Friday, November 03, 2006

I'm hungry and we won't have lunch for at least an hour.

By the way, what Sergeant Tanner had for me was not one bit good. Or maybe it was, and I just don't understand. It was a note.

It said,

Loretta, I know you don't want to tell, but it's the only way out of here. You have to tell them your whole story. This is mine:

The first sign was that he was a man. The next was that he did not stop his car at the check point. The third sign came when Drew called out, and he still did not stop. We watched for things that would be fine at home but, there, took on an edge. In the tank, yards off, I might have been safe, but the folks in the square would not have. We were there for them, so they could live their lives. It was my job to stop him.

He might have been deaf, like the one Bates stopped, or just not have had his mind on things, or not.

I called out the code. I fired. The glass broke and the car hit the wall.

I held my breath. There was no bang or boom. But there could have been, they said when they'd gone through the car, if he'd done it right. And when they told me they'd found his hands taped to the wheel, his foot taped to the gas, I knew what it felt like to be him.

Lance Cooper Tanner

You can't tell from this, but his handwriting is very old-fashioned.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Minos Budow writes: Tanner's story, like all good stories,touches us and informs us. What allegorical infromation he chose to impart I will leave to others to interpret. What feelings he has engendered [in others,at least] I will leave to others to feel. My questions are: who taped the driver? What kind of tape? Was anything recovered? What kind of weapon did they use? What scope?

Damnit Loretta you will never get out of there until you learn to really read and hear. Right now you are suffering from the worst case of Stockholm syndrome that I have ever encountered in my years of practice. Look at your jailers: they have can convinced you that you can come and go -- but you can't and are not even sure you want to. Look at the other prisoners -- if they are not plants-- where do they come form and go to? Why are they always trying to make you feel and be aware, yet they have no feelings or awareness. Even we, your correspondants, may or may not be real. Why do they have pseudonyms?
I present myself in my real form. True, I hide DJ3NoDee's real identity, but that is for reasons of protection.

I suggest that you avoid fatty meats and starches and get out of there. You have work to do!

November 03, 2006  
Blogger L M said...

Don't talk crazy: you had better be real.

I'm alone in the computer center right now and I am studying on what you are saying. It feels like there's some kind of big ugly test coming. Maybe you're even driving me to it.

November 03, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Minos Budow writes:

Yes, your right, in a way. It is history that impels. Your jailers compel. Pelucidity may help you in your impending challenge. Start with a good night's sleep and an early rising. The day will fulfill its promise.

November 03, 2006  

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