The geographer slices sage leaves with a Swiss Army knife, tossing them into the back seat of his SUV. My eyes and nose burn with the strong herbal scent. It's potent enough to taste, a bitter salad.
"Air freshener," he says. "One of my favorite things about the desert."
He lights a cigarette, slams the driver side door, and inhales a few deep drags before digging in his pocket for the keys. His jeans are so tight he has to scoot forward on the seat, lifting his pelvis a little to make room for his fingers.
This is when I ask about the gun.
He's staring hard at the windshield, the kind of stare that makes your whole body stiff with effort. "Ever seen an angry bear?" He says, reaching forward and gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white, forearm muscles flexed so tight his arms look stronger than they are. The filter on his cigarette is squeezed almost flat between his fingers. "And you know, if anyone ever came after me, I wouldn't take any shit."
I unbuckle my seat belt and place my hand on the door handle. The geographer is an anarchist. He has told me again and again how no man should ever have power over another. But here, in the desert, no one around for miles, he has chosen to bring a loaded weapon. "But a gun is like instant hierarchy," I say.
Red splotches bloom on his cheeks and forehead, and he reaches up to rub the black stubble on his chin. His cigarette is burned down to the butt, and he tosses it out the window. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he leans forward and pulls the gun from beneath his seat, emptying the bullets into his hand. He leans toward me and drops the bullets on my lap, one by one. "Now we're even."
Comments (7)
Gawdamn. This is potent. Like the scent of the sage leaves...
I especially love the title...I write a lot like this (see title for exact [hah!] description) and 'fiction' or 'nonfiction' often seems an unfitting label.
Posted by wendy | September 4, 2003 2:33 PM
Posted on September 4, 2003 14:33
Which is why I love your work so much, Wendy. :)
And then there's the fact that this is just a small fragment . . . so what does that make it? With no narrative arc, can it rightly be called fiction? Or flash fiction? Or a fictional diary entry? Or fictionalized dream? And are dreams fiction or nonfiction? Genre, schmenre!
Posted by K | September 4, 2003 8:04 PM
Posted on September 4, 2003 20:04
...narrative arcs are over-rated...
...i wish my friends were this cool...i mean just to pretend, you know....and when i say cool i mean scary....and when i say friends i mean people who carry loaded weapons....
Posted by dj julio | September 5, 2003 2:05 AM
Posted on September 5, 2003 02:05
well, there was a real geographer, and he did carry a loaded gun . . . but that's another story for another day . . this scene is *fiction* (whatever that means!)
Posted by K | September 5, 2003 6:47 AM
Posted on September 5, 2003 06:47
yes - I agree that narrative arc is way over-rated. . . most of my work has been toward anti-narrative, or rather, a narrative that emerges from the transaction between reader and writer (rather than being written explicitly, or with an arc) . . . but then, I'm writing nonfiction (or is that fiction based on life?) ha.
Posted by K | September 5, 2003 7:23 AM
Posted on September 5, 2003 07:23
That is excellent.
Posted by Michael J. Totten | September 5, 2003 1:33 PM
Posted on September 5, 2003 13:33
I agree with your genre-schmenre sentiment, utterly. I like that you can name this whatever you like, this is its beauty (among other things). Thanks for posting it.
Goodbye, narrative arc...
Posted by wendy | September 5, 2003 8:58 PM
Posted on September 5, 2003 20:58