Corporations Anonymous

  
He sits in his car for a long while in front of the elementary school there in early dark of late fall. This place is bustling, he thinks uncertainly. Anonymous people walking in and out, mostly into the old, brick elementary school probably built in the 60's? . He cannot distinguish any details in the peoples faces as they move in and out of the thin light cast by the streetlights. The humid night air feels good with the window open smoking thoughtfully, Philip Morris notes the time on the car dash: Good five minutes still - taking a long drag of the joint head back listening to the local jazz station set down low enough for only him to hear. Trying to relax. Always an effort even with the help of Mother Weed.

You have to do this, he encourages himself, whispering out loud, each breath a tiny cloud puff on the cool, humid night air.

Finally, he finds the courage to do it.

I am sick and tired of being all alone with this, he is thinking almost bitterly now, working up a little head of steam, closing the door and clicking it locked - I need some help with this. It's that simple.

So many more people here than he had expected? People everywhere. He had not thought about what it would be like to actually be here with the little school all lit up in front of him, the bright light from rows and rows of neon lighting casting its hard white light onto the shrubs and grass. Walking up to the front door, passing a group of cigarette smokers, oddly the building impresses him as if it is some spaceship landed here looking inside at occupants within the mother ship? Once inside what impresses him walking down a long hallway is that most every room is full – lots of night classes, he wonders, adult education? Feels like discovering something significant in his own back yard?

He goes into the room number that he had written on company stationary earlier that afternoon, “242” hesitating to glance up over the door to where it read, Mrs. Small Second Grade. He smiles at that and so is smiling when he walks into a surprisingly well attended Corporations Anonymous Meeting. People look funny sitting at undersized tables. The leader appears to be a not unattractive mature woman who looks a little like she could be Mrs. Small?

Let's begin, shall we, suggests the Mrs. Small looking leader of the meeting.

He takes one of the undersized seats. Those nearest him looking on sympathetically. He counts twenty two people in the class, almost whistling. Damn.

It looks like we have a new member, tonight, the teacher like lady at the front begins and at first he does not understand that she is speaking to him directly. My name is GE, she says warmly - would you like to stand and introduce yourself to everyone? she asks.

He stands hoping that outwardly he looks composed but inwardly in a state of near turmoil, clearing his throat making an effort to keep the nervousness out of his voice, he says, Hi, my name is Philip Morris and I too was born in a lawyers office, not a hospital - pausing to let a polite chuckle settle down - And I am a Corporation, he finishes assertively.

Welcome, Philip! the other corporations say brightly in practiced unison.