by Rocky the Diabolical Cat™
After a few sleepless nights, I decided to leave the country.
On the day before my departure, Angie came by on her motorcycle to take me on a sentimental mini-tour of the city. I donned my goggles, hopped in the sidecar and off we drove.
We saw a gigantic billboard, its legs and frame rusty, towering above an endless ramshackle neighborhood. The billboard proclaimed: WE ARE BUILDING CAPITALISM. A few blocks later we saw another super-sized billboard, this one depicting George Bush in an aviator's suit. It read: HE PROTECTS THE HOMELAND. A stray dog, its protruding ribs reminiscent of a child's toy xylophone, limped beneath the billboard, raised a rear leg to the sign's base and pissed on it.
On a side street we saw an 8-foot-tall inflated Jesus-on-the-Cross® holiday yard decoration, the crucified bearing an uncanny resemblance to the bloated late-period Jim Morrison, swaying in the winter breeze.
Angie parked the motorcycle on Market Street and we went for my last stroll around Monument Circle, where we encountered my old flame Evangelina's boyfriend, Theodore.
"Hello, Theobore," I said in greeting.
"Ugh, it's you, Rocky," he replied disaffectedly.
"Theodrone, I'm leaving the country tomorrow," I said.
"Good! You never have had a good word to say about our homeland, and you certainly never have participated wholeheartedly in the building of capitalism!" he spat. "You ungrateful leftist cat-radical, you just don't get it, do you? Our homeland is a utopia!"
"My man," I replied, "to paraphrase Count Tolstoy, what you say is so manifestly stupid that I am ashamed to refute it seriously. Good day!"
Angie and I walked away. "That Theodore is trifling!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, don't be so hard on him," I said. "I have it on good authority that he possesses only one testicle — you know, like Hitler."
As we drove home a bittersweet feeling washed over me. Cursed land, how I love thee, but oh! How you fill my heart with sorrow. Goodbye, shabby utopia!
Next week: Rocky departs