...so he gets up checking his watch, asking Rubin “where are the buffalo Rubin? aren’t they late for their appointment.”
through the swinging gates a gypsy comes. fortunes, fortunes, your fortune today? Rubin wants to know where the buffalo are.
gypsy looks toward the sky and flashes Rubin one of those what buffalo looks. poor Rubin.
secretary with the horned rims cracks her gum and answers the ringing telephone as she tosses some silver gypsy’s way. “i know where the buffalo are” says horned rims, “want to talk to them Rubin? they’re on the phone.”
“ask them where they are!” cries Rubin, trying to satisfy his brain.
“they say they will be here shortly, one just got hit by a train!” answers horned rims smiling, looking lost in her own space. (crack)
“jeez, come on Rubin!” he says, studying his watch.
i interrupt “excuse me, if maybe i could use the buffalo’s time, they can use mine when they get here.”
Rubin, the gypsy and horned rims all turn looking at me. gypsy’s cymbals and bells slowly begin to fill the silent void. up through the stairwell flies a large crow, fluttering around horned rims never ending stack of red hair. Rubin leaps over trying desperately to shoo the bird back down the stairwell. gypsy starts laughing this ungodly laugh that howls, and begins twirling, cymbals clanking away.
by now i have to get their attention again. “excuse me, Rubin. you think the timepiece would give me an audience for just a few minutes?”
“where you from?’ Rubin inquires, “you know the buffaloes?’
gypsy’s howl has continuously grown louder. now she is spinning faster than the birds wings are flapping. the watch throws his hands in the air and points toward the door, looking at me. i get up glancing at Rubin. horned rims spills some words between cracks like, don’t use the ash trays until after noon. the buffaloes hate ashes. crack. the watch follows me inside. right away he is talking faster than a twirling gypsy. grudgingly i realize all his questions are meant for the buffaloes.
“excuse me please, watch,” i break in, “buffaloes couldn’t make it. i am here to present myself for the position you had advertised in the
through the door gypsy flows, howling, twirling, bells, cymbals, fortunes and all her hair black as flying coal, and just as shiny. Rubin is at her heels. the crow races in for the ceiling trying to bang its way through a window up in a dusty corner surrounded by spider’s webs. spiders commence dropping like unwanted rain. watch is uncontrollably asking questions at the top of his voice, horned rims runs in with her pencil and pad struggling to take down every word.
that’s when i felt it. the walls i mean. the floor, desks nervously rumbling. shaking. moving. chairs growing faster with each word, pushing everyone but bird against the back wall. not wasting any time, i quickly run out through the door, pick up my hat and head for the stairwell. step, step, step. the rumbling turns to a violent roar. steps feel like water as they stretch away from the walls. i try grabbing for the handrail; it bends in my hand feeling of hot soft saltwater taffy. just outside the gates i see gypsy dancing; and the buffalo stampede the stairwell. i can hear Rubin hollering, “the buffalo are here!”
me and the gypsy disappear.
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