WilliesTheStories: 85 Night Flight Baby

The morning sun is brightest just before the darkest day.

It would be a helluva night, and we will get to that. That would be the "Figging" I told you about before.

That would happen when it got dark, and involved blood, flashlights, and a Jeep---

---but wait, I am getting ahead of myself.

Listen as I tell you more of this tale.

Birds started chirping, dogs stared barking, at neighbors' homes acres away, and the sun stretched and yawned big.

I had not quite slept at all; it was more like a wakeful slumber. But my heart raced, and I went snooping about.

Bodies lay everywhere, in various poses of repose, and I found that someone had mopped up the spilled wine and broken glass, and even had replaced the wilted flowers on the dining room table with fresh ones.

Hah?

I looked for Sean, and found him in a bedroom down the hall of the long ranch-style home that had many rooms and places to hide. He slept in a large Queen bed next to the imprint of one who was not there anymore.

Dented pillow, but covers pushed up to snuggle Sean, who now slept alone. I tiptoed back out and closed the door again.

Bryan dozed in a hallway restroom bathtub alone, covered in a towel.

More folks were all over the shag carpeting in the living room. Lucky ones slumbered on the couches, some curled up into love seats, and others held throne in recliners.

The unlucky lied on the floor.

It looked like a massacre, or else an after-party, or was it both?

The strange-looking dude was nowhere to be found.

But, my friend, believe me when I tell you that he would be back later.

He would bring friends.

Now, the whole place was dead, and I just wanted to talk to someone and tell them about the great night I had just witnessed, like a dream or something.

I strode over to some folks who were moving and shook their hands. They mumbled and rubbed their heads, blinking in the bright morning light of a fresh new day. But nobody was fresh at all.

The rumble of a Jeep with a really big engine reverberated through the walls, from the other side of the garage. I went to look.

Tellesco carried in bags full of sausage, bacon, potatoes, orange juice and eggs through the garage and into the kitchen.

"Hi Mr. Will!" He smiled at me as he unloaded his purchases.

He was the King of Breakfast World.

He got the oven going and then threw sausages and bacon slices on several baking pans, and then set them all in to roast with no spatter.

He ground Nicaragua coffee beans and got them brewing.

He diced up potatoes into home fries and tossed them with onion powder and seasoned salt into skillets atop the vast cooking surface that would have felt at home in a restaurant galley.

He put a tablespoon of water into each batch of eggs, and then he whisked them until they were foamy and full of air.

Best scrambled eggs evah.

Dude cooked with butter. Amen.

He woke Sean up with a big plate of food, and a soup-mug full of sweet and creamy java.

And he played this tune through the whole house.

Folks straggled in when they smelled all the food, the coffee.

Some of the girls hugged Tellesco. Some of the dudes just smiled, sipping coffee.

Tellesco smiled as well.

Good for him.

For now.

Yeah. About Tellesco and Sean.

Look now.

I walked in Sean's new found lair with a bottle of some old wine to ask him some things. You should know that "old" here does not mean a half-drunk bottle left on the counter from the night before, as you yourself might find after a night of partying with strangers and strange dudes.

It here indicates prestige.

Vintage.

"Sean, you fat fuck."

He stirred, and almost dumped his half-eaten dish of scrambled eggs and bacon, but the Sausage was gone.

"What the fuck?! Who are you?!"

He rubbed his eyes. Then he composed hisseff when he could see me.

"Willie-boy. 'Scuse me while I hold back from puking." He rolled back on his pillows.

I sat down hard on the bottom corner of the bed and chuckled. "What you been up to Sean?"

Sean grimaced and said, "What in thee hell you talking 'bout?"

He was not in a good place, and yet, it was the best place evah. We had an almost undiscovered tomb of wine, a breakfast chef who cleaned up the after-party, and a whole bright day ahead to further explore how we could damage our livers and kidneys.

"Sean. Did you not partake?" I was amazed.

Sean swallowed his puke. "No. I need some Tums or someshit."

I did not relent.

"Sup with you and Tellesco?"

I tell you, I was a fucker here. I would not have asked him such a question on any occasion except now, when he was in-cap-ass-itated from too much imbation, which is a drunken word used to describe "Imbibing Booze Too Much." Well, from here on in, that is.

If Sean could swing his fists at my face he would have.

"FUCK YOU!" He flung his dish at me.

I left, and told Tellesco to go clean it up.

Yeah, I was an asshole.

Being such an asshole, I woke Big Bryan up in his enamel-coated cast-iron bathtub bed with a sharp blow from my boot that made it ring like a friggin bell.

"BOOOOOM!"

Big Bryan glared and stood up immediately, swinging his fists.

Gobless him.

He stared at me, and his eyes softened. "Will. Dude, you fucker."

He laughed. That is how he was, and would always be. Instantly in fight mode, but quick in his evaluation of a situation.

Yup.

So I asked him this: "What the fuck did we do last night?"

His answer was the answer for us all, forever.

"We came, we drank, we flew."

Join me for the very next time to understand what this came to mean that night, won't you?

Perhaps you will.

LINKS

New version of a drive thru Mickey D’s in Aussieland. Canoe style. With a classic annoying soundtrack tune.

"Only after the last tree has been cut down…the last river has been poisoned…the last fish caught, only then will you find that money cannot be eaten." - Cree Indian Prophesy

About that. Greed in the Arctic Circle. Animated. Cool.