Friday, July 11, 2008

The Streak - 3

Evan woozily perceived the video screen between his knees. It was all lit up with bullshit such as stock quotes and ads for fucking Italian restaurants for fucking tourists. Then there was a nauseating video of the city skyline playing on one side and a column of news headlines on the other. The first one he might have known. But he read it sourly all the same:

    Will Yanks ever win again?

The next one shook him in a way he had not imagined was possible:

    Mick Jagger dies at age 65

He scrutinized this text for a minute or so, contemplating the dark pixels that formed each letter upon a lime-green background: M-i-c-k J-a-g-g-e-r d-i-e-s. He thought for a moment that if he got sufficiently lost within the words, within the curves and serifs of their very letters, so that they no longer seemed to have a meaning, the truth they represented might evaporate as well.

How could Mick Jagger die?

This is what Evan thought as the cab entered the comicbook realm of the Helmsley Hotel ramp, climbing up and curving 'round the venerable building and preparing to plunge him downtown.

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