Weekend At Willies Chapter Four. Half Red

.







Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney. Gold On The Ceiling. Fuck Yes.










Joey grabbed his leather jacket off the end of the gurney and shook it out. Desert mud fell onto the floor tiles, and he saw that it was half red. It had been spray-painted with red paint from a fire alarm trigger.



When you pull a fire alarm trigger, you get a shot of red paint for your troubles. It marks you, and it doesn’t wear off.



You become a red man, and that color is permanent.


Red is the best color.



Tahoo: Amen.



Joey pulled on his damp leather jacket. Always mind your leather. He went looking for the girl he had brought to the hostibal.



+ + + + + + +



The young man in prison awoke with a scream. But this time, he did not hear keys jangling onto the hard tiles of a kitchen floor and echoing in the cement tomb of his cell.



He had heard a whisper of a breath escaping from the lips of a close friend. It was the last breath she would ever exhale.


It creeped him the fuck out. Where were these strange, awful dreams coming from?




+ + + + + + +



Tellesco pulled up to the side entrance of the West Clovis Medical Center and said, “I can’t go in with you like this.”


Sean looked over the seat and began to cackle. I’d never heard him laugh like that before. He said, “Why are you naked, young fellow?”



Tellesco blushed. He said, “It’s a long story. You need to go inside and have them look at your head.”


I was already out the door and on my way. I needed to have my own head checked.



+ + + + + + +


Joey went back to the front desk of the emergency entrance and sat down in front of the emissions nurse. He would have laughed at such a desk sign at any other time, but he was not in the mood for laughter.


The night nurse looked over at him. “May I help you?”


Joey shrugged. “I brought in my friend who was in a car crash and I want to know where she is.”

The nurse nodded. “You were in shock and you fainted. How are you feeling now?”


Joey said, “I’m feeling worried about my friend. Where is she?”



The nurse clicked her computer keyboard and there came a look in her face for a brief instant, and then it was gone. She said, “Oh, we have been looking for you--- wait here for a moment, please.”


She got up and left.


Joey sat there and looked around. The place was spotless, white, and clean. There sat a mop bucket nearby, and a fresh mop stood up-ended in it, setting against the wall nearby. The floors were shiny and damp from being freshly scrubbed.


He understood. Sometimes, there was blood on the floor in the entrance way.


The whole area smelled like cleaning agents.


His nose stung.



He turned around and saw an open area where folks waited for their turn to be seen. Some nestled hands or arms wrapped up in bloody bath towels from home, others held cloth-wrapped bags of hostibal ice against various body parts (one held it against his right eye) and most of these folks had someone sitting next to them who probably had brought them here.




“Excuse me.” The voice made him swing back around to the nurse’s station, but there was no one there. He looked up over his shoulder and saw someone standing there dressed in blue surgeons’ scrubs.



Joey stood up. “Where is she?” He looked down to what the doctor was holding in his hands. “What’s that?”



Then he recognized it. He was wearing the same sort of thing. It was a damp leather jacket, the size that a young woman might wear, and there was red paint all over it.



The doctor said, “It looks like you know about this red paint. It’s a marker for an emergency fire alarm. Half of your face is covered with it. We thought it was blood when we brought you in. You need to come with us.”



Joey looked at the security guard behind the doctor and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up.





He listened to his instinct.



Joey fucking bailed. He could run quite fast. He didn’t bother looking for the expensive car. That would have been too easy.


Behind him, the security guard grunted and took off after him, and the doctor yelled, “You need to answer for her death!”



But Joey didn’t hear that. He was in panic mode.


Sometimes, panic is your friend.





Sometimes, that is all there is left for you.







God Help You.


God Help Us All.


---willies out.






Buddy Guy. Baby, Please Don’t Leave Me. Milky strings; dirty groove. Dig Deep.




































Radio head. Optimistic. The best you can...












.

Beta : Sunday Weekend At Willies Chapter Four . BETA

.


This Is To Be Re-written.


Props to Google friend YES who is a faithful guide.










Tellesco and Sean had a history. One had saved the other. But now, there was only one left of them two.


And Tellesco, the young man driving the hearse, well, he got a clue.


But first, let’s resume this tale from where we were, shall we?



+ + + + + + +


The young man in prison could not sleep. He didn’t want to have the nightmare again.




It woke him up each time he screamed.



He would not get any rest this night.



His release could not happen soon enough.



+ + + + + + +



Joey awoke on a gurney. “Where is Katheeeeeeena?!”


He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was alone in a hallway. Where the hell was he? Where the hell was the dead girl he had delivered to the Hostibal in the expensive car?


Was she OK?


+ + + + + + +



I slammed the door to the hearse shut and shivered. Sean muttered under his breath, “I like it. I can do it.”



Man, I wanted out. I looked over to Tellesco as he drove that hearse through the blackness of the desert thunderstorm, and I saw something in his eye.



He had a clue, as well.



Well, good.



About time he woke the fuck up.





Me?



I had no clue.



I had no clue about anything at all.



I reached into my pocket and pulled out the remainder of the desert dust I had hidden and brought along for the ride. This tiny plastic bag called to me. It had all the answers. Inside of this small, damp, zip-locked bag was the answer. I was sure of it.


We could make sense of things.

Just a little bump would set everything all right.



I nodded to my fraught reflection in the side window, refracted by the headlight shining back from the pummeling, unforgiving rain in the desert of the black hole of Fuckno.





It would make everything right.



Just a little bump…











God Help You.



God Help Us all.



---willies out.




The jangle of keys echoed down the hallway, and the young man in prison awoke again.






.

CHAPTER THREE: SEEN

.

















The young man driving the hearse swerved to avoid one of the last obstacles lying on the old, crumbly tar in the off-skirts of Fuckno, Califoreveryonebutme. It was a fat balloon tire, and it was the last remnant of the young man’s once-powerful Jeep. The tire looked similar to one that might have been on a Moon Rover, bouncing along the surface of our lovely satellite. She has waltzed with our blue marble for billions of years, and she will continue to guide us through the night until the angry sun explodes and devours us all.



When he swerved, I rolled over and fell against a damp, doughy body lying there. It had considerably more mass than me, and I scrambled away in horror.


“What The Fuck?!”


The young man up front hollered back in horror as well. “What?! What?!” He heard the frightened register in my voice, and it unnerved him to a great deal. You see, he was just barely hanging on to his own wits already. He was dancing along the brink of a black chasm of fear, and the only thing keeping him from falling into the hole was his intention to drive us to safety.


I screamed back at him. “You have a body back here!”



The body groaned. My skin crawled all over, and I felt a clammy hand on my knee. Fuck that. I clambered over into the front seat and spun around. In the back of the hearse, I could see nothing.


I could not hear anything but the rain punishing the roof.



And then a pale face rose up and a fat arm reached over to grab at me.



I reached for the door handle. Time up. Game over. Please insert another quarter to continue. No high score. I was gonna bail. Take my chances on the tar.


The young man at the wheel shouted at me. “Calm down! It’s Sean!”




Except one thing. It wasn’t Sean. Sean was gone. This was something new. We just didn’t know it yet.




+ + + + + + +


The young man in the expensive vehicle swung in to the Hostibal Emergency Lane and screeched the brakes to a halt in front of the automatic doors. He had come in the wrong way. A man in uniform ran out to meet him and opened the passenger-side door.

“Hello son, what is your emergency?”


Joey pointed at the limp figure in the passenger seat. “She been in a crash! She ain’t breathing now! She got mud in her lungs! Help her! Help her!”



“Calm down, son. Let me call this in.” He clicked the walkie-talkie mic on his lapel and shouted orders. Then he said, “Now hold on, does she have any broken bones?”



Joey shrugged. “I don’t know! My buddy put her in here! She AIN”T FUCKING BREATHING!”



A group of hospital folks came running out, one with a gurney. The man in uniform appraised them of the situation, and they got her out of the car in the exact position she was sitting in.



One checked her for a pulse and another put a face mask over her mouth and nose and slowly squeezed the big rubber ball attached to it, forcing air into her lungs.


Joey began to feel weak in the knees and he climbed back into the driver seat. He felt the world begin to spin, and his hands would not stop shaking.


Adrenaline had run its course. He had made it. But would she?


He passed out.




+ + + + + + +


The young driver at the wheel of the hearse pulled over to the side of the rode as I was opening the door to get the fuck out. The interior light came on.


He pulled me back in and turned back to Sean. “You Ok?”




Sean’s eyes rolled, and he felt his head. All of his hair was burned off. In its place was a matt of dried blood, and the scattered, dried remains of a poultice.

He said, “Never felt better.” He sat forward and looked at each of us in turn. “Where am I?”



I felt trembly from fear, but also relief. I could have giggled like a schoolgirl from my delirium. So I did.


Sean looked at me, and then back at the young man. “What’s going on with him?”



The young man smiled. “He made it, and so did you. I saved you both. I said I would, and I did. I’m so happy to see you are alive, Sean.” He looked like he wanted to give Sean a man-hug.



Sean smiled back. “Sean, huh? Yes, it’s good to be alive. What’s your name?”



The young man stopped smiling. “I’m Tellesco. Don’t you remember me? I’m your best friend!”


Sean grinned. “Best friend. Nice. Thank you for saving me. I think I took a bit of a bump on the noggin. Please forgive me while I get my bearings.”




I shivered, and not from the rain dumping in on me through the open door beside me.


Something about his way of speaking had changed.


Something about his mannerisms wasn’t the same.


Something was quite different here.


I had the willies, and it would not go away.


Ever.






There sat another young man awake in the night, with his legs draped over the edge of his metal bed, and his bare feet pressed firmly upon the slick, cold concrete. His walls were also made of the same material, and upon them were taped letters and photos of his friends. There were none of,


nor from


his family.




He looked into his interlaced fingers, as he sat with his elbows propped upon his knees.



He recalled his nightmare.







(A dark figure staggered down a hallway, with the sound of jangling keys falling from a kitchen table echoing again and again.)




This was a memory that wasn’t his own.




(The dark figure reached the last bedroom on its left.)





The young man furrowed his brow as he sought for a meaning. He got up and went to the bars in front of the skinny window that was set deep in the concrete.





(The dark figure reached for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed. The hinges squeaked loud and then they stopped, and the dark figure muttered swear words.)





The young man would be getting out of jail in a couple of days. Good Behavior. But what awaited him? What had been going on all this time in the real world?





(The door opened quite slowly this time, and the squeak of the hinges became a low growl of metal pain, in resistance to their movement. Something bad was about to happen.)






The young man looked out through the streams and blur of a powerful desert storm pelting the bullet-proof glass before him. The lights of the city of Fuckno gleamed in their blur and made him want to repaint them. He wanted to fix them. He was a fixer, and while he had the urge, he did not yet know that he was capable of such an ability.





The world had changed.




Something bad was going to happen.





He wished he could get out tonight.




He wondered whose memories these were, and why he was dreaming them.




He had an idea.






His time in prison was not wasted. He had cleaned up, you see. He saw the world for what it is. It is a watercolor painting, and because such a medium is vulnerable to change, it is possible to repaint your direction.





People do not change. No one suddenly becomes the hero, saves the world, and lives happily ever after.




But there is something else.




There is the ability that resides deep within each of us to recognize and control our animal impulses. It becomes a life-long battle, but each battle can be won, each time.


It simply takes great effort, a great determination to do such a thing.


Such a pursuit to change your path takes digging deep, and unearthing one's inner strength.



This is called Mettle.







God Help You.


God Help Us All.


---willies out.








.

Chapter Three. To Be Seen: Beta One Version

(work in progress)












TO BE SEEN


(Sean was gone, and whatever replaced him, well, we shall now call "Seen."


Let's explore this "Seen." Let's find out what it meant To Be Seen, shall we?)







A Walkin is not a demon, an angel, nor a spirit.


They have an agenda, and they work their means to their ends, however they can do it. They may not be able to accomplish their agenda with one single attempt, but they have plenty of time simply because they exist without time. They are timeless.


What is not timeless is our short escape that we are allotted on this tiny blue marble, alone in all the eternity of space.


Sean was lost, and he did not have much time.



Seen had all the time in the world.



It became obvious about Sean when we reached the Clovis Hostibal.


But wait, I am getting ahead of myself.


Do not talk about the tale, right?




Instead, tell it.


Huh.






---(not yet done willies)





.

Chapter Two. Walk-Ins

A young man driving a very expensive vehicle towards safety found himself in the dark.

Time was of the essence. He had little time, and it became worth more the less there was of it.

Joey looked over to his passenger because he heard that she had stopped coughing.


He heard Nothing.


Again.


- - - - - -


Tellesco navigated the heavy hearse through the rain squall which pummeled the roof like the sound of hooves on an iron tomb.


He saw flashes of light spinning up and around in the rearview mirror like a dancer at a rave. Glow sticks burn bright and spin fast, but they always fade.

These ones simply went out.


I saw them as well. I turned back to him and said, “Hey, where are you heading?”


He hollered back at me, even though I was right up close to his shoulder. “I have no idea!”


Great.


- - - - - -


Sean entered the cave of the moon, and he left.


He left all of us.


He left himself.



When you go on a walk, when you partake of a drumming journey ceremony, when you leave your body, there is one thing that you must remember.


You must remember to not stray too far.


If you do, you may lose your way.


If you lose your way, then your body can become a portal.


Someone, or something else may enter this portal.


Your body is a vessel, a container, a holder for what is You.



There are things out there waiting for this opportunity.


These are known as “Walk-Ins.”


Walkins.




These can walk into your container, and they will take over your body.



It is like someone else is steering the car, the ship, the aircraft.




You will not be you any longer.



Sean was not himself any longer.



He was no where to be Seen.





And that is what we will talk about in the next chapter.



It kinda matters.




God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.






.

Chapter One

The huge black horse with the mane of blue flames galloped into a cave on the moon.

Black and blue.

Red and white.

Moon dust and desert rain.


+ + + + + +


The naked young man put the hearse into gear and pressed the petal to the mettle.


Lights from behind grew brighter, and he shivered. They were coming for him. He felt it in his bones. He was borne out of the muck anew, and was baptized by the tears of the night sky.

The funeral vehicle spun its rear wheels on the slick tar, searching for traction under the massive weight and he eased up on the accelerator. This was not like his powerful Jeep with the balloon tires. Those chunky treads would have carried him forward, fast.

His Jeep now laid scattered in pieces and strange twists of metal all about the desert before him. It had come apart at the seams.

His practice of patience paid off. The huge black beast lurched forward, finally, and picked up speed and momentum. He re-adjusted his driving ability according to the ride. No fast, tight corners for this old crate. That thing would go in a straight line and resist any change in its direction because of its mass.


He lurched her left, then right, and navigated around strewn parts of the once mighty Jeep. Large tires, an engine block, a twisted chassis: these are heavy things that are not good to encounter when you are traveling at a high rate of speed.


When you do not know that they lie ahead in the pouring rain, they can be quite dangerous.


The headlights from behind grew brighter as they neared.


They were traveling very fast.


+ + + + + +


I woke up screaming. Tellesco screamed from where he sat, naked in the driver’s seat up front. Together, we made a chorus from Hell.


I did not know where I was. All was black, and I heard his screams, and it frightened the fuck out of me, so I kept screaming in horror.


I felt like I was in a coffin at the bottom of the sea. The depth of black all around me felt heavy and thick. I could feel the darkness touching my face. Its depth and breadth spread off into eternity like a bottomless pit. I was falling from the Earth through space and I had no stars to guide me.


Then I slid forward as Tellesco stomped on the brakes and he shouted, “Stop Screaming!”


Ah.


A familiar voice from out of the depths of the chasm, the void.


He opened his door to come around to the side and when he did, the interior light gleamed. I saw that I was in the back of a hearse. Black velvet lining on every surface. I rose up on my elbows and saw lights through the rear window. They were glowing brighter with each beat of my heart.


They were coming quite fast.


Tellesco opened up the side door and yelled at me. “What the hell is going on?!”


I yelled back, “I have no fucking clue!”


I looked down and raised my eyebrows. “Where are your clothes?”


Tellesco looked down as well, and then he slammed the door shut.


He climbed back into the driver’s seat and faced me from behind the front bench seat. “I lost my clothes when I crashed.”


Indeed, it was making less sense the more we went forward.


I pointed at the lights shining through the rear window. “Who are those people coming?”


Tellesco shrugged. Great. No one had a fucking clue.


What would you have done?



Well, I’ll tell you about it, and you won’t have to wait until next weekend.



God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.



.

You. Hate. i

.




80’s.



When i first saw You, i knew that You had it for me. You were a good teacher. Thank You for teaching me.


i learned from You.

















My new friend Sean was a large young man, and he could fight well. But i was new to this huge city that held the same amount of people as the state from which i had arrived.




My state is abbreviated ME.




My mental state was also abbreviated, but it was not me.




It was only i…







…i…






Alone in the desert, away from my river, on an island of ellipses.







i would learn.




i would learn hate from You.






i would learn to hate.







…i…





Hate.






You.




- - - - - - -



Sean and I showed up to the college football game with our dates.



The Bulldogs were playing the state championship and Sean was hungry to play for Fresno State when he graduated from high school. He wanted to check out the coaching staff, and also, the lovely cheerleaders.



Of course, he wouldn’t say anything like that to his tall, curvy lady Minacca with the long, wavy tresses…



… but I knew.



I think that she must have as well.



Sean was a slave to his impulses, you see.



Aren’t we all? Isn’t there something that you, my friend, cannot control?



If you say no, then you are either lying, or you have never been broken by desire, fear, nor even temptation.



What have you been doing all this time, here on this tiny blue marble that floats about in the eternity of space?



Have you lived, or died: been broken and then learned something about yourself?



Are you simply vicarious?



Perhaps there are things about yourself that you should not know.



Maybe we would all be better off not knowing such things.




Life should be easier, huh.







I would end up broken by fear, and I would learn to hate.





- - - - - - -


You was a huge body builder, and You showed up to the game with his crew. You flashed bravado, anger, and You was a bully.



You was the pact leader, each and every crew member wore cut-off arm sleeves showing off large muscle.



I had no idea that I had a pact (of two) until Sean pulled me aside and said, “Willie Boy, we have to go back.”



Hah?







“Willies Boy, we gonna go meet some friends.”




Well, shit, that sounded like fun. I mean, we had blazed to heights of glory in my date’s car before entering the gate area, and I was feeling quite groovy. Such a thing was new to me; poor Injun who was a bit of a science nerd back in my own state.


My friends had nicknamed me “Professor” only because I was a bit studious, and not because I professed to know much at all.



Some friends of his might be nice to meet, right?




There, in the beautiful state of California, I had decided to re-invent myself.




So I shrank back from our ladies entering the gate, and followed Sean.



This was going to be fun.



Or not.




“Sean, who are these friends of yours?”




“Some fucker just grabbed Minacca’s ass while we were in line.”



I hadn’t even seen that happen. I was busy following my date towards the gate stiles and then Sean had grabbed my arm. He ushered Minacca to the gate and told her to follow my date and get to our seats; we would be along in a bit.



Minacca looked fraught, but I’d had no clue as to why.



Until I did.



- - - - - - -



Sean led me over to a group of his friends who stood there in some sort of formation and he went right up to the guy in front of them all.



Sean said something to his friend, and the guy pushed Sean away, and he came up and stood right in front of me. You said to Sean, “This is your back-up?! This skinny dude?”



You laughed.



i shrank.


You shouted right into my face, “Pussy! Coming up here to fight with the men. Time to change your diaper, little boy.”



i was high, but i was low. i wanted to get back to my island. i wanted to escape.



i stood there, afraid, and i said, “I am here for my friend.”



You laughed, turned around to his buds, and You shouted at them.



“Lookit this twig! He manning up! I fucking love it!”



Then You swung back around and growled at me. “You ain’t nothing but a pussy. Go ahead, I’ll give you the first swing. I’m gonna hit you anyway, but you might as well have the first punch. Go ahead.”

His huge arms dropped to his sides.



You stood there for a looooong time, as i tried to give him a show.



But i did nothing.



i was trembling and trying not to show it. i gritted my teeth to stop my teeth from chattering.


My cheeks only quivered.


\Fai;l.




…fail…




Sean ran at him, and I bailed.



I shrank into the crowd, I hid in shadows, and I crept home along the side streets.


I kept looking over my shoulder as if they were still following me. PTSD, baby.


It took a couple of hours, but I made it home.



I was ashamed.



I was broken.


I was not …i…




i had learned to truly hate.




And,


i had learned something about myself.




It was not a pretty thing to see.





It was not a pretty thing for me to know about me.




For whatever reason, perhaps you have learned something about yourself that you wish you never knew.











We are all on this tiny blue marble floating about in the eternity of space, but this is not all there is.



There is more than hate and fear.


Huh.



Even though i was a pussy, for whatever reason, i would get the upper hand.




i survived, you see.


i learned what it means to be in the face of personal danger that night, when i was scared shitless and felt shame.



i persevered, and i have become I.



Who am I?



Well, no one special or particular, I am only one of Us.




You see, We are all we have.



Not ME, not me, not i, but We.



We.




It’s kinda important.



You can do it.



I did.





God Help You.



God Help Us All.




---willies out.











Sorry, no Rammstein. That would have been the easy way out in this telling of truth.




The truth is all about Karma.




You will see.








.

CRazy SuE

The following is dedicated to one tough cat. Florida Bobcat. He will track you.

THE CAVES OF THE MOON

Series of Shorts

CRazy SuE

The nurse called out a name. It wasn’t me or my wife, so I ignored her incessant name calling.



She went to the fellow wringing his hat between his chapped, hard working hands and she said, “Don’t look so worried! She’s awake, and she’s waiting for you in Recovery. Just follow me, sir.”



I looked at the huge widescreen going to waste up high on the wall. All black with white numbers like at the tracks, but in reverse.


Anonymous numbers with states of existence in terse descriptions after them.


“In Prep.”

“Surgery Start.”

“PT in Recovery.”



It was like that online tracker for delivery pizza.

“Gary is placing your order in the fires of Hell…”

“Chip is driving to your home with your order!”

“Don’t forget to tip Chip for doing his job and not crashing.”




The only number on that screen that mattered in the whole world was still labeled “Surgery Start.”


Huh.



Numbers came and went, but her number had been there for 90 minutes now.


“Surgery Start.”

Maybe it was broken? Just my luck. My wife was all ready to go home, but the tracker was frozen for only her number.


Of course that was it.



Had to be.



Nothing to describe her state of being between start and recovery.


There was no “She’s doing quite well,” or “Surgeon fist bumps anesthesiologist,” or “Now he’s stitching her up with his gang tag.”


Nothing.






Another name was called, and then one of those tall Smurfs with blood speckled across his front walked over to a lady in a corner and he spoke to her in quiet tones and then she screamed out “No” over and over again as the rest of us felt our skin crawl and our wet eyes looked for a magazine or something to distract us.



Her number lost...




Inside, we felt guilty: Not mine.






It was like a lottery up on that board, but the worst one ever invented.



They had the numbers board down pat, but they had the payoff all messed up.




- - - - - - - -








“Yes, thank you for showing up with that! You are so kind and prompt, and it’s only been six hours since the last one and I appreciate that you took the time to connect me up. It feels much better, you can’t imagine how much better, so nice, like walking on a Sunday boardwalk with all the shiny smiling faces…”




CRazy SuE spoke like a newspaper reporter in one of those old black and white movies they showed on the television dangling off the arm that was bolted into the wall near each bed.



The arm holding the white cube with the tiny screen looked like a spindly penis with a large drop hanging off its tip that shimmered with old Hollywood images.

“Listen, you, I want this on the front page, see?”



Huh.



My wife turned her head from looking over at the curtain hiding the babbling woman in our double room, and she smiled at me.


Two and a half hours under the knife, and then almost going home, and then finding out that two and a half hours meant staying the night because of her ensuing pain, which I would not be able to handle, and then her tears began to appear…



…I’d never seen that look in her eyes before, even in childbirth.




She had been looking for me to save her from that pain.


Helpless.


I’d been thinking, hoping, that “Out Patient” had meant something else.


That look in her eye…



They had that whole “Out Patient” thing all wrong.








This new look in her eye was much better.



= = = = = = =


We'd checked in at 5:30 am, and we waited for her number to be called.



While we watched the early morning news on a wide screen, her hand began to tighten in mine, and when I looked over at her, she was staring at the wall.



Her brow furrowed, and her breath became short and shallow.



I leaned over into her field of vision and said, “Hello.”



She looked from the wall into my eyes, and her breath and eyes did not ease up.


She was there, but she wasn’t here.



I told her, “Breathe. Take deep breaths.” Then I would breathe along with her, and she came back to me, to us, each time this happened.



Team.




“I’m so worried.” Her grip eased as she searched my eyes for answers.




“Baby, I ain’t going no where. I am not leaving this place without you.”




Pact.




She said, “Where does my soul go when they put me under?”




Huh.




I said, “Remember back when you had that carpal tunnel surgery?”











+ + + + + + +



We thought back to her lying on a gurney in a prep room, eight years ago. Surrounded by the team that would take her down, slice open her wrist, do their magic, and then bring her back up, they asked me to leave.



They were about to pump a shot of CuLater into her arm I.V.



I said, “Wait, I want to see this.”


I knew my wife.


They said ok, and then they told her to count back from ten.



She looked up into my eyes from beneath her furrowed brow and she whispered.




“Ten.”



I smiled at her.




“Nine.”


Her eyes looked deep into mine for answers.




“Eight.”





Then she said, “Whoa.”



She smiled, and she closed her eyes.




Taho.



+ + + + + + +




“So?” Her fingers laced through mine.



I shrugged. “You remembered the last thing before they gave you that shot. And then, the next thing you knew, you were waking up.”



She nodded. “Yeah, it was like only a moment had passed.”



I gripped her hand firm. “This will be the same way. I figure you just skip ahead. You will wake up, and I’ll be here again. Game over.”



She nodded. Her breath eased up.




And then her number was called.



- - - - - - -




My son touched my arm and I opened my eyes and pulled my headphones off with my right hand.



He said, “How she doing?”



I looked at her, and pulled my left hand out of hers. “They just gave her more I.V. meds. She’s better now. It was kinda rough for a while. Thanks for coming by, son.”



He lifted up a chair and quietly set that heavy thing down beside me. The TV dangling from its arm/penis silently flashed loud celebrity gossip “news”.



We spoke in quiet tones about things that are important to sons and fathers.



She awoke to the sound of her son’s voice and croaked, “I’m thirsty.”



Then I watched my boy tend to his mother.


After she was done sipping water through a bendy straw, and her forehead had a damp washcloth on it, he put his own headphones over her ears and played her some native tunes from his minuscule Ipod. Her head began to nod to the beat.



When she began to sing, he took out his phone and videoed her while we giggled, trying not to disturb her, or stop her from our enjoyment.



She looked over at us and frowned, and he whipped his phone down to his side, and we looked up at the ceiling: stolid, impassive Indians.



She was not fooled.



But her eyes closed, and she nodded her head again to the beat, and her brow relaxed, and she began to sing again.



Pretty.



That was when CRazy SuE began to moan. Her morphine must have stopped dripping.



She clicked and moaned into the bed phone, “Yes, hello, I would like to have some more please.”



A voice coming out of a soup can responded, “Ok, you are ready for a new bag. We will get the keys and someone will be there shortly.”



My boy looked at me with his eyebrows raised.


I shrugged. “I heard that she has pancreatitis.”


We both weren’t sure what exactly that meant, so he Googled it on his phone.


It didn’t look good for CRazy SuE.



She continued to moan, and after what seemed like five thousand and eighty six minutes but was more likely to have been twenty two, a male voice answered her pleas to Jeebus as he came through the door behind the curtain.


“Hi there, Sue. I have your meds.”




“Oh, thank you for showing up and helping me out with my pain. Gobless you.”


There were some clinking and clacking sounds and keys jangling, and then he said, “OK, I have you set on a slower drip. This will carry you through the night.”


“I thank you, young man. Is there something you can do for my headache?”


His response was, “Well, your med I.V. was dripping fast, so you might be a bit dehydrated. You need to drink more water. As far as a pill, your liver won’t process anything anymore, so the best we can do is offer you an analgesic suppository.”


She sighed as the meds entered her bloodstream. “Ok, I’ll take whatever I can get for it. You know, I've often thought fondly about you Kevin, and your dreams of operating your own candy store, why back in the day, I had visited many of them and I found that---”


He interrupted her. “I’ll have to check to see if you have a script for the analgesic. I’ll be right back.”



Now, before you think of that Seinfeld episode when George is watching a woman get a sponge bath via the shadow play on the curtain, it wasn’t anything like that.


Very old, ill woman getting a pill shoved up her arse isn’t all that shexy.



But when it happened, she muttered, “That’s nice.”


Thank goodness my son didn’t have his phone recording.



That would have been very bad.




We just stared quietly at each other, certain that we were going to hell.




After a while, my son pulled out a bit of sage and he lit it, and we smudged his mother, and ourselves, and offered a prayer to the lady with the drip and the pill up her butt.



We talked quietly some more, and that was when CRazy SuE began to cough.


She said, “Excuse me terribly, but do you young fellows smell something burning? Is there a fire? Is the Hostibal burning?”


Oh no.


I said, “No, we just did a smudging ceremony. No fire.”


“Oh, I understand. You folks are those native types. OK, I was certain that the whole place was going to burn down, that’s all. I meant no discouragement to your people for your religious beliefs.”



Huh.












At that moment, a nurse came into the room and asked Sue if she was smoking a clove cigarette.


“No, my dear, I don’t want to risk that again. I think it was those fellows over there. You know, I've often thought about becoming an Indian. I have some crystals and a feather, if only I knew how to---”


The night nurse interrupted her. “Ok, Sue, sorry to intrude. Hello over there, can I come through?”



I said, “Sure come on in.”


She did and asked, “Are you guys burning something in here? We can smell it all through the nurses station out there.”



It was like the boss pit.



I said, “We burned a little bit of sage. Nothing more.”



She fake smiled and said, “I love the smell of sage! Ok, but next time, could you tell us first please? Give us a heads up? There’s oxygen on this floor…”



Of course. While oxygen was hopefully available on every floor, as well as anywhere else someone might enjoy breathing, she meant that it was concentrated here, and it could be end up becoming quite an explosive situation.



“No worries. We done with that.” No one was using pure oxygen in this room.



She smiled and nodded, “Ok, good. Thank you.”


She disappeared, and then so did Sue.


We could hear her out there. “I need a nebyoulizer. I’m all caught up in my lungs from that stuff…”



Jeez.



Sue said, “I’m going to catch my breath in the solarium.” She was talking about the waiting area. It was a room with tables and chairs and its own wide screen on the wall.



There was some more chatter out there, and the nurse came back in. “Excuse me sirs, but how much longer are you going to be in here? Visiting hours ended at eight o’clock.”



I said, “The day nurse assured me that I could spend the night here beside my wife, because you folks encourage that sort of thing.”



She frowned. “Someone misinformed you. What was their name?”



Yeah, make me a snitch. I could see where this was going. I said, “Jen. She’s the one with the really strong back.”



“Well, I’m sorry to say, but you have only another five minutes. Sorry about this.”



Yeah, right. I figured I had more time than that on this mortal plane.



We opened the window that would not raise up all that much, to air it out. There really wasn’t all that much smoke, you know, but we were cool about it.



By the way, why don't hotel and hospital windows open all the way? Not enough for a human head to poke out. Were they worried that someone might walk out on the ledge?



So I packed up, and my wife asked what was going on. “I have to leave this room.”


She looked worried in spite of the pain meds. “Why?”



I shrugged. “You just remember, I am not going home without you. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I’m gonna go find a place to wait until they let me back to see you.”



She grabbed my arm and pulled me close to give her a kiss.



Sue came back in the room at that moment, all sniffling and coughing, really working it, and she lied down in bed behind her curtain.



My son and I walked by and I said out loud, “Jeez, they kicking us out all over again.”



Son looked at me and he could barely keep from giggling.



+ + + + + + +




We found the solarium, where the sun had open access throughout the day. I claimed this as my bedroom. I pulled the huge shade over to block out the night, but it only went half way across.



I put my laptop bag down and we sat in the easy chairs away from the round table. More celebrity news was flickering on the wide screen in the dark corner where I would make my bed on chairs.




We talked some more, laughing about the evening’s events, making jokes and such.



At around 1:30, he said it was time for him to drive home. “You really gonna stay here tonight?”



I nodded. “I promised her.”



My bed was only ten miles away, but it would be a thousand if I left her alone.


A pact is a pact.




He smiled. We said our goodbyes, and I nestled down in one of the easy chairs. It was not a Laz-E Boy, so I placed a folding chair under my legs.



Then my son came back in with two pillows and a white cotton blanket.



“Hey, where did you get those?”



He pointed back out the door behind him with his lips. “I asked them. They always happy to give an Injun some blankets.”



We laughed about that, and said good night again. He shut off the lights on his way out.




I made my bed, and I wondered about some homeless man coming in to steal my shit while I slept, so I hid it under the table on the other side of my low, sloping seat and plugged in my phone with the extension cord I always have in my laptop bag.


I set my phone’s alarm clock for six a.m., and overslept until 8.




In the middle of the night, I woke up often, adjusting on the seats that were made for sitting but not for sleeping, and when I did, I would sneak down the hall and check to see if the light outside of my wife’s room was blinking.



Those night nurses had better not treat my wife badly and leave her alone in her pain. They better help her get up to use the restroom.




Towards morning, I opened my eyes when I felt someone staring at me in the dark.


A pale figure stood there, with white hair hanging down across its shoulders.


Then it slid away sideways and disappeared.


My skin crawled.


How many people had died on this floor? In this whole building?



Wasn’t there a morgue way down below?


Who was down there now, wanting to awaken and return to this mortal plane?



I could not sleep again at all, and then I woke up late.



+ + + + + + +








Yes, the morning sun blared into the solarium like the screech of feedback from an electric guitar with an amp full of lovely tubes.



I panicked. Was she still alive? Who had helped her to the bathroom? Were they mean to her?



I scrambled up and collected all of my shit and crammed it into the laptop bag.



I stalked down the corridor to get my wife.



It was time to get the fuck out of Dodge.



Before I reached her room, I woke more and thought about how I would greet her. Flowers? Balloons?


No.


Why not some coffee and a nice breakfast sammich? I had found out the day before that the cafeteria cooked pretty damn good food.


So I went that route.



When I came into her room, she looked me up and down, and noticed the wrinkled clothing I had slept in, which I had been wearing the day before.



Pact.



Ya know.





+ + + + + + +



She indeed felt much better, and thought that we could make a go of it back at home. Fuck yeah.


I told her about my sleeping situation and how I'd worried about some freak stealing my shit.


That was when Sue spoke up. “You know, I went walking about the floor last night, and I saw a homeless man camping out in the solarium! I got the heck out of there!”



My wife said, “That was my husband! He was sleeping there after he got kicked out of here.”



We all three laughed.



Then Sue talked about how sorry she was for causing a stink about our smoke from the night before.


She apologized. It made things better between us.


Then she told us her own story, and while she did, she was interrupted.


Someone down the hall outside of our shared room had been shouting all along, and then they screamed, “Help Me!”


They shouted it over and over again.


I looked at my wife just as I was about to get up and go help them, and she shook her head.


“That girl has been screaming for help all night long.”



Sue said from behind her curtain, “I think this is where they take those folks who are on the Bath Salts. They take them here and strap them down.”




Huh.


Out of their mind.


Hopefully, it would be temporary for that poor girl.


Here, on this certain floor of the huge Medical Center where you might find a room if you needed one all of a sudden, when your half hour surgery turned into two and a half hours and you would not be able to make it at home without medical expertise nor pain management,


or you were at the end of your health insurance and life and needed to save money,


or if you had no health insurance, but you had bought some cheap drugs and overdosed on them and this hospital had the moral obligation to help you out,



Well, it was like a friggin fruit salad on that floor.




And yet, it was also an oasis.




Sue asked if we would mind if we parted the curtain.


After all, we had the window, and she had the only curtain.



We said yes.



Outside, the wind blew the snow sideways, and Sue said that she thought it was pretty. Then she wondered about her grandkids who would be driving up from the coast to visit her.




We were struck by how old she was. She had the sort of face that revealed many stories and also a life of hard living.


“I’ll be 53 in a few months. I hope I live to see it.”


My wife and I looked at each other. That woman looked to be about eighty.



Huh.




After the doctor came and assessed my wife and told her she was good to go home, and then the day nurse came in and went over our home care papers, it was a few more hours before we would leave, due to the paperwork that needed to be transcripted.




Sue had many things to say.



We didn’t know why she felt the need to unload.


Then again, perhaps we did.




You see, I had seen the look of helplessness in my wife’s eyes, and I never wanted to be helpless again, for her.




Here was this old-looking lady who spoke gibberish when she was on her morphine drip, and she became lucid again when she was off, before the pain would begin all over again.




Then there was the young lady down the hall who was restrained in her bed, but not in her speech. She was out of her mind, and would be like that for a day or two more.


When she finally regained her sanity, she would have no recollection of her words nor her actions.



Where do we go when our mind is gone?



Do we simply skip forward to the next time we are awake again?



What if we didn’t wake up?



Oh well. Who knows?




Only thing I could think about was the talks I had with those who mattered to me.



I would carry those with me and skip forward to the next time I could do it all over again.




That's how it works, right?














God Help You.


God Help Us All.


---willies out.





.

Caves Of The Moon

Hello there my good friend, and welcome to a new Series of Shorts.


Thank you for reading about the exploits of my Punkology buds all this time. We will get back to them, and discover what the angry cowboy ghost Glinty McFlintlock meant in his dying breath when he said them words, and how Tellesco saved us and all that, but that is a continuation for a time in the near future.



I have it all mapped out, and you may decide to follow along again as I write these things out of my old, addled head each weekend. If so, thank you.



But here is another exploit, and each short story is written fresh for you, as always, for each weekend.

THE CAVES OF THE MOON

Series of Shorts

The first story is to follow.







.