Manic Monday

This Manic Monday is brought to you by the title: Ramblings of a Rebel American

*not even close to being edited*

“I know you,” from out of nowhere Zion whispered, almost like a secret prayer.  He was looking at me and his emotion had turned from stern stranger danger to something like awe.

          “No you don’t.” I forced the word ‘don’t’ through clenched teeth.  Samuel was moving faster than I’d ever seen him, loading the food into the back of the car.

          Zion quieted but it was almost impossible for me not to be recognized.  My lips were plumper than normal and my eyes were a pale shade of violet.  Sometimes I wore wigs and contacts but even with those, I was caught on a regular basis. Right now I wore no wig, no make-up, no sunglasses.  My blonde Mia Farrow haircut was perfect under a wig but easily spotted. 

          We got back into the car with enough food for the week when it was combined with the others’.  I glanced once towards Zion and his grandfather had already gone in for the night—but he still stood there.  Oh, let me tell you, he knew exactly who I was.  I’d seen that look many a time.

          “Stop, Samuel.  I have to warn him.”

          “Hurry up, he looks a little shady.”

          “Says the people on the run from the government.”

          “To their deaf dog.”

          “Who picked up his hammer and saw!”

          “Shut up and I’m serious—hurry.”

          I jumped back out of the car and raced over to Zion and really got in his face—nearly spitting in his face.  But I grabbed his hand and squeezed, hoping to transfer some of my absolutely dead seriousness through my grip.

          “You didn’t see me.  You don’t know me.  You seem smart.  Forget you ever saw me or this shell you live in will be shattered, “I nodded towards the house, “and his too.  Don’t risk it.”

          “Ok,” he said and turned from me to stalk towards the house.

         

          “Well,” Samuel jabbed as I got back in and he pulled out towards our place.

          “He’s good.  I put my spell on him, he’ll never remember me tomorrow.”

          He shook an invisible eight ball, “The outlook is doubtful.”

          “Shut up and drive.”