Sunday, April 1, 2012

Life at the Sentient Bean / Police


  I entered the sadly paint encrusted door at the Sentient Bean which gave up the throwback tinkle of a bell. I was determined to choke down my first cup of joe for the day. The Beard served it up adding the usual dose of existential insolence I had grown to expect from Jeemarie Bingalangbang. But as one of his hero’s would so clearly respond, “Such things cannot be sufficiently despised,” so I tossed him the spondulix, grunted, snatched the brew, and retreated to my favorite hovel of the premises. I think back in the fifties the Sentient Bean had been one of those Armenian restaurants. Booths built into the wall with an onion dome frame and a decidedly casbah motif of lattice work in extended base relief. You never knew what was on this side of the wall but fortunately on the other side of the lattice.I know I did not want to know.

  Outside an undercover police car went squealing down the street. I have to wonder why after the name calling of the nineteen sixties they would design and operate their siren in such a way as to sound like the squealing of a pig as they race down the street. I guess even the authorities have a sense of humor. Like the words they left out on the side of their marked car doors that say “To Serve and Protect”. The missing words are To Serve those that have And Protect them from those that haven’t. As I saw  them skitter down the street I was relieved that they didnt squeal to a stop in front of this establishment. I was much to distracted to spend an hour obfuscating with them down at the station while I waited for my mouthpiece to make an appearance.

It may seem like idle paranoia, but since the naught twelve election of the wrong rominee we were quickly sold the full loss of all but the most obvious civil liberties. Even those only went to the highest bidder. But that is freedoms under the bridge now, Still you had to be aware that you could end up being detained indefinitely if you posed even an imaginary risk to the wrong connected corporation

The Bean had the usual crowd resplendent with the the glowering beard behind the counter. Jeemarie was of the long time disenfranchised, but he had held on the the viable, albeit anemic cash flow of The Sentient Bean. Like it’s name it was aware of it self without having a clue why. But it had become a comfortable habit for years and I liked it.

I settled down to the problem of the moment that was all consuming my caffeine charged monkey brain.

  “Where are you Fang Fang Wu?”