Just a Spoon Full of Toxins

Nice hat.

I look at the raven sticking out of my chest and push him back.

He's hungry this morning, and I know what THAT means. Lot's of colour commentary. Well, more like grayscale commentary, it's all black or shades of black.

I have a feeling I know who's holding his leash, but maybe I'll have a look anyways

Nice driving. Nice makeup. Nice attitude.

He's pulled out of my chest further this time, trying to pull his wing out, stuck like he's exiting an aberrant birth canal. So I reach down and pull him out - awareness is supposed to dissolve his kind, but I have the distinct feeling that today might be one of those exception days.

Not even grateful as I pull him free, just looks at me with jaundiced fire-eyes, unashamedly takes a chunk of flesh from my arm (subtle body, but the bleeding that's left there is almost worse than what a 'real' pound of flesh would be), cacks something up that crawls up to my mouth and is swallowed before I can see what it is.

But I can feel what it is. It's the leash. Ego's got this little fucker on a leash. And I have Ego on a leash, so theoretically, I can reign in Ego, and judgment will be caged as the little shitty song-bird it is but

Oh that's nice. Cut me off. Learn how to drive, fucker

but it looks like Carlos is off and at 'em. Maybe I'll just listen for a while.

But Carlos's words are becoming context now, or better put they are FILLING context around me like a jaundiced yellow pudding. It's pulling at my legs now, plugging my ears and gumming up my eyes. Every pure input I have is now subject to this, and it's a nasty plague kids. Even as I clear the sense canals out, it's STILL there, a curtain in front of perception and perspective.

And I look over at him, perched on my shoulder, expecting to be assaulted by small words of attack, but it's WAY beyond that. He's got a fire hydrant stream of yellow ghoulash coming up and he's directing it everywhere I look, everywhere I listen from.

Ego's laughing his wiry little ass off.

Interesting, that. Ego normally presents as a bloated pig, stewing in his own juices and whatever he pulls down from Id World, but today's he's all but naked. And not a pretty sight. But what's interesting is that it takes a LOT of effort for him to keep Carlos dancing like a kite at the end of the string. Lot of energy to keep the ...

Separation

up.

And with this insight, Carlos turns and looks at me, a little chagrined, but more than that, a little

worried?

About his survival. And with THAT observation, he's vacuumed back through the chest cavity, Ego fattens up, and I'm back in control again, thank the g...

Nice Hat.

shuka sha.

Check It At The Door

Yes, yes yes, I'm surprised you even have to ask. He was given the same directions as everybody.

For the record, he came in a bit after the doors opened around 8:00 o'clock, big chip on his shoulder. Looking not so much for fight as for confrontation, but in my business that's a bit worse. A fight is in your face; confrontation is the big What If and ends up taking more effort to babysit in the long run.

So he comes in, full eye contact and then some. Passes me his ego in a suit bag and tells me that he's been having a lot of issues with it, so it would probably be in everybody's best interest to keep it out of the light of day. It was whining and grovelling and kicking petulantly at the sides of the bag, I figured what's the big deal? - and hung it up with the rest of the egos. Most of the real big hitters - huge AND small egos - they both have their minefields you know - come in after nine. The lonely, the horny, the lonely and horny, testosterados and estrogonitas. But at that time - 8:00 o'clock? Figured I'd hang it and leave it.

So I did.

Then I watched him.

I didn't notice the correlation at first, was too fascinated watching him zone in on his targets - and they were many. Couldn't figure out what he was selling at first. What's that? Oh it was OBVIOUS that he was selling something. His demographic cut across age and gender, but it seemed to smell currency. And when I figured out what the currency was, a lot of things started to fall into place.

He was selling God. Not in a pill either. Holy roller. Gotta watch those guys. You have the JW's, who can canter and countercanter with the best of them. Great debaters, slippery slope if you don't know what your up against. Then you have your Mormons - too easy to pick out - buttoned up like they're heading to temple right after they leave the sin bin. Then there were these guys - AEs. Aggressive evangelists. These aren't the Rick Warren emerging church let god reveal your purpose for you - this was I KNOW the book and YOU don't. Even if you think you do you don't.

His second mark that night lit up when he first approached her - but so did his bag. Whining increased. Petulant plus now, like if anything it DESERVED to be out. I caught him looking at me - well, it was past me really I was just in the field of vision - squinting like he was trying to hear the bag (well out of his earshot), and this just made it more frantic.

Didn't take long though, it was all AT instead of To. Talking AT. Teaching AT. Lecturing AT. Even cajoling AT, which is no grammatical mean feat let me tell you.

I went back and looked at his bag and it was monogrammed with a double B standing back to back like angel wings, and if that wasn't enough to get the message through, a cross and a halo o'er top. Rang a bell with some kind of fatty, dogmatic ego-blubber-driven Church stew that passed itself off as Christian counselling every week day on the AM dial.

Strange thing was the more the mark was brow beaten, the more histrionic the ego got. It was feeding off her! And when she neutralled-out, it would pep up too! The balance it needed to quiet down seemed to be engaged-but-sycophantic.

Well, she never quiet got there. BB got his dander up and hers with it. She finally upped and slapped him hard across the face and stormed off. His ego stormed at this - all the ugly patriarchy and true currents of xenophobia, misogyny and shallow knowledge trying its best to pass itself off as wisdom - raised up in a terrible storm and burst through the bag. Power and glory and dark purple well done ego met half way between the dance floor and the checking in room. He looked at the Beast, it and him, then they simply enjoyed a flaccid embrace. BB rolled it up like a deflated sleeping mat, folded it twice and swallowed it whole.

Which finally, FINALLY leads me to where we are with your questions. It wasn't a customer back here with too much to drink, it was ME with too much to see. I vomited like there was no tomorrow. Yessir, guarantee I'll have it cleaned up before the nine o'clock crowd comes in. We don't need any more issues with checking it at the door.

But between you and me, it did serve one purpose. BB did a wide circle away from me and out the door. Heard his ego mewing like a stuck pig. Trust me, a blessing, I don't know what MY ego would have done if he circled in with his goods to make a sale AT me.