RITA'S JOB

RITA'S JOB

After church, Rita wanted to see the movies. I obliged. The road to the movies was full, so we had to summon a back path. The path was adamant, just the two of you? It is wastage of cat time. Rita had to show her face for us to make any headway.
The movies were very welcoming. Their tea was especially good after sprinkling it on various gas cookers placed strategically around the house. The gas cookers giggled and chuckled, and they being of different sizes, their voices were not quite the same. The voices formed some sort of a non-sense music, which a flying studio captured and recorded. It was an instant hit and topped the charts for three straight seconds, and generations made it their anthem.

The movies, after being such cordial hosts, wanted us to see something of theirs. There was a new addition to the family! We rejoiced and congratulated them as the little movie was brought for us to see. It ran for ten minutes, but it was all inappropriate. The women covered their faces while the en tucked their branched fingers; outside of course, in hanging suits. We were all arrested.
All of us. How could we view such a short film? Ten minutes only, and there we were, touching the soft, young face, grasping the tiny fingers... Now the face was scratched, the music would never be the heard, and the branched finger was bruised, never to be quite the same.
At the police station, the cat on the ceiling meowed the time loudly. We realized to our dismay that the mighty sun was getting up, and Rita was yet to find out where her job had gone. She started laughing softly and I consoled her with a whip then wiped her elbows tenderly.
At the station, an officer would stand on the tracks, whenever an oncoming train's fart was heard or sniffed rather. They all applauded, clapping their cheeks as the heavy train ground the person underneath to soggy powder. The powder was later collected and dried, to be used in the process of lifting fingerprints.
I observed a peculiar thing by the way; immediately a policeman or woman was ground up, senior officers would rush up, jostle for microphones and heap praises to the fallen from various hymn books.
-How dedicated he was-
-How the train was to be sought out and prosecuted-
-How they were not going to sleep until- one of them actually said this while snoring in a cup.
If the officer to jump onto the tracks was a man, the women inspected his branched finger. If one of them found anything desirable about it, it was detached from the rest of the body, treated and stuffed to retain its shape. It was also important that it did not lose its smoothness, especially around the edges. It was then kept safe, 'for later use' the women said.
As for the men, if it was a woman meeting the train head-on, nothing of hers was inspected or taken. Reason? It was a form of abuse, a way of victimizing the 'poor' women. In any case, it was a perversion; what were the men's intentions? We all nodded our knees wisely to this; it proved how equal our society was, no gender before the other.
While there, at the station, a man was brought in for rape. Rape was called, her fine having been paid, and the two left.
Having paid the day to be with us a little while longer, we took the next train and went home. We left the train at the gate; it was a shy train and my house was not known for modesty. Even as we walked in, its hose was already unwinding, ready to assault the poor train. I had to leave Rita alone for a century to take the train back to the station before the police officers got worried.