Tuesday, March 17, 2015


My spine felt as if something crawled on it, ass to neck, and into my hair. It could’ve been coincidence, dream and number of Clay’s persona's. The crawly sensation kept on in my hair and I swatted it. A damned spider jumped out and right on the rim of my cup. Clay laughed so hard he farted.

“You sum-bitch!” I shouted. Clarifying I said, “You too ya stinking spider.”

I about took a shot at mashing it but my audience of one stopped me.

“No man, don’t, it’s Toby. He’s alright, not poisonous or nothin’. See that tiny white sock on his fuzzy little foot? That’s how I know it’s him. Yah, gave him the name Toby like the kid that played spider man.”

Clay drummed his fingers on the table and the dime sized bug went over to it and appeared to dance.
Wiping the lip of my cup, I drank and kept it in my hand.

“He don’t like brew Ain’t It,” said Clay.

“You’d know. What’s he doing, a grass dance?”

Clay shook his head at me.

Faking an indignant look he says, “Pitiful. Any good Chippewa knows that’s a men’s fancy dancin’. Don’t be offended Toby, he’s a YouPee Apple.”

A Rez dog started howling at a siren we humans hear a full 30 seconds later. Sitting back in his chair Clay adjusted his male package and made some crazy moves with his eyes and mouth. Toby the spider took off.

“You okay man?” I asked.

“For now, but ya might wanna get me a pill or the brain trust will call a meetin’ and send one from among them to commandeer yours truly.”

“Oh shit.” I sprung from the table and grabbed the pills that sat on a lamp stand.

Tossing the bottle to Clay, I grabbed the pan of coffee for round two. After filling our cups I sat down and my buddy took his pill. Feeling annoyed, I crossed my arms.

Respectfully, Clay asked, “Now what Migizi? What’d I do now?”

Moved by his effort to honor my feelings I answered.

“It isn’t you brother. It’s the situation. As if you haven’t gone through enough bullshit, struggling, surviving, enduring, you get this liver thing on top of the personality disorder. It isn’t right, fair, and damned sure not just.  I won’t treat you like a baby. Take your own F-in’ pills like you should.”

Tears forming in his eyes, Clay left his chair and looked around the kitchen until he found a near empty pack of smokes. Pulling out a semi-squished cigarette he lit it with a dinged up metal lighter, a zippo maybe. He set a tuna can ashtray on the table and hard landed his rear on the chair.

“Naw dude, some is justice. I tried hangin’ myself a year ago, yah, again. I almost made it home, heaven, but His Favorite Gal cut me down. Yah, and I was tunneling you know, going to the light and all that but I got stuck when I hit the floor and my heart started back up.”

“Stuck? Stuck where?” I asked.
“Taint, I got stuck in taint. Not dead and not here. Coma they called it. 2 months went by before I woke up. No oxygen they said, brain damage they said. After that, here comes the brain trust from that foreign country of taint. Yah, followed me back. It’s a gift from Jesus for my deed. It’s fair Migizi. I earned it.”