!
God! A full family of five slips in all under needing to be fully shod with two changes from casual to dress for each of five days, with, with; no repititions from day to day yes no repititions, they said no repititions from day to day, yes; no repititions at all, every day—all barefoot wall to wall they blur each every and all sizing chairs taken and half oof’ ‘ur floor space sat onto and strewn with doffed-off shoes. All the many stocking feet to measure—all the many style choices to retain, all the running back forth forth back ‘n further, and here and there exclaiming no problem, no problem—I am sure we have more of that style in the back—heck la-la, Sandy is gone off back out d’ register maybe, loafing off behind her felt wall she is, she’ll be dealt with later, but—roll and roll, sweat pouring down armpits down sides yes it’s hot, but; a Dell shoe store salesman gets tough when the demand gets tougher, so, head down; size, try, get, lace, buckle—head down; shall I box them up for you, dear, or do you prefer to wear them home—smile, mirror-point say yes, yes—take a walk past that mirror, dear, would you, yes, ah! Those are quite becoming, those are quite you, yes; espadrilles? Of course, of course. What fun! I love a good cocktail party—business or casual? Yes, of course—I think we may have some cone-heeled numbers in that color in the back. Head down push through; Yes, graduation? Wow. A very special day. You’ve come to the right place—yes? Oh, yes. Rest room’s just out front, and to the left, oh? My condolences. We have the perfect shoes for a wake. Head down, push, push; I’m sorry—oh, yes, welcome to Dell’s—we will get to you presently; have a seat over there. Boots? Oh, you are in luck. The new boot styles have just arrived—yes, of course we can order those for you. Wear them home? Yes, yes. I don’t blame you—well, I feel that a fine pair of sling backs would hit the spot for that vintage style dinner-dance—yes, please, you are next. Coffee while you wait, anyone? Boots, yes—wow; a black-tie gala? Where? Yes, yes. I have been there, myself. That’s a wonderful setting. Uh, yes—I would most likely wear boat shoes for that—yes, we have open toed sandals. Ankle booties? Why, there’s a few right over here—thigh highs, yes. Care for a coffee while you wait? Oh, please—I agree. It’s almost to the point that when I hear the word technology used in reference to footwear, I draw my revolver. How about a soft drink? Yes, of course. Very funny yes, of course—and, yes, I swear, they actually crumbled to bits under me as I walked. Moccasins. Dry-rot. Big barbecue? What fun! Stilettos? No, I don’t smell that. Yes, so, but, we can certainly order those for you—say what? Ah, no. Given that circumstance, only wingtips will do for that job interview. Let me measure. Oxfords of course. Let me measure you. Funeral pallbearer, yes? You need solid soles then. Let me. Don’t want to slip, no. Mules? Measure. Loafers over there. You. The average casket is much heavier than it looks. Platforms? Yes, we have. Me measure. Peep-Toe Heels. Remove your shoes, please. Measure you. Pumps. Sandy? Sneakers. Sandy. Wedding. I need some help over here please—oh, yes—scarpins? My word! I’ve not heard them called that in an age. What? How many steps out front of the church? Yes, I agree. That’s the last place you want to fall on your face.
My word.
Sandy!
Mary Janes.
What do you have that will suit me—no hold it! I traveled cross-country to officiate in the senator’s wedding, and brought only sandals! You must take me first, I am already ten minutes late, and the venue’s an hour away.
What color outfit do you plan to wear?
Sandy, be a dear—close the doors. We are well over peak capacity!
She looks up from the back, glazed.
Why?
The volume of customers—yes, one moment, please have a seat—is overwhelming. Can’t you see?
Why? Isn’t the store empty enough?
Her eye. Her eye.
It’s not that, but—oh, yes, I am sorry sir. I did look in the back. There’s no more.
Be right with you.
Over there. I will ring you up. Welcome! Box them up for you? be seated, be righ’ wi’ yo’. ‘e ‘e. Or, will you be wearing them home? ‘t ‘u. This pair of dress heels are totally you. They show off the turn of your ankle quite nicely. Drive carefully, there’s rain in the forecast. Do come again, do do come again, yes, do, don’t no, no, yes. Please do come back to Dell’s again, another day. Ssssssssssssssssssssss-s-s-s-sss-ss’. Ssssssssssssssssssssssssss.
And thanks for patronizing Dell’s today.
You’re quite welcome.
Oom!
Alarm alarm, alarm. All caught up! Caught up! Well done!
Yago’s-lo, oom.
Plus, ‘s closing time. Sit, down.
Stop the ratchets—dead quiet.
Oh, oh.
Oh!
Oh, my God! Thank God—‘n ‘e wants to ask her why why Sandy, we’re through it, Yes, but what got into you? Are you here? Where’d you go—we need to talk to have a really good talk, but, being drained of gas, the day’s end rang him down spent; spit him out, past the door, back behind, turn ‘round what, what what no way, she’s locking it behind him.
No wait wait!
Sandy; oh, Sandy, but—the glass between tells him ‘cross back ‘er in your cell of real existence called real life, by the blind, though all damn, no dam’ ‘amn, he’s locked outside once more. Stop, go limp, give up, as a voice, heard before, opens his eyes, and he listens. As he listens, yes. He knows.
Well, little Chester!
What? But. Hey?
It’s over. Relax now son. There, there, now, it’s over.
Over?
Yes, over. You have passed the test. This ought to have you feeling fine. You feel fine?
No. Uh, hey. Wait; you ought to have a talk with Sandy. She’s a bit off.
Sandy? Uh, but—I don’t—
Yes, Sandy. She didn’t lift a finger to help out today!
Okay, but—
But nothing! Talk to her!
Okay, but—who the hell’s Sandy? I don’t know any Sandy.
What?
Never mind—hey, listen. You’ve had a day by now. Take the take the rest of the d-take, of the d-d-take of the rest of the day—take it off.
Okay. Oh, but—u’.
Blur down dead gone away.