John Loves His Cheese

A packed train car is silent but for one woman’s voice talking into her phone. Everyone can hear her side of the conversation and is politely not reacting. To whoever is on the other end, she mentions recipes involving various kinds of cheese.  Fresh mozzarella, gorgonzola, sharp cheddar, from extraspecial grocery store whats-its-name, and she says, “Well, you know John loves his cheese.  Every day he eats a cheese sandwich.”  Does he?

She hangs up the phone and there is silence.  The massive metal and plastic train creaks on the tracks beneath it.  Intermittent multi-tone horns yell into the air near intersections.  If attention is payed to these noises for several minutes, one feels a sense of dread.  A robust imagination might even recall sensational descriptions of the end of the world, or of the sun exploding.  Well, you know John loves his cheese.  Every day he eats a cheese sandwich.

A different passenger behind me begins chewing on things that crunch like thicket sticks under slow heavy boots.  These items are being eaten one at a time, disintegrating in a trap of vertical grinding and a swarm of digestive juice.  It is all over for the items. Many men of the past made machines to cut such items by the million. Many men of the future operated and oiled those machines, cared for them as if creatures to sustain. This lady on the train fulfilled the purpose of the items, and her own, according to a small crew of executive humans of the past, who themselves played by true rules as old as the oxygen they breathed. Lit paths are taken through the night. What does an original thought feel like?  Well, you know John loves his cheese.  Every day he eats a cheese sandwich.


~ by josephmchugh on December 10, 2012.

4 Responses to “John Loves His Cheese”

  1. You wrote payed instead of paid. Shameful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: