Metal City - Hai Ina Ia Mai Ana Ka Puana

'Here's why I did not go to work today...'

It's one of those days. And I'm nice enough to share with you exactly what 'one of those days' entails. Let me try and explain.

So, I set the alarm - even though I have nowhere to go and nothing to do - and sure enough, I shouldn't have bothered because I woke up early anyway after Bronnie wouldn't stop barking at something. And as I rose slowly, and painfully from my groggy slumber, I pushed back the curtain next to my bed with a shaky, trembling hand, and I saw:

Ugh. Even through the prisonlike flywire, I could see that it was grey outside. Grey, and dark, and gloomy. But without the common decency to at least rain and give me something to enjoy. No. It was just grey, flat, and lifeless - it was flour and water, and fat-free potato chips, and a really horrible Nick Cave album.
All at once.

I swung the feet onto the floor, while Bronnie still barked insanely outside, and rose - scrunching my eyes up, and realising that it was going to be A Really Shitty Day. I walked through my bedroom door - and the barking stopped, followed by the sound of tinkling dogsteps on the polished boards. I looked down, scowling, at this:

She stared at me, barked once, then picked up her chew toy and ran away. SHe woke me up, and then didn't even have the courtesy to lovingly jump into my arms, and lick my face, and give me some Man's Best Friend-style loving. No. Instead, I got a savage yelp, and a swish of vanishing tail.

I figured that music was in order. I needed to put something on, to stop myself from cracking up completely, and so - I consulted the cd rack:

Harry Nilsson was looking pretty good. So, on it went. And, because today is One Of Those Days, naturally 'Here's Why I Did Not Go To Work, Today' began playing - and it fit so perfectly with both my mood and the mood of the world outside, that I was almost convinced for a brief, shining moment that some kind of universal serendipity was at work here - a force which was oddly interested in my listening habits.

But, I had no time to wax lyrical about the disturbingly appropriate maudlin ballad that was spewing forth from my speakers. No, I had to move on. But to what?

Blah. Milk. Spaghetti sauce. Lettuce. Whipped cream. Nothing that sounds particularly breakfast-like. And I don't really want to eat, anyway. I'm hungry, but I don't feel like making anything, because - after all - it's One Of Those Days, and on days like these, where a man may very well crack if he doesn't treat himself with caution and respect, it is probably safer to follow one's initial response, rather than arguing. And so it was that I decided not to force myself to eat anything - but, instead - I would rely on my old friend. The mistress who has stood by me for years. The one who would never leave me. The one who loves me unconditionally:

Yes, my sweet. Come to me. Fill me with your life-giving nectar. Punish me if you think I need it. Drown me in your hot love-juice. Fill the room with fire and steam, and hiss silently at me, letting me know that, with my mug in hand, you are ready to recieve me. Give me life. Give me succour. Give me -

I heard a noise coming from the front room. It sounded like a paw scratching on a door frame. And, when I walked out to the front room - what do you think I saw?

I let Bronnie out, and as I did so - something caught my eye. After all, if you're going to live your life as if it was One Of Those Days, it is probably an excellent idea to be 100% sure that it is indeed One Of Those Days, and you're not simply being a little bit on the self-pitying, self-indulgent side. So, I went outside, to see if the thing that caught my eye was really what I thought it was. And what did I see?

Oh, yes. It was one of those days, alright. The sky was hanging limply across Greensborough, slumped lifelessly against it's frame - with loose, drooping fingers of grey slithering downward, idly swatting at the houses below. It was almost as though the sky was simply too tired, and too depressed to rain. Instead, it would simply stare half-liddedly down at the earth below - moaning occasionally from the ache in it's belly.

I went back inside, and looked at the stats page for this very website, hoping to find something amusing. And there, in front of me, were my top five search queries that get people here:

#reqs: search term
-----: -----------
1: bon kove slippery when wet songs
1: torana tits
1: what happened to all the unsold copies of e.t for the atari 2600?
1: bubblegummers
1: prounce

Torana tits, a misspelled request for Bon Jovi's 'Slippery When Wet', and the 2600 version of E.T.

Torana tits?

I'd love to know what THAT was all about.

I walked outside, to check the letterbox. Maybe someone had written to me. Maybe a bill. Maybe some rich, distant relative had croaked and left me all of his conkers. Maybe someone had sent me a 'We love you! Come work for us!'-letter...

But there was nothing.

I went inside, feeling hungry. After all, it was One Of Those Days, and compounding the issue was the cavernous yaw of my stomach, which yelled up at me: "Oi! You! Yeah, you with the glasses! Stick something in me RIGHT NOW, or I walk off the job! Let's see how you go looking at your girly magazines and violent movies without me! Come on! Let's roll!"

I immideately understood that on One Of Those Days, an angry stomach is not something to trifle with. I had kept the wrath of the belly at bay for long enough, and so, I decided to whip up a couple of sandwiches.

Crunchy, they were - and as they slid down into the stomach, he decided to be quiet, except for the occasional mumbling about the lack of speed in the service. I sighed. It was One Of Those Days, and there was very little to keep myself from going insane. The television wasn't helping:

Jerry Springer droned on and on, but I couldn't get myself interested. I wanted to put on a movie, but I felt that if I did that, I'd be lazy. After all, while it is indeed One Of Those Days, it is also One Of THESE Days: A day in which most of the world is out pounding the pavements in the job of their choice. It would be inappropriate of me to waste my time with movies on the couch, and so I sat in the computer chair, as the grey light spilled in from the outside world. Bronnie walked up to me and sat down.

"Hiya, Bron.", I mumbled.

"Hi, David. What's up?", she asked.

"Ah, it's this life. You know. It's getting me down. When I left uni, I thought it was gonna be great, and I was gonna go off and have adventures and do what I spent eight years training to do. But instead, I'm still here." I paused for a moment, as a slightly unimpressed look dulled her face, "Not that there's anything wrong with being here with you. I love you. It's just -"

"Shh.", she said, scratching behind one of her ears. "You don't have to explain."

"I don't?"

She shook her head. "No, you don't."

I reached down and gave her a scratch. She smiled mischeviously at me.

"Tell you what.", she said. "If you give me one of those beef stick things... I'll sort your problem out."

"You'll -"

"I'll give you some words of wisdom that will get you through the day. After all, David - it's One Of Those Days, isn't it?"

I shrugged. "I guess it is at that, Bron."

She nodded. "Get me a beef stick. And then we'll talk."

"Mmm.", she mumbled, as she chewed. "That's good beef stick."

I sat and watched her in silence. She looked up at me, briefly: "It's rude to stare at people while they eat."

"Oh, I'm sorry.", I stammered, and turned away - pretending to type something on the computer, while the guzzling, crunching noises continued behind me. Eventually, I heard Bronnie exhaling - followed by a loud belch.

"Okay.", she said. "Let's talk about your little 'problem'."

I scowled. "I get the feeling that you're not taking this seriously."

A smile. "Oh, I am."

"Are you? Because, honestly - I really don't feel comfortable talking to you about this if you're just going to use it for a.."

"David, don't be so paranoid. What in the hell do you have to be nervous about? Jesus, I know more about you than most creatures have any right to. I have to watch you get dressed, I have to watch you change, I sneak in and pretend to drink from the shower - but I'm really spying on you while you have a slash. Let's not even get into the host of fluids I've seen emerge from your body in the -"

"I get the point."

"So, do you trust me?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

She fell down on her front paws, and looked seriously at me - her eyes glittering and mocha.

"So, what's the problem? Hmm?"

"Oh, I don't know.", I sighed. "I guess I just... I guess I never expected it to turn out quite like this. I mean, I know that it's just a matter of time until something happens, but while I'm here, I just feel really disconnected. It's as though the world is still going on, but i'm not a part of it - I'm just kind of here. On my own. And you know what has been happening with my friends."

She nodded. "I know."

"Well, I tried to explain to them that I was feeling really down and out, and really lonely - but all I got in return from most of them was that they had no time, and that I'm not their girlfriend."

She looked up at me. "What is THAT supposed to mean?"

I shrugged. But she kept staring at me.

"What?", I said cautiously.

"You're not their girlfriend? David, are you sure that you're not -"

I snarled. "I'm not gay."

She recoiled slightly. "Okay, okay. I'm just saying - it's okay if you are. I mean, you have been single for a long time. How long's it been now? Three years?"

I gritted my teeth. "Not quite."

"I'm just saying that if you were gay - I'd be cool with it. Obviously, I'd sleep in another room. I don't want to have to live in a beat."

I turned away. "Oh, just forget it. Go outside and piss on random things."

"Come on, stop it.", she giggled, "I'm only playing with you. You used to have a sense of humour."

"I know," I muttered, "I'm just not feeling very funny right now."

Bronnie sighed.

"David, look at me."

I sniffled. "What?"

"Look at me. Come on."

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "What? Whatcha want?"

She smiled. "Who's your buddy?"

I didn't reply. I sniffed loudly.

"Come on. Who's your buddy? Eh? Who's your pal?"

I spoke quietly: "You are."

"Who is?", she taunted playfully. "Who's your buddy? Is it me? Is it Lil Bron Bron?"

I nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Then listen to me, sweetie. You'll be okay."

She sighed. "Remember when you came and picked me up from the Blue Cross?"

I nodded.

"Remember that? With your Mum? You were in her purple shitbox Mitsubishi, and you came and picked me up from me after my, uh, 'operation'."

"That wasn't my idea. I didn't want to make you -"

"Barren?", she said coldly. Her eyes were misty for a moment, and she turned away. Then her face melted and she smiled. It was a sad smile. "It's okay. I can be happy without children of my own. After all, you, and Sandy, and Jules are my children now."

"That's sweet."

She nodded. "Anyway, do you remember when you came to pick me up?"

I nodded.

"And do you remember the day you picked me? Remember that? I was in a cage, and I was barking - and you pointed at me. I still remember this," She paused and laughed softly, "You pointed at me and said 'She's the one, definately.'"

"Did I said that?", I asked, going a little bit red.

She nodded. "Uh-huh. You sure did. And we went into the courtyard, and they put me in there with you to see if I liked you."

I smiled. "I do remember that."

"I jumped up on you, and you said "She's definately the one. Look at her - she likes me." Remember that?"

I nodded, grinning.

"I didn't jump up on you because I liked you. You were wearing 7 year old Blundstones. You looked like shit. I was trying to tell you that if you expected me to come and live with you, those boots had to go. How the hell do you continue to leave the house in those things?"

"They're comfortable..."

"They have no tread."

"I know, but -"

"David.", she said sternly. "Get rid of them."

I didn't answer.

"The point of all of this," she continued, "Is that before I was sent to the Blue Cross, I had a bit of a rough life."

"You did?"

"I was a street dog. My old owners left the gate open, and I got away. They used to, you know, hit me and stuff."

My lips bowed, and I reached down to scratch her ears. Her eyes were welling up.

"Thank you. Thanks. I'm over it now. But things were pretty awful for me for a while there."

"It sure sounds like it."

She sighed. "There were a lot of times I wanted to - you know - end it all. Walk out in traffic. Eat that pork chop I buried three weeks ago. Bark at that dog that lives under the water in the dam and take his bone."

"Dog that lives under the water?"

"Yeah. You know. Looks just like me. Always has the same bone as me whenever we go past there. Don't tell anybody -", her voice dropped to a whisper, "But I think she's trying to copy my look."

I gasped. "The bitch!"

Bronnie nodded. "But I didn't. I sat it out. I waited because I knew that something better would come along. When they caught me and sent me to the Blue Cross, I thought 'This is it. I've had it now. Nobody's gonna want a used hound like me.' But then you came along. And it's the same story for you."

I stared at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"David, you really are stupid. How is it that you have a master's degree, and I eat my own fecal matter - yet I am the smarter of the two?"

I stared at my shoes, guilty. "I'm sorry."

She dismissed me with a wave of her paw. "It's the same for you, David. You think that nobody's gonna want someone like you to work for them, and it looks like that to you - just like it did for me when I was on the streets, and I thought I'd never find a home. But I did - and you will too."

I looked down at her, and scratched her ears again. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"You really think so, Bron?"

"I know so. A little to the left - thanks. Oh, I know so, David. You'll be fine. I was fine, I found a place, and so will you. And if people can't see that what's happening with you at the moment is pretty rough, then they're probably not worth it in the first place. Know what I mean?"

I shrugged sadly. "I guess so."

"Anyway, I understand. And I bet other people do, too. Miss Ellen, for example."

"Oh, I'm sure she does."

"Hey," she began slowly, "You know you and Ellen? Well, I was just wondering... is there -"

"We're just friends.", I barked at her.

"Okay!", she scowled. "Okay. Hey, I was just asking."

We sat in silence for a moment. Then she spoke.

"David?"

"Yeah, Bron?"

"I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay. I would too, but it's only early. Even though it's One Of Those Days."

Bronnie laughed. "It sure is, isn't it."

She rose up on her hind legs, and I gave her a hug. Then, she walked away, and flopped down on her mat.

"Hey, Bronnie." I called over to her.

She snorted, and rolled over before answering in a groggy voice: "What?"

"What would have happened if you hadn't been picked up by the council and sent to the Blue Cross? We would never have met, and you'd still be out there somewhere, right?"

She yawned. "Right."

"What'll happen to me if I don't get found by somebody? I'll spend the rest of my life here, looking for a place - but I'll never find it."

"David," she muttered, "How am I supposed to know? I'm just a dog."

I nodded. I sat for a few moments.

"Bronnie?"

But she was asleep. I stood, scratched her behind the ears, and left the room.

It really was One Of Those Days. And it was time go to outside.

Posted by David at May 20, 2004 01:04 PM | TrackBack