I had a moment the other day; I have my “moments” at random, it can hit me anytime, just poof, & I stare off into space for a moment, to have my moment, my momentary moment, if you will, subconsciously gazing into the void, not even using my eyes, even though they’re wide open. My vision is in my head though, when my moments come, & what do I see?…well, that can be almost anything, I just go wherever the moment takes me, just aimlessly following the initial thought that led me to my moment. The other day, as I mentioned at the start, I had this interesting moment, & so I thought, why not write about it? If it’s “interesting” to yours truly dear reader, I must write about it, for that is the way, the way of things now. The Fooze will guide me, now let the Fooze guide you, or maybe go Fooze yourself & Fooze you. What is my Fooze, is now your Fooze, therefore, do hast thou will.
This moment I”m going to illustrate for you all dear readers, happened just the other day, at my local dispo, during my semi-daily trip to pick up some fresh wax. I don’t do the flower much anymore, but I love my concentrates. Anyway, that’s not the point of this article, just detailing where I was. As I said, I was at my dispo, & while I’m waiting on my budtender to apply my loyalty points to the the total on my tab, I looked to my right & noticed a portly fellow with a red beard in some casual, leisure-wear type apparel, so leisurely in fact, that he was rockin’ sandals with socks with his trackies. He had a little blue duffle bag on his arm, with white straps, & the side of the bag had a little lion logo on it, as well as a few little dirt and/or grease stains here & there. Why did I notice so many details? I’ll get to that momentarily…after I fill you in on what he was doing there, with his little blue duffle bag that had white straps, a lion logo, & some dirtiness.
He was by the ATM, with his little blue duffle bag, next to the one inside the dispo, but this particular dispo has their ATM machine in the same part of the dispo where you buy your medicine. Most of them put their respective ATM machines out in the lobby, where you wait before you get buzzed in through a locked door to come to the shopping section. It’s always divided, lobby area & shopping area, but like I said, the ATM is out in the lobby almost every time. In THIS dispo however, it’s in the shopping section, particularly behind me & to the right, & the guy with the little blue duffle bag was unlocking the ATM machine when I first noticed him as I was waiting on my budtender. I’m watching him, watching that bag, what could be in that bag? Only one thing, right? Maybe he’s just grabbing receipt slips, or changing the receipt paper, & it’s just rolls of receipt paper…yeah, that must be it, no way he’d be using that little bag to take money, would he? WOULD he?
Apparently, yes, yes that’s precisely what he was doing, he was getting all the ATM money out of the ATM in the dispo there, & putting it into that little blue duffle bag, but not only their ATM, he’d been to a few others already, & how did I know this? Probably because my mindful self was watching him the whole time, critical thoughts on overdrive, & that little blue bag, when I finally saw what was in there when he opened it, what did I see? CASH, lots of cash, money money money, stinking cold hard stacks of loot. This guy was kind of goofy, weak, & I immediately had dark thought, dark thoughts like, “How could I get that bag from this chump?” Obviously, I would never actually take it, I’M NOT A CRIMINAL for fuck’s sake, so I would never rob someone like that, but I do have a very active imagination, so I let the thoughts come, just to see how this moment would play out. I watched him, watched exactly what he was doing, where the money came from once the ATM machine was open, I stood there & watched. My budtender seemed to be taking an exceptionally long time to sort out my loyalty points, so I was stuck, stuck in this moment, this moment that culminates in me getting that little blue duffle bag from this quasi-effeminate guy, who was UN-armed by the way. Yep, no gun, no taser, I don’t even think he had pepper spray, he had nothing, no way to defend himself, minus his own hands. Maybe he was trained in martial arts?…I don’t know, but he didn’t possess any sort of threatening demeanor whatsoever and/or a weapon, so I kept watching, thinking, plotting, scheming, how the fuck am I gonna get that bag?
If I had to guess, I’d say there was…ohhhhhhh…maybe $20k, $30k, there were quite a few hundreds, stacks of $100 bills, & I was counting it, believe me, well as best I could anyway from my vantage point, so it was a rough count, but still. Point is, there was a solid load of cash in there, enough to partially replenish what the so-called “elites,” took from me, & so many others. Little notes, little pieces of paper, but this “paper” is the currency, the energy, it makes things move, here in Clownworld it does anyway, at the detriment of billions of debt slaves, ruled by such a tiny few. They print these little notes, take what they want, for their own “energy needs,” so to speak, then everyone else manages the leftovers to keep their Big Machine moving. You need energy to give a machine power, the power to operate, to move, & we are all stuck in this Big Machine that they have created to empower themselves, not you. You are just a gear, a cog, an almost-insignificant wheel in that machine, & they “allow” you just enough money, barely enough currency, to get yourself from birth to death, & that’s your “life,” as it were, unfortunately for you. Bummer, isn’t it?…especially when you ponder all of the chaos in this world that is created by this money, these silly little “I-O-U” glue-free post-it notes, that people kill each other for, just to get more of these said “little notes.” It’s all just so ridiculous when you stop & think about it, but there I was, in my moment, contemplating physically assaulting a guy to get some of those all-too-sacred notes.
Again, & I emphasize, I am NOT a felonious criminal, & would NEVER rob another person. Like I said earlier, my imagination has a mind of its own, so I let it wander wherever it wants to go for the most part, because it’s ONLY IN MY HEAD, & I would never act on it. Also, I don’t think I would’ve gotten away with it, but I’ll tell you how I would’ve robbed this unarmed dope if I had had a criminal’s moxy to go through with it. Let’s back up a few minutes…so before I came into the dispensary, out in the parking lot, just as I parked my Beamsy, I noticed the ATM guy, parked directly next to me to the left, & he was driving a mini-van. At this point however, keep in mind that I did NOT know yet that he was in fact the ATM guy, I just assumed he was another customer, so I noticed him as far as a casual noticing, & thought nothing more of it, until I was inside, & I saw the little blue duffle bag, & what he was doing, & realized he was the ATM money-collector guy. Then I saw the money, which began my momentary moment, visualizing robbing this doofus & taking that bag full of money for myself. How though? How would I do it & get away with it?
Here’s the plan: I would follow him…I would leave right when he left, him back to his soccer-mom mini van, me back to my Beamsy, & I’d follow him in my car, not too close, not too far, don’t want him to see me following him obviously, but yes, I’d follow him. Patience…patience…just keep following this ATM money collector guy, this UN-armed clown, it’s almost going to be too easy, but right now…patience, just be patient & follow this guy, taking in all you can about his route. Not going to hit him on the next stop, nope, just going to watch from afar, parked just out of his view, but close enough for me, so I can watch, & wait, patiently wait for the moment to come. See what I did there? Momentary moments, our collective moments in time, moments dying into the past, then being reborn in the now as more line up to wait for their turn like children taking school portraits. Circular, circularity, the Great Circle, always circulating, round & round & round again, in the never-ending immortal loop, the eternal GIF animation, if you like. How’s that for an exceptionally clever analogy, dear reader?
REMINDER: THIS IS ONLY IN MY IMAGINATION. I AM NOT A FELON, NOT A CRIMINAL, DEFINITELY NOT A ROBBER. NO ONE WAS ROBBED AND/OR HARMED DURING THE WRITING OF THIS ARTICLE. YOU MAY NOW PROCEED INTO THE PARLOR FOR SOME TASTY CAKE.
Back to the plan…where were we? Oh yes, patiently being patient, still following, we’ve watched him make his next stop. He gets out of the van, but where is the little blue duffle bag? Does he keep it on the seat next to him, or somewhere in the back of the van? Details details details…they matter in such affairs, for if you miss one, just ONE, important detail, you’re locked up before you even committed your crime. You must pay attention, be mindful, this is a serious crime, like prison serious, & more importantly then getting the little blue duffle bag successfully, MUCH more important…DO NOT GET CAUGHT. Duh, you’d think, but many criminals get caught, since levels of priority tend to vary amongst felons, & most of them don’t give a fuck about going to prison. I like my virgin asshole thanks, & absolutely HATE…HATE, HATE, HATE being in cage. Ugh, it’s just the worst place to be, & fortunately I’ve only been to jail a few times for brief stays several years ago, facing bullshit weed charges before they finally wised up on the countrywide cannabis craze & stopped prosecuting marijuana arrests so harshly. Sadly, for me, my card got punched before they wised up, & I had some legal nonsense to sort out. This was years ago, as I mentioned, & I never got any felonies, & why? BECAUSE I’M NOT A CRIMINAL…but I digress, as usual. Continuing…
Ok, ATM guy has made his first stop after I started following him. I’m thinking he’d keep the bag on the passenger seat of the mini-van, up front, next to him, where he always had eyes on it, so that’s where my IMAGINATION led me. I’m still parked where he can’t see me, as he gets in his van, & I assume goes to his next stop, with even more riches in that little blue duffle bag. I start to follow him again, ready to make my move at the next stop maybe, if I see the opportunity of course. I follow, I follow, & then he stops. Ok, here’s where my IMAGINATION took two different paths.
Path One: He stops, maybe at a Starbucks we’ll pretend, & gets out of the mini-van, leaving the unassuming little blue duffle bag behind, in the van. With the ease of a bag of peas, I simply walk up, pull the door handle & realize it’s unlocked, lucky me. Without hesitation, I grab the little blue duffle bag, then take off, all within 10 seconds, gone, SCORE, & mission accomplished. That’s the easy path, the path with sunshiny trees, slightly blowing in the warm summer breeze. This path is laden with candy-colorful wildflowers & fluffy bunnies, & an easy $50k. Wouldn’t that path be so very nice, nice & lucrative?…
…or…
Path Two: He does NOT stop for Starbucks, he stops at his next ATM location, which is a relatively empty parking lot. Where are the cameras though? Looking, looking, don’t see any cameras covering the parking lot. Looking for people, anyone around? Nope, no one around. I’m parked where he cannot see again, watching, patiently being patient still, just waiting for my moment. Ok, time to move, as I get out of my car, & get close to his mini-van, ducking down somewhere where he can’t see me. He comes out, with the little blue duffle bag, there it is, the soon-to-be-mine little blue duffle bag, filled with even MORE money now. He walks to his driver’s side door, & pulls out his keys, & I make my move. I swiftly sneak up behind him, put a gun to his head, then blow his brains through the driver’s side window of his soccer mom mini van, like the Son of Sam. I’M JOKING, I’M JOKING…I hope none of you read this & take this silly story seriously. Oy vey. No, no guns, what I’d do is just sneak up behind him, & unleash my devastating rear-naked choke on this scrawny & UN-armed ATM money-collector guy. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, goodnight, he’s out, but only to sleep, he’ll wake up in a minute, but by the time he does, I’m gone, with the little blue duffle bag, which is now MINE, mine all mine, but only in my imagination unfortunately, only in my moment, my momentary moment.
This whole felonious envisionment just popped into my head, while I was buying some wax at my local dispo, & the ATM money-collector guy came in to do his job. Just my imagination, running in Gumpian fashion. I think all sorts of things, & it’s randomly random, when I have my moments, these moments of my momentary time, stretched out into a story, my story, albeit made up, that I just shared with all of you, dear reader. Sometimes, I stare off into the void of eyes-opened space when I have these moments, & I don’t even know it, until I catch myself doing it. Living a whole life, doing other things, in another time, on another timeline maybe, but all in my head, while I gaze into that proverbial abyss, only to turn my head at the final moment before the abyss gazes back at me. “It’s only a moment,” I proclaim to the abyss, “no need to look back at me, I’m only here to piss, & I’d hate to piss on your face, so you might wanna stay down there & not look up. Only a moment, one of many, the circularity circles back, eating its own tail, thus the nature of the literary ouroboros…entails. Clever clever, humble narrator, un-humbled only in this moment, because that last sentence was a gem. Let’s stick that in post-signatured quotes & see how it reads…
“Only a moment, one of many, the circularity circles back, eating its own tail, thus the nature of the literary ouroboros…entails.” ~Fish🎏
Until next time, moment to momentary moment. For all of you, & for none of you at all.
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 