Waiting for Indygo
[this is satire]
My friend David and I walked down to the corner the other morning to catch the bus to downtown. “Dear fellow, this seems to be an odd place for a bus stop. You’re sure it was here?” he asked. “Why of course,” I replied, “this is where one waits for Indygo.”
We waited for 10, 20, 30 minutes; no Indygo. “I’m thinking of changing my name to Zaffenhauser,” David said. “Why?” I asked. “No reason,” he responded.
Time crept on; no Indygo. “It seems as if time has been dilated, like when one smokes hashish.” I said. “Yes,” David said, “it can be so when one is waiting for Indygo. You’re sure it was here where we were supposed to wait for Indygo?”
“Yes,” I answered, “it is here, it has always been here, where one waits for Indygo.”
The winter sun began its early retreat; no Indygo.
“It could be,” David speculated, “that we could wait here all our lives, and no Indygo would arrive. It could be true, as you say, that this was where one came to wait for Indygo, but it may no longer be so. It could be that this is one of the bus routes that got cut out to save money.”
“Yes, David,” I said. “Please call me Zaffenhauser,” he replied.
“Well? Shall we go?” I asked.
“Yes, let’s go,” he said.
We then walked back to my house.
Rocky the Diabolical Cat™ is currently on vacation in upstate New York. He will return next week.