Smooth Jazz

The jazz came through the speakers in broken, hissing bursts. The violent storm knocked down the towns power and the heavy snow interfered with KJZ, the only terrestrial radio station free of commercials playing all the best jazz hits. My fingertips were blue and my son was missing but the pretty lady who was in line before me seemed fine. She has been sitting in the corner laughing and slapping the wall and my god would you look at that one of the postmen hopped over the counter and he’s about to hit her and he hit her hard in the head with a small wooden club and the woman screamed and stood and faced the man and he struck her again on the chin and the woman fell to her knees and slapped the wall some more before the man hit her twice more in the head then she went down and that was when I felt the least afraid because I was too shocked to remember how long it had been since I ate a bite of food or drank water or saw my little boy or kissed my wife.

The man dragged her towards the front counter past the old man who died a couple hours ago from god knows what he just fell to the ground and nobody made a move or a sound we just watched him stare peacefully at the ceiling as the life drained from his eyes and evacuated his body completely which caused his bowels and bladder to stop working and so we all knew that because it smelled like piss and shit. Where is my son?

I drew my knees closer to my chin which hurt because I’m not very flexible but it was so cold and I was going to steal the dead old man’s coat but the postman who killed the woman was wearing it and actually he stripped the old man completely and he told the woman and I if we tried leaving he would strip us of our clothes and our skin and that was when I knew being trapped in the post office during the worst storm of the century was no different than being trapped any place because some people have been trapped for so long among strangers who appear more free than themselves and it is only when those strangers are trapped does the prisoner feel liberated and brandishes his rage and cuts us down in his revenge.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s