People See What They Want To See

Gonzo Narrows His Eyes. 'how Often Do You Clean That Thing?' 'every Night,' The Waitress Answers. Her Smile Is Strained. 'that's It? Do You Know How Long It Takes For Listeria To Grow Under Those Hot Lamps, Even With Ice?' Here We Go. 'it Can Happen In Just Five Hours. Five Hours And You've Got The Salad Bar Of Death!' The Waitress Looks Confused. 'from Listerine?

Did You Hear? You Are Free." Yessss. Choice. It Is A Fine Thing. And I Choose To Take You Back, Most High.

The Wind Picks Up. It Sends Leaves Scurrying For Cover Until A Softer Breeze Blows Through, Settling Them Down Again As If To Say, Shhh, There, There, It's All Right. One Leaf Still Dances In The Air. It Spins Higher And Higher, Defying Gravity And Logic, Stretching For Something Just Out Of Reach. It Shall Have To Fall, Of Course. Eventually. But For Now, I Hold My Breath, Willing It To Keep Going, Taking Comfort In Its Struggle.

She Shrieks Above The Din. "if You Wish A Battle, I Shall Give It. I Am The Last Of My Kind. I Shall Not Lie Down Without A Fight.

The World Is A Lie...not You And Me.