The View From Here: The Walk

(the following is part of an ongoing 'column' I did for Suspect Thoughts, and, no, it's not supposed to make sense: only be weird fun)

Puzzled, indecisive, after much thought I came to only one conclusion, which had nothing to do with my quandary: maybe a walk would help.

Outside everything was as it should be: sun up high, earth down below, air all around, and city everywhere else.

Towards me, down the street - flip, flop, flip, flop - bare toes slapping on the warm cement, webs between cupping the descending air, popping them sideways. On his back, twin glass bottles full of bubbling fluids, sweeping around from and to his mouth via twin black plastic hoses. Closer, then passing, a gurgle and burble breathing and possibly communication, though I didn't have much to say to someone who preferred under water to over land.

What to do? What to do?

Rolling sideways across my vision, from one avenue to the other, tits and tits and breasts and breasts: a spherical boobie ball, nipples tractioning on the ground, firm As to rolling DDs flopping and slapping by. If it had eyes, I didn't see them, so I didn't know if he or she, she or he, or both, neither or more than one saw me.

I could or I couldn't. It boiled down to that. One or the other.

Slow and stately, Dandy Longlegs passed me, coming from behind, alongside, and way beyond in three steps of his slickly tuxedoed legs. Civil chap, though, as he strode by, waistcoats flapping from the action of his stride, he looked down from his heights of elegance and tipped his topper with a gentle smile.

But do I or don't I?

She saw me long before I saw her, but she she'd always seen me before I saw her. In my silly way, I named her the instant she crossed the street, a name ridiculously perfect for such a brown-eye girl. Gleaming and glistening, she took it all in with one glance from her giant bare orb, her singular huge oculus. I nodded to Iris as she passed.

Pros as well as cons swirling in my head, flipping back and forth, back and forth -

Across the way, standing on the corner, I could tell they also couldn't make up their mind. They also were weighing their choices: pro or con, left or right, but at least in the case of this enraptured couple, this two off for a walk as one, their decision wasn't as profound. After all, they already fused their bodies into four arms, four legs, two heads, dick and two breasts -- so the rest was simply a matter of which way to walk.

So which was it? Do it or not?

Fucking dickhead. Hate those guys, the ones who think just because they've a giant prick they can do what they want, when they want, to who they want. Jack-offs. Stepping into a greasy puddle of his come, oozing from the eye in the middle of his huge helmet I sneered. He responded with a stiff salute, telling me in his own special way to fuck off. Not in the mood, I kicked him in the balls, which was perfect revenge and remarkably easy as they were dragging on the ground right behind him.

It was big decision - which made it all the harder. It wasn't like I could have it undone very easily.

I couldn't help but stare. Don't see many of those nowadays. Still, I tried not to make it too obvious. Used to be hundreds of them, darkening the sky with their beautiful flights of fancy. Now, though, the only thing in the sky is the sun. I guess I wasn't as subtle as I could have been. His slim, pupil-less eyes noticed mine and his mahogany beak curled into a wistful grin. I returned it, hoping that he would know that it was okay for he, and his lovely-plumed kin, to return to dance among our clouds.

The problem was I had to make up my mind pretty quickly. That made it all the harder to decide.

Sitting on the stoop before a perfectly maintained house, whittling a whistle, tying and untying various knots, playing with a yo-yo, flipping a coin, shuffling cards, twirling a ring of keys, juggling some rubber balls, scratching himself, crackling various sets of knuckles, and many more things with many more hands my first and only thought walking by was: Handy.

No more dithering, no more hemming, hawing, or dawdling. Time to decide -- so I did.

I'd get the nose job.