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Wednesday, December 8, 2010

touching the sacred

“I was standing there wearing a gun on my hand and wearing the room like a fuckin' glove, I mean like I could control everything with a single finger. She was there just in front of me all high and mighty like some blond angle, like gods gift to money, like purity incarnate or whatever. Like she expected her life to always be so simple. And I tell you I felt like a priest right then. Like a man about to anoint some virgin for a sacrifice in front of a crowd of people laying face down prostrate on the marble bowing to something they had heard about but couldn't ever understand and never thought they'd witness. And I was wearing that black mask which I suddenly realized was my sacred cloak and I wondered if I were to inscribed scripture on the bullet before I stuck it in her brain if that'd be any different than the way people usually try to teach truth.”

“Charlie, please just answer the questions.” The room was small, empty, and powerful because there were no details. There was just the whole dominating room all together like a man is all together except for the mirror that reflects everything it wants to. The two detectives looking at charlie across the metal table were tired of waiting to take the criminals statement and just wanted to go home. Charlie responded though in protest.

“No sir! now I don't know why you asked the question you did, it seems a bit strange to me cause you could have asked me how I did it, when I did it, what I did. But you didn't ask that you asked why, and if you're asking why you're asking for a story. There ain't no sin in the world that doesn't have a lengthy story to back it up.”

“We don't want a story Charlie, we want the truth! How does someone with no criminal record just wake up one day and go robbing the biggest most protected bank in the city?”

“Didn't you hear what I just told you about truth? You can't just go begin' for truth! Not everyone's ready to pull that trigger, not like I was...

"That shell was gonna go off any minute, and she knew it. She could see it in my eyes I figure, since they were the only pieces of me she could see. I wanted to rip off the mask, let her see the face of everything that was hurting her right then, but I didn't and honestly right now I'm not sure why I didn't. She was scrambling around trying to get all the money into the bag and I was just watching, holding my gun at my side now looking back at everyone on the ground who were praying for their own souls as if somehow they thought their souls were in any danger from bullets. It's amazing how little people understand what they're made of.”

The detectives sat back, feeling themselves being sucked head long into a black hole. They felt like they couldn't resist it if they tried, and right now, they weren't sure if they wanted to.

“So the little woman gets the bag back to me and I open it up looking in to see all the cash you know. I know if I walk out that door just then I'm good, that with all that money I'm made for life and it means I'm somebody. It doesn't matter how I got it, as long as I got it it means the whole world thinks I'm a better person. Self improvement is for the poor or the week these days. Now all you have to do to be a better person is to have a better bank account.

"But I wasn't there for money I was there for the deed. Maybe this is getting closer to your answer. See, when I saw she'd made no attempt to alert the police, or stop me or do anything but give me the money and send me on my way I was starting to get disappointed. I wasn't there to succeed in some difficult task, I was there to face something impossible. So I reached out and grabbed that woman's hand and leaned forward. With her shaking fingers in my grip, together we slid them under the counter, going by feel slipping back and forth till I felt the alarm button like a smooth pearl pulsing with electricity.

“suddenly everything was unleashed at once. The alarm went off just like it should, like anyone would scream if the whole basis of who they were was being destroyed, cause it was! Everything the whole fucking city stood for was under attack by me right then. That's when I shot her, once in the leg. It aint my place to go scarring someone half way. Aint no point in being damaged in your mind if you aint got damage to your body as well. All I was doing was making her whole again.

“that doesn't answer why!” one of the detectives piped up. “none of that tells us a damn thing about why you did any of that!”

Charlie thought for a moment in silence, then spoke again. “A long time ago I heard of a guy in Japan, a samurai. See, he went off to avenge the death of his master who'd been poisoned by some no honor, no skill, weaselly bandit. He chased the bandit across the countryside for ages till finally he got him cornered in a canyon. Now this guy, this samurai, he wasn't someone to tumble with, he was like some serious bad warrior I tell you.

"'Course this bandit, he knew there was no escape and he started to panic. Now in his panic he did the only thing he could muster, which was to spit right in that samurai's face! Now can you imagine what that samurai did in response?”

The detectives breathed in the story.

"That samurai sheathed his sword and walked away. You see sirs, that spit got that warrior all pissed off, got him really angry. But he hadn't come to conduct an act of anger, he'd gone to conduct an act of justice, and killin' that man out'a anger would not have been a sacred act.

"I went to the bank that day to touch something sacred, to see damned creation in the face of destruction. That's my reason, and that's all you'll get from me on the subject.”

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