The Fine Art of Procrastination
By Steve Wardrip

There was a fubu in Fiji.
Once upon a time, long ago, there were three men in a boat. There was an enterprising young small engine mechanic, a colorful clown and a daredevil rockclimber. They all were comfortably seated and rowing steadily. Each has a candy bar and a crowbar. They met in a stag bar, not too far from the sand bar. Each decided to raise the bar. Now, off to the “Jetty Joe’s” harbour bar!
Standards need not be wasted on the ever popular steam table. Scabbards not drawn will be readily forfeited. A huge little voice sends me to my secret room in the clouds. There, I was met by the three dapper men in the boat. The water they were floating on became thick and solid. The gorilla appeared in the branches. Extremely shocked, I feared for my life, but the three men bailed me out. They picked me up and carried me to safety. The massive silverback gorilla weighed 900 pounds and the last thing she said to me was, “I’m not as fast as I used to be, but I’m every bit as strong!” She was violently chasing, racing to destroy me, when the three boaters showed up to rescue me. Night soon fell and I was exhausted from stress. Now, I sleep like a baby. Now, I am safe in my secret room in the clouds. The screams turn into a hush and vile repugnant turns into portal bliss.
Did you know that you can levitate in the secret room in the clouds? You can. It’s such a delightful feeling, just like weightlessness in space. You can float and spin and turn effortlessly. You can sit like you are in a go-cart and zoom around two feet off the floor. It’s such fun to float.
Another thing you can do in the room… turn inside out. You can go in and come out. You will spin up and wind down. The past is the future and the future is in the past. Emotionally, you reverse, soft is hard, solid is loose and stress becomes bliss and vis versa. I have learned many things in the secret room in the clouds. The popcorned floor leaks and water streams up to the ceiling and forms puddles there on the linoleum. No one can stand on the floor for very long, as the room turns slowly upside down and sideways at first, spinning and stopping, spinning and stopping. You try, but you can only walk up the wall as the room allows. Paintings line the floor and as you step on them, they moan and cry. The frames are soaked in dead patriots blood and the wallpaper yells, “Set Me Free!” at you as you slide up. The gorilla sits in the corner. The gigantic ape is planning to escape with you under her arm. She calmly waits, sitting cross legged. I anticipate harm. I am nervous, anxious and afraid. I toss her a candy bar the small engine mechanic gave to me. When she reached out her long hairy arm and caught it, the candy bar turned into a wiggling eel and it startled the gorilla, who jumped up and crashed a large hole in the wall, letting in a giant cruise ship. The cruise ship sailed into my pocket and smacked me in the groin. Now, I am moaning and the room throws me out in a violent rush. I land in a bed in a cave on the island of Fiji. The three men are singing Irish folk music songs. They have a boat. One of the songs is “My Boat Will Float.”
Morning fog and, dinosaurs sound off in the distance. The calliope plays a festive tune, fast, and faster until the porcelain dolls fly off the spinning top and crash headlong into the back of the canteen where the brightly uniformed youth serve shaved ice desserts.
The air is thick with cotton candy and the screeching sounds of a chorus of screaming girls singing “Summertime Blues.” Barbeque to pulled pork, funnel cakes to alligator tail, the carnival of life has us all walking the tightrope. We love, laugh and have morning sickness. We were created to procreate, so we do. Multiply, multiply.
I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to do anything and you can’t make me. If you even try to, I will resume my art, my heart, my artificial emotions, and go to my secret room in the clouds to procrastinate.

