Wednesday 14 August 2013

The Day Gary Fled For His Life



Gary was happy. Gary had a house with a garden. Gary had a pantry full of food. Gary had a cat. Gary didn’t know that soon he would have nothing. Soon, he would have to flee for his life. And not too long after that, Gary would be dead.
But that all comes later in the story.
Today, Gary was shopping for a new car. Oh, his old one ran just fine, but he wanted something new. He had the money for it, so why shouldn’t he?
Money got humans whatever they wanted. Gary wanted a new car.
            Now, remember, Gary was happy. He was so happy, in fact, that he didn’t even mind navigating his way through the hoards of protestors at the entrance to the car lot. They had signs that said things like, “Driving cars is murder!” and “Petroleum is a drug!” They shouted things at Gary like, “You’re killing our Earth!” and “You’re a piece of shit!” It was a minor inconvenience, but nothing that bothered Gary too much. He just tipped his hat and went on his way. Protestors were usually spouting a bunch of nonsense anyway, Gary thought.
            Gary looked at cars. Gary said, “I like this red one. What’s it called?”
            The salesman (he had sparkling teeth and a big smile) responded, “That’s the Eternity. It’s a big seller here.” Then he smiled. The salesman wasn’t happy, but he sure was good at pretending to be.
            “I’ll take it!” Gary said, and he smiled too. Gary’s eyes squinted up when he smiled, because Gary wasn’t pretending. The salesman didn’t care if Gary was pretending or not.
            Gary filled out some paperwork and wrote a cheque. A cheque was a piece of paper one wrote a dollar amount on and then signed. That paper was then somehow turned into money. Cheques were a fast way to give someone lots of money. People liked lots of money.
            Next, Gary drove his new red Eternity out of the lot. Protestors threw tomatoes. Tomatoes were red like Gary’s car. Blood was red like his car, too, but Gary didn’t like to think about blood so this thought never crossed his mind.
            Gary got home and turned on the TV. He didn’t ever watch TV, he just liked the sound in the background while he went about his business. Usually, his business was with his coin collection, or with moving the furniture in the den around.
            Today, while he went about his business, the TV was saying things like, “Completely out of oil,” and, “country in crisis.” But Gary didn’t hear a thing.
            It was 3:26 am when Gary awoke from his sleep to the sound of a commotion. Gary lived 12.9 kilometers away from town and his closest neighbor was 4.1 kilometers away. There was rarely a commotion in front of Gary’s house.
            Gary sat on the edge of his bed and stuck his feet into his slippers. They were green. Green was the colour of money. Gary’s slippers had cost more money than slippers ought to. Some people didn’t have money or slippers.
            Mittens was Gary’s cat. She was annoyed that Gary would even think about awakening her from her slumber. Mittens was grey. She was grey and fat. Cats who lived with rich, happy humans were often fat, because they got fed food from a shiny dish and didn’t have any predators to worry about. Mittens would have plenty of predators once Gary’s house was burnt down and she had to live in the wild.
            But we’ll get to that later.
            Gary put on his green slippers and tied on his housecoat. In hindsight, Gary would wish he got fully dressed, because, you see, fleeing for one’s life becomes difficult if one is dressed in slippers and a robe.  (You can imagine how it could also be comical, to someone who is watching the fleeing from afar.)
            Of all the items in his house (which was very large), Gary chose to take with him only a battery operated flashlight. The batteries had not been replaced in years, and had very little charge inside. Batteries were important to humans. Batteries made things turn on. Humans liked when things turned on.
            Please recall that before this point in the story, Gary was happy. Now, Gary was scared. Gary liked order, Gary liked ordinary. Gary liked to keep to himself and let the rest of the world go on mostly without him.
            Gary had forgotten about a cheque had received many years ago. The cheque was signed by a man named Jonathon H. Coleman. The H stood for Herbert. Herbert was his grandfather’s name. Jonathon H. Coleman had a smile like the salesman who sold Gary his red Eternity. He was also the head of a company that mass-produced a so-called “synthetic gasoline” called Fabroline. People called it Fabroil for short, or Fab for even shorter.
            This company was a scam. A scam is a dishonest scheme.
            Fabroline was made from 7 parts real gasoline and 3 parts other chemicals that most average people couldn’t pronounce. These average people bought Fabroline because they were told that it was an environmentally friendly alternative to regular gasoline that contained no natural petroleum. They thought they were preserving oil supplies and saving the environment. They were incorrect. 
            A man named Steve had recently released Fabroline’s secret to the press. Steve was currently being savagely beaten for speaking out. Steve had a wife who was pregnant. He had been trying to save the world for his unborn daughter. Steve was too late.
            Years ago, Fabroline had needed a place to build their facilities. They discovered a large piece of land owned by a bachelor. He lived in a small house with no garden, little food, and no cat. That man was Gary. That Gary was unhappy. He had no coin collection and very little furniture to move about his house.
            Gary had accepted Jonathon H. Coleman’s offer. The offer had many zeroes in it. Humans generally enjoyed monetary offers with many zeroes.
            Perhaps if Gary had paid attention to what his TV had said earlier, he might have made a connection between the cheque that was signed by Jonathon H. Coleman and the mob that he was now witnessing outside of his home. However, it does us no good to dwell upon ifs, so we will continue with the story.
            Gary saw the mob out his front window. They were shouting and they were throwing things. There was no doubt that they were approaching his home.
Gary started towards the back door. First he walked, then he trotted, then he jogged and by the time he was at the door he was sprinting. He left his home just as the first mob member began to pour Fabroline all over the roses in his front garden.
Gary had reached the woods behind his property just as another mob member struck a match and dropped it onto Gary’s roses. The roses were glistening with Fabroline.
Men and women of all ages were throwing rocks and bottles and cans at Gary’s house. These acts were quite irritating to Mittens, who had had a long day of catching spiders in the cellar (or she had been trying to. Remember, Mittens was fat, and so not very good at catching things.)
Mittens proceeded down the stairs, to glare at whomever was making all the racket. It did not take long for her to discover the flames that were currently engulfing her home. Mittens ran out the cat door and into the backyard. I don’t think I have to tell you that Mittens did not prosper in the wild. Mittens met a coyote. Coyotes were usually very hungry. Mittens was fat. Soon the coyote would find his hunger quite satisfied.
Fabroline was very good at helping things burn. By the next afternoon, Gary’s house would be burnt to the ground. The mob drank whisky and beer and watched with delight as Gary’s walls and furniture and belongings turned into ashes. (It’s funny how something that was once a thing can be so easily reduced to dust.)
No one in the mob knew Gary personally. All they knew was that his name was found on a document in the files of the Fabroline company, and so without any questions asked, they assumed that he must be partially responsible for the scam.
Also, the mob members liked to see things burn.
Gary was too far away now to hear what the mob members were shouting. If he had been closer he might have heard things like, “Burn, you fucking scum” or, “Fuck you, old man!” “Fuck” was a word that humans used when they were angry. And when they were excited. And when they were sad. Some humans used it for no reason at all.
Gary used this word several times during his flight. Once, because he got his robe caught on a thorn bush. Another time, because his expensive slippers slipped in the mud. And again, when the batteries in his flashlight died.
Now, if I were to start this story again, I might add a detail into the second or third paragraph. That detail would be this: Much like his pet feline, Gary was fat. Or, to put it more kindly, Gary was out of shape. Many well-off humans were out of shape. Well-off humans could afford to buy fast food and soda pop and rarely needed to be in shape for things such as physical labour or running for one’s life. Oftentimes, well-off people who were out of shape would do some kind of physical activity, and would experience a thing called a heart attack. This is what happened to Gary now.
Having a heart attack made it very difficult to continue running. Having a heart attack also made Gary dead. Being dead meant that Gary wasn’t happy anymore. He wasn’t unhappy either. He wasn’t anything.
And although I said it doesn’t do to dwell on ifs, I will include this: No one was chasing Gary. If Gary had known this, he might have stopped running. If Gary had stopped running, he would not have had a heart attack. If Gary hadn’t had a heart attack he would not have become dead. If Gary had not become dead he would have lived to see the world become a smoldering, chaotic mess caused by a company called Fabroline. This company had taken advantage of average humans. These average humans rebelled and destroyed the company and everyone involved in it. Then they destroyed everything else.
It was a good thing Gary had fled for his life that day.