We float over to the bank building on the same block as the park, directly North of the park. It is a strange animal, a lanky thing with legs curving out from the bottom of it, and it is about 25 stories. It has gold windows, highly reflective, so when Freddy sits in a space in the park where the light from the windows is bright, he feels as though he is actually in the sun, but then, here is the shaky business of that building: the light from the sun actually creates a coolness that’s more frigid than standing in the shade. Freddy thinks it is a direct alteration of the sun performed by some evil that hides beneath the gold and bright surfaces of the windows. Freddy is sure that something terribly unethical occurring inside of that building, a large blob that lives on several floors. It is so contaminated, it freezes eyes and burns into Freddy’s stomach.
Finally, still on the same block but backing up to the park directly to the East is the most sickening garage building you’ve seen. It has been painted on the outside, whitewashed with a warm cocoa paint, the color so warm, it sparks a sense of smell, that smell of industrial paint that is most similar to the nice smell of Elmer’s glue that Freddy got attached to in the second grade.
Freddy had tried to park in this garage and the experience was horrifying. He spiraled up and up, getting an upset stomach, finally finding an empty spot, looking desperately for a stair case to get back to the street level. He climbed down the stairs, climbed because they were so wicked, worn and ugly, and the walls created a claustrophobia even for one who rarely experiences such things except when surrounded by people. Freddy felt as though he were on a journey to the hell many don’t know. There are many hells, but he was going to the one where you find all of the evil souls who tortured you during your lifetime, directly or not, and this particular hell, you never leave. Freddy has been to one hell from where some massive power lifted him up by collar, broken fingernails, ripped face, tired eyes, rotted teeth and dangly, soupy muscles, and placed him gently in an AA hall where there were strange-looking angels who proceeded to save him from and continue to lift him out of that hell. But on that day in the garage, Freddy knew he was heading to a place where there was not going to be any rescue until he opened the door to Rollin Avenue, which is on the East side of the garage, on the opposite side of the park, and at that point, something buoyed his spirit, but he was sure it was false hope, seeing the man with only one leg and a crooked Cardinals hat with milky foam running down his chin and on to his old, caked jeans. All around Rollin Avenue there was the crumbling dust of tan buildings, acting like a sand storm, raping the eyes, with cars darting North and South, speedily to get through the horrors of the death of a city. Freddy mumbled I am lost and I pray for my death, but as he walked around the corner and started heading West on 14th, his spirit started to lift for no reason.
On the outside of this sick parking garage, back on the park side, the diagonal lines of the up and down platforms of the spiral are visible and when Freddy looks carefully, he sees the evil grins of millions of dead souls. He promised never to park in that place again, and he has not even walked on Rollin since that day that almost struck him down. Sometimes, he sees that foam spittle running again, glowing, flowing, eating all that is in its path and he is sure that he will be a big foam guy as his life ends unless there is an angel that ends it on a timeline that is quicker than the one in Freddy’s deepest fears.
stillfugue 