Friday, February 20, 2015

dreaming cowboy and his gun

Al had trouble thinking things through. He couldn't imagine the future. He reacted to situations… a man of instinct, without planning… the shotgun approach, hit and miss. He had no plan on what to do once he got to town. All he knew was that he was going to town and he planned to say a few words.
A burning lump in his gut sent flashes of heat to his brain. His brains boiled over. For about fifteen minutes he trembled with rage. People were idiots. They wouldn't listen. He would make people see things his way.

The only problem-- his vision was blurred. Things were indistinct, nothing vivid or clear. He stumbled through a mental fog. It took a long time for an idea to form in his mind. Once he grasped a simple idea, he clung on for dear life. No amount of reasoning could modify his confused concepts.

The idea driving Al as he walked to town was that he needed to talk and he wanted somebody to listen. He wanted to set things straight. He wanted people to know that he was Al and that Al knows best.

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