Crickets, Cockroaches, and Cows

Crickets, Cockroaches, and Cows

    And  God said,
 “Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their kinds:
  cattle and creeping things and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.”
                                -Genesis 1:24


    - Say coz, can you spare a brother a dolla?

      Billions.  Carl Sagan told us that there are billions and billions of stars in the universe.  About seven billion people inhabit the Earth. Millions.  Millions of millions of galaxies exist in the universe.  Over five hundred million Indians live below the poverty level of an annual income of two hundred dollars.  Approximately three hundred and fifty million people will soon live within the United States. Thousands.  One hundred, fifty-two thousand, three hundred  sixty-seven students attend the Southwestern University of Middle America in Augustinopolis, give or take seventy-four resident campus transients.  A new Italian sports car costs one hundred, twenty-seven thousand, four hundred  seventy-eight dollars and forty-six cents with air-conditioning and tinted windows.   Four and a half thousand calories make their home in a basket of Jeremiah’s Cheese Fries. Hundreds.  Three hundred and sixteen graduating English majors at the Southwestern University of Middle America in Augustinopolis fight for classes designed to accommodate two hundred.  The average superstar baseball player in America makes one hundred eighty-nine dollars each time he is seen scratching his crotch on national television.  Tens. Forty-seven students in my Shakespearean Tragedies class at the Southwestern University of Middle America in Augustinopolis will show up for our final.  The average American first date costs fifty-seven dollars and sixteen cents, prophylactics not included.  Ones.  Seven people are in the Coin-op laundry mat in which I am currently washing my clothes, and unsuccessfully attempting to study for the last final of my undergraduate career in my Shakespearean Tragedies class in the Southwestern University of Middle America, that is, SUMA.  One of the seventy-four resident campus transients, affectionately labeled ‘Sixth year Seniors’ by the undergrads of SUMA, now asks me for one dollar. One.

    -Say coz, can you spare a brother a dolla?

    I took a long draw of my lukewarm No-Time-to-Stop coffee. No Time to Stop was yet another addition to the myriads of run-in and run-out convenience stores that allows Americans to waste no less than one minute and forty-two seconds to grab a sixteen-ounce cup of Mountain Glory coffee and a candy bar of choice and be on their hurried way without ever noticing the bump in the smooth road of American expediency.  I usually did not succumb to the stale aroma of Mountain Glory, but when finals call and it’s raining outside, I guess the true American in me comes out, and I make my lightning fast pilgrimage to the local No Time and purchase my steaming sixteen ounce cup of Glory with my choice of cordial flavored-creamers, “Grand Marnier and Milky Way.” Although I never use the creamers, I always grab a handful because I feel that it is my duty as an American to take advantage of this luxury of freedom. Tonight was no exception. I grabbed my quota of Grand Marnier and Milky Way-flavored creamers and a candy bar and was out in one minute and thirty-seven seconds, a new personal record.

    The end of a four-year saga at SUMA was about to come to a screeching halt in merely twelve hours. At noon tomorrow I would cut the final remnants of the academic umbilical cord, which had fed me multiple-choice tests, overcrowded classes, political red tape, a mixed bag of professors, an up and down relationship, and an unprecedented number of gallons of coffee.   Of course, I would not be free from SUMA since the Alumni Association was already securing their financial lifeline to my back pocket, I was nonetheless graduating.

    I arrived at the laundry mat at ten-thirty with the illusion of a valiant quest to study for the test, which was the final cut of the cord. The intention was sincere, but the illusion was too weak to deceive my test-weary mind. By ten-fifty-one, I had loaded my laundry, opened my notebook to study, spilled one third of my Mountain Glory while trying to put up the top to my car in a sudden downpour,  closed my notebook, and begun to work on the draft of my novel, Ashes to Ashes, a story of a naive freshman who comes to college with the idea of grabbing life by the balls only to meet a sordid high school drop out named Ash who shattered the paradise illusion of college life. All of that within twenty minutes. Only two minutes shorter than the average American sit-com.

    I was editing the scene when Ash takes Trip, a headstrong naive freshman, to a strip joint where the dancer is younger than Trip’s little sister when the ‘Sixth year’ came up to me and asked if I could spare a dollar. I could never understand why a dollar seemed like such a small amount of money until someone asked me for one. I don’t claim to be some hypocritical philanthropist who makes everyone feel guilty for not helping every homeless person, but tonight a dollar just didn’t seem like much money to me. I was graduating, right?

    -Sure.
    I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dollar bill.

    -OK,  Grab a cup of coffee, maybe. 
    -Hey dat’sh cool with me man. I luuv coffee. ‘Cause I been drinking ‘sh-piders’ all night long.
    -Spiders ?
    -Yea, man. Don’t you know what  ‘sh-piders’ is?

    Through his drunken haze he could still sense my puzzled look.  He staggered over to the trash can in the laundry mat,  pulled out a beer can, swirled it to test if any substance remained, took a whiff of the aroma emitting from the can as a connoisseur would smell a high-dollar 1985 Cabernet Sauvignon,  kicked his head back,  drained the aluminum can of its remaining liquid,  threw the can into the trash with a triumphant smile and announced,
    -Sh-piders!

    As I felt the nausea of truth grumble in my stomach, I nodded,
    -Spiders.
    I reached into my pockets and handed him the six warm creamers and told him to enjoy.
    -Thanksh man, I’ll pay you back when I finish college. I go to the univershity, ya know.
    Most of the ‘Sixth years’ insisted that they would go and actually finish college one day. Hence the name.
    - That’s all right, it’s on me.
    -No really man, I’m goin’ to college, man. I wanna start a basketball camp next summer.  Say, what are you doin’ this summer? We could be partners. Yeah, I’m an idea man. I just need some fundin’, ya know?  We could be partners. What do ya shay?
    - No thanks, I’ve got plans, already.
    I was lying, I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do with my life. I might have well been his partner.
    - Okey-dokey man, your loss. I’m gonna do it myself den. Dis is America, and I kin do what I want, jus’ look at me!

    He adjusted his vision and danced out into the rain with an imaginary waltz partner serenading his ‘Sh-piders’  to the hot, wet  night.