Thoughts of Solitary Pacifism

“You idiot! Stop your Car!”

The traffic warden screamed at me from the other side of the street. My window was closed but the thunder of his voice boomed so loudly it seared through every particle in the buoyant glass. I watched in awe as the glass quivered almost double bent on the car frame where it had been assigned to fulfill it’s purpose.

I had gotten up this morning with intent only to go to my place of refuge. Away from the rest of the world. A solitary confinement but one of which I was overly content. My sanctuary. It was a place where I felt sane, real, myself. No-one else knew of this place I so adored, it was a secret held in the depth of my mind and would not, could not ever be released from the prison in which it dwelt. But my train of thought was derailed by an angry traffic warden. He was a mighty tsunami decimating Phuket. He reared his legs and charged at my now stationary motor vehicle.

I started analysing this bitter man. Almost extricating my insides, I duly noted the gushing of his drooling saliva, the tearing of the once unshredded ground each of his strides, and the pulsating veins, blood red colour, which protruded from his skin emitting thousands of tiny eruptions. I concluded that this man had lived a long life, full of twists and turns. Somewhere in that serpent of existence he had lost something dear to him, a lover maybe, a child? I made an educated estimation that it was likely due to unnatural causes. It seemed the thing that committed such the act was found unforgiven. There was half a life of bitter hate, and a scourge was born of it. Yet the relentless pursuit of revenge was never satisfied. Thus such abhority was inflicted upon all spectators who chose to menace his presence. Today I was such an observer. He was the ravenous lion, I the lacerated gazelle. And thus it was that he came and confronted me. Shivering in fear and ignorant confusion, for I knew not why such abrasive phraseology had been verbally expressed toward me, I stuttered out a weak “hello”

“You almost ran that cat into the gutters of oblivion!” the Warden snared at me viciously

My quick wit in which at this time I silently proclaimed a curse, got the better of him and without a sense of my later predicament I replied, “If such abeyance would compose itself from such an occurrence then thus no harm is conceived.” He looked blankly toward me and a moment passed, then pulling himself to his full stature, he withdrew from under the belt of his un-ironed suit pants the lower of his suit coat in which he lifted the flap of one side and shone into my view what distinctly appeared to be a taser. Initially I was shocked to imagine what could possibly have gone through his distraught mind to have even apprehended such an action of pure abstract. It was thus that I had realised my earlier flaw. I was but the weed and he the gardener. My position of power in which I surfeited was but a temporary juncture. The tides rolled on and again I was the one oppressed. I guiltily accepted my fine and drove off with thoughts of solitary pacifism.

written by Andrew Wilson.