I really hate it when armed people climb into cranes at nearby colleges and threaten to shoot when I want to take out Chinese food. If a man wants to scurry up hundreds of feet into the air and hole himself inside a box, after having participated in a carjacking, he needs to do it when I do not yearn for Chicken with Black Bean Sauce. It really bothers me. I rarely determine ahead of time that it is a night for Chicken with Black Bean Sauce, and maybe even the edamame, from the Chinese place near the college, but today, I did. And now, of course, the Chinese place is BARRICADED!!…BARRICADED!!…by police cars. Black and white police cars with their on-the-go slanty writing on the chassis, blocking the road, flashing the lights, cordoning off the crazy man, and with him, my dinner.
There must be meaning in this strange melange of circumstances…the yen, the men. But what, I wonder, can it be? What is the symbolism? What is the message? What, in the wok of life, am I to learn…flexibility, patience, appreciation for tacos?
I will find out when he descends. Inside the cookie.
Pamela Gwyn Kripke 