The Man from India
I received a call yesterday whilst at work. To elaborate:
Judging by his accent, it was a man from India who was running down the street with a cell phone he stole from an unsuspecting citizen in broad daylight. He must have dialed in clipped fragments as he ran. Dialing a phone number is an almost universal language, but he only just managed the vocabulary because he was encumbered by... hand-cuffs!?
He'd have been jumping hedgerows like hurdles and sprinting in ridiculous fashion without moving his arms because of the restraints. Breathless, running from his pursuers, towards his destiny, he must have forged in his brain what seemed a devilishly-simple plan to thwart his persistent enemies. What foresight did it take to call here, exhausted from the chase, almost unintelligible through the gasping for air, panic creeping?
Aha! He would call us, ask for my boss, urgently petition this architecture firm for the construction of brick wall just behind him. Lightning quick, he would run by. Once passed, it would be only a matter of moments before those that gave chase would splat into it at a dead run and peel off flat as a pancake and red-faced to hear the uproarious hilarity of a laugh track churning out the din of a million unsympathetic chuckles.
And if not that, maybe we could finesse an alternate escape plan for him. Perhaps, with cartoon-quick gestures of a enormous paintbrush held by some unknown, omniscient mute, we could create for him a hideout that he could lay low in, or, better still, a rabbit hole for him to disappear down before our giant eraser removes it just in time to see Elmer Fudd, decked out like a British policeman, do a swandive right into the gentle earth. All while campy cartoon orchestration modulates seamlessly with all the slapstick antics and pratfalls
But this is no Bugs Bunny sketch. No, our fugitive is in no way meant to be construed as a replacement for that wascally wabbit. Bugs' confident swagger has no animated equal. This guy, on the other hand, seemed an awkward, hapless, newly-liberated jailbird on the run from Johnny Law, with ball and chain in tow, black and white striped pajamas and all. This is the high anxiety of the Stooges combined with the high technology of a cell phone tracing across time and space to find our office, all set to a high-energy musical arrangement that echoes the madcap intensity, the side-splitting insanity of it all.
Unfortunately, he did not get his reprieve. My boss was not here yesterday. His call came to me instead. And, albeit attentive as I was, I could not duplicate his tempo. The humor of a man caught up full-steam going Mach 2 and having a conversation with another who, stoic and unperturbed, idled at a drive-thru window to pick up a milk shake before a ride in the country -- well, that humor seemed lost on him.
I think he must still be running even at this very minute, a Hindu Forrest Gump ex-con criss-crossing the countryside in search of safe haven from the onslaught of invisible enemies that no one else can see, our work number scrawled on his arm in black Sharpie, his jet-black hair frazzled like a spent match and high as smoke stack.
I would have liked to have helped him, but I didn't want to spill my milkshake. :p
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I got a call alright. Didn't get much out of the guy that would have lead me to believe it was anything other than the story that I just unfolded for ya. :)
That's my attempt at turning a mundane daily occurence into a blog-worthy post.
Coming up next post, on a bit of a more serious note: a number of reasons why you should hate Stephen Speilberg. ... I'm not kidding :D
Judging by his accent, it was a man from India who was running down the street with a cell phone he stole from an unsuspecting citizen in broad daylight. He must have dialed in clipped fragments as he ran. Dialing a phone number is an almost universal language, but he only just managed the vocabulary because he was encumbered by... hand-cuffs!?
He'd have been jumping hedgerows like hurdles and sprinting in ridiculous fashion without moving his arms because of the restraints. Breathless, running from his pursuers, towards his destiny, he must have forged in his brain what seemed a devilishly-simple plan to thwart his persistent enemies. What foresight did it take to call here, exhausted from the chase, almost unintelligible through the gasping for air, panic creeping?
Aha! He would call us, ask for my boss, urgently petition this architecture firm for the construction of brick wall just behind him. Lightning quick, he would run by. Once passed, it would be only a matter of moments before those that gave chase would splat into it at a dead run and peel off flat as a pancake and red-faced to hear the uproarious hilarity of a laugh track churning out the din of a million unsympathetic chuckles.
And if not that, maybe we could finesse an alternate escape plan for him. Perhaps, with cartoon-quick gestures of a enormous paintbrush held by some unknown, omniscient mute, we could create for him a hideout that he could lay low in, or, better still, a rabbit hole for him to disappear down before our giant eraser removes it just in time to see Elmer Fudd, decked out like a British policeman, do a swandive right into the gentle earth. All while campy cartoon orchestration modulates seamlessly with all the slapstick antics and pratfalls
But this is no Bugs Bunny sketch. No, our fugitive is in no way meant to be construed as a replacement for that wascally wabbit. Bugs' confident swagger has no animated equal. This guy, on the other hand, seemed an awkward, hapless, newly-liberated jailbird on the run from Johnny Law, with ball and chain in tow, black and white striped pajamas and all. This is the high anxiety of the Stooges combined with the high technology of a cell phone tracing across time and space to find our office, all set to a high-energy musical arrangement that echoes the madcap intensity, the side-splitting insanity of it all.
Unfortunately, he did not get his reprieve. My boss was not here yesterday. His call came to me instead. And, albeit attentive as I was, I could not duplicate his tempo. The humor of a man caught up full-steam going Mach 2 and having a conversation with another who, stoic and unperturbed, idled at a drive-thru window to pick up a milk shake before a ride in the country -- well, that humor seemed lost on him.
I think he must still be running even at this very minute, a Hindu Forrest Gump ex-con criss-crossing the countryside in search of safe haven from the onslaught of invisible enemies that no one else can see, our work number scrawled on his arm in black Sharpie, his jet-black hair frazzled like a spent match and high as smoke stack.
I would have liked to have helped him, but I didn't want to spill my milkshake. :p
--------------------------------------------------------
I got a call alright. Didn't get much out of the guy that would have lead me to believe it was anything other than the story that I just unfolded for ya. :)
That's my attempt at turning a mundane daily occurence into a blog-worthy post.
Coming up next post, on a bit of a more serious note: a number of reasons why you should hate Stephen Speilberg. ... I'm not kidding :D
posted by ruby maser at 7/12/2005 09:16:00 AM
9 Comments:
So, you got a heavy breather wearing clangy bracelets?
Dude, I used to do phone customer service for the 401k world I worked in. While heavy breathers were twitchy gross, nothing was worse than hearing the toilet flush.
ACK
Great cartoon imagery though - I felt like I could hear some of the canned sounds. But I don't watch them and haven't for years, when's the last time you caught some Saturday morning cartoons, eating your Lucky Charms?
Oh, he sounded like he was running a marathon.
The only way having someone go to the bathroom while talking to me would be acceptable is if I was completely oblivious to it. The moment they flush that toilet and make me aware of it, that's pretty repugnant. In customer service, I think you should at least get a bonus or gift certificate or something for every time it happens.
You don't watch cartoons anymore!? :D Well, it's actually been many years since I've been watching Saturday morning cartoons. I'd have been dressed in army fatigue pjs and, if I was eating Lucky Charms, I'd always eat around all the marshmallows and save them for last.
Though I don't get a daily dose anymore, I'll stop and watch the classics if I can catch them. Relive those good times, you know?
I've outgrown my pjs, but that won't stop me from trying :p
Oh, great. Now I'm imagining you in army fatigue pj bottoms pulled chest high and up to mid-calf.
THANK YOU
When I decided on Lucky Charms for my comment I WAS also imagining the last remaining marshmallows floating in there.
I liked chocolatey cereals that made drinking the milk more enjoyable.
One of my favorite cartoons to rush home from school and watch (back in the day) was He-Man.
Another reference to having three brothers.
You've shied quite away from naming siblings. Do you have any?
I liked Count Chocula cereal.
Yeah, I used to watch He-Man, too. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Looney Tunes, all the Hanna Barbera stuff, Jabberjaw, Scooby Doo, Clue Club, Inspector Gadget, Mighty Mouse, Space Ghost -- the list goes on.
I have had a grand total of two step-brothers and three step-sisters tied to two different step-fathers. Not all at the same time of course :p They all are gone now.
I have a half-sister as well that is five and a half years older than me. She's the product of yet another marriage that went south before my Dad (and myself by association) came along.
She and I are pretty close. We always have been. I only state that she is technically my half-sister for the record. Neither of us think of the other in those terms. She'll always just be my sister really.
My father never remarried and has... me. He's thrilled. Let 0me tell ya. :)
My mother and him split for the last time when I was still too young to know I was even here. I never really knew what it was to have a stable family life, I guess. Everyone in the same house and all.
I know you said you're parents have separated. If you don't mind, did it happen when you were very young or older?
I never knew the difference. I think it would be harder to know it was happening.
Cool, okay, I know you have a sister. And the other steps, I'm assuming by gone you mean you don't keep in touch.
Your history sounds like my Sunjam's though. Took me FOREVER to understand her family dynamic.
My parents divorced when I was in high school. A lot of tears. I was depressed anyway. Parents fighting all those years didn't change how much it all sucked.
I finally feel I have a "normal" family life. Well, normal for us. We started working on it about five years ago.
B3 was the last to join in this year.
Well, I'm glad your family came together for you. It's nice to have a tight-knit family if you can.
I know most of my prick adulterous ex-step-father's family were pretty committed to getting together from time to time despite all the miles between everyone.
Neither my father's or mother's sides have ever gelled like that for whatever reason.
You were right, too. I'm no longer in touch with any of the ex-steps. It would be nice to know what became of my first step-father and his daughter. It's been fifteen years though since all that.
And if you start to understand my family dynamic, you'll have beaten me to it :D
Don't worry about me understanding your family dynamic. You WANTED to live with your mom and grandma for even two seconds longer than me.
My mom said if I could've been out at 12years old, I would've done it.
True.
But I'm a bitch and I stuck around 'til I was 18.
[smug look of humor]
Yeah, I kinda asked for it with the whole voluntary thing. :)
I'm glad ya stuck it out on the home front as long as you did. That big, bad world can be cold, more especially when you hail from snow central like you do.
I wonder if you've ever been to Milwaukee and seen the Milwaukee Art Museum by Santiago Calatrava? It would have been completed a couple of years ago.
If not, you could look up a few images online with a quick search.
Maybe, that's like you -- the building, I mean. It has great allusions to flight. Very inspirational.
Afterall, you thrived though you were sort of abruptly thrown into the lake (in this case), sink or swim, at an early age. Maybe, you did so because it.
I think that makes your success sweeter. :)
http://images.chron.com/content/news/photos/05/04/03/zsmilw.jpg
Is that it? Very pretty! Like the tail of a great white whale.
Milwaukee is about 5-6 hours away. I've only driven through it a couple times on the way to/from Chicago (and MI). I never saw much driving over their large highway system/bridge; too worried about flinging off the edge by accident.
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