Genevieve; the Third of January by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Chapter 15

The President again barked something at the Senator, beginning with; “What is the meaning of this ...... ?” The Senator again mumbles under his breath, sounding much more intimidated than decipherable. The banquet hall workers continued to remove tables and chairs until there was no one there but them and the three.

Genevieve experienced a few hunger pangs which were as sharp as the beak of a misinformed vulture. She didn’t want to make an issue of it as she knew they would quickly pass and later pass forever after the whole affair got going, and they brought all the food around.

Vulture; the kind courtesy of Pexels,com under their CC0 license.

A few other dogs arrived and silently took seats at Genevieve’s table. She didn’t think that they were the intended guests, but didn’t know why that she thought that. She might be wrong. But, it didn’t really matter; especially if it compelled

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the waiters to bring out the food. It was just a feeling.

Genevieve and the Senator noticed that the President was gone. The nervous Senator was shaking as he lit a cigarette. She did too without the tremors. They only got two puffs each when the President came back and in no uncertain terms ordered them to stop smoking, adding that; “It’s bad for everyone.” They crush out their butts in silence on the floor. Genevieve thought; “That was really crass; yelling across the table like that. A pooch taught manners would have walked over and said so unobtrusively.” She decided not to say her thought out loud as she was famished.

A teeny pooch with white hair covering two-thirds of his eyes descended from the open second level, walked in spry but pint-sized steps over to Genevieve, pulled a chair close to her, sat on it, and commenced to babble; apparently not in need of a response or approval. He said; “My name is Artie K-9. At least that’s what I go by in this hip-hop-rap-Juggalo-Fascist-war-terrorist era. Guess it sounds cool to some people. But, my real name is Geraldo, and I miss being called that. It’s just business.”

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Artie K-9; the kind courtesy of Pexels,com under their CC0 license.

Genevieve was compelled to smile at his directness; especially after having had to sit through whatever the Senator and President were talking or not talking about. She interrupted him to ask; “Geraldo, are you with this party?”

He said; “I’m with any party I want to be with. Right now I’m here. ...... I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell anyone else. Okay?”

Genevieve nodded and couldn’t help but smile at this effervescent, tongue wagging pooch.”

Geraldo said; “I guess that means yes. Okay. This place is the joint; you know what I’m saying.”

Genevieve again nodded.

Geraldo said; “That wasn’t a question. Okay. The thing is that they have so much good food here that they can’t even keep track of it, and don’t even try anymore. So, like all pooches like me and you have to do .......... “

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Genevieve bristled and Geraldo saw it. So, he continued;

“Okay, okay. I should have said; ‘Pooches like me’ and leave you out of it for the time being.”

Genevieve mumbled; “Well, I’m not so sure in thinking that I’d prefer to be left out of it. It’s more a matter of how the words and sentences are constructed. I have no aversion to free food. That’s why I’m here. But, I do have an aversion to any overt statement or inference of my being an opportunist or thief.”

“My dear lady may be getting ahead of me. I’ve used no such words, and had no intention of doing so if I’d been allowed to continue.”

Genevieve said; “Pardon me. Please do.”

Geraldo nodded and did; “Where was I? I don’t know. I’ve completely lost track, and I’m sure that it was not my fault.

...... Well, never mind that anyway. How can I be sure of something which I don’t remember? I mean, I don’t even remember what it was that I don’t remember when taking into consideration the vast context of the three expressed thoughts and their tangential inferences profound, infinite, and therefore simultaneously insignificant in their magnitude. With that in mind, you might well appreciate the difficulty in reducing these thoughts to food; specifically food available at this institution, building, party, event, or ........ “

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Genevieve interrupted Geraldo to make the smallest of laughs, hoping it not seen as rude. She then smiled, and said;

“I think you’re arguing with yourself.”

Geraldo laughed a bit more than Genevieve and said; “I’m sure that you’re right. ..... No, that’s too polite. ...... I strongly suspect that you are right, but in the precise phraseology of the words and sentences, taking into impossible consideration the necessity of imprecise translation ...... “

Genevieve again interrupted Geraldo, this time to say; “I kind of understand while I don’t. I’ll trust and like you forever if you’d just tell me about the food here.”

“Yeah, right. They don’t watch the parties here, and they cook more than necessary as some people don’t show up. So, for me, when I need food, I come here and one way or the other it’s always there. ......... I mean, don’t take my innocuous word for it; Jim Morrison and Patti Smith did the same thing when they had to.” Geraldo continued to babble on about his writing and drawing which made little sense to Genevieve; it being perhaps too technical; and as uninteresting as any other form of shop talk in the ears of one not part of that particular shop. She did like hearing and thought that she full well understood his evolving preference for making pictures rather than scribbling out more Babelonian words.

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There was a real time jump cut of more than sorts; the net result of which culminated in Genevieve’s being back trudging on the big city’s sidewalk. The only thing she was now certain of was that she was back walking on that wide, wide sidewalk with an uncountable number of other pooches, hungry and desperately looking for that pizza place that her instincts had previously indicated as being near. However, Genevieve could not help but note that there was one change. It may not have been of any significance to a physicist. It may not have been of any significance to a member of the clergy. It was certainly not of any significance to any politician, scientist, or burgher she had known. It was not likely to have been significant to anyone other than Genevieve.

That fiend most can’t see or foolishly consider innocuous was walking with her. The name of the “invisible” being was Qualm and he-she-both was now visibly present to her. Genevieve, having a vague recollection of having been in some physical place like this before, was still sure that she was famished, but rather than her former certainty, now wondered if she’d be able to get to that &><_#) pizza place.

The Senator again found her and said that she had to go back to the banquet hall with him. Genevieve vaguely seemed to recall this having happened before; a déjà vu consideration dismissed in the throes of rationality. She had been

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disappointed in the results, other than maybe having met some artist guy. She found it difficult to completely refuse, that Qualm thing a prime carrier of that sociability overdose bug.

Genevieve said; “Oh no,” and yet took a step in the Senator’s quaking direction; in her diminishing hopes that something might register at least a seven on the Richter.

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