Let Me Be!

It seems that around every holiday weekend every blue collar worker and his crooked toothed family rediscover that there is more to life than sitting lethargically in the "living room" on a Wal-Mart sofa. They, for whatever reason, decide to shun their video-gaming machines, soap operas and Jeff Foxworthy CD's; and instead of these menial activities, they flock to my most sacred and private places; local parks, secluded city ponds, and the usually urbane bookstores and cafes of my niche. This assault causes each locale to gasp in a futile battle to maintain the essence that so connected me with it, but eventually becomes filled with an energy so pedestrian that to experience it for even a minute causes me to become ill.

These are the places I go to compose myself after a gruelling day of sitting at my typewriter so distraught that I managed to weave together only one sentence, but at the same time pleased because it was the most beautiful sentence ever committed to paper. However, if I do not get this personal time of solitude to reflect upon my accomplishments, the misdeeds of others, and the incongruence of a fawn slurping fresh dew from a newly fallen leaf, I can be quite the unpleasant person. So, one can see how crucial it is for me to have the local park bench free of suburban dunderheads and their sleeveless t-shirts. Usually I just let them and their inconsequential lives be as they are; I can normally find refuge at an alternate site, but today I would not be so accommodating!

I had quite the successful day, two of my poems had been so emotionally charged that I wept whilst writing them, and I composed a formal correspondence informing the city about global warming and the risk they are running by not recognizing its importance to modern society. Unfortunately, the days course of events took a most unappealing turn once I left my residence. First, en route to the post office, a gentleman exuding the foulest of odors bumped into me, causing my wool vest to obtain the same disgusting smell.

If this pungency was not enough to send my wondrous day into a whirlwind of havoc, I then heard the most abhorrent of sounds emanating from the motor vehicle of a passerby. Ms. New Booty by Bubba Sparxx is what the radio dj called it, gutter sweepings would be a more appropriate title. I immediately fled this environment for one where I could calm myself and reflect on the ups and downs that this day brought to me. I chose to seek privacy at the local park at about 5 pm.

I found my way to the most comforting of benches and rested my woe-filled soul. Soon thereafter I was affronted by two bulky simpletons, which I would have been fine with had I been given enough time to reset my spirit, but I had not, and even if that had been the case I would not have been ready for what was about to happen.

"Happy Independence Day! Why you so sad?" I could smell the lager on the breath of the man nearest me as he queried my situation. I was not amused by American flag bandanna nor his sparkler, which emitted embers that often came near to setting my jacket ablaze.

"I am not sad, I am just in deep thought and would appreciate it if you let me be." This seemed to be a less than satisfactory response to both the first man and his friend, whom chose to respond almost immediately,

"Ahh, he just needs some popcorn," and I smelled an even more vile alcohol come from this man, possibly tequila. He continued,

"Here, have some of me's and he's popcorn!" They then both began to push their trans fat filled and sodium laden bags of puffed corn at me. I attempted to be cordial by just waving away their cheap snacks from my face, but they refused to halt.

"Come on buddy, have some. It's like ways better than Ervin Redbacher." At which point I could take no more of their incessant badgering, and, as I felt the tears well up in my eyes, I EXPLODED!

"Get that popcorn out of my face! I choose to have none and you need to respect that decision of mine, as guaranteed by the constitution. You two have ruined my solitary time and I would appreciate it if you let me be." I could see I was making them realize the idiocy of their actions, "I am going to be leaving this bench and you needn't follow me with your lowly bag of aerated morsels because I will have none of it."

I then walked off knowing I had taught these ill-mannered Joe Lunchpails a thing or two about respecting modern day sages.