The Sole Mate/16 “War with City Hall”

My options were closing down and I got angrier and angrier. I could organize a picket of city hall, signs and everything. But I couldn’t think of anyone who’d show up. Hmm, I could hire people, students, grab some homeless people. Ten dollars an hour for a three hour demonstration. I’d alert the TV stations and the Herald. But it was fantasy. I wasn’t the CIA paying people to demonstrate against Mossadegh in Tehran during the 1952 U.S.-backed coup that installed the Shah that lead to the Islamic revolution.

So I applied for another permit for my shutters, the Dolphins teal this time. As Marcia, the clerk with the sharp, arrogant tongue notarized my signature she exclaimed, “Oh, that’s a nice color.”

Anthony Flores just happened to be lurking in the back, and as she stamped me he whispered in her ear. They stepped back from the counter as I gathered my papers. I could not decipher it but I can guess what Anthony told her: “Don’t you dare question me, especially in front of our subjects.”

Three days later I got a call from the other clerk, the one who said I didn’t need approval for shutter colors; oh the irony. “Mr. Weaver?” “Your permit has been approved. There’re conditions.”

I picked up the permit and talked to master Flores. “You can only have four colors on the house,” he said as we looked at my photo of the house. I counted them out. “It’s just four,” I said.

“The awnings,” he said dryly. The dark blue awnings? I thought. He’s counting them?

“Well, I could tear them down,” I said meekly. “They’re rotting. I’ll have to rip them out soon anyway.”