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woefulWhen this tale is told to future generations, it shall fill the souls of its listeners with sorrow. Men shall croon bitter ballads based upon these events whilst their women weep wildly, swaying in time with the mournful music.
I had decided that what I wanted most in this world, more than anything else was a nice hot, toasty Quizno's sandwich. Logic dictated that I should, indeed, avoid this establishment due to its locale on the dreaded California Avenue. Many a tale's been told about the hungry traveler who tried to feed his soul on California Avenue, only to come up empty-handed, or worse- to never come back again. There's many a Widow Woman who can wax woeful for her lost love after he's tried his luck at this loser's game. There's all sorts of yarns I've heard 'bout just what happens to the poor souls who try and park on California Avenue. Some say the only way to do it is to sell your soul to the very Devil himself. Sell your soul and fill your belly, soon you'll be so occupied with this unholy feasting that you'll quite forget who you ever were and that there is a home to return to. Others say that the Gods will only allow those whom they deem worthy to receive a space in this hallowed highway, and that those who do not meet their criteria shall be punished. They shall be made to drive ever on; always believing that they espy an empty spot just ahead, only to find that it is occupied by a motorcycle. This horrible fate repeats and repeats for eternity.
Nevertheless, my mind was set and I was not going to be denied this day! I decided to face all fears and go after my desires. I could just taste that delicious Quizno's sandwich. Pipin' hot, it would be. Just the thing for this bitingly cold and wet day. As I approached the first parking structure my eyes fell upon the palm-leaf cross nestled underneath my passenger side sunshade. My mother makes them every year at Palm Sunday, and insists we all have one in our cars. Although I long ago abandoned religion, I oblige her, and on this day I was never more grateful for its presence. My hand reached up and touched the cross, and lingered for a moment, as I leant a thought to the terrible task before me.
I don't know if it was the cross, or the Parking Gods decided to be of a merciful mind on this poor old soul who has seen his share of hardships these last many years. Whatever it was, the clouds seemed to part and the sun shone through as I made my way toward the structure, I saw that a gentleman was actually pulling out of a parking space and there was nobody else around! I pulled my car in, and I got out and fell to my knees with joy and gratitude! I thanked the Parking Gods for their show of kindness, I thanked the man who left his spot, thinking he must have known what a great deed he was doing, and I thanked the birds and the trees and every living soul on Earth for being a part of this momentous occasion and thought "What a time to be alive!" I then glanced at my watch and saw that time was a tickin' and though I may count myself as one of the Blessed Ones, I could not linger in this nirvana forever. My task was to get that Quizno's sandwich, and then move on. I needed to pass the parking space on to another lucky soul so that they, too, could experience its joy before returning to their mundane existence.
I rushed to the Quizno's and saw that there was not even a line of other hungry people. I was truly blessed! Not even a line! As I marched in, ready to peruse the menu of delicious, toasty hot sandwiches, I met the pitiful countenance of the man behind the counter. He looked at me, with agony in his heart as he said "I'm sorry, Sir, da oven's a no working!"
I felt the world spinning about me, and felt the scorn of the Gods, of the sandwich maker, and all the dark lost souls that dwell on California Avenue. They laughed their sinister laughs and pointed at me as I made my way back to my car. There were already others waiting, eagerly as a Vulture does, to claim my parking space. I wanted to tell them to look elsewhere, that they'd find no comfort here, but who was I to say what their fate would be? Perhaps the Gods had something different in mind for them. As for me, I knew my fate. Mine was to travel on, ever on, in search of something else. What it would be, I could not say. I only knew that no matter what it was, it would never be what I wanted in my heart.
I leave now this rueful recital to the melancholy minstrels and their weepy wailers. I leave it to them to tell, and to warn, as I travel on. Ever on, ever, ever on.
impressed
wtf?!!!
embarrassed
amused
sexay
