Hava-Wash – Part 1
Illustration from iStockphoto
Another morning crept out of the dark night upon Alfonso, awakening among his senses the usual nausea, causing the young and other wise well raised young man to loudly curse the alarm clock and the unknown mystical forces that decided that men should wake up once the sun takes hold of the land.
Lingering no more, after he realized he really has to, Alfonso gets out of the bed and still half asleep and cursing, leaves behind the warm comfort of his night lair. It’s time for a new adventure! The morning wake-up ritual starts slowly as usual. A quick bathroom lap, teeth brush, face wash and eyes open. Stage two – the cold kitchen and colder Coca-Cola. Here comes the coffee! Finally the hot steamy black potion is ready. Stage three – hot coffee, cold Coke, three cigarettes and… toilet meditation, the only peaceful moments of the day. Only in that toilet quietness he could sink in deep thoughts about all the big problems of human kind and search for the meaning of life.
After the deep meditation moments facilitated by the three smokes in the fantastic combination with the steamy liquid black caffeine shit, always follows the same tasteless, scent-less breakfast regardless of the food available.
And if until this point the P.J. and the blue bath robe were the proper gear, it’s time to complete the morning ritual by getting naked and shovel dressing some office clothes on the skinny male body, mechanical process that usually is completed in only a few moments while the mind of our character is normally in stand-by mode. Ok. Grab the bag and here we go – face the adventure. 1. Insert key in door lock, 2. Clank, clank – two complete key rotations; the crib is secure, the treasure is safe.
While heading toward his vehicle, a question crept in his mind and froze Alfonso’s senses. He stood there paralyzed by fear on the side-walk. The world spins around him fast (tan… ta… na… matrix effect, then facial expression close-up – he is mortified). “Will that piece of junk start this morning?” – crossed his mind at lighting speed. Two sweat drops start running down his forehead.
Suddenly, using his peripheral view Alfonso identifies an old woman breaching the perimeter. The old hag is closing in menacingly, limping her way forward, with a distorted face from the weight of the two big heavy-looking plastic bags that she is carrying, one in her right hand and one in her left hand. Something is wrong. Alfonso detects a strange shimmer in the crone’s eyes. His mind was working fast. The fresh caffeine energized neurons were frantically sending trillions of electrical impulses through the overloaded synapses, each one of them carrying crucial information, vital for the decision-making process. Thousands of possible scenarios were evaluated simultaneously, thousands of decisions had to me made. In a fraction of a second he estimates the distance to target: about 3.5 meters. There was no time to hesitate.
In a second fraction of a second the mind decides to flex the muscles to maximum. Alfonso howls! A jump… a second jump… the first savage attack is targeting the old hag’s right flank. Zap! With the force of a Greek God, Alfonso rips away the plastic bag from the crone’s right hand. Wham! The contents of the plastic bag scatter all over the street following its violent impact with an innocent fence. The old woman screams wild. She responds with a right hook. Alfonso bravely dodges the hit, then with a rapier thrust he encircle the crone’s left side. She fights back ninja foot kicking style beating back the attacker. But the young man continues with a sideways tumble and grabs the second plastic bag. He throws it away and Wham again! After a precise aerial trajectory the bag rips open impacting a homeless dog and scattering its contents all over the place. The guilty animal runs away from the conflict zone squealing. The old hag comes back hard.
She starts running up in the air, Flying Dragon, Leaping Tiger style. She surprises Alfonso. She kicks him hard in the face! Haaiiiii… ia! Alfonso falls down on the ground. Blood drips from his mouth but quickly rises up on his feet and wipes clean the blood off his face with his sleeve. He defies the crone with an angry look and then he speaks strangely moving his lips and then comes the sound – a Chinese kick ass curse! The old woman’s attack continues. In a semi-thrust wild condor position she prepares the last blow. Plueah! With a wild roar sounding just like a Second World War diesel engine, that was dragged all over the European mud, she unleashes a big juicy infected phlegm targeting the enemy. Alfonso realizes the threat. The phlegm pierce through the air following a spiral trajectory. In the last moment he dodges the liquid bullet leaning on his back (ssssssfffffuuuuuuuuu… matrix effect, stop frame leaning shot, 360 degrees camera move around the phlegm passing close to his face).
Without thinking the young man takes charge in a wild counter-attack. Slap! Slap! Two slaps! The old hag is confused. Alfonso applies a side kick hitting hard the crone’s legs. The old gal is on her knees. Then the strong arms of the young Greek Good manage an unexpected neck grip. The crone’s right hand is twisted around her back and she screams in agony and anger. Slap! A final tendon kick. The enemy is immobilized! Alfonso the Conqueror leans over the old woman and shouts angry in her ear: “You know that piece of crap car of mine?! Well it better start or I will fucking continue to kick your medieval ass all day long!”
The old woman walks by young Alfonso, who continues to remain frozen on the sidewalk, with a fierce and tense facial expression. She continues to drag on the heavy-looking plastic bags. She stops for a second right in front of him. “What the fuck are you staring at, asshole?” Then she leaves down one of the bags, gives him the finger, picks up the bag and moves on limping on her way forward.
Alfonso curses. He spits on the ground and heads for the blue rusty old car. Two steps, three, five… the young man is near the vehicle. He takes out the keys from his pocket. Clank! The door opens with no problem… a good sign. He throws his bag on the passenger seat; he hurls into his seat taking hold of his command post. He checks the mirror, the seat position… so far so good. Then follows a short visual scan of the cockpit – “yeah… everything seems right. Last night there were no peewees here. Good!” Without hesitation he inserts the key into the ignition. Clack! Contact! The dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree with all kinds of gauges and indicators going crazy. All of them are important. External pressure… check! Oil levels… check! Air intakes… check! Hydraulics… check! Electrical systems… check! Fuel flow systems… check! Engine integrity… check! Climate controls… check! Lights… check! Plasma shield… check! Security systems… set! Life-support… engaged! Arms systems… check! Communications… check! GPS… on line! Upward force… set! Vertical thrust… set! External sensors… on line! Internal sensors… on line! On the central blue-green display appears flashing the last message: “All systems are OK!”
Two TCDs – Traffic Control Dwarfs appear on the dashboard, being lifted on a small platform with marzipan guard rails already bitten off (crazy lickerish little bastards!). They wear protective gear, big black boots, orange jumpsuits and bright blue jackets with fluorescent white straps and flashing red-white lights on their little shoulders. They have big orange helmets with headsets and microphones incorporated for communications and wear crazy pink frame star-shaped shades. One of them is proudly chewing on a small cigar casting a serious smoke cloud around. Suddenly the platform stops at dashboard level and the two TCDs start running around crazy, flapping around four little white flags with red dots, shouting with squeaky voices amplified by the internal communications system: “All systems are go-go! Repeat! All systems are go-go! You are clear for lift-off sequence! Clearance code 477-Tango-Bravo-Zulu-69-Cheeky-Cheeky-Hot-Bikini-10069! Proceed on runway 10! Go! Go!”
Following the Traffic Control Dwarfs instructions Alfonso initiates the ignition procedure. He inputs the clearance code into the computer and pushes the Start button. Click! Sparks! The engine thunder, the vehicle vibrates! Clank! The engine shuts down after a last dying roar and everything ends in a huge toxic black smoke. “Shit! No go! No go!” panic spreads all over the place like wild fire. Scandal! Demented engineer dwarfs start running all over shouting ancient curses in unknown languages. Light and sound alarms go off heralding imminent disasters! In the papers appears the first front page headlines: “PROBLEMS WITH IGNITION! LIFT-OFF CANCELLED!” On TV the first shocking breaking news: “ladies and gentlemen live from Manhattan Mr. Bin Laden: Trying to stop the economic crisis al-Qaeda will launch a deadly attack on the Chinese and in the mean time we will buy Greek issued bonds and start a global Bombing – do it your self – coffee shop franchise. And the first one opens in London! Thank you! Allah is great!” Bells and whistles go off! Two frighten pickles start to yell crazy! Flashes and blitzes! Paparazzi frenzy! Panic takes hold of the cockpit! Rumors in the audience! Terror on the hallways! Alfonso decides to go for a second attempt. Suspense…
External pressure… check! Oil levels… check! Air intakes… check! Hydraulics… check! Electrical systems… check! Fuel flow systems… check! Engine integrity… check! Climate controls… check! Lights… check! Plasma shield… check! Security systems… set! Life-support… engaged! Arms systems… check! Communications… check! GPS… on line! Upward force… set! Vertical thrust… set! External sensors… on line! Internal sensors… on line! “All systems are OK!”
The TCDs are in position… “All systems are go-go! Repeat! All systems are go-go! You are clear for lift-off sequence! Clearance code 477-Tango-Bravo-Zulu-69-Cheeky-Cheeky-Really-Really-Hot-Bikini-10069! Proceed on runway 10! Go for second attempt! Go! Go! Go!”
Alfonso initiates the ignition procedure again. He inputs the clearance code into the computer and pushes the Start button. Click! Sparks! The engine thunder, the vehicle vibrates! The engine refuses to ignite. Emergency procedures are required. The captain resets the electrical systems, bypass the main fuel injection systems and goes for manual ignition. He frantically presses the throttle. The engine is agonizingly trying to ignite. The TCDs are crazy flapping around the little flags running around the dashboard. The alarm warnings go off. Sweat drops gather on Alfonso upper lip. The pupils are dilated, the blood pressure is rising, and the senses are in full alert. Space and time compress. It’s now or never! And finally… explosion! The engine ignites! It thunders furiously, the pistons almost blast through the hood, the neighbors panic, the street clears out, frighten people take cover! The gas is pulverized through the injection system on the incandescent spark plugs resulting the treasured energy blast that drive the angry pistons to frantically dance in the mechanized opera of polluting the planet, finally doing their job! Success! The whole street is choked in smoke!
“Shit! I’m late for work… again!” Alfonso shifts in gear. The energy created by the engine is taken over through the gear box and transmitted to the drive wheels. The high-tech BPJ – blue piece of junk is loudly and slowly moving on, leaving behind the neighbors coughing in agony and a few cracked windows. As the vehicle drives on, the tropical friendly sun casts metallic shimmer on it’s slightly banged up but still presentable body.
To be continued…