Sunday Story- Vicissitude

Vicissitude- a change in circumstances that occurs by chance

Ex: The vicissitudes of Damon’s attempt to run a food truck were as follows. He began by making it big, even being featured on a season of The Great Food Truck Race. He was one of the first contestants to bow out of the competition, but the buzz that the TV appearance generated for him- thanks to his catchphrase, “Wheels are turning, grill is burning, giddy up!”- propelled his truck to some early success selling grub throughout the Washington D.C. metro area. Once established in DC, a dispute with a grocery store owner in Chinatown, who Damon claimed was, “making his truck reek of squid” led to a lawsuit, which didn’t totally tank his business, but forced him to relocate to a less culturally sensitive and ethnically aware region of the country, and with a couple hundred thousand fewer dollars at his disposal. So, he set up shop in Little Rock, Arkansas. For a year or so he kept busy slinging sandwiches to the locals, and making a decent living doing so, but not quite feeling as if the truck was living up to its fullest potential. That was until he happened to serve a visiting Qatari prince (yes, visiting Little Rock, just go with it…) a beef au jus sub that blew his ghutra clean off his head. Damon and his food truck were instantly brought halfway across the world to serve filthy rich oil magnates, and the money kept pouring in for Damon. Oh but Damon, Damon, Damon. You should have guessed that your fortunes were bound to change again, poor Damon! Within a mere month of moving out to Qatar, Damon hit it off with the daughter of a wealthy drill-site overseer. He was so enamored with her that he couldn’t even think straight when he was around her. It was during one of these blind, love-struck moments that Damon was again left impaired. Before he could realize what he had done, he was already being pulled over onto the side of the road by a cop in a sandy, khaki military outfit. Damon snapped back into awareness, regained perception, and found that he was sitting in the passenger seat of his food truck, while his Qatari lover was strapped into the driver’s seat next to him. A woman found to be driving was a serious offense in Qatar. The cop asked them to step out of the vehicle as he prepared to take them into custody. He began his standard run-through of Qatari policing procedures by slamming the woman’s face down onto the hood of the truck and cuffing her hands behind her back. He spun towards Damon, about to detain him in the same fashion, when, all of a sudden, there was a change in his eyes, a look of recognition, an inclination as to some past encounter the two had shared. “Wait a minute…‘Wheels are turning, grill is burning, giddyup!’ that was you! Dude, you’re a legend. I fucking love The Great Food Truck Race!”. The tides had once again turned for Damon, as he was let off scot free with a warning, a pat on the back, and a cramped hand from signing every shred of clothing on the cop’s body, along with a stack of ghutras and flowing white robes that that he had in his cop car. His Qatari love bird on the other hand, well she…she was condemned to life in prison, solitary confinement. Loujain al-Hathloul, keep fighting the good fight, the boys back home are pulling for you.