The Legend of Don Conrado Pt.3

As Don Conrado suspected, the premonition of Vador returned. And with matching fervor, he shook off all thoughts of insubordination for the greater cause and benefit of the Empire. With an air of undeniable conviction, he stepped forward (as one would from the dock of a spaceship), ready to instantly subdue — or even to sphagettify — a slick and cunning porch pirate (with but a single whip of his royal sash); had he want and desire to civilize such a foul creature; should one suddenly emerge from out the carriage of the Amazon, perhaps — not entirely unlike some disguised agent of the rebel fleet. For, I dare say, in this reality, these stooges in disguise were not only complicit but also in the habit, of pricing all earnest competition out of the galaxy; and as a consequence, they had earned their fair share of sworn enemies.

Yet, even with such sly foes at the foot of his door, he kept his side of the street clean, so to speak; such was his innate way with the Force. It was a pity, therefore, that, on this especially significant occasion (and, irrespective of whether he was setting forth upon a mission forlorn or not), no such wild and untamed beasts of the Amazon were immediately present… where he would go, as people often say, adventuring on his way*.

For, it just so happened, that, these particular agents of the Amazon had surfaced rather abruptly, as of late; having masterfully circumvented the booby-trapped front gate; and, opting (like the rapscallions they were) to fire packages like projectiles clear over the garden fence and directly onto his property (and thus within the proximity of his stronghold, with little care or regard for the quantum barrier; which, you may conjecture, had been erected as an obvious deterrent) he had branded them all cowards of the utmost virtual order!

Ergo, he had foiled many of these outrageous attempts to gain access, nonetheless, and had (additionally) arranged for the construction of a deflection shield of exceptional strength and quality, so as to funnel any and all future agents through the front gate like the flock of sheep they knew, deep within, to be. This new deflection shield had (if one could only believe it), double the impact resistance of the Golden Dome proposed by the sitting president. Priced at a mere but respectable sum of $71,000 Can, it was therefore well within the constraints of Galactic Standard Budget, he surmised. Some space cowboys, no doubt, on the opposite end of the galaxy, had applauded his prescience, for he was a visionary of our time.

But even still, like clockwork, this morning's sunrise pierced right on through this quantum barrier, and he was thus instantly serenaded with light rays — which made him feel a bit out of his keeping — for such an obvious man of the shadows, that is. And this being the case, and thus having suddenly left the stronghold as though he’d just sauntered straight out of the Death Stars’ docking bay — and proceeding forward, like a ghost, using a combination of levitation and meditation — he then paused mid-flight, in the great void of space, reflected, and considered (for but a brief moment) — all the explanations he would not have to offer, nor any particular hoots he would have to give, anyone, in any capacity whatsoever, for taking such a sudden departure from his dwelling, and for entertaining such an untethered approach to life.

And, even so — even as he surveyed his surroundings this very moment — he nonetheless found much wonder and order so elegantly laid out before him; until, alas, as always seems to be the case in those afflicted with persistent — however immensely glorious, delusions — he was suddenly roused from his reverie, once again, the moment his eyes fell upon the gaze of what could only amount to be an indescribably curious squirrel. Only once in a Coruscant solar cycle, did such a profound disturbance in his orbit stir him; and ordinarily so, in the presence of a real foe, for which it would’ve prompted him, forthwith, to tighten the sash of his robe; but these disturbances usually came from far too great a distance, and thus could not be hidden in so plain and obvious a sight, he thought.

So, with sash in hand (to be sure it cleared the doorway), and with no further delay, he took a single step forward, inhaled deeply, and exhaled a long drawn-out breath — as if he had, unwittingly, over-exerted himself whilst brandishing his lifesaver (though fortunately for him, his mask provided ample oxygen) and set out, swiftly, to sail the spout of the St Lawrence river and reckon with the largest of the fishes that patrolled the strait.

And, in such a condition, and with such superior delusions, he officially departed from his stronghold, passing many homely and inspiring critters, and animals, along the way; which only served to further motivate and inspire him onwards; not least of which was this obtuse squirrel, which, could now be seen hopping alongside and adjacent to his person.

Indeed, it followed closely behind, for a block or more, as though from the moment he'd closed the gate behind him he had entered a sort of portal, or a looking glass**; until, finally, it ceased doing so — becoming altogether satisfied with the scrap of victual from the pocket of his robe (which was, in fact, a piece of scone), that he had flung in its direction, as a sort of payment — before it scampered off to meet with its scurry; with more of a hop, like that of a rabbit than that of a squirrel. The entire lot of them, one after the other, now ran along the branch of a tree (that extended out over the side of the road, like an archway) before the branch failed beneath this one squirrel at the front of the scurry with the prized scone, and, which resulted in its tumbling down onto the hood of a car. Rather a pity, indeed. But now, having recovered from disorientation and a bout of amazement, it once again rose onto its feet and scampered off, zigzagging to and fro, on the pavement, along the way — should a passing vehicle accomplish what the branch had failed to do, and make it into unsightly roadkill.

*de Cervantes, Miguel. Don Quixote. Translated by Edith Grossman, HarperCollins, 2003.

**Carroll, Lewis. Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. Edited by Martin Gardner, Penguin Classics, 2000.