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New Stage
חיפוש בבמה

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מדורי במה







אנדרה קמבל
/ Huma (part 1)

It was the worst rainstorm the city of San Francisco had
known in years, a day's average precipitation had drenched
the city in less then an hour, houses were flooded, driving
their residents out only to find out that their car is now
floating down the inundated street. New Waterfalls sprouted
out from elevator shafts, windows, balconies, terraces and
stairs, like mushrooms after the first rain.

Sandra entered her room in a rush, soaked to the skin,
dripping water all over the place. She locked the door, took
her coat off and threw it over the rocking chair, which
responded in a polite nodding as if it was accepting its
inability to protest. She has too many things to do right
now, she thought. Keeping the room clean wasn't one of them.
Sandra turned on her electric heater and sat down at the
desk, taking her gloves off and throwing them on the carpet.
She has to be quick, has to focus. She took out a
stationary, not a fancy one, and under what seemed to be
nothing else but a pile of old socks she managed to pull off
a pen.
Sandra was one of these girls that you wouldn't turn your
head if she passed you by on the street, but if you looked
at her face for more than one second, you could not take
your eyes off her, she wasn't plain, she was plain beauty,
rural, like the cute peasant daughter on a cover of mediocre
medieval porn novel, she had dark blond hair, gray eyes that
she insisted they turn blue in the sunlight, a slightly
freckled face that was often followed by a heart stopping
smile, her hands where delicate, but not the hands of a
princess, as well as she tried to treat them, one could tell
that her occupation is one that requires a lot of hands-on
work, literally. With the pen in her left one, she started
writing: ''To whom it may concern'', but then she stopped,
took another paper and wrote instead ''Last Will And
Testament of Sandra Jackson''. She underlined the title,
looking at it with awe for a few seconds and continued. ''I,
the undersigned, do make and declare, with solid will and
memory, my last will and testament as follows: all of my
possessions are to be sold, in an open auction, to the
highest bidder, not longer than a year after my death, no
family members or any of my close friends can partake in the
event. All of the items that can't be sold will be donated
to thrift shops in the bay area of San Francisco,
California.
The following Items will also be donated: all of my book
collection, including the rare Salvador Fiureli collection,
the misprinted Bible and ancient scrolls collection, the
Kabala collection, the original manuscripts collection, the
15th century medicine collection, the Black Magic
collection, the Mayan collection and any other book that is
in my possession or I have or hold the right to. All of the
above will be contributed to the San Francisco Public
Library not later than a month after my death. The library
shall not sell, rent or make any profit from this
possession. The books should be available for all public to
view and items that can't be handled directly will be
scanned and offered to the public using microfilm or any
other media applicable by the library.
I request that all Items that can't be sold or donated, to
be burned by the 30th day after my death in the presence of
my close friends and family.
To my brother, Eric Jackson, I bequeath half of my fortune
including the revenue from any of my belongings that will be
sold, to him his heirs and assigns forever. I trust his
judgment, better than my own, to divide the fortune
impartially between my family and friends. '' He would kill
me if he finds out ... but I guess that will be a little
catch-22... she tried to amuse herself, unsuccessfully
though, she went on, ''The other half will be donated to a
fund that will be managed by my executors. The fund will
promote and finance research and activity in the field of
Archeology, History, Bibliology and Ancient Literature, and
will assist in preservation, maintenance and addition to my
book collection. '' She stopped for a while, turned to her
laptop and searched ''last will and testament'' in google,
she took the third result, Benjamin Franklin, copied the
ending and changed the date. It sounds so cool, she thought,
or actually lame, she corrected herself.
She continued writing.
''In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and Seal
this Twenty Fifth day of February, Anno Domini two thousand
and four. Sandra Annabel Jackson.''
She looked at the paper and sighed, she didn't think that at
the age of 27 she would have to write a will. She gave it a
quick proof reading. It's not perfect, she thought, but its
good enough. She didn't have time to print it. She glimpsed
at her watch, it was half past too late, she should have
gone by now, she has 23 minutes to get to her lawyer, and
then an hour to go back, get dressed, pack, and leave.

I'm leaving, she thought, I'm actually leaving today. I hope
that at least I know what I'm doing.
She grabbed her coat, swiftly, allowing her chair to engage
in a last good-by swing, opened the door but got back to
pick up her gloves, laptop and car keys, then went back the
door, and instinctively stated calling Tula, her dog to come
out, then realized that she can't come out in this rain,
then she realized that Tula was already at her brother's, I
will miss her so much, she thought, but now isn't the time
for that.
She kept standing there for a few seconds while the door was
open, disregarding the little puddle that started growing in
her entrance, reluctant to close the door on her favorite
apartment yet, the one place that really deserved to be
called home.
So what else I forgot, she thought, running through all kind
of scenarios for things that people can forget while leaving
the house in a rush after three days of sleep deprivation,
causing their house to leave this world in a rush. She
remembered a story a friend of hers told once about his aunt
that left a stove turned on for a month and whatever was
inside got so hot it exploded, causing a shortcut in the
stove that lit the curtains and got the whole place burned
down to the ground. I turned the stove off, haven't I? She
started to reconstruct the action in her mind to see if it
rings a bell, what stove? I don't cook, come on, Sandra, now
is not a good time to fall apart. That what happens when you
don't sleep for three days, anyway, I'll be back here in an
hour, nothing that can't wait. She closed the door.

Inside her apartment, the rocking chair went on in his
decaying swing, back and forth, back and forth, until it
came to a complete stop.

She ran down the stairs into the freezing street, ankle deep
in brownish water, she didn't remember such a downpour in
years. She entered her blue 97 Mazda Lantis and turned the
key. ''You've got to be kidding me!'' she scolded her engine
that refused to start. ''Come on!'' she yelled, on the verge
of tears, and turned the key again just to hear nothing but
her car coughing like a bad pneumonia case. ''Start now or I
swear to God I'll sell you to a 16 years old junkie with
sever intestines problems'' she turned the key again,
nothing, ''I'll just leave you in Double Rock with the keys
inside'', Again, nothing. ''Ok, I'll give you to Bonnie''.
She tried again,
The engine started.


From all fears, Bonnie McCarran's worst one was of water,
since she almost drowned in her cousin's pool in Wisconsin
when she was five, she could not tolerate the idea of
getting into anything wet other then a shower, she didn't
even liked baths. That day was not a good day for the
hydrophobic. She woke up around 10am, little light came into
the room through the blinds, and the sound of a rain shower
filled every inch around her. She realized that it is a
little too loud. Her eyes were half shut as she sat up and
reached her legs down to locate her slippers on the floor.
She suddenly opened her eyes, hoping this is just a
nightmare she can't wake up from, her feet met something
very wet. She looked around and turned white, she found her
slippers; they were floating away toward the kitchen inside
half a foot deep of turbid water. ''Eeeeckkkk!'' she yelled,
and then yelled again as she discovered that the sound of
rain is coming from inside her living room, her ceiling was
like a strainer, ''All of my stuff!'' she cried, ''all of my
stuff is ruined'', they just fixed it last winter, she
thought, thank god I didn't pay them yet... then she
realized that its 10:12am. She had her alarm clock set to 9,
I guess the power is down too, you just couldn't put
batteries in it couldn't you Bonnie, she thought, couldn't
they wait just one day with all this mess...
It took her a while to figure out a way to exit the room.
She grabbed some clothes from her bag that was packed
already, and put nicely in a chair near her bed, then jumped
to her desk, which was a little difficult due to her extra
luggage. From there she leaped to the dresser and climbed
over the closet, she barely squeezed herself on top of it,
She had no clue how to continue from there, but then she
came up with a brilliant idea, so she thought, Bonnie opened
the closet and from the hangers on the door, grabbed a
leather belt, and made a little loop in the end. In her
third try, she managed to attach it to a little bulge in the
water pipe that ran over her door. She never thought that
the appalling conduit that ruined her perfect little room
would ever turn out to be useful. She didn't consider
herself brave, but she would do anything to avoid stepping
into the half sewage half mud mixture that entirely filled
her humble abode. To the count of three she jumped, aiming
at the couch in the living room, but her belt was just too
short, she tried to reach her foot ahead but missed the
couch in a few inches. She was helplessly trying to sway
further, but the weight was to much of a burden and her
hands where throbbing with pain, She let the swaying abate
to a stop, and then, dangling in the air, too far from land
on either side, she heard a crack. In a motherly instinct, a
flick of a second before her little Indiana Jones experiment
was doomed to fail, she managed to throw her luggage to the
nearby couch, then she heard another crack, a bigger one.
She screamed, and then she heard a splash.

She was back again in Wisconsin, fighting for air,
struggling with her legs to stay up in the water, it took
her a while to realize that the water were less then knee
deep. She stood up, more water were now filling her place
from the now broken swing hanger. She ran almost
hysterically to the settee as if she were chased by a group
of ravenous, marauding sharks. From there she only had four
feet to the door, four feet that were as good as four miles,
all of her clothes where soaking wet, she changed again.
Great she thought, less stuff to carry... I hope I will have
a laundry there. She took her cell phone that was luckily
stowed in her bag, dialed Sandra, and got a call waiting
sound. Bonnie hung up.

Meanwhile in Sandra's apartment, a little sock was hanging
from the desk, Sandra didn't forget to turn the stove off,
no, she just forget to turn off her electric heater that was
next to her desk, the sock was just above it. It wasn't long
before it started to move to and fro due to the hot air that
rose from the heater, and it went on in its swing, back and
forth, back and forth, until it came to a complete stop, on
the heater.
The sock cut fire quickly, and soon her desk was burning
red, from there it spread to the blinds, her bed, and her
carpet. In the one day she actually needed a miracle, her
place was one of the few lucky that was desert dry. It
wasn't long before her apartment turned into a red inferno.
She will have a great story to tell back to her friend.

Sandra knew that she was too tired to drive, and some
streets where still closed because of the floods, but it was
the only way she believed she could make it in time. There
was little traffic on the way, sewage manholes were brimming
over, making the streets of the city look like Venice after
a mudslide, she couldn't take the normal route as for the
union area was completely blocked, she was already late, her
Lantis cruised through the streets as if it was a speedboat,
she passed the court house and saw what can only be the
entire content of a house floating in the water, thanks god
my place is in the second floor she thought, I'll never make
it in time, She thought.
She grabbed her cell phone and dialed, a man answered.
-''Andrew Watson Berger and co. office, how can I assist
you'', he said politely.
-''Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. Watson in 10 minutes,
I have a feeling I might be a little late...''
-''Hmm... well...'' he hesitated for a moment ''Not a
problem Ma'am, I'm sure he will be willing to wait for a few
minutes. With whom am I speaking if I may ask?''
-''Uh, its, eh, never mind. Bye...'' she was about to hang
up.
-''Oh, I see that he has... is it miss Jackson?''
-''No! Eh, yeah... it's me...'' she mumbled.
-''Sandra, we already take a 30 minutes safety zone with
you, you never get on time, and you never call to say you
are late, I'm sorry, you are the last meeting today for Mr.
Watson and it was already causing him to arrive on the nick
of time to a previous obligation, I'm sorry Sandra, but I
guess you'll have to reschedule, how about next week? I see
there is an opening on Wednesday...''
-''Listen, I'm flying Today, I can't see him on Wednesday
unless he has an office in Israel, I beg you, I just need
him to sign a few papers''
-''Well, Sandra, come over here and if he will still be
around we'll see what we can do, I won't hold him off
though...''
Sandra heard a call waiting sound; it was Bonnie. She
ignored it.
''Just a second, I have a little situation here, man, cars
are floating down the street, this is crazy... anyway,
Thanks, I appreciate it'' she said, without meaning it,
while trying to do a U-turn in a one way street that was
blocked by a parade of gliding cars down on 2nd street''.
-''I'll see you then, Sandra, I guess... drive carefully out
there''
-''Yeah sure... Thanks Mark''.
-''Its Mike''.
-''Oh... sorry... thanks Mark'' she hung up.
-''It's Mike, and you're welcome'', he said to a dead line.

13 minutes later, two detours due to new rivers that weren't
there yesterday, and a few almost hit-and-runs she parked
her car under Andrew Watson Berger and co.'s building.



to be continued...







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אינפנטיל!




פרובוקטורית.


תרומה לבמה




בבמה מאז 2/8/04 21:16
האתר מכיל תכנים שיתכנו כבלתי הולמים או בלתי חינוכיים לאנשים מסויימים.
אין הנהלת האתר אחראית לכל נזק העלול להגרם כתוצאה מחשיפה לתכנים אלו.
אחריות זו מוטלת על יוצרי התכנים. הגיל המומלץ לגלישה באתר הינו מעל ל-18.
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