Mr. White sees a Ghost
The old woman stood outside the restaurant appearing dazed and confused . . .
but that was the least of her problems. From the white mitre on her head to the gold-embellished ceremonial robe to the - presumably - faux golden staff in her right hand, she was dressed in full Roman Catholic Pope Mode. The detail was really quite extraordinary. It was Halloween. Faked authenticity is often the hallmark of a successful masquerade. As people walked by her, she approached them, staff in hand, and blessed them. She walked towards a young couple. The woman was wearing black fishnet stockings, a black-striped dress of sorts, black chunky shoes and a black, plastic spider ring. Plastic? Really? The people she approached paid no attention to her but this was a busy street and, even if it wasn't Halloween, there was often numerous odd people afoot. She held out her left hand while resting heavily on her golden staff and said, "I am Carol, the Pope of Rome. Bless you my children." They walked right past her. I watched her do this repeatedly from my position at the corner of the restaurant building. Nobody acknowledged her. It seemed like some of them were walking right through her. Cats have good night vision but I might be hallucinating. Got to stop eating those mushrooms the kid grows in his closet. She looked around and seemed lost and sad. Not only were her benedictions not being well received, people couldn't even see her perform them and obtain the all-important absolution. Suddenly, she looked at me and the eyes of the specter and the eyes of the feline met. I felt myself spontaneously jump in the air as if I were toying with a little, gray mouse. "You can see me", she said. Not only could I see her. I could understand her. She walked right through a kid wearing a lame Superman costume as she approached me. He had a piece of red fabric safety-pinned to his shirt in the back. I thought to myself, "Lady, cats, even if we do have excellent night vision, are really only ever after a delicious rodent morsel. Or, if you happen to be Simon, flies. Leave me alone and go be your own, crazy self somewhere else." She looked at me stunned and I looked back at her. I consider myself a master of the stare-down. Cats often are. She was not intimdated. I realized she had heard what I was thinking. She said, "I know you."
but that was the least of her problems. From the white mitre on her head to the gold-embellished ceremonial robe to the - presumably - faux golden staff in her right hand, she was dressed in full Roman Catholic Pope Mode. The detail was really quite extraordinary. It was Halloween. Faked authenticity is often the hallmark of a successful masquerade. As people walked by her, she approached them, staff in hand, and blessed them. She walked towards a young couple. The woman was wearing black fishnet stockings, a black-striped dress of sorts, black chunky shoes and a black, plastic spider ring. Plastic? Really? The people she approached paid no attention to her but this was a busy street and, even if it wasn't Halloween, there was often numerous odd people afoot. She held out her left hand while resting heavily on her golden staff and said, "I am Carol, the Pope of Rome. Bless you my children." They walked right past her. I watched her do this repeatedly from my position at the corner of the restaurant building. Nobody acknowledged her. It seemed like some of them were walking right through her. Cats have good night vision but I might be hallucinating. Got to stop eating those mushrooms the kid grows in his closet. She looked around and seemed lost and sad. Not only were her benedictions not being well received, people couldn't even see her perform them and obtain the all-important absolution. Suddenly, she looked at me and the eyes of the specter and the eyes of the feline met. I felt myself spontaneously jump in the air as if I were toying with a little, gray mouse. "You can see me", she said. Not only could I see her. I could understand her. She walked right through a kid wearing a lame Superman costume as she approached me. He had a piece of red fabric safety-pinned to his shirt in the back. I thought to myself, "Lady, cats, even if we do have excellent night vision, are really only ever after a delicious rodent morsel. Or, if you happen to be Simon, flies. Leave me alone and go be your own, crazy self somewhere else." She looked at me stunned and I looked back at her. I consider myself a master of the stare-down. Cats often are. She was not intimdated. I realized she had heard what I was thinking. She said, "I know you."
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