Kires (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} kires) wrote,@ 2002-10-18 16:06:00 |
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Preview of coming distractions
Poor yuppie. Just some random member of the upper-middle class; you know the type. The ones that come equipped with a brightly colored tie and a beige bedroom; the sort of team-playing, socially correct pillar of suburbia who would walk down a sidewalk in downtown Atlanta, with the flow of traffic passing by ignored and invisible, just 2 feet to his left. The sort of upwardly mobile professional that said important sounding things about the "Johnston account" and the "Mandel Report". But most importantly, above all else, he was the sort of self-assured fellow that would never suspect that he was but seconds away from having his world-view shaken like a magic 8-ball by nothing more than few ounces of dyed leather at the business end of a swing-and-duck combo issued with surgical precision from the passenger seat of a white mini van. He was to see the mini van a few seconds after the fact, but he would not really notice it, and would never suspect that it had anything to do with the brief and savage attack on his person by a mass of stinging red tentacles. Tentacles which appeared from nowhere, grabbed him by the head, forced him into an abrupt about-face, and then returned to whence they came, all in less than one tick of the gold watch on his wrist. I don't know if it was actually gold, but I do know that I admired the way it sparkled in the sun as he flailed madly, trying to fight off an assailant that was gone before he started swinging.
In retrospect, it was cruel and insensitive, and I am appropriately ashamed to have been such a willing and eager party to it. However, no physical damnage was done to the bearer of the power tie. I've often wondered how he handled it, how he dealt with that semi-second and the ensuing memories. In truth, all he'll ever know about it, he learned in the bare majority of a second where the tassels met flesh. Sadly, he'll never realize the singular honor that is his, as the target of the world's first and, to my knowledge, only "Drive-by Flogging".
Poor yuppie. Just some random member of the upper-middle class; you know the type. The ones that come equipped with a brightly colored tie and a beige bedroom; the sort of team-playing, socially correct pillar of suburbia who would walk down a sidewalk in downtown Atlanta, with the flow of traffic passing by ignored and invisible, just 2 feet to his left. The sort of upwardly mobile professional that said important sounding things about the "Johnston account" and the "Mandel Report". But most importantly, above all else, he was the sort of self-assured fellow that would never suspect that he was but seconds away from having his world-view shaken like a magic 8-ball by nothing more than few ounces of dyed leather at the business end of a swing-and-duck combo issued with surgical precision from the passenger seat of a white mini van. He was to see the mini van a few seconds after the fact, but he would not really notice it, and would never suspect that it had anything to do with the brief and savage attack on his person by a mass of stinging red tentacles. Tentacles which appeared from nowhere, grabbed him by the head, forced him into an abrupt about-face, and then returned to whence they came, all in less than one tick of the gold watch on his wrist. I don't know if it was actually gold, but I do know that I admired the way it sparkled in the sun as he flailed madly, trying to fight off an assailant that was gone before he started swinging.
In retrospect, it was cruel and insensitive, and I am appropriately ashamed to have been such a willing and eager party to it. However, no physical damnage was done to the bearer of the power tie. I've often wondered how he handled it, how he dealt with that semi-second and the ensuing memories. In truth, all he'll ever know about it, he learned in the bare majority of a second where the tassels met flesh. Sadly, he'll never realize the singular honor that is his, as the target of the world's first and, to my knowledge, only "Drive-by Flogging".