THE HUNGRY MAN CHRONICLES: PART 9

Continued from PART 8

The purple man began yelping and swinging his head from side-to-side as if watching a frenetic game of tennis. The kazoos roared in chorus, and the rabbit began to bang the drum again. I walked over to the popcorn vendor who was crouched against a tree smoking a cigarette, vacantly watching the crowd. He saw me approach, “Sorry sir, popcorn sold out!”

I leaned up against the tree, “The Serenity Boy, sure has changed since I last saw him!” I said in a slurred American accent, even though I wasn't American and had never been there, but I have always pictured myself as a cool, suave American tourist whenever I went on holiday. John Wayne, the complete opposite of who I was, but this character appealed to me because his mannerisms seemed to give him the edge in social interaction.

“Ah! You American!”

“Godamn right buddy!” I wondered if I had overdone it this time.

He took a long drag on the cigarette, scrunching an eyebrow and raising the other as he were a movie star, sucking in so his cheek bones surfaced like a pair of submarines. Smoke streamed out of his mouth like a burst pipe as he spoke, “I love Americans!” He catapulted the cigarette butt from his tar stained fingers into the crowd, it crashed into a woman's large behind and splintered amber. “That guy ... up there now ... he ain't the Serenity Boy,” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “That guy, the purple one, he's Purple Haze. They are just a support act, the Serenity Boy is after them.” He coughed then spat phlegm on the ground.
“Thanks for your muthafucking help man!” I highfived him, but missed his hand, so I patted him gently on the head and sauntered away.

Actually, I didn't have a clue where I was going, so I decided to enter the crowd and watch the show. At the front, I saw Purple Haze supporting his entire body in the air with the little finger of his right-hand pressed into the ground while chanting a slow monotonous mumble. I looked around and noticed that I was the only one whose hands weren't clasped together beneath my chin. I didn't want to, but I felt my body yielding under the pressure: my hands trembled momentarily before easing themselves into the universally recognized sign of prayer. Purple shouted something, the rabbit hit the drum, and everybody simultaneously raised their hands over their heads to form a steeple with their fingers; I followed suit.

Several movements later, I did feel something – if, indeed, I was supposed to feel something. What that feeling was, I wasn't quite sure. There was certainly a sense of liberation, when the impression of being the uninvited member of an advanced gym class had faded away. I looked at my fellow beings, in these strange body configurations, as if they were some code that if performed in the correct combination would unlock some hidden mystery. Suddenly, it became clear to me what I felt, it was that warm sensation of belonging, being a part of something greater.

Chanting. Boom. We raised our hands, arms open as if we were hugging the sky. I looked around, everything was beautiful. I caught the eye of another, we connected as if we shared some awesome discovery together. Purple wailed. Boom. Change position. We bent forward, arms and legs as straight as they could. Then it happened … the guy in front released trapped air from his lower intestines into my face.

I was having such a good time. When it happened, it was like being the kid dragged away from the party by the mum who showed up too early, but in this case it was a squelchy rasping sound and a stinky partner in crime. I tried to fight the urge to lose control, accept the challenge as if it was an end of term examination set by the gods. In the end, it knew better. I listened. I believed.

I stared at my cross-training shoes, a brand new pair of Starlight 2000's: rubber arched for extra stability, bevelled heel made from from shock resistant DuperontTM, double stitched patent leather reinforced toe. An idea brewed in my head, I giggled to myself at the wicked genius of the plan. I straightened myself, cracked my knuckles, inhaled, then flung my foot as hard as I could at the man's bulging buttocks. He wobbled from the force, then steadied himself slightly before losing his balance. He tumbled sideways into somebody, as he emitted a garrgghhh sound, then landed on his back with legs in the air. I didn't hang around to check the reaction of people; I just sprinted all the way back to the hotel room.


To be continued ...