Sunday, May 31, 2009

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet

     Do you like the rain, Company? I am not talking about beautiful rain making the valley look very pretty. I am not talking about the nourishing water helping your crops grow. I am not talking about rain falling softly on the porch roof while you fall asleep with your honey on a hot summer night like you are in a county music song. I am not talking about a warm tropical rain where you dance around a muddy street in an impoverished Central American town with the other backpacker from Nebraska that you met on your Spring Break that you are desperately trying to lay. No, I am talking about a bone-chilling industrial rain that you are forced to plod through on your way from Point A to Point B. Like the cold November rain that Axl Rose was singing about in the 1980s. That kind. That's the kind I was walking through, except it was May and not November. But it was still cold. And I don't usually like being soaking wet and cold while I am transporting myself from place to place. So when the rain started and I was like a block from Mike-a-licious' house I decided to stop by in an desperate effort to at least stay dry.
     So I just walk in the door and shake myself off like a dog that just got out of the water when Mike-a-licious gets a very random text message from Gone With the Wind, because we are all young and hip and totally awesome and we communicate via text message like those damn, dirty kids who are always whacking off in your tool shed. Anyway, the text message was to alert Mike-a-licious, and by extension myself because I was standing right next to him, that there was a random man walking down the main highway though town in a full-on Superman outfit. Seriously, Company, I don't have the time or energy to make this shit up anymore. So of course,      Because we are us, we jumped into the truck and took off after the guy.
Well, once we waded our way through the rain and pedestrians and out of town traffic clogging the main street and got to the highway, there was no Superman to be found. He was supposed to have been down by the laundromat, the very same laundromat that sparked all my laundromat rage, and supposedly cars were stopping and taking pictures of him. But of course by the time we got there he was gone. So we did what any good people would do and started cruising up and down the highway. We went through where all the business that the type of person walking down the street in a Superman outfit would be headed: McDonalds, Dairy Queen, the gas station, the friendly local grocery store, etc. He was not at any off those places. We were even looking in windows and saw nothing but the usual mix of tourists and high school kids. Needless to say that we were disappointed.
     Although we were unable to locate this wet Superman I can't but help wonder what circumstances led to this guy to be doing this action in this particular style of dress. I mean, it's not like Gone With the Wind saw an Amish man at a granary, now is it? That would be expected and normal and totally appropriate. But Superman on the side of the highway in the rain? Not so much. My first thought, after having lived for many years in a college town, was that this poor guy was suffering through one of the worst walks-of-shame in history. In the rain. In a Superman outfit. At four-something in the afternoon on a Sunday. In which case he would have been miserable but pretty content about the events of the last 24 hours. If it were around Halloween time, if it were really a TRUE November rain, then maybe I could believe that. Or maybe even if there were a bunch of twenty-somethings floating around the Worldwide Headquarters. Neither of those two are true, however, so I am thinking that this guy is a couple sheets short of a ream.
     So what's his deal? Maybe he's a little, you know, slow? Like he still thinks he is three and can run around the yard with his Superman costume on. That would not surprise me. Drunk? Could he have been drunk? Oh yeah, for sure. You'd have to be awfully drunk on some atrocious mixture of alcohols, including grain alcohol and anti-freeze, to think it would be fun and productive and attractive to run down a US highway in a Superman outfit in the rain. Maybe he lost a bet. Man, I hope he lost a bet. Like he was sitting down at the bar with his buddies and he was watching NASCAR and was like "If this pit stop takes more than 25 seconds I will run down the street in my Superman costume" because there is no way a pit stop is going to take that long but then like the car falls off the jack and the guy who fills the gas tank breaks his ankle and all hell breaks loose and suddenly there is Superman flying down the street in the rain. That's fine, I guess. Maybe he was on his way to a kid's birthday party and his car broke down...I don't know! But I sort of want to. But I will never find out the answer because I never even got to see him. In the end he was just like the Superman: Faster than a speeding bullet. Into a dark, dry place but still fully alive in my memory. Maybe I can flush him out by running around town in my Superwoman outfit. That would probably do the trick. Look for that on maybe a sunnier day. I mean, all this started when I came in from the rain, why would I want to go back out into it?

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