Locks

I stay busy all day. I get up at five a.m and begin my crab walk. I see the wind outside brushing the trees. No big deal, it gets windy sometimes in Orlando. It's not like it's a hurricane. Anyway, after the crab walk, I do crawling forwards and backwards, just like the crab walk, and I do a lot of other boring exercises which the reading, quite frankly, doesn't give a shit about. But, I'm baby sitting my parents' dog, Gracie, while they're on vacation and living with an HHA named Glenda. Think of The Wizard of Oz she tells me. An HHA for anyone who doesn't know is a home health aid. Hell, I don't feel like I need her, but she can drive and this right has been taken away from me by an idiot judge who should be executed, but that's another story. So, the dog's a teacup chihuahua. Think tiny chihuahua. And she's a bitch in both ways. She's not playful, except with my dad and stays to herself most of the time. But, like any other dog, she has to be walked, fed, and given water. At least I don't have to take her to the vet this time. She's old though, has arthritis in her legs sometimes, and my dog, Hommy, was put to sleep recently. And my parents are paying for me to be here, so this is the least I can do. She's their dog, though.  

So, I tell Glenda I'm going to take Gracie for a walk. I get the bitch, put her collar on, grab some poop bags, and take her outside. I leave the door unlocked so getting back in will be easy. The walk starts out normal. Gracie, the bitch, is picky, and takes her time sniffing the grass, the trees, and nature. She pees and I keep walking with her to see if she has to poop. Picky bitch has to find the perfect spot to do both of these things. Then, the wind starts to pick up and my hair starts blowing behind me, like Marilyn Monroe. Figure, it's no big deal. Gracie's tail is wagging as she continues to find the perfect spot. Why can't dogs use litter boxes? 

Anyway, the wind starts picking up. Like, Gracie starts flying on her leash and looks like a kite on a rope. I'm 220 lbs but feel like I'm going to be flying, too. Shit. I pull on Gracie's leash so I can protect her from the wind with my body, but her collar and leash wind up pulling over her neck and she's flying with the wind. Damn it. My folks're gonna be pissed. So, while doing everything I can to keep my barings, I chase after the flying Gracie, but can't keep my footing and I fall on the grass. Thank God Gracie didn't want to go potty on the sidewalk. Then, though, the wind starts picking me up and making me fly like Peter Pan. Great. Then, I hear my name and look towards the voice. Glenda is in her car with the window cracked an inch open and calling my name. I grab onto a tree and use my arms to pull myself toward the vehicle and I make it. When I open the door though, the wind tries to take the door away, but I'm able to pull it closed with my muscles. Glenda's car is rocking back and forth like the game with the metal balls on the strings. But she asks where Gracie is and I tell her what happened and point. So, Glenda drives toward the flying dog and we both pray she doesn't hit a hard surface when she lands.  

Then, out of no where, the wind stops. Gracie makes a soft landing on grass and we get her home. She's shivering, since she's scared, but seems okay. We decide we'll take her to the vet to be sure though, tomorrow. Then, though, neighbors start coming out of their houses and checking on each other, which is unusual in the 21st century. One person had a tree fall on their house during the wind storm. Others are checking on their neighbors to make sure they're ok. The person with the tree calls their insurance company.  

That night, we watched the local news, like we always do and the newscasters said there was a wind storm. Never heard of that before. Power lines went down, trees had fallen everywhere, and a meteorologist tried to explain what causes wind storms.  

*

The next day, we took the bitch to the vet. The vet took an X-Ray and said everything looked fine. The man across from us got an insurance agent and repairs were scheduled. The interesting thing, though, is we talked to each other after the storm and continued to check in on each other. See, most Americans don't give a fuck about their neighbors unless their neighbors do something to annoy them like play music at 3 am. But, even in apartment buildings, most neighbors don't know each other's names or care. Until something like this happens. When there's a disaster, like a massive fire, a tornado, a hurricaine, etc., then we talk to our neighbors and give a fuck about them, but we can care about our neighbors and get to know them before bad shit happens, but we don't. We build fenses, install security systems, and do everything we can to keep others out. But, what happens when we invite them in? Are we worried that they'll rob us, rape us, or what? When we die, we don't take out possessions with us, they go to our friends, family, and Goodwill. We can specify where everything'll go in our wills, but 10,000 years from now, who'll give a fuck what we owned? Anthropologists, maybe. But, our great, great, grandchildren won't remember us and who cares? We don't even know our neighbors. And if we do, we try to keep up with the Joneses. Who gives a fuck?  

We think what we do will matter or that we need a purpose or have to fulfill a purpose, but what if there is no purpose. There's a God, but no purpose or anything "we're meant to do". Then what? Suppose it's just natural law (physical and spiritual) and there's nothing which has to be done? Who cares? Ten thousand years from now, who cares?