The Septimus Notes

Saturday, March 19, 2005

|Seeing red.|

Everything is black and white. You see a man, rough, gruff, probably Eastern European, lying in bed next to a woman. Only the dimmest light is infiltrating the somber bedroom. The man stirs, sits up in bed and slowly, almost agonizingly lurches his legs around and onto the floor. A voice comes over, a narrator, the man's inner-voice: "Gotta get up. Gotta go to work. Can't. Won't. Tired. Must. If I don't put the head on those pins, there are another 1000 bums who can replace me." During this inner monologue the man has managed to rise from the bed and has shuffled his way through his bare and sparsely decorated apartment. On the way to the kitchen he passes by a loom, it's old and covered in a ratty, holey linen. In the kitchen the light seems even more feable. The floor looks to be simply very well-trodden dirt rather than tile or some other kind of flooring. "Gotta get started. Can't be late. Need... need something. So tired." He reaches up and opens the door to a cabinet, light. He can barely see through the light, it blinds him, but he reaches for it and grabs a hold of something. His movements are noticeabley more lithe, faster and livelier. He pulls the object down and as it is withdrawn from it's dark place it fills the kitchen with light. The object is visible, it's in color.

A voice, not the man's: "For the labourer who just cannot seem to get going in the morning, try new Manifestios! Bite after bite puts a bounce in your step and a piston in your crank-arm. Crunchy and satisfying, be the guy at your union meeting that every man wants to pat on the back. Now in two new flavors: Stalin Red and Mao Berries."

The man smiles. Laughs a hearty, boisterous, drunk-Cosack after goosing a drunk bar maiden laugh. The scene freezes. A voice: "And for a nocturnal twist, try adding Mao Berries to our brand new Chiang Kai-Chex Mix to be the life of the party!"

promulgated by SWS2.1 at 18:34.
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