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Oct. 22, 2002
volume i, issue v

It was during the monthly meeting of the Intelagenzia Society that I had my epiphany. As usual, I was watching. Melvin Snooticus was the head guard at the door and all-around thug. If someone didn't understand his wheezy diatribes, they were clobbered by a Michener book. The hardback kind.

I lit up my umpteenth Marlboro and leaned against the wall. I always enjoyed spying on these people. I was undercover as the cleaning lady. I had a microphone hidden in the toilet brush. It seemed appropriate. I worked for the government who was trying to determine if any of these people were a threat to our security. So far, they were only a threat to the security of mouthwash. Myrna Stumplegoogle was eyeing me suspiciously, her slash of a mouth forming a slight sneer. I smashed the cig against the wall and started to dust.

"The meeting will now come to order!" Myrna brought down her brown leather oxford and banged it on the wooden table. Everyone ignored her. "PLEASE!" Her face flushed the color of a ripened tomato. And some said she was bloodless.

The room settled down into a sea of muffled pontificating. Arms shook. Legs rattled. Mouths were deep holes into which nothingness converged. I dusted, fascinated with how so much bodily motion could produce so little. Finally, they looked at Myrna reluctantly.

"We are here to discuss the meaning of beans. The antics during our discussion last month, on the fine attributes of double adhesive tape, does not need to be repeated. I adjure you to please, refrain from dive-bombing someone else's body." At this, everyone turned around and stared at Melvin. Melvin glared back.

"I want to discuss the meaning of white! I'm tired of you choosing all the topics!" whined Ann Gan. Her sparse beauty was only exceeded by her lack of vocal modularity. No one liked to hear her speak. Her high pitched whine could bring in the dogs. The men were secretly lusting for her body, but no one could stand the voice. If she whined like this in a meeting, how would she sound...??? The thought was terrifying to many. They etched fractal designs into the wooden table.

Suddenly, a tall blonde who bore a striking resemblance to Daryl Hannah, careened into the room and slid into the back with a loud "oooooohhhhhhhsssshhhhhh." The men instantly stopped doodling. The women grew fangs.

"Excuse me, and you are..." Myrna tapped the table with her floppy shoe, addressing the mutant symbiont. Understandably, she hated the girl on sight if not for her smooth hair, then for her melodic conceptual overlay of minimalism coupled with whimsy in the shape of a very short white shift.

"White! She's wearing white! It's a sign! I'm right, you're wrong, hand over the shoe, Myrna!" Ann was now dancing a slow ripple in her chair. The men wondered if she would object to a muzzle when..

"Silence! I'm in charge and you must all bow to me, I mean..listen to me. I'm sorry, I was asking our guest for her name.." Myrna tried to regain any semblance of mythical authority in her secretly fractured mind.

The blonde spoke. "I am just a girl." She looked at everyone expectedly, as though waiting for them to demand proof. The men inwardly sighed. The women outwardly yelped. Chaos reigned for one minute and fourteen seconds. Myrna banged her shoe again. "I want order!"

"Order? You want order? If you want order, why don't you work at an office supply store, they are very orderly." The blonde glanced at Myrna without a hint of derision. Myrna felt energy flow into her nails and realized she wanted them on this blonde's neck.

"You are a simpleton! Get out! You were blessed with a rare gene that made you walking sex-on-a-stick! Shut up! What do you know? You are nothing, you speak nothing, you will be nothing forever and ever until your size 4 ass hits the quilted cover of the casket! Shut up! Shut up!"

Myrna was now on top of the table, pounding it with both her shod and unshod feet. "You don't belong here! You can't play with us!" Myrna now hopped on one foot and did the hokey pokey. Melvin who was at first transfixed by the blonde, suddenly came to his senses. His new weapon of the moment was a hardback of War and Peace. The larger print edition. He started to walk slowly towards Myrna.

"Myrna, get down from there! You are not a showgirl." Ann plastered her hands on her shapely hips and did a slow grind. The men excused themselves for the bathroom. The blonde looked at everyone quizzically. Melvin looked disappointed as Myrna ungraciously lowered herself off the table. "I still think that white is a most fascinating discussion. I want to talk about white!" Ann started to float around the room, swaying her hips and gesturing animatedly towards the ceiling.

The blonde smiled, got up and walked out. Melvin coughed and went out the door for some water. I was sorry that I hadn't brought my mini-zoom camera. Of course, last month's dive-bomb fight was good, but nothing like seeing red-faced Myrna trying to dance.

Vortex ©2002
the meaning of white