Chapter Six

THE COMPANY MAN

By now the rain had ceased, the clouds had parted, and

the big hot yellow molten ball in the sky had begun again

to turn the soot and dirt in the streets to dust.

Jim envied the generations that came before him. Life

seemed simpler then. Have a problem? No problem!

Consult with your Bible and that was the end of it. Case

closed. Any questions so far?

Each man believed and therefore understood everything

related to how one should conduct themselves in a

christian oriented society. The parameters were narrow

but reassuring. Sure, there were a few apostates, the

nonobservants, but they were small in number, and

usually run out of town, tar and feathered, their tails

tucked between their legs. These aberrant types usually

sang a different tune in the trenches, but nevertheless

their overall effect was negligible, and therefore the

system worked, and everyone was happy, especially

the people living in the South. And Jim counted himself

a fellow Southerner, whether he liked that dubious

distinction or not.

But somewhere something went terribly wrong with this

2000 year old experiment. And now everyone must

reorient themselves to the new order but really no one

knows how and this is where we now find our protagonist:

alone, grappling in the dark, but treading lightly, afraid to

waken the barbarians loitering outside the palace gate;

laid out in their lairs; drunk on power and deception; in a

deep slumber. Jim didn't stand a chance and neither did

America.

{note to author: can you pare down on the use of adjectives already?}

The first customer of the day was a frumpish appearing

woman typical of the kind of customer the store attracted.

Bargain hunters. Women with too much money, too

much make-up, and too much body fat.

"Excuse me," she said.

"May I help you," replied Jim.

"Yes, I'm looking for a smart curio, do you have any?"

"Yes, we have several, please follow me."

What possible force could overtake the pillar of the Bible?

Not only supplant it but also reap revenge upon the very

foundation that supported it in the first place? Jim

pondered this and other philosophical questions searching

for answers.

"I like this one, how much?"

"Just today, it's $1200."

Jim's ideal on how American people should conduct their

lives was based on Jeffersonian, Eisenhowardian, and

Mosesbethan principles with a sprinkle of Chairman Mao

thrown in to keep everyone honest.

"Is this your best price?" she kind of demanded.

"You do realize it's already been reduced." Jim reminded

her. "I'd have to make a phone call. How much are you

proposing?"

Jim had by now been in many of their homes, seen where

they lived, seen the devastation, the wasteland, writ large,

the writing on the wall. And guess what, it wasn't a pretty

picture. While part of him envied their great material

wealth mostly he was repelled by it. Recoiled in Horror

actually: this can't be the end result of this republic called

America?' And Jim reasoned to himself that since we're

living in a post christian society should not the obvious

replacement take the stage, make a bow, and give a long

speech: "Please ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce

to you, for lack of a better description, the antichrist,

please put your hands together and let's give a big

welcome to Sir Charles Darwin...."

"Do you have a changing room?" she inquired.

"But Ma'am, we're a furniture store!"

She unzipped his trosers and he leaned against the

bathroom wall for support. Jim stared at the photo of

Reagan hanging on the wall and then closed his eyes

trying to concentrate. Jim felt this wasn't right but obliged

her anyway, given, as he reasoned to himself: "I am a

company man."