blue strings and orange balloons: a tale of the alleyway

It was a day that needed to be remembered, the day the balloon got away. It was a bright blue day, a little windy, tinted by the smooth haze of pale ales and lagers. There were two travellers that day, one going southwest and the other northeast, who by meticulous coordination over wireless waves, met smiling in front of a red, brick church. It was Sunday after all, and what better place to meet one another than in front of the house of God. The two travellers had planned this meeting over an hours conversation, and due to boredom and the fear of becoming white an agreement had been reached that an afternoon picnic was in order. Their walk was, for the most part, normal and uneventful. adding a slight taste of staleness to their mouthwatering plan of overcoming boredom. But, uneventful as the walk may have been, the talk had been nothing but eventful. Exchanges were made between these two travellers. Exchanges that, on a completely superficial level, would seem nothing more than idle chit-chat informing one another of their walk to the church; however, on a deeper level, it was a dialogue to a conclusion. A conclusion that had yet to be realized, but a conclusion nonetheless.

Words were exchanged and steps were taken in the direction of anywhere that would satiate the grumbling of their hungry stomachs. Real food? Fast food? Mexican food? No food? But before the grumbles could be silenced, a decided detour was taken by these two travellers in order to quench a drunkard's thirst. Nine beers were purchased all different in their appearance: six sitting comfortably in a cardboard drink carrier while three lay hidden in an opaque plastic bag. These beverages needed to be consumed in order to make that Sunday a Sunday to remember, but where the travellers would consume their beverages was still a question mark. Again, they continued their stroll, now having two decisions to make when by chance a flash of yellow catalysed a general consent between the two; within a span of five minutes, both the travellers stood, salivating in front of a fast food counter waiting patiently to eat fresh. But their patience grew thin as the man behind the counter drew further into his daydreams.

'Toasted?'

'Yes, Toasted.'

'Toasted?'

'Yes, toasted.'

'So toasted?'

'Yes.'

'Hot peppers.'

'Pepper?'

'No, hot peppers.'

'Pepper?'

'Hot peppers! And mayo and salt.'

'Oil?'

'No, salt.'

With the travellers food wrapped and paid for, they quickly scuttled out of the small restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief as they stepped over the threshhold and back into the sunshine. With the sun on their faces the hilarity of sandwich situation became apparent; thus their frustration evolved into laughter and their laughter into memories, and their Sunday escapade began to take form. The travellers were now left with one last decision, one that would determine the path which their adventure would take, where would they have their picnic?

They stood on the corner of an intersection silently making notes of possible locations that were also easily accessible to where they were. Across one street was an attractive lawn beside a school board building that was secluded and empty. Across from that there was a large park bursting with sunny afternoon enthusiasts endulging in sunny afternoon activities. At first the secluded nature of the school board's lawn was voted in; however, the park won the decision in the end. So the two travellers crossed the street and then another street and situated themselves strategically on a hill where the population of the parkgoers was relatively low.

Digging into their sandwiches, the two travellers conversed about the man behind the counter, laughing again at how ridiculous the experience had seemed. They conversed about the lack of sexual support needed to maintain their abnormally high libidos; and they conversed about how their plan to conquer their boredom had been a success. Cracking open a can of beer each, they both laid down, relaxing on the sunny hillside. But that did not last very long, you see, unbeknownst to the two travellers the sun had already been covered up by a gigantic cloud that stretched further than the eye could see. And as the two relaxed contently on the grass, enjoying the feel of the illusion they were in, a sudden burst of cold wind blew in their direction. Realizing that the sun, though visible from behind the cloud, would no longer provide the ample amount of heat, they decided that the best course of action would be to walk north.

So north they walked, getting further away from both their homes, both carefully looking for a worthy replacement to continue their Sunday afternoon adventure. Not long after their hunt began did they reach an alleyway that hauntingly called out to them. It looked like an ordinary alley, but ghosts from the past urged them to explore deeper. The two travellers could not escape the grasp of their memories and ended up obeying the silent demands of nostalgia.

As they walked in deeper, they were transported into another world; a world that could only be understood through the mishmash aesthetics of the alley's interior. It was a world within a world where archaic and modern gracefully waltzed with each other to the sound of the colours. It was where the giant salmon resided.

The giant salmon was a funny character really. He never said much, he never did much, he just mainly sat around lounging on his blue and green bed watching the alleyway. But although the giant salmon seemed idle for the most part, you could see in his eyes that the alleyway was his territory and as caretaker he would do everything in his power to protect his home. As protective as he was, the giant salmon was also hospitable. So hospitable that upon seeing the two travellers strolling around his alleyway, he called out to them inviting them to rest their wandering feet in his company. The travellers agreed heartily and were ecstatic to see that they had discovered a suitable place to continue their Sunday afternoon adventure with such amicable company.

The travellers sat by the giant salmon and after they had finished introducing each other to one another, they again cracked open a can of beer and began a conversation about how perfect the alley was. Glowing with pride, the giant salmon thanked the travellers and invited them to stay as long as they would like, and so the travellers stayed. They conversed and drank, slowly allowing the joyous bubbles of the beverages to heighten their mood. It was about halfway to evening when a bizarre, lanky fellow appeared above the travellers and the giant salmon's head.

'Who is that fellow?' the travellers asked.

The giant salmon smiled and said, 'That fellow is my favourite barista at Starbucks. His name is Darryl and he's a grad student writing a paper of dissent on empiricist Locke's argument of general assent. He's a smart guy, but It's going to be sad to see him go. He's not very supportive of corporations and so starting next week he's gonna start working for a fair trade coffee shop about ten miles away. It's a shame, no one will ever make my espressos like him: strong and philosophical! '

'Darryl huh?' The travellers nodded and continued with their drinking satisfied with the giant salmon's account of the man who appeared from nowhere.

The beers were definitely affecting the two travellers now, especially after smoking a perfectly rolled joint, and so the camera was taken out and memories were documented. The sun was slowly sinking at this point, and the adventure was coming to a close. The travellers gathered their things and thanked the giant salmon for his hospitality and began to head back to the reality beyond the alley. But before they crossed that point, a black wolf in gold sunglasses smiled and called out to them wishing them safe travels home and to visit again soon. The wolf's smile was warm and sincere.

'Maybe one day wolf, may one day,' and with that said, the travellers plunged themselves back into the real world where they continued their festivities at a local pub.

Shakespeare once wrote, 'And so you know you cannot see yourself,/ so well as by reflection, I, your glass,/ will modestly discover to yourself,/ that of yourself that you yet not know.' And its true, through reflection truths unseen are apparent. So I guess to conclude this particular Sunday adventure, we could safely say that the adventure lives within the adventurer and not the other way around; that's a truth that can be uncovered by a fantastical alleyway, just a little to the north past the park where the giant salmon lives.