Serg

Bubbles floated around the entire field. I checked. On every plane there were at least three bubbles. That means triangles on every level. Triangles that somehow could be seen as a sort of force that could lift me off this ground and carry me across the crowds of people. And as I fly, I could see the very top of people's heads. Each and every one with their own little bald spot. Some would call it a part but from flying abve them, I would know the truth.

But, of course the bubbles, no matter how triangular they were, could never pick up a 250 pound man like me. I jump up and down to try to help them. But I never seem to catch. So I forget about the bubbles and the life they could have projected onto me and I move my way through the people to the hot dog stand.

Every step is matched with an equal and opposite touch of a person I don't know. A complete stranger. And each step introduces a new stranger's skin cells to my skin. The cells touch for long enough to play a quick game of red rover and then the stranger is gone. All that remains is a weak cell that got trapped in my cells' lineup. Tough cookies, these cells.

I smile at each stranger acknowledging the fact that we would be exchanging cells. They stare back at me with what appears to be a look of surprise - or maybe it's really disgust. I'll take surprise over disgust any day. Unless of course it's a bad surprise like the day my mom told me she was married to another man. Imagine. Cheating on me this entire time! I would have yelled at her if she had left a phone number or address on her letter. But I never saw her again. A three sentence letter and she was gone. I threw the letter on the floor, grabbed my Twinkies and went to the beach.

The hot dog stand looked like a bank running out of money. Hordes of people shouting at the poor teenage boy plagued with large patches of purple acne and forced to wear a matching purple bow tie. People with their hands up in the air shaking their five dollar bills violently. I could barely smell the hot dogs over-powered by the super scented butter popcorn stand to the left of me, but I knew those suckers were there sweating under their hot secondary sun, rolling over the way my mom used to all night in bed. Rolling and rolling and rolling to the point where I was sure she couldn't roll anymore and yet she did. And somehow she never fell off the bed. I knew. I sat watching and waiting every night.

As I neared the front of the stand bumping the unfortunate small people out of my way, I noticed how the sweat on the hot dogs matched the sweat on the teenager's face. I watched as one drop trickled its way down from his left eyebrow. Slowly it went over the giant purple mountain majesty on his cheek, seeking out the valleys it could use to speed up its way down to the neck where it could drip its way into annonymity deep in the confines of the bow tie - where it could sit and watch and not be seen.

"Yes sir, yes sir, can I help you sir?" The boy's braces reflecting the sun almost blinds me. I'm forced to take a step back to avoid the burn and accidently step on a little girl who immediately protests in screams and punches to my rear. I try to move out of her reach but realize I'm stuck in limbo between little punching pumpkin and brightly braced Bobby. I begin to cry.