Writers Unbound: Always 911

The couple’d been hovering just around the edge of my consciousness for three or four days. Saw them in the BullDog one night and then in a hip little bistro the next. I’d overheard one making a nuisance of themselves with the waitress on the third day and had made up my mind to go fuck with them when OneForce came back to the table.

“Set up dude,” OneForce is all animated, rubbing his hands excitedly. He explains to me that his buds place in the Jungfrau is a full-on, OldWorlde castle. And we got the run of the place for a good six months to a year. It’s a writer’s heaven and for OneForce, well, it’s like he’s always needed precisely that to write what he believes his scientific masterpiece: the full-on Grand Unification of Physics. A big old castle that he can lurk and pace around in, peer at the stars, do that shit.

Me, I have other things in mind. Writer’s parties in which we all get fucked out of our heads and try to write a novel in a weekend. Like Byron, Shelley and his wife the weekend that gave birth to Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein.” Think about that weekend, friends. Mary’s hanging out with two of the greatest writers of the Age, a total novice on the scene compared to these two Giants and she’s gotta pump out a novel in a weekend. Byron just spends the whole weekend getting ripped and writing nothing of consequence, Percy can’t get in the groove, leaving wife Mary to produce a genuine masterpiece in her “Frankenstein.” You go, Mary, way to turn the whole GenderRoleStereotype on it’s ass!

I’m thinking about that. And firing out Cantos. And an Earthian Manifesto. And my Heaven and Hell epic. And, and, and…

“We gotta get there!”

“Yeah, but not yet,” OneForce yawns like the big cat that he is and eyes a couple of girls at the next table. “Inspiration is key.” We’re strangers in a strange land and it seems to be working for us. We move our chairs over to these girls table and within seconds OneForce has said something so wholly inappropriate that all four of us are laughing helplessly. I totally forget about the couple who’d been watching(?) me. It was that very same night that I saw them again.

I don’t know sweet FuckAll about any kind of spy bullshit or tailing somebody or whatever, but I do know that if I’m aware of them, they’re either total fucking amateurs or else they want me to know they’re there. Fine. I buy ‘em a couple ‘a drinks and fire over to their table. My movie, not theirs. I’ll do the talking here, thanks very much.

“Well, here all are again,” I say, and climb into the seat next to the fella. I slide them a couple drinks. “You gotta drink it. Be strange not to. Keep your cover.”

“Our cover?” the fella asks. An American. Shoulda known by how rude he was to his waitress the day before.

“Such as it is,” I respond. “How long you been on me?”

Sighs. “Since you landed.”

I nod. I’m not impressed with myself until I realize that my vigilance on these types of things dipped extremely low ever since I’d pumped out The Final, Ugly Truth of the Age. I just don’t care anymore. People know now. Fuck it. Kill me. I have no regrets. I’ve lived a full Life. And I said what I had to. Sink or swim, ManKind.

“Ever think of introducin’ yourselves like civilized people instead of lurking around?” Hmmm. Lurk. Twice in one blog. Fuck it. “Fuck it,” I said, “had fun?”

“Not as much as you,” she speaks. American as well. I’d hoped for something European, a real BondBeauty, you know? Hmmm. Makes me wonder if they were around for the SexShow the other night. Some chick in the audience reaches back and starts yanking my dog entirely unbeknownst to her boyfriend as we watch the couple go at it on stage. Me helplessly arcing great, spurting loads of DNA all over her wrist and forearm, and, I confess, on the backs of the unwitting couple standing in front of me. She never even looked back to see my face. Just
absently rubbed me into her skin. Ah, AmsterDam. A bit of a scene, to be sure.

“That would be difficult,” I agreed happily.

“I thought you were supposed to be all paranoid?’ dude asks me. As NSA agents, which I assumed them to be, they’d probably never palavered with a more relaxed Subject than myself. I just don’t care anymore.

“Why? Cuz that’s what you read about me in my blog? You read what I want you to read, motherfucker.” I’m calm as a cucumber, and letting him know the deal by speaking as if he oughtta know better than that, that he’s a child in the wilderness on this whole NetBloggin’ thing. Which really he is, if he’s never really bared himself to the world by writing of his innermost dreams and hopes and fears and insecurities in the wonderful world of Blog.
“You don’t think I know you guys are out there? Watching? If anything I’ve actually been waiting for you.” Let ‘em chew on that. I have been waiting for it. Now I get to look ‘em in the eyes and I just never ever blink first, not bloody ever. “You supposed to scare me? You’re part of my readership, I assure you.” I grab the female agents hand and look her into the eyes. “I wrote it for you, sweetie.”

My eyes fall to her left as the song changes. It’s Frank Sinatra bustin’ out “Girl From Ipanema,” right as I’m seeing a pair of eyes in the distance, watching me. I feel like we coulda seen each other from miles away, continents even. Dark brown eyes, ruby red, thick lips, long, dark hair.
“What time is it,” I ask the Agent outta the corner of my mouth. I usually don,t care about the hour of the day but Confluences have been coming to me alot as of late and usually in conjunction with music. I can’t take my eyes off my beauty across the bar, leagues away from me as she is, can’t even fathom it. And she ain’t looking anywhere else either.

“Eleven after nine,” my NSA agent responds.

“9-11,” I nod. Expecting it by this time. Anticipating these confluences. “Course it is,” I say softly, totally smitten with this Beauty across the way. “Ain’t it always?”

“What?” the dude asks me.

“It’s always 911,” I repeated, “ain’t it?” I get up and wave him off, still looking only at this dark beauty. “Stick around,” I advise them, “be right back.” I’m up and out, OneForce squeezes into my spot. We’d spoken of these two prior to coming to the bar and he hadn’t noticed a thing. They now have his full attention for Good or Ill. I leave it to him, for now. I have one thing on my agenda now and one thing alone. And she still hadn’t taken her eyes off me. Raw fire shoots back and forth between us as I take each step closer towards her. It’s on, Friends and Neighbors, it’s on, the Game is afoot and I will seize.

That is all. For now. Natch.

-iSense