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“If you do it right, it’s like you haven’t done anything at all.”
But you have. You’ve done plenty. You’ve done everything.
You’ve pulled the plug, jolted the source, filled to the brim, emptied the flood, skidded before the scream, and remembered to turn the stove off, too.
You’ve done everything you’ve been asked to do, and then you did more. And you did it all in the yawn of an eye, in that space between arrival and awake, in that moment before reality really tunes into the frequency—
—or before the frequency tunes into reality, whichever comes first—
—you aren’t picky—
—and then you kept going and kept smiling, and everyone else kept smiling, because they never knew the place was about to explode and you stopped the clock before zero zero : zero one turned into zero zero : zero zero.
People think you exaggerate when you talk this way about what you do. But you don’t. It’s true.
It’s all true.
You aren’t involved with a lot of the early part of the process: the blushing, the burning, the crushing. Your part mostly comes in with the drowning. Some crushing is involved. But most of that is sound effects.
Your part is the drowning, and the window dressing. The sparkly lights. The high whistle. The shining teeth. The clink and rustle.
Your part is the supplier.
What it all boils down to is this: you are a drug dealer, and your job is to make sure the drug is procured and supplied quickly and aesthetically, so the addicts will come back, and bring more addicts with them. Your job is to make sure the addicts buy more drugs, and buy different drugs, and join the membership program to get one in every twelve doses FREE!
Your den is made up of tile and wood and linoleum and stainless steel. You make sure it sparkles. You make sure it’s wiped down frequently, so the addicts won’t think their drug is dirty.
(Never mind that it came out of the ground.)
You make sure your pushers are smiling, are friendly and chipper, are making eye contact and word contact and face contact—
—no, not that kind of face contact—
—that kind is greatly discouraged by Them for Reasons—
—and money contact, that’s the important contact, that and the “thank you, come again!” contact.
You want them coming back.
“If you do it right, it’s like you haven’t done anything at all.”
What that means is, things run smoothly.
What that means is, nothing explodes, or is set on fire.
What that means is, no one cries or bleeds or throws up.
(At least not in front of the addicts)
(Take it out back)
What that means is, no one, not even the pushers, realize you’re there unless you’re not.
What that means is, try your best to not exist.
Just put on the tasks. Put on the duties.
Put on the responsibilities and the pressure and the guilt and the worry. Put it on so no one else has to.
Wear it all like armor, like chains, like a shield, like an anchor. Wear it like you wear your khaki, your rubber, your canvas.
Wear it like you wear That Smile.
(It’s not your smile)
(It’s That Smile)
(That Smile you wear with the chains and the armor)
(That Smile you wear around the addicts)
(That Smile that looks like a bullseye)
(That Smile that lies)
What that means is, you don’t have to exist as a whole, but as a skeleton, a framework, a scaffolding for parts they’ve grown in you like a potato in a water glass.
That Smile, of course, and that bounce, that tinder and spark. That think and that urge and that getupandgo. Those are the rootlets growing down into the water. The hours are the toothpicks. The pay is the sunshine.
(It’s meager sunshine)
(Let’s get real here)
“If you do it right, it’s like you haven’t done anything at all.”
Do it anyway. Do it all. Because why not. Because you love them. Because there are worse drugs.
Do it right. Do it often. Do it again and again and again, even as it is undone before your eyes.
Every day the drowning, the crushing, the Smiling, the pushing, will be done and undone, cooked and served raw, piled high and dug deep.
Every day you will put on your armor, tie on your anchor, grow down your rootlets, and Smile until your face hurts. Every day you will win and lose again. Every day you will encourage your pushers to do the same.
Every day.
Every day.
Every day.
The coffee must flow
Push
by Ruthenium
RABBLE REVIEW No.4
Page: 7
