Mind games

When one finds oneself in a tea room, noshing on cucumber sandwiches, one finds oneself remembering great lines from movies, wherein tea was mentioned, perhaps. Though one could find oneself remembering facts of the history or cultivation of tea, a wonderful manual one once read on how to grow the perfect cucumber, or just exactly why it is that one best hates to visit that one aunt whose living room drapes are of the same exact pattern as the tablecloth.

   It is a natural state of Man to play the game, inside oneself or with friends, of association; which is why games such as Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon are so popular. “Cucumber sandwiches!” one's mind says. “That reminds me of the time I was sandwiched in-between two giant football players, whilst trying to get to my locker at school, and I had to be taken to the doctor.” At least, one's mind might say that, if, in fact, it were true; or, at least a very interesting lie.

 Angela was not in a tea room, and while she was closer to a cucumber sandwich than she ever imagined possible, it remained unknown to her. This, brave reader, is all to the good, for one can only but tremble in fear at the terrible prospect before one, of what trouble and trauma might beset the psyche of a young lady of indiscriminate breeding, once confronted by such a dainty. She was, instead, in the palace of Chaos, and, being human as she was1, her mind played the usual games with itself. In this case, remembering her childhood, as the closest association; for, where but in childhood is the greatest chaos contained?

In her mind she is at a movie theater, standing in front of a poster of a movie, 'Freebie and the Bean'. Nearby is another poster for the movie ' Dirty Harry'. They both are in frames that say “Coming Next”. Angela, knowing that she is in a discount theater, wherein they still play two movies for the price of one ticket, is in some slight guilty state of near Nirvana. She loves these movies, she longs for these movies, but ….

A man strides up and stands beside her. He can feel the self-doubt, the feelings of unsurety as to if she even should feel guilty, mingled with the guilt and wafting off her small frame, filling the air.

The man strikes up a conversation with her, discussing the various moments of laughter, of loyalty of partners, of crime fighting, of action.

“I love these movies, too.” he announces, at the end. “Very entertaining!”

“Yes,” she agrees” but ...”

He considers her argument, most of which is unspoken but profound. “I used to worry about that, too, including the need for a good psychiatrist looming in my future, but, then I realized that small blonde men just look good laying on the bathroom floor. It wasn't that he was shot, it's that he was pretty in his little ripped dress.”

They stood a moment longer.

“And, as to the other, well, who wouldn't want to be chased down by “The Man” , thrown to the ground and made to squeal?”, he went on to say.

“Yes, but ..”, she continued her deep, if silent, argument.
“Oh! That's true, but, it's not about the death. Scorpio is a babe, and a great fantasy, except for killing people. Well, and that thing with the kids. No one should pick on kids. That's nothing to fantasize about.”

Angela looked at him, and laughed. “Well, maybe it's not a point of fantasy for you, considering your age, but ..”   Angela was 9. He conceded her point. The discussion continued. Eventually, other feelings  were wafting through the air. Elsbertha interrupted the discussion to ask why Angela was talking to this strange man, some answer was given, and then she departed. Neither Angela nor the man knew what answer was given. Their every current longing was one for the other.

“Oh dear!” said the man. “This is wrong. I never thought I could be like this. They always .. no! But, you're a girl.”

“Relax, sweetheart.” she tells him, as he starts to back away. “Sometimes it really is just the person.”

He relaxed. Just then his boyfriend walked up, coming in on the end of this exchange, noting the change in the configurations of the front of his lover's pants.

“What's wrong with you?” screamed the boyfriend. “You  f ….. pervert! No wonder they always accuse us of being child molesters.”  He screamed other related things. A crowd was forming, and Angela was not so young that she failed to see that this crowd would not understand, no matter how many psychology degrees it might possess.

“We were just talking about the movies!” she semi-lied to the boyfriend. “That's all.”  The boyfriend relaxed, the crowd relaxed. Someone in the crowd commented “It's not like he'd be interested in her, anyway. He's a pouf!”

Shows you what crowds know!