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Thursday, July 19, 2012

Weekend At Willies Walkin Killings Pt 15 No One Was A Punk Now





People C’mon, by Delta Spirit.




Tellesco looked at his afghan that his grammy had knitted for him.  He liked to snuggle with it in bed.  It was comforting.  Now it was folded and wrapped about his waist, to hide his man junk.   Tellesco wore a kilt.


He regarded the charred leather jacket slung over an old wooden clothes hanger in the window, to catch the blackened desert night breeze, to dry it out.


Someone had washed it off in the algae-ridden pool, intending to drown it.  That would be me.


You know, leather takes a long time to dry.  Tellesco would have to wear it, as we made our plans on how to visit the scene of the destruction of a mansion.  There were answers we required.

But Tellesco was nekkid, wearing only a knitted bed cover afghan, and that simply would not do.


The thing about a dried-out leather jacket buried in the baking sun of desert silt, once it has become soaked, is that it will tighten up as it dries.  If you happen to be wearing such a sad garment, well, once it becomes dry, it may become quite brittle.



Leather needs to be cleaned with saddle soap, and then lovingly adorned with oily protectants. Always mind your leather. Never let mud dry on it.




He tugged and pulled the leather on, and it stretched over his powerful forearms and his huge biceps and triceps.


It would have been funny if he said, “Fat Man in a little coat,” but he was not fat, and Chris Farley was still in grade school at that time.


Tellesco had been building up muscle mass for football, along with his buddy Sean, although Sean had been in the Hostibal due to a figging Jeep crash.







The jacket stretched.  He tried to zip it up, but the leather was cold, and it had no give.


He looked pretty fucking ridiculous.


Joey and I hid our grins by turning around, back towards the oil lamp on the counter.  Joey snickered and stifled a laugh, and he said, “Ahem.  We need to drive down this way, from the offskirts where we are.”


He drew his finger down the grout line of the tile on the counter’s surface, from the salt shaker that indicated our present location.


He dragged his finger off to a new point, and then took a left.  Then he dragged his finger along the grout line and swung his finger to the right, and went to the pepper shaker.  He said, “This is where Minacca’s mansion is.”

I shook my head.  “We need to stop before that.  We can't be all driving up to the front door and announcing our arrival.  We will have to do some walking.”


Joey’s eyebrows rose.  He said, “How the hell we gonna do that?”


I said, “I have done it before.  I know where we can park your vehicle and get out from there.  It will all be good.”



Joey said, “Well, ok.  That would be better.  That truck prolly been reported stolen by now.”


Huh.



Tellesco came up behind us and said, “I look ridiculous.  Don’t lie to me.”


Joey could not turn around.  He would laugh if he did.

But I was good at hiding my emotions.  I had a poker face.  I turned and faced Tellesco.  I did not lie to him.  I said, “Tellesco, you look like a Scottish punker from the burning depths of Hell.”



Tellesco frowned.  He said, “I do not want to look like a Scottish punker from the depths of Hell, Mr. Will.  I want to look like Tellesco.”


Joey laughed out loud.  Fucker couldn’t help himself.


Tellesco's bottom lip began to quiver.   Dayam.


I said, “Tellesco, you need to be protected from folks being able to recognize you.”


Tellesco stuffed his trembling lip between his teeth.  Then he inhaled deep.  He said, “Then you should call me ‘Know One.’  That's my name now.”  He wiped his eyes.



I said, “Hah?  No One?”


He nodded.  “Yup.  Because I Know about a Scottish punker.  He was my Grampy.  He’s dead now.”



I shrugged.  I said, “Ok, we’ll call you No One from now on.  It’ll protect you.”



Tellesco was now called No One.  He had named himself.  Finally, he was standing up for himself.  He was showing his mettle.  You know, there is a reason that I include these links.  It is all intertwined, and it may help elucidate you as we go along, my friend, if you check them out.




Tellesco smiled.  He said, “My Grampy would like that.  His wife, my Grandma, well, she knitted this afghan for me when I was a baby.  But my Grampy died before I was born.  I wish I had actually met him.  He came from a long line of Scots.  My great great grampy was a preacher.  He died in a gunfight, and so he went to Hell, from killing folks in his rage.  He was trying to save his stolen horse from a barn fire, and he got shot in the eye. They called him a rustler.”



I said, “Then you should know that the knitted thing you wear will also protect you, made by your grammy.  You will be quite powerful.”

Anything to stop him from crying. Jeez.


Joey snickered again, and he moved the salt and pepper shakers around, trying to look busy or some shit.


Tellesco said in a solemn voice, “I will be Know One from now on.”



We did not know that Tellesco already had some sort of power.  He didn’t know it either.  He just knew that when he had tears in his eyes, he could see his ghost girlfriend.


He also didn’t know that he would be able to see Walkins when his eyes were wet with tears.


He had saved me many times before from drowning in the desert.  He would save me again, when it came time to fight the Walkins.


He would save most of we punks.  You see, he was like that.


He was a bit of a savior, I guess.


We just didn’t know it yet.


Yet, we would all find out about his ability very soon.


Dude couldn't help but cry at the drop of a purple robe.


We were going off to the mansion.



But, do you know,


"Know One" would see Glinty McFlintlock again.



Tellesco/ No One said, "Mr. Will, thank you for letting me have a new name that will protect me."




I said, “Ya know, Tellesco, I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t even know your last name.  What is your full name, dude?  It's kinda important before we head off into this new thing."








Tellesco stood up straight and proud, wearing his afghan kilt and his torched, wet leather jacket that looked like it had been through the fires of Hell, and he said, “My forefathers hailed from the McFlintlock clan of Scotland."






He said, "I am Tellesco McFlintlock.”






He said, "We were once kings."





Oh.




Fuck.







.

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