The Tall Order

He came out of the womb four feet five inches tall, eighty pounds. The monitors around the birthing station reflected the wars. Americans had been anticipating this two-front approach once more. He walked right out of the womb. He mumbled.

“I’m here for the show,” he said. His mother, Julissa Terry just looked at him with a sense of awe and bewilderment.

“My son!” his father Nestor Terry announced.

The boy grew some more.

“His name is Victor.” Nestor announced this after the boy had been cleaned. He gained a few more inches in height. The family didn’t even have to wait an additional twenty-four hours. After some digital document signing, they all returned to the house. The boy had grown to be five feet, eleven inches by this time. They clothed him in all black. He ate with a voracious, seemingly unending hunger. More screens showed the number of dead warriors produced by a great nation. Victor Terry grew to be six feet tall.

Other family members brought amulets and corn and turquoise and squash. They adorned the young lad like he would be given what a king deserves. The riches also showered on the parents as they savored tonics and chewed on peppermint bark. He grew to be six feet, six inches.

“My son.” Terry proclaimed with a fire in his eyes, burning for his offspring to make it in this world.

“Dad.” The recognition had been made palpable as the couple scrambled to keep the boy clothed and from busting out of the seams of his attire. Victor whipped around the house with a verve and energy as he headed outside to play basketball. A few kids from the block showed up and he dominated the court. The children turned around and kept going. He grew some more. Now, he was six feet, nine inches tall. He pushed along. Now, the neighborhood had been abuzz about the Terrys. They just noted that the Gold Stars glistened with a powerful intensity whenever Victor walked by those houses.

He just kept getting bigger and bigger. Tree limbs smacked him without impunity.

This lasted for a few moments until he met up with a lady his height and age, for he had gone from four years out of the womb to twenty-three. Palma Hokis was twenty-two. They held hands.

“So are you ready to die?” Palma asked Victor.

“I think so,” Victor imparted matter-of-a-factly. “You?”

“Everybody’s gotta go sometime.”

The two looked like giants just roused from an afternoon nap. A park bench by the beach in Rehoboth, Delaware remained their spot. They both grew to be seven feet tall. Never ogres, they had become invested in their abilities to find simple pleasures in each other’s eyes. Enveloped in their love for one another, they didn’t realize that they had grown a few more inches.

“They’re over there fighting,” Palma realized. “They’re dying.”

“Their pride, their honor is what keeps us growing. We’ll soon be with them as long as the fighting continues.”

“I’ll die first. I want to live. I love my life. It is great and grand and is an overwhelming and beautiful existence.”

“Even with things like war….” Victor suggested. “There are no mystical lands known as heaven or hell. They’re right here on this planet. When one is constrained to a mind-numbing, back-breaking, soul crushing existence, that is hell. In a place of liberty, peace, thought, and wonder, that is the real heaven.”

Palma said nothing. For a few moments, the pair just looked at each other. The look remained solemn, but a quiet joy crept into their souls as they held each other’s gaze.

“We will soon perish because of all of this,” Palma finally observed.

“That is true but what is eternal is right at this moment. Life is fleeting for everyone born of a woman. How we spend our lives, yet, is the true reflection of our spirits,” Victor expounded.

Palma laughed. It sounded genuine, like great joy ushering through the bleakness of the events around them. They stayed the same height for a long time. By watching the waves crash and smelling the salt in the air, they just sat there in utter silence for a few moments. Palma laid her head on Victor’s shoulder. He felt compelled to wrap his large palm around her face. Their warmth commingled with the weather which surrounded them. A damp day, but with a strong sun, they just sat there and looked at the fish sprouting legs and walking onto the beach. The couple collected them and threw them on a barbecue pit and dined on them. They bought beers and some chips to go with their meals.

“This is what it’s all about, huh?” Palma asked. “They keep dying and we go on with our lives. That’s what you were talking about with hell. It’s not lakes of fire and brimstone and weeping, moaning, and gnashing of teeth. They’re in hell. It’s like we’re in paradise in many ways, but not completely.”

“Absolutely right. We have our problems on the homefront, but nothing can compare to the perdition that is war. That’s why we have to be ever vigilant of our place here.”

Palma sighed. She sipped some of her beer and picked her teeth with a fish bone. With a sharp inhale, she breathed in the sultry air. It smelled of salt but also cinnamon and fresh baked pretzels. The feeling in her gut told her she was full, but at the same time her mind wanted more to eat. She shrugged off the temptation.

“We’re going to be growing taller soon,” he noticed.

“I know,” she acknowledged.

“As the toll rises, we shall continue to head closer and closer to termination,” This clear-eyed recognition made Palma inhale with even more sharpness.

“Yes, we’re young but have already aged to be forty-years-old in a matter of hours,” Palma replied.

“Of course. These are the roles we play, this must happen according to what has happened in the past.”

“This occurred before?”

“Of course. Since time began for man, he has been warring. People have had to see the young children, usually one or two, grow to enormous heights to show the cost of battle,” Victor explained.

“One thing I know is that I understand what you say, but do you actually believe that through the ages, people have been committed to showing the amount of deaths in war?”

“That’s why we’re here, Darling,” he kissed her forehead.

The Delaware day turned to night. Designer homes glistened in the moonlight. Victor and Palma both strolled along the boardwalk. They were both seven feet, seven inches tall. Their gait remained lazy, elegant, and precise all at the same time. They almost strutted. In the fleeting time, they saw sword swallowers and fire breathers. Architects of grand designs showed off their latest works. The couple sat with the bewitching calmness all around. Then Wheeler Kornet walked up to them.

“I despise both of you,” he said with acid on his tongue. Unshaken and not disturbed, Victor and Palma remained steadfast in their existence. He spit to his side and ran away. Some fire and smoke began to approach them. Shouting like banshees in the night, they closed in around them from the beach.

Though the verbiage didn’t seem distinct, the noise began to amplify.

Now, the words seemed clearer: “Let’s Keep the Blood Flowing, Let’s Keep the War Going!” It didn’t rankle them, however. There were people of all colors, races, and orientations included in this demonstration. Palma grabbed Victor’s hand and they absconded to a beach house parking lot.

“This is what we must do….” Victor stated. “We have to find a way up north. My parents have a house in Newark. We will continue to grow as long as that mob eggs on people and continues to create havoc.”

Palma’s eyes looked worried. Then she straightened. “Yes, we’ll be able to go to that house and away from this nonsense.” She pronounced the nouns and verbs but she developed a bit of doubt, nonetheless. It didn’t seem hot, just warm outside. A light breeze didn’t challenge the torches of the insurrectionists, They blazed against the black sky like bioluminescent organisms offering light amidst the darkness. The couple moved along until they confronted the mob. Police had already arrived on the scene.

In the time it took for them to get past the marchers, they had grown to eight feet tall.

“You’re not worth anything,” Gunther Lasson gritted through his teeth. “We know what you’re doing. You’re against these wars. Just look at you.”

“For every hundred deaths over there, we grow even more. It’s in our nature. It’s what we must do. We are now at the maximum height,” Palma attempted to relate.

“Okay, but we have to fight these wars….”

“Yes, in fact we do,” Victor jumped into the conversation. “We must finish them with a win on our side. Both of these wars were infused with lies and deceit. That doesn’t mean we don’t support the people serving right now.”

Lasson backed away slowly and joined the rest of the mob and began chanting again.

“C’mon, Palma,” Victor called. “We have to make our way towards a vehicle that can accommodate us.”

She ran with Victor, their long legs and arms swayed in the night. Victor hailed a ride share that would best fit the both of them. When the bus found them, they had noticed that the roof had just enough clearance for their heads. They entered to the smell of saffron and sage. Strobe LED lights ran all around the bus. The music seemed crisp through the speakers. The couple held hands. Victor lifted Palma’s hand and kissed it.

“Now, what the hell?” Driver Bontemps Doan blurted out without regard. The mob had crossed into the free way, blocking the only exit at present.

“That’s okay,” Doan reminded himself and the couple. “I know another route,” Doan reassured.

“Recalculating….” the navigational system chimed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Palma and Victor smiled. A crash behind them startled everyone in the bus. A muscle car smashed into the back of them.

“We’ll never get out of here,” Doan noted.

“I think we can, that route you mentioned, see if you can just go around the cars in front of you.”

“I can’t. I’m all blocked off right now,” Doan admitted.

“Alright back up into this car, then swerve around and keep pushing towards our destination.”

Without hesitation, Doan replied, “Roger that.”

Palma looked alert but didn’t show signs of fear or distress. The scents issued through the bus allowed her to remain in a state of relative calm. With the mob throwing torches and spewing deep evils, they saw the options on the horizon. Palma spoke up next.

“If we take the direction following the mob, we’ll have a greater chance of escaping. As long as we move east and then break to the north, we should have no problems, mob or not.”

Doan acknowledge that advice as well. The bus swerved and almost sideswiped one of the marchers. It was hell for them to be on private roads and spaces. The police finally fired tear gas and dispersed the crowd. As rowdy as it seemed, the bus glided like a swan through the various obstacles. The air filtration system in the car prevented them from catching a whiff of the pungent agent.

The sight of zip ties and stun guns helped to humble those rebels. The police did not back down against the onslaught of outrageous mobs. In the back of the van, they could see part of the damage to the rear exterior.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for everything,” Victor reassured Doan.

“Thanks a lot, kid.”

“No, thank you.”

Palma looked at Victor and wondered whether they’d reach the limit in their heights and lives.

“There will be more like us. We have to live for those kids fighting wars they shouldn’t have engaged in at the outset,” Victor pointed out.

The bus saw I-95 and the flames of the torches started to go away with every mile covered.