An Attempt at a Hitchhike (Part 1)

By Jim Meirose

Hold it, stop, said that an innerself anger has been sparked off by frustration, alarmed out all inside the increasingly nervous Kevin, being told hold it, stop, by that same woman Brucie-Yon who, as he stepped out to the shoulder for his next thumbdown, for the first time began to see the Earth have has to have phased over, for else why’s he hearing hold it, stop from that same woman Brucie-Yon VonderLee, and admit to his inside parts he may not make it out, all fazed over, into the July morning festival on time, into the July because here she is with her hold it, stop she’s that same woman Brucie-Yon VonderLee who’s ordering here she was morning festival again on time the Earth has to have phased over on time, for the July morning festival somehow because her bottom line’s hold it, stop she’s that same woman Brucie-Yon VonderLee did it last time while ordering her men to come on time, the Earth has to have fazed over, phased fazed phased over somehow, ‘cause here she is and her hold it, stop says this same woman Brucie-Yon Earth has anger, it has to have has to saying and saying hold it, stop saying have phased over fazed over Earth has to have fazed somehow, ‘cause hold it et et eck Earth has to have fazed over, hold it-eck July morning festival et and that’s where she thwarted Kevin down last time what led him to say this time, Get out of the way, this is ridiculous!

Yes quite very truly!

Whew!

The idi in ridiculous vibed together all preceding words into one vertically skinned yellow vessel of a kind, which, before he could know he had no idea what was happening, opened a

door from which stepped Brucie-Yon, beside a severely belted apparent lowclerk, whose sharp yellow two sized lead stabber’s held ready to write in his flat brownbacked dull edged slanting back, perfectly positioned for immediate use, clipboard. Apparently, everything Kevin was about to say was to be recorded, albeit in this archaic manner. So, he spoke slow.

I don’t know who you are, or why thumbing a ride has become so difficult, but you blew my ride last time, causing me to lose hours, and now here you are, ready to do the f’uckin’ same. By and let me pass.

To where, she said—there is no receiving vessel even near this port yet.

The lowclerk’s hand disappeared into a blur, longhanding everything down and around on the clipboard.

What is a receiving vessel?

The transport you will be loaded up into by my men. After we make sure all the paperwork has been properly filed, and that the owners have signed off that you should be loaded. After all—with the hundreds and thousands of loads handled in this and all ports daily, careful track must be kept of such as you. And, additionally, once the assigned transport vehicle is selected and arrives for us to transfer you into, no transfer can even be prepared for, much less take place, because two of my team must be selected, screened for suitability, checked for height, weight, and health, and and and and and that they are correctly matched sort of, well, kind of like—actually precisely like the tongued board of a shelf corner meets the grooved board of the same shelf corner, and together they make up something wondrous, yah, all beautiful, and then—

I am sorry Ma’am, shaved the Kevin into her outspouting verbalesque performance—but, why do I have to know all of this? No wait but—there’s a better question. Why is all of this shit necessary at all?

—she only went on with, with that they will be issued brand new checklisting digital virtual clipboards, and one will be sent to your main office, and the other to the transport vehicle’s main office, and then the master of each will be questioned at length, to ensure, yes, to ensure, that your offloading will mate up perfectly with his onboarding, and that there will be no issues after all we do not want a repeat of the chain of grossly ignorant errors that led to the great Bantereenia Bay tragedy, where both pitcher and catcher’s steel spines gave way, and that very port was clogged with quite fatal wreckage for months, which only could be cleared by a million-dollar contract award, to Smitty Smit Da Big Smith’s underblocking and regularizing of any general channel, any car, any color, just seventy-nine ninety-nine from that latenighting Schieb guy, okay, so; any questions so far, mysterian-face Kevin—which name I hope you will not object down onto, because my crew has already grown fond of it as a nick—yah a nickname—namee or nickoo or namenick or it’s opposite which is very close, it will turn out when all is said and done, a quite good guess, good good, guess guess, good. Good. Guess—so—

The Kevin having noticed during this polite listening, that Ms. VonderLee was reading off a time and space quite the other side of him far and farther away—some boilerplate cover-her-ass speech all possible Kevin now and later have to hear to avoid legal action, he moved on a whim. His move was nearly involuntary as a big tic. He pushed out his arm thumb up, thrust it through her, then so emboldened by her lack of interest in this violation, he stepped forward their two spaces, ‘came one and she stood within him he stood within her his arm out to the road thumb up classically hitchhacking American-style, and her arms at her chest her mouth gone on straight on, on and on all proclaiming yon furthermore, But, regardless of what we may call our customers’ cargos in jest, fun, or dead seriousness—hic—once inside your opposing forces, it

will then be my clerks’ full responsibilities to do the following as follows following on, et, et, uh!

As she went on Kevin faced the horizon from which flowed to them the road and kept his thumb high, though it was sorely buffeted by the longshoremanette’s verbal blastery winding super breezily all ‘round ‘bout him, straining to rein him, but he not being horseflesh or any lower stock and purpose than that of an innately superior human blessed so by God in his rules for the Eve in his garden which still apply, though cockeyed blistery and even banned by certain off-center faux-christian sects over the far brink of creation, a square dot appeared glistening and growling, and it was a large—extremely large truck’s front facing him and it came and—

She kept at it with, They will go down the checklist pulling switches, hanging tags, kicking ass, and taking names, to wit; the first major or minor—size in this case does not matter—flaw discrepancy blurred line displaced mulch pile—whether large or small dog territorial marking clawbacks being the cause, non, yes, or maybe. We will halt.

—oblivious he stiffened up his thumb hand toward the ramped-down chute-road up ‘top which the apparent tractor-truck, seeming close, but announced as far by the rippling heatwaves densely padding down a’front of its shimmer, to be some greater than one-half or so miles away yet. His thumbthrust ‘came steely to withstand her. These new procedures, he reasoned, had to be a product of the growing surge of his mind. Hitchhack after the same again he had seemed to get nowhere. And July might as well have been riding out ‘way from him, shot out the back of the approaching seeming truck, and sliding down out of sight behind and off—

We will stop, she said solemnly. We will pause, throw our eggs into neutral—no matter how many or few dozens of fractions thereof may be involved in the what’s my cargo question—and then the top-drawer on-call executive staff men of each regime or regimes will meet

regardless—they need to provide contact men on beepercall twenty-four-seven, excluding in the middle of ceremonial turkey dinners involving over thirty revelers, or.

—from the great wall of the horizon, considered Kevin, upon which no one may stand; over which no one can ever leap; and away from which no one can ever dart; but mystically speaking, no effort’s required it seems some odd way to be behind someone else’s horizon, just. Just turn around; there it is again; somebody else’s horizon you are facing the back of, ‘cause it’s known, known and true, that someone’s out past and facing the same but the front of; but again no no got to turn back ‘cause on the front-turn inspired by this muse of a daydream threw off-joint his upthrusting thumb, but, but, realizing this in time—

If two or more turkeys are involved, the minimum reveler requirement may be waived, if the opposing parties’ stockholder bodies call emergency meetings, and take no more than thirty days to prepare a full vote—which time may be extended if it spans over summer recess—and and, once the matter is resolved.

—Kevin spun to face the square-engined onrush again, shockened by how close he’d just come to let the trucker by; and that he would have blown it totally on his own. The sudden appearance of this spanned Ms. VunderKnee, would ought to have been just one of many several factors. Whew! Thank God. But; she went onnan’ on raving inside him, as he was also her inner her, so; the balance was tenuous at best, sir; what we witnessed that day, sir; was quite revolutionary; as down the slope the truck had come through half the haze’ shimmer and its grille twice the chromed over and of the third kind—

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