SHERRY AIMS, HOBO NURSE
It was all getting too confused and complicated and crazy out there. Sherry Aims, Folk Nurse, closed the door on the Office where the real loons were, and started another thread.
The crumpled dustbusted figure on the table came to subdued life again.
"Are you alright, Sir?" Sherry asked.
"Name's Frisco. Frisco Cisco."
"Is that as in Cisco Systems, sir?" Sherry began to wander back to her concerns over whether her overhang in technology stocks might be excessive.
"Don't know nothing about systems, child, all systems are systems of oppression, compression, depression, su-ppression, and just plain old pression, if you follow me."
"Well, no sir, but it doesn't really matter. Where are you from?"
"I'm from wherever the weak are getting a raw deal, wherever the mothers are up to their raw arms in dirty laundry and watery grief, wherever the armies of the poor are retreating from the complacent Armies of the Bourgeiousie, wherever --"
He was getting agitated again.
"Please calm yourself, sir."
"You know, little lady, you got a sweet voice -- what is your name, anyway?"
"Sherry Aims, Folk Nurse."
"Well, Sherry Aims, Folk Nurse, the grapes of wrath are wiser than the raisins of instruction! Sherry Aims, Folk Nurse , you should get the hell out of here. You been riding on those big tits and that tooth-whitening gum for too long. You need to get some life in you. You need to see the horizon curving away ahead of you, woman. One day you're going to wake up as Sherry Aims, Senior Nurse, and you'll have nothin' but a lifetime of bedpans behind you. You know that Dr. Guthrie guy, the one who makes your patootie tatootie? Well, he's a load of granite faced medical hooey, that's what he is."
She hadn't thought about that. Dr. Guthrie had been somewhat unprofessional already this morning.
"Sherry Aimes, Folk Nurse, what if I was to tell you that out there, just beyond your eyesight and way beyond all hope, there was a tapestry of steel just waiting to take you along for a ride, clickety-clack, clickety clack, and if you put your ear to the ground as the big freights pass, you can sometimes hear the whispers of tomorrow, mingling with the heartbreak of yesterday's men hammering and cursing the line bosses, setting up their powerful song of resistance, the old song, the endless song against the Big Boys, the owners, the Big Rock Candy Barons, eternally selling you dust as if it were dreams!"
"Oh, you mean the Internet."
"Internet, crapola. Where is the Internetionale! Where is the new song of solidarity, striking terror into the flatulent, corpulent, indolent, insolent Craptains of industry!! The air hums with the call for Life against Death --- Goddam!! Where's my Sancho Panza, my Boanerges, my beer, my women, and my song?"
"Are you referring to your guitar, Sir?"
"Hand it over! Sherry Aims, Folk Nurse, are you willing to break all the threads that tie you down? Are you willing to strike out for freedom?"
Sherry pouted briefly, wistfully sighed for a moment about all those parts of Dr. Guthrie she would never see,and then handed him his guitar. Oh well, it might look good on her C.V.
The door opened and closed on them, leaving a trail of '30s dust behind them.
They were free.