1,001 nights… III.

1,001 footsteps, wheels and tread marks, whistles and hollers of fools, fools, fools!  timing is stupid, man. too many moments elapsed when i was suffocating of shock. even after i was slapped out of it, too many moments, man. i didn’t even see the people coming down the street. neither had Anton- and you know he’s the observant one.

the procession of people was dense. east village people know how to march. on any other friday, Anton and i would have given them props. we’d be thinking, “power to the funky people. east village has it all, man! protests, parades, parties…” but on that friday i wasn’t thinking. i was reacting. and as a professional hypnotist, i know better than most, how very dangerous it can be to react without thinking first.

i said that i mix up being a professional hypnotist and being a Normal person sometimes. but when i say “mix up” i don’t mean like “blend” or “combine.” Anton can be a blend of the two but- you know he’s sort of supernatural like that.

the parade was too much pause. it put too many moments between seeing Layla and some unethical dirtbag and crossing the street to encounter Layla and some unethical dirtbag. too much time the parade allowed for another encounter to take place. one between my Normal self and my professional hypnotist self. they met. there was a reaction somewhere deep within me. and then there was a break in the procession. and then we took action.

Anton already had his gun. Layla already saw us. the shit-for-brains man already raised his hands. already his mouth formed for words in protest. already the parade passed by and with it passed the time for protest. already the click and already the trigger. already the fire, already the recoil.

i don’t know what as though it never happened because it was already all over. a new parade formed.

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