Damn Variable Won't Calculate

Variable won’t calculate

11 Maybe 9

Six nights in a row at parties was a pleasant introduction to the San Fernando valley, but Myrtle also wanted to believe that the newspapers were joking about how the world had died. She knew they loved a good laugh.

Not to be outdone, Rafael told Myrtle that his first time in the sack was the best and everything had been downhill since then except for those skydiving days and that time he wrestled a boa constrictor in a South American jungle with his hands in latex gloves.

I stood in the corner, oblique to their drugged discussion because my assignment came after all the good ones were taken. As an innocent child, I had looked up to Rafael when he bought me gunflavor ice cream and told me how I could shoot myself to the top of the list.

It all comes too late I said much later, the wisdom.

But in those days, we were free from such thoughts. We only wanted to get high and dance a revolution. Just for kicks, Myrtle and Rafael kept a trained rat that could sniff out a corrupt cop and lick him in the face. They were my mentors all, including the rodent.

9 Maybe 7

Shit. The phone company called again on the disconnected line override and demanded that we pay that overdue invoice. Rafael was out looking for a deal. Martin, a roommate in the small house in North Hollywood, grabbed Myrtle a cup of coffee from the kitchen and sat down with her to talk about fiscal responsibility.

Their caffeine laughter vibrated the sheetrock. If I had a voice, I would have used it. We can’t blame kids for their innocence.

17 Maybe Madness

Looks like they didn’t know what they were doing. Rafael offered the visiting dignitary – who was really just a guy from another part of the valley near Van Nuys – an offer that Rafael was sure the guy couldn’t refuse. Damn drug deals again – and I wanted to scream but still had no voice. I wanted to tell them to watch out for those invisible expectations that assault you with their demands to conform, whether in bliss or destruction.

Rafael pretended to listen to the counteroffer for a while, then showed Van Nuys Guy to the door with a serious warning to never set foot near his beloved Myrtle again.

Failed The Exam Seven Times

They tied me down, asked me the square root of nineteen – and I could not comply. The torture both damaged and saddened me.

But it was nothing compared to what you suffered. We know of your sacrifices in the war prisons, and honor them. With bowed heads, we bring flowers and reverence to your graves.

Later, when they let me go, the judge asked me if I would enjoin. I had no idea what he meant, but I said yes, then no.

Still, if I’m soon to die, I must know: what should I dance? Rumba or Salsa? I got much rhythm.

Which Is Why The Variable Won’t Calculate

Let’s say for the sake of argument over a friendly coffee when the rains have freshened the desert hills above us that we grew up together. We’d be friends.

[There’s always an unless]

But morning is gentle and we’d be friends. You would go your path, me mine. We might connect for a while, then disappear into our ways and journeys.

Later, what if one of us recalled the other before the other reciprocated? Why, we would be pierced on an arrowhead of friendship grief that our lives had long parted dear friend, except in the ever secure knowledge that we had contributed to who we both are today. That’s what it means to affect a life.

It was the same for Rafael. He thought a lot about twenty three. His good friend from long ago had died at that age, an age of grated sidewalks and shackled storefronts when they both lived immortal and young. Memory was a name long entombed, yet it still came from death on occasion for sunshine. If there was any consolation, and there was, Rafael’s despair danced less fitful with the passing electrocution of years.

Therefore The Rats Rested

The ordinary rituals of love that Myrtle chewed the day Rafael came back from the street smelling like a failed exchange of goods and money gave her queasy stomach. She wanted to needle her arm, but it was time to be strong. She grabbed Rafael by the shoulders and told him they must open the curtains on a new day. They would leave the valley for good and move into that old hotel down by Santa Monica beach with running water. It had a Ferris wheel and rollerskaters nearby. It had taxi horns and fresh salt in the air. Best of all, it had carpet in the hallway and no god damn ghosts on the windowpanes.

— — —

Thank you for reading Dynamic Creed. This piece would not have been possible without a heavy dosed influence injection from

Rachel Victorianna

. Not saying this is anything like her elegance. No. I jump from clouds and let the winds blow. Now please take a look at her work for another side of life. Thank you, Rachel.

I’m a hard ass in some soft way they say (or said, the last time they stopped by) and I’m having another artistic crisis before my balance from the heavens is restored. The rain helps this time of year. Stay blessed.

Victor David