Mr. Cogito decided to buy some cheese in the deli, so he stood with several other customers and waited for his turn. On the other side of the meat menagerie, two ladies were engaged in a lengthy conversation. The corpulent one with the spider tattoo behind her ear was grumbling about an injustice someone had done her. Her companion, a slight, older woman with a scowl, listened with interest, neglecting the turkey carvings in her hands.
"Excuse me," a customer interrupted. "I'm in a hurry."
"I'm getting there, darlin'," said the spider lady, who then rolled her eyes and sauntered to the meat slicer. The other shuffled back to the scale, weighed the turkey carvings, wrapped them, and flopped them down on the counter.
"Anything else?" she asked, rather uncordially, brow furrowed, as though she had just carried out an order to kill and prepare a mastodon. The customer lifted the wrapped turkey suspiciously and noted with agitation that she had asked for a pound, not half a pound.
"Take it or leave it, Miss!" came the curt reply. The customer stood paralyzed for
a moment, then took her turkey and trotted off angrily.
Another customer saw this and demanded to know what was going on before being rudely admonished that if he wanted his salami, he would just have to stand there and be quiet.
Mr. Cogito, briefly forgetting the cheese he wanted, cast about for historical traces of what was happening. He recalled famous instances of anarchy, but could find nothing to compare with the deli insurrection. Before long, he was the only one standing at the counter. The others had left with a fraction of their order, or a completely different order, or without having been served at all. Something like this, Mr. Cogito thought, must have happened in the final years of the Roman Empire, under Caligula, or else during the Peasant Revolt of 1381. Didn't Napoleon once endure such a rebellion within his own ranks? He couldn't remember. It seemed unprecedented.
In any case, Mr. Cogito never got his cheese.
Showing posts with label anarchy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anarchy. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Terror in Freeburg
The Freeburg police department yesterday apprehended a local man suspected of running a terrorist operation from his own bookstore.
Pierre Bakunin, owner of The Old Curiosity Shop on Main St., was arrested in his store at noon by two undercover officers disguised as flamboyant homosexuals with immoral literary tastes. When Mr. Bakunin produced an unwholesome cook book, he was promptly arrested. While being led away, the former shop-owner was reported to have mumbled something unintelligible. One onlooker claimed he was speaking in tongues.
A careful investigation of the building was conducted shortly after Mr. Bakunin’s arrest. The investigation yielded damning evidence confirming police allegations, including a crate filled with such hazardous literature as Thomas Paine’s political pamphlet, "Rights of Man," Mark Twain’s racist novel, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," Alan Ginsberg’s obscene poem, "Howl," and Vladimir Nabokov’s pornographic novel, "Lolita."
Since 1991, the Old Curiosity Shop had been an object of suspicion by the Freeburg Police Department and local residents. In that year, ownership of the bookstore, formerly known as the Town Book Store, passed from the hands of Wallace Chesterfield to the filthy mitts of Mr. Bakunin. The Shop’s history of terrorist activity began shortly afterward.
On random mornings, residents would wake to find on their doorstep more than they had expected: crouching beside the Freeburg Times, a lewd or otherwise anarchistic book in paperback. Milton Marsh remembers one fateful morning. “I walked out to get the paper and saw a blue book next to it. I picked it up, put on my glasses, and read the cover: ‘The Works of Marquis de Sade.’ But I had no idea who De Sade was. I couldn’t even pronounce his name.”
Mr. Marsh brought the book inside along with his newspaper. What he found in it astonished and upset this septuagenarian and former librarian. “I started reading an excerpt of “Philosophy in the Bedroom,” or whatever it was called. I just picked it out at random. After a minute of reading, my hands grew warm, then they went numb, and the book fell flat on the floor. I didn’t want to touch it. I picked it up with salad tongs and threw it in the fire. I later prayed to Christ to forgive me for bringing such smut into my home.”
But Mr. Marsh was not the only victim of this act of terror. Hundreds of other residents reported similar incidents, all within the span of a year. Leonard Potts, a general practitioner, found a copy of Sigmund Freud’s ludicrous book, The Ego and the Id, on his doorstep. The book fictionalizes the inner life of the mind, making outlandish claims about an entire mental world, mostly disgusting, which human beings are not even conscious of. “We’re no brutes,” Mr. Potts shrugged. “We’re decent human beings.”
Ida Tildwell also received an unwelcome gift: Grace Metalious’s lascivious novel, “Peyton Place,” about illicit activities in a small American town. Ms. Tildwell said that she had misplaced the book, but remarked that it was “very dirty.”
Neither was Mayor Frick Wheeler immune to these attacks. On September 3, after finding an illustrated version of Lady Chatterly's Lover on his doorstep, Mayor Wheeler decided to convene a council meeting to address this wave of terror.
The meeting was held at the Freeburg Community Center the following week, with over 150 people in attendance. The sense of rage, fear, and helplessness of residents was palpable. “We were beside ourselves,” Martha Freeman recalls. “Everyone was shouting and calling for justice. I was shouting, too. Someone left Nietzsche on my car roof!”
A special police task force was created to investigate the terror activity and to eventually root out the free-thinking rabble. Sheriff Burt Blunt was appointed head of the task force, known locally as The Valiant Squad. In his remarks to attendees, Sheriff Blunt said, “We’ll catch ‘em. And when we do, we’ll lock ‘em up for a good while. No one’s going to play with our minds and get away with it.”
During the meeting, town officials also proposed a moral-profiling law that would allow the Valiant Squad to apprehend anyone it suspected of immoral activity. After initial questioning, persons of interest would be sent before a special commission for further investigation. The Purity Act was passed in a separate election with near unanimous approval. It remains a vital resource for security and justice in Freeburg.
The arrest of Mr. Bakunin one week later has reaffirmed the value of the Purity Act. According to Sam Washington, a Valiant Squad agent, capturing Mr. Bakunin was “a no-brainer.” “You got a red-haired, bearded man with an earring, who buys organic food, lives with a woman who wears pirate clothes, and draws pictures in the park. Classic weirdo.”
Asked about the future of the Purity Act, Mayor Wheeler dispelled all fears. “It will remain indefinitely.”
Pierre Bakunin, owner of The Old Curiosity Shop on Main St., was arrested in his store at noon by two undercover officers disguised as flamboyant homosexuals with immoral literary tastes. When Mr. Bakunin produced an unwholesome cook book, he was promptly arrested. While being led away, the former shop-owner was reported to have mumbled something unintelligible. One onlooker claimed he was speaking in tongues.
A careful investigation of the building was conducted shortly after Mr. Bakunin’s arrest. The investigation yielded damning evidence confirming police allegations, including a crate filled with such hazardous literature as Thomas Paine’s political pamphlet, "Rights of Man," Mark Twain’s racist novel, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," Alan Ginsberg’s obscene poem, "Howl," and Vladimir Nabokov’s pornographic novel, "Lolita."
Since 1991, the Old Curiosity Shop had been an object of suspicion by the Freeburg Police Department and local residents. In that year, ownership of the bookstore, formerly known as the Town Book Store, passed from the hands of Wallace Chesterfield to the filthy mitts of Mr. Bakunin. The Shop’s history of terrorist activity began shortly afterward.
On random mornings, residents would wake to find on their doorstep more than they had expected: crouching beside the Freeburg Times, a lewd or otherwise anarchistic book in paperback. Milton Marsh remembers one fateful morning. “I walked out to get the paper and saw a blue book next to it. I picked it up, put on my glasses, and read the cover: ‘The Works of Marquis de Sade.’ But I had no idea who De Sade was. I couldn’t even pronounce his name.”
Mr. Marsh brought the book inside along with his newspaper. What he found in it astonished and upset this septuagenarian and former librarian. “I started reading an excerpt of “Philosophy in the Bedroom,” or whatever it was called. I just picked it out at random. After a minute of reading, my hands grew warm, then they went numb, and the book fell flat on the floor. I didn’t want to touch it. I picked it up with salad tongs and threw it in the fire. I later prayed to Christ to forgive me for bringing such smut into my home.”
But Mr. Marsh was not the only victim of this act of terror. Hundreds of other residents reported similar incidents, all within the span of a year. Leonard Potts, a general practitioner, found a copy of Sigmund Freud’s ludicrous book, The Ego and the Id, on his doorstep. The book fictionalizes the inner life of the mind, making outlandish claims about an entire mental world, mostly disgusting, which human beings are not even conscious of. “We’re no brutes,” Mr. Potts shrugged. “We’re decent human beings.”
Ida Tildwell also received an unwelcome gift: Grace Metalious’s lascivious novel, “Peyton Place,” about illicit activities in a small American town. Ms. Tildwell said that she had misplaced the book, but remarked that it was “very dirty.”
Neither was Mayor Frick Wheeler immune to these attacks. On September 3, after finding an illustrated version of Lady Chatterly's Lover on his doorstep, Mayor Wheeler decided to convene a council meeting to address this wave of terror.
The meeting was held at the Freeburg Community Center the following week, with over 150 people in attendance. The sense of rage, fear, and helplessness of residents was palpable. “We were beside ourselves,” Martha Freeman recalls. “Everyone was shouting and calling for justice. I was shouting, too. Someone left Nietzsche on my car roof!”
A special police task force was created to investigate the terror activity and to eventually root out the free-thinking rabble. Sheriff Burt Blunt was appointed head of the task force, known locally as The Valiant Squad. In his remarks to attendees, Sheriff Blunt said, “We’ll catch ‘em. And when we do, we’ll lock ‘em up for a good while. No one’s going to play with our minds and get away with it.”
During the meeting, town officials also proposed a moral-profiling law that would allow the Valiant Squad to apprehend anyone it suspected of immoral activity. After initial questioning, persons of interest would be sent before a special commission for further investigation. The Purity Act was passed in a separate election with near unanimous approval. It remains a vital resource for security and justice in Freeburg.
The arrest of Mr. Bakunin one week later has reaffirmed the value of the Purity Act. According to Sam Washington, a Valiant Squad agent, capturing Mr. Bakunin was “a no-brainer.” “You got a red-haired, bearded man with an earring, who buys organic food, lives with a woman who wears pirate clothes, and draws pictures in the park. Classic weirdo.”
Asked about the future of the Purity Act, Mayor Wheeler dispelled all fears. “It will remain indefinitely.”
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)