Wednesday, December 22, 2010

INVIDIO FAST (pt. 1)

            A car sped by and vomited a wave of rainwater out the gutter. Invidio Fast caught the wave in his back and braced himself against the impact. The diminutive man shivered within the cold, wet cocoon his clothes had been reduced to. Only the tops of his scuffed wingtips remained dry under the umbrella provided by his orbicular belly. He fought to keep his neck from bowing under the dampened weight of his thick mesh of beard. The precipitation mingled with the dank urban air and Invidio bristled at the sting inside his wide spherical nose.
            The city of Madsen, New Jersey was uniquely antagonistic that night. There was not only the splash-by from the passing car and the ceaseless rain. In the process of buying his subway pass the vending machine had eaten Invidio’s first five dollars. He was forced to break a sawbuck for the second ticket and fill his pocket with the resultant change, which was mostly comprised of dimes. On the subway Invidio had found himself sandwiched between a panhandling hippie emanating a funk of patchouli and cloves and a morbidly obese woman badly in need of a decongestant. He had been forced to endure a few moments of agony after his desperate squirming had caused him to sit on his testicles. Upon exiting the subway he had been beset by a six-year old boy who expected the dwarfish Invidio Fast to grant him a wish. Upon calmly explaining to the disagreeable cherub that he was not in fact a magical being of slight stature, the boy’s mother, a scowling harpy of an insufferable temperament, ordered him to humor the boy. Invidio promptly blessed the boy with a long life free of injustice or indignity. As he continued toward his destination, his trouser pocket full of dimes, Invidio had taken comfort in the knowledge that his wish would not come true.
            He now stood before a gargantuan brownstone. It was architecturally authoritative and its accompanying masonry stood as a bulwark against any who would dare to interrupt the inviolable sanctity of the happy homes within. Invidio blinked away the drops of water falling through his bushy eyebrows. He stood at the foot of a marble planter, peeped between the twin yews standing guard and through the window beyond. The kitchen was florid and sumptuously autumnal in flavor, equally capable of entertaining a gathering of the hoi polloi or preparing a simple meal for an intimate family. Invidio saw the man in the kitchen ladle piping broth into a bowl, retrieve a spoon from a drawer and exit the room.
            Invidio Fast had first encountered the name Moses Olpian one morning two weeks previous. He had been sitting at his simple reconditioned desk reading the latest news stories from his favorite sites, the mouse in one hand and his fault-riddled mug of coffee in the other. An attempted escape from the nearby McKeever Correctional Facility had resulted in the death of two prisoners and the recapture of Babyface Paskind. Convicted on six counts of mass poaching and sentenced to no less than eighteen years, Babyface’s lawyer was quoted in the Associated Press piece:

Mr. Paskind’s attempted egress was a direct result of a cruel and unusual punishment handed down by Judge Olpian. In no other court would a judge find my client’s punishment to be commensurate with his crime. And anyone who is the least bit familiar with Judge Olpian’s years on the bench is well aware of His Honor’s draconian tendencies.

            Invidio’s curiosity had been piqued. He googled the name and had soon found a photo of Moses Olpian. The photo depicted a man seemingly forged from bronze. His lightly salted hair cast a metallic glow. The sheen from his Rolex cast flair into the lens of the camera. His suit was immaculately tailored and revealed a man of fifty-six fit enough for one thirty years his junior. It was his face, however, that had caught Invidio’s imagination. Olpian’s cheekbones stood in relief amidst the tanned skin of his chiseled face. His blue-gray eyes revealed a razor-sharp constitution. His jaw line was transplanted from the bust of an antiquarian statesman. Invidio had looked upon the face of a man who could spin the world against its axis. His subsequent research had borne out Invidio’s initial impression. Moses Olpian’s many years on the bench had made him a local celebrity across the tri-state area and a source of legendary hyperbole throughout the entire legal profession. His encyclopedic acumen was well documented and it had flawlessly ensured that not one of his imaginatively punitive sentences would be overturned on appeal. He had been called before the Bar Association on two separate occasions for alleged abuses of his judicial authority and had twice walked away not only free of censure but smelling of roses. Death threats were not uncommon and he had survived one previous attempt on his. But Olpian was known not just for his iron-fisted enforcement of the law but for his ceaseless adherence to its spirit as well. Overzealous prosecutors who did not wish to see their cases thrown out proceeded cautiously in his courtroom. Olpian crushed assaults on the liberties of even the most unapologetic defendants with extreme prejudice. He was known to reduce lesser prosecutors to tears and had once sent a young assistant district attorney fiending for a high-profile conviction running from the courtroom. Moses Olpian was a respected and feared paragon of judicial sovereignty.
            Invidio Fast, his eyes cutting through the statical downpour, shadowed the paragon outside his home as he made his way from the window of the kitchen to the window of the den. He saw the robust warmth of the room vibrating with pine, green and gold. The floor-to-ceiling bookcases stentorianly lined the back wall. The shelves were full of years of rhetoric. It was almost uncannily similar to what he had pictured. In the center of the room stood a hospital bed affixed to a score of tanks and machines. In the bed slept a seven-year old girl with a porcelain face covered by an oxygen mask. He watched Olpian gingerly close the door to the den and sit beside the hospital bed. He watched Olpian set the bowl of broth on a hospital tray before the girl.  Invidio watched him take the little girl’s hand, bow his head, and plant on it the slightest feathery kiss. Through the rushing sheets of rain Invidio Fast saw Moses Olpian raise his head as a single tear escaped the jurist’s eye. The honeycomb glow from inside poured through the panes of glass. Invidio’s whiskers stretched into an upside-down arch. His smile peaked through the hair. The diminutive man turned and started down the street, secure in the knowledge that in twenty-four hours he would be standing a little taller.

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