Thursday, January 17, 2008

Mike Stevens--You Are Missed

What is there to say? A lot, really, but for now, I'll keep it short and bittersweet. I didn't know Mike Stevens all that well. We exchanged pleasantries, 'sups and things in passing. As messengers, many of bonds that we forge are in passing, unless we drink at the same bars or work at the same company (which Mike and I did not). Somehow we know that the bond of friendship exists, though. It's unspoken, but it is a very real thing. That's how it was with Mike. You could tell in the way he asked how things were going with you. It was real, and the few words were always sincere and caring.
I always thought it was cool how he kind of got right up in your grill and inquired about your well-being in such an intense way. Like you needed to tell him. It was important for him to know that you were doing okay. One of a kind.


I'll miss you brother.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Life and Death in the Suburbs

On Thursday I found myself in one of the more exclusive suburbs. Beaverton or somewhere out that way. Up on a big hill. Overlooking everything, perfect and plain. You could eat your lunch off of the street.
As it usually goes with these residence drops, no one was home to sign for whatever crap I was delivering. In fact, I did not see any sign of any human beings anywhere. The silence was eerie. I knocked again. Nothing. I looked in the little window at the top of the door and all that I could see was a small cross hanging on a white wall. It was the only decoration that I could see through the little window.
I got the okay to leave the package on the doorstep. As I leaned over to set the envelope on the doormat I stepped on something. Whatever. Then I noticed a small, furry thing laying on the doormat. It was furry, the size of a small thumb, and it had a tail. I suddenly realized that the thing under my foot was once like the thing on the doormat, though after being stepped on and rained on, it had become just a damp wad of bone and flesh and tail. The only signs of life in that neighborhood were two dead mice.