[Quick tips in slow motion.]
On hunger.
To me it seemed, since the beginning of my time on Earth, that there is many magic around me. And for as long as I can go back, I had been an asshole. But this would need a research of its own...
There was once a guy, who looked like he was always on a mission. He moved around quickly and in straight lines. I guess he had an unique organ in his head which made calculations for him. It was calculating shortcuts. The nearest paths to anywhere he focused on going. He was a tall, strong man with the lumberjack shirt, home-shortened Levis shorts on top of his strong long legs, covered with human body hair. The raw face unable to smile and eyebrows which only the most respected and canonized wise-men wore, but beardless. He looked like someone born out of swamp so I named him Tarzan after my first dog, for nobody I know knew his name.
I eek-ed! like a fucking mouse, when I first saw him. He came rushing out of the hardware store holding a turned-off chainsaw high, above his guts. It seemed to me like he pumped his already full confidence reservoir a little by taking mine, turning me into the beautiful beast made only of fear. After a minute or two of his passing, I defrosted. My senses returned. He was gone, 'oh, thank Jeesuh-'
A year went by and a consumer suddenly spots a radical change in service, among store-properties. Nobody couldn't stay unaware of it - the work of a genius. Every time I shop, at the very end of shopping procedure, I am always remembered by this fact and at the same time the image of the man with chainsaw and determination occurs in my mind. There is a connection between these two, I'm sure. When I put my starved credit card to a shit-seller, I must do it as fast as I can, because someone had shorten (maybe chainsawed?) all counters to a midget length and you can't put any-shit on anymore. But the thing is, the truth behind the mini-counter is, that the lines of consumers are not shorter, but as sure as hell they move faster.
I feel joy this time, for my shopping list is short 'I'm hungry (buy some bananas)' written all over the small bit torn from a paper. I'm looking at a logo and motto written under it: Time is money. A cocktailed joy with pride makes me throw a smile upon the consumers waiting for their turn. Juicy good-bye to seller and all behind me. And there I see him again among some waiting-liners. He looks the same with the chainsaw, lumberjack shirt and so. I freeze. Helplessly I watch.
"Cash or card, mister?" a shit-seller asks.
"Just a sec," the tall man replies so casually, that it somehow disappoints me.
The moments pass in silence before another "Cash or card?"
"I don't have any-" he says and that provokes a few coughs from waiting-liners and the snake moves its formation into position for attack.
"Mister, in this case I must ask you to leave now and return with your cash or credit card, okay?"
"Time is money, wait for it-" he demands and ba-a-ching! goes the cash register as if it just downloaded cash from a credit card to feed the cash box. "There you go," the expressionless chainsaw-man points out. He reaches for a chocolate bar on a counter. It's the only time I saw him moving his fingers of the chainsaw raised high, above his guts.
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