The Tire - pt 1: A Tale of the Wrench

I sit slouched in my chair
The soft torn leather smooth under my idle fingertips
Stolen from a front office after being deemed too worn for use
It makes it's five footed rolling home in the maintenance area now
Currently residing under my backside
I'm about to fall asleep

I keep staring at a spare tire
It's outside the room I'm in, across the wide hallway
It just doesn't look right

This whole general area is ours
Ours, meaning the company I work for
Everything in it is our collective responsibility
There are only a couple permanent employees here
Natives to Hong Kong
They help us with the local language when needed
And are generally cool folks
The rest of us are nomads
Traveling through on various airplanes in the fleet
Staying for a few weeks at a time occasionally
Helping with the line crews and loaders

This is my turn in the barrel
I've been here a week already
I like it here
Coming to Hong Kong won't be the same once the new airport is finished
I won't be able to see the city outside the fence line anymore
All the fun places won't be quite as close
Although I hear there will be a nice rail system to get us to town

The tire
It's bigger than the ones for the Boeing 747's
But it's not quite right to go on our Lockheed L1011's either
Although it's about the right size
How the heck did it get here?

I let my eyes slip shut
My nap only lasts about a half an hour
After which I feel pretty good
The next aircraft isn't due in for another hour
So I wander over to the stockroom
I see Yi

"What's up with that spare tire over there?"

I point over to the rubber in question
He looks briefly
Then looks back down at his papers and shrugs

That's strange
He must be having a bad day or something
Usually he talks my ear off about the littlest thing

"I'm gonna go check it out
Maybe figure out what it's for or something"

I tell him as I turn and walk away


"You should just leave it"

He says

I turn my head and tell him

"I'm just going to pull the numbers off of it
I don't have anything else going on right now"

I grab the top of the tire and bend down
Peering at the rim
Finding the part numbers
Oh hey now, these look like McDonnell Douglas part numbers
Wonder what the heck they are for?

I tip the tire towards me to look at the backside
Wow!
Seems heavier than it should be
Even for a tire

Suddenly from behind me
Yelling and running feet
I let the tire fall back against the wall
Turning I see about a dozen mixed law enforcement guys
Half of them have their guns drawn
One of them has a German Shepherd dog
I panic
I figure I'm in the way of something
I start to move out of their way quickly
They all veer towards me
Yelling in English and Cantonese

The English I understand

"Get on the ground!
Put your hands above your head!
Now! Now! Now!"

Guns pointed at me
The dog snarling

I do exactly as they say

Crossed Cow Girl

My wig is a little tight dammit

I blow a blonde curl out of my eyes in irritation

My fingers fuss with the hairpins a little more

Now it feels better

Felt like I was getting a headache already

Too early for that

Plenty of time for that later

After the cigarette smoke infuses my hair

I spill a few drinks on my outfit

Or someone else does

If I’m lucky

The lipstick rolls on smooth

Shiny like cherry candy

Lips smack

I tidy up with a little tissue

Almost

Perfect

When I was born

My family lived on Buckingham Street

Little cookie cutter Prairie homes

Mostly the same

Except for little additions from new owners

A garage here

A porch there

Oh! And a special window set over there

So very differentiated

In that little house

I had my first dog

A Great Dane called Gretchen

Gotten when I was a newborn

Because Gretchen’s mom had bitten mine

My mom that is

So naturally

A puppy from the biting mom dog made sense

To smooth things over

Don’t look a me

I’m sure it made sense at the time

I smile at myself in the mirror

I adjust my bust

Evening it out a bit

I look rather ravishing if I do say so

I look at my lines one more time

Almost time to go on

I’m singing a show tune

Which is, I know, a little cliché

But that’s how they happen

By being a little bit true

Cross dressing night at the Rowdy Cowboy

It’s my favorite night of the month

I put on my best dress

Make myself up nice

Sing a few songs

And ride the mechanical bull

Try to pick up a cowboy or two

“And now, on Rowdy Cowboy’s stage…..

Gretchen Buckingham!!”

Oops, gotta go

That’s my cue!

Graven Reflection

I hate you
Thou shiny reflective ghoul!
Reflecting my image
Graven and cruel!
I cast thee out!
Into a million pieces
Shattered into the night
Diamond reflections
Scattered and bright
A disco ball show
Upon the ballroom ceiling
A gaudy freakshow

Mirror ball
Mirror ball
Who is the funkiest in all the land?
Who dances like a rubberbandman
Like Gumby sped up on acid
Is it me?
Or is it she?
Lying on my inlaid floors
Awaiting my attention
And me all thumbs
Fumbling at the zippers
Of my parachute pants
To reach the knives hidden within
The many pockets so deep
Like a thousand Jack the Rippers

I would will them all fly
As one hand would thrust
Until she resembles a porn star pincushion
Photogenic to the extreme
A black and white scene
Blood black on the chrome film
Skin pale as snow silk
The contrast would win a prize
Should it ever reach the right eyes

Those same eyes peering intently at me now
Yours
YOURS!
You fuck!
You fraud!
You fool!
I'd smash your face if I could only reach you

But I'm trapped inside your mirror
With the true devil outside

Simple Faith

I believe what I read
When you print something
It must be Truth
Not necessarily in paper and ink anymore
Pixels and e-ink will do as well
Once it’s there
It gets the stares
The eyes on the page
Soaking up the words
In through the eyes
Chewed in the brain
Defecated back out the mouth
To some unsuspecting soul

But it’s ok
Because I know you only print Truth

I believe what I hear
For when it’s uttered aloud
Sound waves flexing and bowing
To the inflections and flexing
Of your vocal chords
Carried with such self assurance
It cannot be doubted
It’s official
It’s doctrine
It’s whispered in my ear
For only me to hear
I shiver
For the Truth that you tell

It’s my lullaby
Your smooth words my favorite blanket

I believe what I see
It’s real
It’s in front of me
Illusion couldn’t explain
The image now burned on my retina
Of what you did
Or what you accomplished
Of the Truth of the light waves extended
Without breaking any laws
Making it to me with almost no delay
It might have been harsh
The Truth sometimes is

I forgive you
It was such a sight to see

I believe what I feel
Under my fingertips
With their unique I.D.
Stroking poking grasping gripping
Pulling the Truth out of the physical world
Passing it up my arms at lightning speed
Thank gods for neurons indeed
Receiving all that information
Compiling it for my poor cognition
Making it easy to understand
Like a picture book
Or a pantomime show

I like it
Words can be overrated

I form my faith based on those kinds of things
A belief in that which is there
A suspicion on everything else
What color is that house you ask?
I walk around it once
And tell you that the side right here, is white
But you just saw it all! You insist

But I suspect you may have repainted the other three in my wake

I am an unbeliever
I am Doubting Thomas
I am naught but a small child
With a jaundiced eye

Take me by the hand
And show it to me

One Year Later

This time it wasn't a dream

This time the bars weren't rusty

The jailer wasn't a drunk

This was not an old western scenario

I could still hear the gallows being tested though

The morbid noise it makes

The pull of the handle

The creak of the trapdoor

The stretch noise the hemp rope makes

As the weighted dummy is hung

The gallows, after all, were my idea

And these in particular were assembled at my command

These same units were the ones from Albany

Disassembled after our defeat

Brought here to Washington D.C.

To be used after our trials

An example will be made of every last one of us

That's what the judge at the tribunal had said

He had even uttered those age old words at the sentencing

"To be hanged, until you are dead, dead, dead!"

I was almost stoned to death leaving the courthouse

The soldiers guarding me had  made sure of that

Leaving holes in their ranks

So the people gathered could take some justice

That was weeks ago though

The cuts and bruises almost healed up

Just in time to be executed

I had been encouraged to write my memoirs

All my thoughts and intentions leading up to the rebellion

They've refused to call it 'The Second Revolution'

Though that is the title I've given the memoirs

Who knows?  Perhaps it will stick yet

I poured my heart into those pages

My last chance to share my vision for the country

Maybe if enough people read it

all of this will not have been in vain

All the misguided and well intentioned actions

Of almost a year ago

Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the start of all this

I filmed a Public Service Announcement yesterday

Several of them I think

I read several scripts for the cameras

Lord knows what they'll actually be used for

The gist of everything I read was:

Reform, not revolution kids

Or you'll end up like me!

A Saturday morning message for the ages indeed

Reform, not revolution

I had the core problem right though

It was all about money

I should have taken all that money and bought some politicians

I just didn't have the patience

I should have known about the bombs though

From my point of view

I'm lucky that even one of them was real

Turns out that half of the units we bought were CIA fakes

Once again, unfortunately for me

Both of the ones in D.C. were booby trapped

That about wrapped things up for us

Not following through with the ultimatum to the President

That, and all the bombs that were being dropped on our heads

The Air Force boys finally took back control of the drones

That was a bad day

Or a good day

Depending on what side you were on

It's all in the memoirs though

Pick up a copy when they come out

I am the General of The Second American Revolution

Some will piss on my grave

But if history is any indication

I won't be hated forever

Time is all I need

Washington D.C.

I shatter the glass in my mad dash through the door
My hand, now cut, becomes slippery with blood
I feverishly wish my partner was with me
All I have is the bloody key that I snatched from his neck
Snipers picked us up as we made our way to this building
The area was supposed to be held by us
But apparently someone else had different ideas
One minute I was talking quietly with him
The next he was down on his face
Obviously dead
I hadn't even heard a shot
I knew I was next
Dropping to my knee I grasped the chain from around his neck
Coming away with the all important key
I broke into a sprint
If only my old gym teacher could have seen me!
He never would have failed me
I don't think I have ever run that fast before
With every thudding running step
I imagined that I heard a ricochet
A small sound as a round buzzed by my face
Once, I felt a sudden pain my calf
I stumbled
Certain I was shot
But it was just a cramp
I rolled to my feet laughing
Out of breath
Sprinting once again
I'll not go softly into the goodnight
I'll go running!

Once I'm a few rooms into the building I calm down a little
I wrap a stray scrap of shirt around my hand
I light a cigarette and force myself to walk
I can't approach this in a panic
You just don't do that
Seems like a bad idea

I find the crate in the basement
On it's wheeled cart
I curse at it as I try to get it moving
Why......do......nukes....have...to be...so...heavy!
I pant to myself

This would have been easier with a helper
I think that as I press the elevator button
That thought gives me pause
I lean my head against the wall of the moving lift
Give myself a few minutes to cry and move on
No worries
This is all for a good cause

Reaching the thirty-fourth floor
I get the cursed thing moving again
My legs screaming protest after all the exertion of the last half hour
I think about everything around me
All the history
All the people

Kneeling down next to the box I release eight latches
Flipping the lid off
I inset the key
Ninety degrees to the left
Red lights come on
A monitor comes to life
Green glow lighting my face

I so can't read Russian
I pull the crumpled cheat sheet from my pocket
Suddenly on screen it asks a question

Press '1' to continue in Russian
Press '2' to continue in English

Well holy shit
I think to myself
That's right nice of them!
I press '2' without hesitation

Another prompt comes onscreen

I see you'd like to detonate your nuclear device?
To insure you know what you are doing, are mentally competent, and indeed human; please answer the following questions:


Finish the refrain from this famous Jackson 5 song: ABC, easy as ___________.

What the fuck?
Well, I guess if Facebook makes you do captcha things to verify yourself........
I carefully enter '1,2,3' on the keypad.


Very good!


Please enter the correct number to finish this quote: Four score and ____ years ago.

Oh, puhleeze! This is kid's stuff!
I press '7' on the pad

Almost done. Now please prove you are human. Look into the eyepiece please.

A small black stalk pops up out of the control panel
An eye cup on the end of it
A dim glow coming from within the cup
With a grunt of disdain, I press my eye to the cup

Okay hold still a moment.

A gunshot rings out in the small thirty fourth floor room on the north wall
My now lifeless body slowly slumps to the ground next to the box

Congratulations! You have been confirmed as human, and have received a door prize of a 9mm round though your eye. Please assume the recovery position while your location is pinpointed.


The CIA would like to thank you for choosing one of its fine products.


Thank you for playing, please tell your friends!

Ultimatum

Our will is unbreakable
We are everywhere
Your drones cannot kill us in some stealthy strike
Look at the person next to you
They are us
We have taken most of your state capitals
Hanged most of your high level State level officials
Where you have defied us
We have shown you our will

Let Boston be a lesson to you all
For though you condemn us for what we have done
We do these things for you all
We are your saviors
Not of your spirits or your souls
But of your country

Your President and Congress have hidden themselves away
Leaving you, the common people
To bear the brunt of their defense
Do not allow them to do this
Reveal them to us where they hide in their rat hole
Do not press us to use the same force we used in Boston
We take no joy from such things

You have twenty four hours
If the Commander in Chief and his Congress
Do not surrender themselves for the sake of the country and it's people
We will be forced to action
Actions which cannot be taken back
Or made up for

We will destroy the whole of Washington D.C.
Our country's heritage will be lost for all time
The symbolic seat of our strength
Our children's birthright

We are the Sons and Daughters of the Second Revolution

You have twenty four hours