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Rowdy’s Dream Blog #132: They Burn a Piece of Paper

I mourn in my truck with some kids from across the street who have lost a friend of theirs I did not know. They burn a piece of paper to make some representative ashes...

Public Comments (1)
  • Trying to find the foreman  [ Sat Jan 9 2010 8:40 AM ]

    At a construction site I see two men throw some dynamite in a bin of

    boiling oil then run and hide under a tarp. I move away, wincing,

    expecting it to blow up. Some other people notice and move away from the

    bin as well. When it doesn't blow up, I decide I need to tell the foreman

    about it. I walk through the woods to some apartments, looking inside each

    one for the foreman. Mostly, they are empty or populated with people I

    "knew from the dorms" but actually no people I know. In one apartment, I

    check the bedroom (dark and messy with an electric bass leaning against

    the wall) when the tenants start locking the door to leave. "Wait, wait,"

    I cry, and they let me out. I try to explain what I was doing inside their

    apartment, but they don't seem to care.

    Back at the construction site, my boss (a tv show boss) tries to stop me

    and give me an assignment. I try to explain to him the urgent mission I'm

    on, but he won't listen. I'm forced to walk away from him, leaving him

    fuming. I search the construction site for the foreman. I walk past the

    bin and see that it is now empty of oil with a stick of dynamite in the

    bottom. I ask a worker if it blew up. He says "no" and looks away.

    I find my boss eating with the foreman and one other, sitting cross-legged

    on the floor at a low table, Japanese style. I join them as they are

    finishing a shared serving of what my boss declares to be "Rob's best

    sandwich ever." It is a pickle relish and swiss cheese interior surrounded

    by a molded pickle relish and meat shell. I try a bite and it is, indeed,

    delicious. My boss quickly finishes the last few bites, stuffing his mouth

    with them so I can't have any more. He's obviously still angry with me.

    My boss rolls over and gets a large ceramic sake pitcher and hands it to

    me, telling me to fill it with "wine... no, rose...no, whiskey... the

    finest scotch you can find." "Enough to fill four sake cups," I ask?

    "Exactly." He's beginning to forgive me. I carry the pitcher into his

    mansion and slip a little on the tile floor, almost dropping the pitcher.

    The other servants look over then return to their chores.

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    Rocky Votolato6.7.2014