I remember it was raining--fairly heavily, at that--and some poor bum's dog was giving a cool cat the nastiest fanfare I'd heard in years, but that's nothing new. Or was it? Maybe at the time I wasn't thinking straight...Were the answers right there? Couldn't have been. No...not there. They say the eerie chill of a foggy morning is the first thing that creeps up your spine and smacks you square in the jaw, right? Ominous signs...Ominous...That looming sense of dread. Never was a man for the supernatural or the cliche--the cliche being my least favorite of the two. But something was different; the dog, the cool mist of that uninviting summer shower, the melodious call of some forsaken taxi driver got that the hard slip. It was all...leading to something. Alarms weren't going off at first; took a trip around the corner for the world to start piggybacking its malicious intent. There she was: a brand new Buick with a shiny red coat with enough pizzazz to singe the eyebrows off your dead mother--no offense. That beauty was the most stylish model I'd ever laid my eyes, but I knew she was trouble the moment I turned that corner. And then the fanfares started again. Something crept into the back of my mind like a bad itch up your uncle's back-- you can't scratch it, you just keep fidgeting until you think you've won--and it sent an icy shock through me that would've raised my ancestors from a bygone era. Why didn't I realize it from the beginning? The dog. The rain. The mist. Uncle Eddy playing for the Dodgers. "Brooklyn!" was the word my mind was shouting, but my eyes made my ears too deaf from the crazy noise that smooth ride was churning out.
My jaw dropped like a sack of bricks in the middle of October. I should've known it sooner.
It was mine.