When I entered the diner, the decor suprized me. The room was about 400 to 600 feet square. The walls were covered by a maroon velvet shag carpet in a bizarre paisley pattern. Along the wall to my left and right were interspersed light fixtures that were metallic silver gray arms extending out to end in hands cradling lit bulbs. I think that they were about thirty watts. Most of the light came from these fixtures within the walls. There were absolutely no forms of lighting on the ceiling. The rest of the dim light came from the tables scattered throughout the place. On them, or more to the point, imbedded in them were the same as on the walls. But in this case the fingers were not cradling the bulbs but grasping them with alternating fist, woman's tender grip, and the very rare child's inquisitive first touch with the bulb suspended by wires to the child’s finger. The actual table sizes ranged from small kidney like shapes to a huge amorphous blob that took up a good side corner of the establishment.
As I passed by the lights, they would flicker, ever so slightly, and I paused to see if any human had seen it. Some tables I passed while I followed the gentle but insistent pull in my stomach were occupied. Said occupants would shiver and complain of some air conditioning glich and shrug on a coat. One man, a slim goatee, dark intense eyes and an air of mystique looked at the space of my wake and was puzzled. That was all. On my way to a date with someone I didn't know I passed the true entrance to the establishment. Without even looking behind me I knew that the wall I had come through was an unbroken line of metallic silver arms reaching out with their gifts of light.
I saw him and knew. Knew that he was the one I had come to collect so I waited. I watched him begin to choke and then it happened. His head kind of did that slow crazy lift with both his fat meaty hands around his own throat. His face began to turn blue when the first concerned citizen showed up on the scene. With that slapping on the back of the aforementioned citizen I realize with amusement that the aforementioned citizen has no medical background or training whatsoever. After the four or fifth pound on the back of my collection, the boy was on the ground. I moved over to the table and saw that it had been a chunk of lobster. All that butter and the poor sod couldn't even get it down. He had never learned the thirty chews your food method of healthy eating.
Someone else appears and begins to clear the throat way, but it's useless. He's on his last oxygen molecule. I reach down and take his crown chackra first. That way he feels no more pain. It's hard enough for me to watch, sometimes the collections are kids, so I learn little ways within the confines of my job description that eases the sufferings of those I meet. It's the least I can do. So after the crown chakra I go down the line and collect all seven and place them carefully in my bag. They are taken for processing later. All that's left is the shell of the chakra. This one appears as an overweight man wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, Birkenstock sandals with socks, ands Bermuda shorts. I don't tarry long. I have others to meet so I leave immediately through the roof and into the night sky over the city in search of that insistent pull that leads me toward the next one. The next one to have a date with D.
