You can run, but you can’t hide (+1)

by Jason Nelson

I paint the tanks. No, I don’t paint the round storage containers, or glass

fish boxes, or even the fun summery day wear tanks. I paint those wonderful

exacting weapons of modern warfare. Tons of steel, electronic switches, packed

chock-full of firepower, and I’m proud to say I make them sneaky. It used to be

jungle green, desert yellow/grey, or bloody battlefield fire-engine red. Now,

I’m researching new color combinations and disguises to go with today’s tricky,

yet compassionate, small-scale military operation needs. You say you need an

example. Oh, you always need an example don’t you, you and your budget-cutting,

sock-wearing, tank-loving friends. Well, first there’s Corporate Logo. With

tanks covered in brand and company names, fighting an army of sport’s fans at

football games would be a cinch. Another in our new line of camouflage is

Billboard. A tank hidden on both sides by cigarette and soft drink billboards

would blend into densely populated urban areas really darn well. Those screaming

throngs of crack-smoking urban paramilitary groups would never know we were

coming, until, of course, they were dead. And one of our newest, and most

revolutionary camouflages is Playground Equipment. We’ve all seen the movie

Children of the Corn, read the juvenile crime statistics, or watched morning

cartoons. It is only a matter of time before our nation’s, so-called, kids, as

if they were mere goats, rise from their sand boxes and classrooms and attack in

mass. But with tanks cleverly painted to look like fun and exciting playground

equipment, I think we all know who will have the advantage.

Two Strikes and You’re Out

Torque is a twisting force, they tell me. The laws of physics are written on

loose-leaf paper by blue bass fisherman, they imply. Voices, they’re just voices

hiding behind a bright incandescent light in a dingy, cramped room. They say

physics and its laws have something to do with the sound that corrugated cardboard

makes on long journeys. Interrogation is the only way to convince me, unless I

prefer pixie sticks to hypnotism. I ask them what’s the big idea, skipping the

small ideas from the start. Suddenly, well not so suddenly, actually pretty

slowly, but that doesn’t quite have the same affect now does it? Suddenly, they

alter the subject, switching the run to she runs. Baffling simpletons, I reel,

does a verb really equal mass times acceleration or is force what you’re really

searching? Hindsight suggests, as if hindsight were my friend, that wasn’t the

right thing to say. They switch off the light, revealing… well nothing

actually, because it’s dark. Grabbing my ankles, they fling me through an open

stained glass window. This IS the only way to learn the force of gravity, they

bellow, while laughing in brief rhythm changes.