Wednesday, 22 December 2010

The Cheshire Cat Only Smiles

Time on my hands, I search the web for "contact". 
Is there any body out there? 


We are unknowns to each other, although I've been the explorer. We dance, an Internet minuet, while I take a pit stop on my travels. 

Searching for despair, I bumped into a lawyer from Ohio and we discussed my path to him, corn, hope being the last thing out of Pandora's Box, boats, more corn and Canada vs. the U.S. of A. 

It was all very civilized.

I forwarded the lawyer a story about Mr. Shaw. Mr. Shaw is a Wicca. The Cheshire Cat came languidly out on its branch and settled in for a good smile. September Eleventh came and went and I believe the last e-mail I had from him was somewhat pompous, evoking God personally for the President of the U.S. of A. 

He was an earnest young man. He worked for The People. His father was a mailman. He told me the worst thing he'd ever done was to drive down the freeway too fast with a Coca-Cola in one hand. I was sad he was so very wary of Mr. Shaw. Not too many Wicca's in Ohio I suppose. My brother had just died too. 

Angry whenever I catch even a glimpse of the Cheshire Cat, nothing left to lose, my reply to his e-mail was venom. I spoke to death, September Eleventh, irrational fear and pomposity, told him to examine some of his base beliefs and reminded him I'd only stopped for a visit seeking despair.

"It's not a requirement you are obligated to supply."

I received no reply. 

The Cheshire Cat faded ever so slowly from his branch leaving only that shit-kickin' grin. Helpless I examined even while the smile faded. I forwarded e-mails from time to time. They weren't bumped for quite awhile.

Six months.
Then the address,
shortly after I forwarded one of my
bitter-er stories,


Raining hard the other day - Biblical Rain - I shouted from Dowager, "Merry Christmas Mr. Shaw!"

Head uncovered, arms burdened, Mr. Shaw stopped, turned to me and said, his voice serious but with that ever present twinkle in his eye, "Well, actually Madam it's Yule."

I smiled and laughed, "I know Mr. Shaw Merry Christmas any ways."

Riding on the Internet.
Is there any body out there?

I am.

The Cheshire Cat as depicted in American McGee's Alice

Reprinted with Permission from: