Tuesday, April 24, 2007

bureau listed martini

After an embarassing week of lousy articles, Maxtor Simplex, a refugee, handed back his journalist's I.D. to his editor and caught the next plane for the Florida Keys.

Hours later, checked-in, unpacked and sporting loose fitting attire, he relaxed in a wicker chaisse longue under a palm tree in Key West and sipped sparingly at his drink, the bartender's own invention, mostly rum and tequila, called without a touch of irony, a molotov cocktail.

The bartender was not an emigre, he just thought the drink was explosive.

Maxtor let himself be lulled by the slurp of lazy waves along the white sand beach. The climate was idyllic.

In twenty years, he reminded himself, this beach, and the hotel where he stayed, El Relaxo, would be 4 metres under water.

But not now, not yet.

1 comment:

Monk said...

One day there was a big fire in the forest along the costline of Atlantic Ocean. After the fire has been extinquished, the fire team have found a burned body in complete diving uniform. Everyone has been wandering what the hell the diver was doing in the forest in his full equipment. It led me and my sister to come with conclusion that years before that man visited a fortuneteller (not sure if spelled correctly), who told him not to go to the forest of that specific day in the future. Remembering the warning, when the day came along, he went diving to the ocean.
Knowing how big fires are being extinquish, while close to the water, you can imagine what has happened. To what extand do we we really have contol over what's happening to us? Is there a way to avoid what's "written" for us?