Pitstop on the Way to the Grand Canyon

For what be the reasons that there be only one season?

A single lesson continues on with little concern for the daily rite, nor wrong.

This is a journey stuck in mid-session, short of the Grand Canyon.

A family on their way to this destination had parked their car at a gas station. There’s a little diner and a jukebox, there’s a pretty waitress working ’round the clock. The family had been there so long they’d already gone through four waitresses strong.

“Won’t it be incredible!” said little Suzy to her brother Everly.

Everly didn’t look away from his ever-present, distracting gameplay. “I know it will be, because it already is. And before it’s ever rotten, we’ll long be dead and forgotten.”

The father Henry chimed in at the first word of nihilistic sin. “There’s no beating nature’s inevitabilities, and bemoaning your lack of capability only instigates your own calamity.”

Everly never responded easily, for his mind remained in fantasy. Infinite reality was ignored, for fictional wandering of limited scope but immediate reward.

Little Suzy tried again vainly, this time with her mother Maggie, “Won’t it be lovely, Mommy, to see such majesty?”

Her mother was taken aback by the attempt of her comment. Her gaze had been flitting between the eyes of each visitor upon sitting. A protective mood arranged her thoughts, never betrayed to any crafty lots. “Oh yes, but only if you wear that blouse up higher. I am a keen scryer; there is no escape from the briars of the liar. Were he to see your chest bent down, I fear the terrible scream you would sound. Stay close, and be satisfied; curiosity and ambition are undignified. And besides, who could stand all those prying eyes?”

Little Suzy craned her neck and scanned the section to her left. They gambled and cursed and shared stories in verse. Whole groups joined in the chorus, and with it there was much ruckus.

“Scared true; they’ve been here longer than us,” said Henry, keeping an eye on his daughter’s curiosity.

Suzy leaned closer, and whispered softly, “What a motley bunch! They must have seen the canyon before getting lunch! It can only make sense to have such confidence!”

Suzy and Henry puzzled over the colorful lot, discerning two prominent figures in spots.

One had golden hair, a prominent crown, a strong upper body, but was always sitting down. He carried a scepter of incredible gold, marble, and luster. Sculpted from the finest material, over a thousand years, with a touch of the spiritual. He moved ever so slowly, and only spoke to his admirers disinterestedly.

One other rose above the rank, deftly maneuvering swift, never to sink. Bounding to and fro with such speed, more than this one could not read. So quick he moved, to be without shape, even the best could hardly catch his wake. As soon as one spied his formless hide, another joker appeared, lived, laughed, loved, and died. He lifted the glasses of his admirers, stroked their beards, and diluted their vernaculars. None knew of his presence about; only those who could live without.

And so they stared intently upon these creatures about the yon, giving each the proper respect to know that, at least, they inspired the rest. For little was known of the Canyon as yet, but from the action of those two gents.

(I believe it wise here, within this tale, to tell another, erstwhile the first shall fail. Another gentleman within the diner, heard tell of the two characters over the fire. Much lauded were their adventures, so much that he ventured, out upon the blistering sands, past rocking-horse, lizard, and man, to find the abode from which they spoke, and know their characters firsthand. He was ever active yet scholarly, born with equal affinity of mind, spirit, and body. The seeming immortal war of the two bands was beyond the scope of any man, but he reasoned much justice still, with what little he could understand. So he journeyed onward toward this abode when, by accident alone, along the Canyon itself, he strode! But too distracted was he for such infinity; he placed a higher value upon divinity. The battle of the characters he must seek. For how else could he instruct the meek?)

While Maggie was busy protecting the family, and Everly was invested in another egotistical fantasy, and Henry pondered the devilish characters’ persuasive ingenuity, Little Suzy could feel the pressure building steadily. She wanted to know ever so much, and the pain of waiting was becoming a crush. What ever could she do if not a one of the family would take her to view? The Canyon was just over the hill, but this her pleading could not fulfill. She waved down her waitress, that wondrous woman coming with gifts, and asked for just a pinch. When she returned with some paper, Little Suzy was a ready creator. This time, with her favorite brown crayon, Little Suzy would draw the Grand Canyon.