(Author’s Note: Wahoo! Another week! For those who wrote related to my photo last week, I will be dropping comments this week. Thank you for all the creativity, and I cannot wait to actually respond properly. As for me…here’s this week’s work!)
[Author’s Note: If you’re interested in reading the first two parts of this saga, you can click the link in parentheses for part 1 (I Will Wait For You), and THIS link for Part II (Guardian Angel)
Waiting For A Girl Like You
(aka I Will Wait For You, Part 3.)
by Miles Rost
So, when we last left me, it was about three months after my first meeting with a being I called my “future wife spirit”, who slowly became my “guardian wife spirit”. By now, some people have been wondering a bit about me, like my friend Paul. He was the first person to ask me what was wrong, especially the day when I called in sick to work after my second meeting with her. I gave him a cock and bull story about how I stayed up too late and was unhappy with how things were going. I suspect he knows something. But that’s beside any point right now.
Another three months passed by, and by this time I was pretty much feeling like I was going out of my mind. I went to my pastor again, and told him what happened and that I was not in a cult, like he thought the first time. This time, he actually went out of his way to understand what exactly was going on. And he pretty much told me, in no uncertain terms, to “get in the Bible, get reading, and get prepared. If this is going to happen, you need to be as well versed in things as you can.” Hence the long sessions where I got home from work, turned on my music, and started to read voraciously. Even if I didn’t want to, I read.
I know what you’re thinking: You shouldn’t have to. If you know God’s hand is in this, you should be able to trust your gut and do it. Well, for those who say such a thing, I recite the motto of the Boy Scouts: “Always be prepared.”
So, to count, we’re at 6 months after I first met my guardian wife spirit. After a few months more of preparation and feeling pumped, that’s when things started to go downhill again. I was laid off from my job for being a millstone, and found another position working at a local library. I couldn’t understand why I had to change careers and didn’t really think about things.
One Wednesday afternoon, I was at the end of a 10 hour shift of shelving books and sorting shelves where people misfiled their books after reading them. With about 10 minutes left before I was able to go, I was barely keeping my eyes on my cart or where I was going. I kept walking until I heard an “ow!” come from in front of me. And me, paying no attention whatsoever, just kept trying to move forward.
A few seconds later, I realized that I was pushing my cart into a young lady.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. I really am so sorry,” I said, without even looking at her. I picked up a book that fell in front of her feet, and opened my eyes.
This young lady wore deep dark blue pumps on her feet, which would not be fascinating in itself until I slowly looked upwards.
Her legs were cut pretty well, feminine yet still strong. She wore a blue skirt, which hid her thighs and other things I didn’t need to see at this time, and a green silk blouse. She was curvy, yet was not overly weighty. She definitely was on the high end of the pretty scale at this point, until she peered her head down my way. She looked down at me with bright blue eyes and shoulder length blue hair.
Wow, this one is quite the interesting person, was what went through my mind, among the obvious thoughts that she walked out of an anime or that she did knock me out and that this was merely a dream or a figment of my imagination.
It wasn’t.
“Don’t worry about it. I bump into people all the time,” she said, looking at me with a look that pretty much said, “Iiinteresting”.
“I’m close to being off of my shift, and I’ve been here a while today. So, look, I apologize for what just happened.”
“It’s okay. It’s not everyday someone attempts to run you over with a library cart,” she playfully replied, ending her sentence with a giggle.
That giggle!
For a moment, a sheer fraction of a moment, my thought drifted back to my “guardian wife spirit”, and the last time we met. I remembered how she giggled at my statement about how I thought she was just a figment of my imagination as a result of eating a pizza that I had not eaten since then.
And for that split second, I could have swore I saw her spirit make an appearance and say in a bright voice, “Hi!”
A split second after that, well…let’s just say bodies hit the floor. Namely mine.
I woke up two hours after taking a header into my library cart. I was laying on a couch in the back room, and I slowly awoke from unconsciousness. I felt a bit groggy, and looked around.
“Ugh, where am I?”
“You’re in the back room of the library,” I heard a familiar voice say.
I sat up, and saw her. The blue haired, cool-colored, remarkably beautiful woman that I nearly ran over was sitting at the end of the couch.
“I decided to sit and wait for you to wake up. I feel bad for what happened. So I waited,” she said, with a sweet yet mournful look on her face.
I looked at her, and just smiled.
“I’m sorry for causing more trouble. I…can’t explain it, I guess I may be clumsy.”
She giggled again, which basically confirmed it. This was who my guardian angel was.
“Look, uh…what’s your name?”
“Claudia. Claudia Hamilton.”
That’s quite a beautiful name, I thought to myself.
“Well, Claudia, I feel like I’ve caused you a lot of hassle and trouble. I am off my shift, and should have been home by now. But, would you mind if I bought you some dinner?”
Claudia was a slight bit flustered at this, from what I could tell. So, I decided to tell her the truth if she accepted my dinner date request.
“It would be a thank you for sticking next to me even though you didn’t have to.”
She smiled, and gave a polite bow.
“I accept. I don’t usually accept dinner dates, but I think now it may be a good idea.”
We got out of the library, and I was pretty good to drive. So we both took separate cars and met at a local diner spot near the library. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was close and the food would be good enough for both of us, especially with my head being a magnet for metal.
Both of us went in and we sat down. We made small talk, getting to know each other slowly as we waited for our pancakes and bacon. I found out that she was the traffic controller for a local radio station group who also loved watching anime. She also told me she was a believer, and that she was looking for good fiction to read when we met each other. She was also a big fan of the band Foreigner.
This sparked an idea in my head. Ohhhhhh…if this worked…
I told her to give me a moment, walked over to the jukebox in the corner, and picked what I thought would be an appropriate song for this occasion, done by her favorite band.
As I sat down, the opening strains of what I would hope to think was Claudia’s favorite song started to flow through the diner. That’s right, nothing like Thomas Dolby on keyboards to whet your appetite, or to bust open everything in the world. (For note, you can start the song here)
Now, remember, I said that if she accepted my date request, I’d tell her the truth. And with the opening drums and keys of the song, I basically laid it out for her.
“Claudia, do you believe that God has a plan for us?”
“Of course I do.”
“I am going to tell you something incredibly crazy, that you’re probably going to throw something in my face and walk out of here after I say it.”
Claudia raised one of her eyebrows, and gave a motion with her hands that said, “Proceed.”
“Claudia, I don’t think our meeting was by chance.”
She looked at me, still shocked and with her mouth agape.
“I was visited by a spirit. I didn’t know who she was, or what she was, but she said that she was waiting for me. And when you giggled, it was the same exact giggle she gave.”
Claudia shook her head and started blinking madly.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that my spirit came to you and told you to wait for me?”
“That’s about the way it is.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I made a promise that once I met you and confirmed it, I would be up front and honest about everything. And no matter how weird, I had to say it.”
Claudia’s eyes shifted to the right, and I could tell she was conflicted about things.
“The only reason I am even believing this right now is because of the dreams I’ve had. 7 months ago and four months ago, to be exact. I was told that I would find my future husband soon, but not in the way that I supposedly came to you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. At least she believed me this far.
“So, what should we do about this?” I asked her.
Claudia snerked, and looked at me.
“I think we should eat, get to know each other, trade cell numbers and Facebook names, then part for the night.”
“That sounds good. So, let me start by asking: Why Foreigner? And what is with the blue hair?”
A rainy and cold night was typical in this part of the world. This neighborhood, in particular, kept being hit with rain.
When it was rainy and cold, many people would flock to their neighborhood diners and have comfort food. It was one of the few things that was normal in this part of the city. People were able to be people for a while at these places, without having to hide or deal with the mish-mash of politicians and authoritarians attempting to brainwash people with the musical excrement called “nue pop”. They heard of a revolutionary legend, a “jukebox hero“, but they knew it was only a legend.
At the Central Diner, there was a packed crowd of people eating in silence. Folks that ate their chili and soups looked out at the dreary rain-soaked streets, wondering if there was any possible way to make their world better. They sighed, and continued to eat.
The bells on the door chimed, as another patron walked through the door and took his seat next to an old jukebox in the corner. He looked up at the bored, blonde bombshell of a waitress came over and asked him what he wanted.
“I’ll take a Pepsi.”
“We haven’t had that for years.”
“What type of sugar do you have?”
The waitress looked at him blankly, and walked over to the short-order chef. After a minute of animated conversation, she walked back over to the young man. She leaned down and whispered into his ear.
“We have one Jolt left. It’s in the back. You’ll have to go back yourself to get it.”
The young man did as she mentioned, and walked back. With help from the short-order chef, he found the Jolt Cola that he was looking for, and proceeded to walk back out, hiding it in his trenchcoat sleeve. He proceeded to sit back down at the end, and gave the waitress an order for a double bacon cheeseburger with a tower of pickles. She looked at the order, looked up at him, and just sighed.
The young man looked amused, and turned around to look at the jukebox. It was currently sitting idle. It was plugged in but not turned on. It was a Wurlitzer Zodiac, and it looked like it was of the newer variety before they stopped being made a few years ago. He looked at the songs and the names on it, and noticed one of the listings written in.
“Revolution Song” was the name written on it. Where the artist was, was written the name of “Preston Black”.
The young man flipped the switch on the machine, knowing it would take a few seconds for it to start up. No one actually noticed as the jukebox powered up, or as the young man took a swig of the concealed Jolt Cola. After about 15 minutes, and just as his double bacon cheeseburger arrived, he stood up and whipped his trenchcoat and hat off. He was dressed in a leather biker jacket, with his hair combed in a greaser-like style. For those who may have been a bit older, he looked a lot like The Fonz from the old TV show “Happy Days”.
One of the patrons just happened to look up, and notice him. He gasped, and proceeded to point the man to anyone he could. Within a minute, all of the eyes of the diner were on the young man.
He smiled, and proceeded to kick the jukebox in a “sweet spot”. Within about 15 seconds, and after he took a big bite of his double cheeseburger, a cacophony of sound came blaring from the jukebox. Many of the people in the diner winced, but then returned to normal. They realized very quickly, that this was not any of the “nue pop” that was being propped up by the current media-government. This was classic stuff, and the people knew about what was happening.
As the guitars and mandolins in the song played, the young man kept devouring his cheeseburger and the fries that came with it. As he finished, he pulled out the bottle of Jolt from his jacket and proceeded to gulp it down.
The people were astonished, first that a guy like this could actually drink a bottle of high-caffeine, high-sugar, high energy Jolt Cola, but moreso that they were in the presence of a legend. They were in the presence of the last great American singer: Preston Black.
“My song is called The Revolution Song for a reason,” he called out to everyone, “It was a call to arms. To reject what was being offered by the media and those who want to control you. Today, it’s your day to stand up, and send them a message. Reclaim the Central Neighborhood for your own, and help others reclaim their neighborhoods!”
He raised his hands, and the people in the diner cheered.
The song ended, and as he left the diner, he kicked the jukebox one more time. It was now in the people’s court what they were going to do, now that they knew the legend of Preston Black, the Jukebox Hero, was true. He was, in fact, back. And now, the people had to act.
Music and Fiction 