The Walk
“Tuesday Marty marched across Glendale Avenue, heading west, staying clear of the overpass on his left.
It was already mid-afternoon and he’d only covered three or four miles since he started. But Marty felt like he’d already walked a hundred. Every joint in his body throbbed in pain. At this rate, it would take him days to get home.
He glanced to his right. He was passing a stark, white, windowless building that looked like a mausoleum. It might as well have been. A sign near the flat roof read... “Bob Baker’s Marionette Theatre,” which was now showing a program called “It’s a Musical World.”
Marty had never heard of the place, and wondered who bothered coming to this godforsaken spot to see such rudimentary entertainment. What kid would chose to see a puppet on strings over his PlayStation, the Internet, or a digital-effects blockbuster on DVD? Seeing a show at the marionette theatre made as much sense to Marty as gathering in a cave to watch Grog scratch stick figures on the stone.MoreLess
It was already mid-afternoon and he’d only covered three or four miles since he started. But Marty felt like he’d already walked a hundred. Every joint in his body throbbed in pain. At this rate, it would take him days to get home.
He glanced to his right. He was passing a stark, white, windowless building that looked like a mausoleum. It might as well have been. A sign near the flat roof read... “Bob Baker’s Marionette Theatre,” which was now showing a program called “It’s a Musical World.”
Marty had never heard of the place, and wondered who bothered coming to this godforsaken spot to see such rudimentary entertainment. What kid would chose to see a puppet on strings over his PlayStation, the Internet, or a digital-effects blockbuster on DVD? Seeing a show at the marionette theatre made as much sense to Marty as gathering in a cave to watch Grog scratch stick figures on the stone.MoreLess
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