“i never thought it would come to this,” the man in the purple pin-striped suit said as he took his seat.
“just tell me your story,” the man behind the desk told him.
“somewere in a dusty file cabinet in cincinnati ohio,” the man in the purple pin-striped suit began, “is a document that the world would call my birth certificate.
but the date on it is not the real day that i was born. i was born on a rainy, foggy evening - i think it was in chicago, but it might have been st louis or denver. i was standing in the shadows in a doorway three doors down from the opera house, wondering whether to wait for the rain to stop or to just go about my business and get wet.
a long black limousine, polished to a high shine and gleaming in the falling rain like a sleek prehistoric beast stealthily crossing the steppes of central asia, passed me and stopped in front of the opera house.
a chauffeur in a tastefully understated blue uniform got out , walked around to the passenger door and opened it.
the doorman of the opera house was ready with a black umbrella the size of brazil.
a woman in a mink coat emerged from the long black limousine. a woman not particularly fat nor thin, and from my vantage point on the doorway, and with the rain steadily falling, i could not tell if she was young or old. i was not really paying much attention.
suddenly there was movement from a doorway across the street from me.
a raggedy bum and an old yellow dog emerged and headed for the sidewalk where the doorman was carefully adjusting the black umbrella the size of brazil over the head of the neither fat nor thin woman
in the mink coat.
quicker than the archangel gabriel blowing his horn on judgment day, the chauffeur in the tastefully understated blue uniform, and a couple of sturdy roughnecks that the opera house kept on hand for just such occasions, fell upon the raggedy bum and the old yellow dog and sent them back into the street before they could get within twenty feet of the woman in the mink coat, who was still safe under the umbrella the size of brazil, and whom they no doubt intended to ask for a few miserable pennies.
just then another, even longer and blacker and shinier limousine, no doubt carrying another woman in a mink coat and perhaps a gentleman or two in a top hat, came around the corner and hit the old yellow dog, sending it hurtling into the air.
the dog fell into the street, deader than goliath after he had been smitten by little david, deader than samson after the temple fell around him, deader than judas after he hanged himself.
the raggedy bum began to cry.
all in a night’s work in the great city., i thought. nothing i had not seen a hundred times before.
then the woman laughed.
the woman in the mink coat, who was neither fat nor thin, young nor old, safe and warm under the umbrella held by the doorman of the opera house, laughed.
i was born, truly born, in that instant.
i realized that everything i thought was true, was false.
that everything that i had been taught was a lie.
that civilization was a sham and an illusion.
in her laughter i heard many things.
i heard the sound of a million backs breaking under the weight of a billion stones, to build great tombs for a thousand mighty conquerors.
i heard the cries of millions of children, and cats and dogs and cows, crushed under the hooves of the horses of armies rushing like the four winds, back and forth across the seven continents, with the music of the orchestra of devastation swelling above them.
i heard whips singing in the wind, driving slaves across the seven deserts, to dig gold from mountains, or wave fans above the perfumed heads of queens.
i heard the cries of sailors, drowning in the seven seas, bringing serpents and peacocks to cleopatra and the queen of sheba.
i heard the smirking chatter of scientists and evil magicians, puffing on their meerschaums and corncob pipes, building bombs to blow up the earth and everything and everybody in it.
i knew in that instant that so-called civilization had to be destroyed.
and i resolved to do my part to destroy it, and build a newer, truer civilization on top of its smoldering ashes.
from that day forward, my friend, i have walked the earth, preaching defiance to the mighty, and exhorting the downtrodden to awaken.
i must confess that the results of my efforts to this point have been somewhat discouraging.
but not for lack of effort. i have walked the dark streets of the ancient empires, trembled in the thunder of the gleaming capitals of the new empires, crossed the burning sands of bone-strewn deserts, swatted insects and trodden on snakes in mighty jungles, heard the music of the damned echoing through the alleys and bazaars of the oldest cities of the world… “
“can i ask you a question?” the man behind the desk interrupted the man in the purple pin-striped suit.
“of course. “
“have you ever considered doing an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay?”
“sir, i consider the destruction of civilization to be the most honest work there is.”
“maybe. but i have had a long day, and i have heard enough. your application will be considered, and you will be notified if it accepted.”
“that is all i can ask.” the man in the purple pin-strped suit stood up, clicked his heels, put his black bowler hat on his head, and departed.
with a sigh, the man behind the desk picked up his phone and spoke to the secretary in the waiting room. “anybody else still out there, miss hudson? if there are, send them on their way.”
he allowed a few minutes for the remaining petitioners to depart and a few minutes after that he was standing in front of the elevator with miss hudson.
“another long day, mr garver?” miss hudson asked.
“a very long day, miss hudson. it must be up to you and me to do the work of the world because it seems nobody else is interested.”
the elevator dinged.
“and my back is killing me.”
