Sunday, March 8, 2015

Clay: Master of Ceremony

Pissed, I flicked the roach away and it smacked the stove. Like my friend’s life the thing seemed dead but resurrected after 5 seconds and kept going. It was back to the cookie before Clay got his next sentence lined up. Yup, quick like so many reluctant addicts turned loose from rehab and returning to lives of slow-mo suicide.

“Okay Ain’t It, here is what we all gotta do.”

Skeptical, Gal and I asked in unison, “What we Tonto?”

“The whole fam damily we,” says Clay, beaming with pride at his cleverness.

Gal was busting to comment so let loose. She only used her partner’s given name when her boundaries were threatened beyond her depth and indeed she used it.

“Hey there Mr. Clay, you is on thawed ice if you think I’m bein’ included in this deal. Haven’t I already grabbed my ankles plenty on your account? This here’s twixt you and him and them brain dwellers of yours,” said Gal while tapping the middle finger of her right hand to her head. 

Display of the bird in this manner was passive aggressive. One single gesture said it all. “F-you guys because I’m not budging and keep your voices to yourself Clay.”

Clay, looking slightly guilty, reached up and took her bird fingered hand into his. As he lovingly squeezed it veins and sinew rippled on the surface of his hand, one having done both selfish and sacrificial acts. Then again, it was only following orders from the heart.

“Sun Flower, you saintly woman, you’s been life ta me unending,” said Clay, his eyes gathering dew as they peered intently at Gal.

“Don’t be callin’ me that name this instant. I’m not budgin’, nope, not goin’ willowy on sweet words. But, I’ll help out as able if you do your part, ya know, take them meds.”

Clay let her hand go. Acknowledging her point he picked up the pill bottle.

“Fair nuff Gal. I’ll do my best. You know I can’t speak for the crew inside me. Sometimes they get to my mind before I do and take over.”

Clay, turning his attention to me, puffed up his chest and sold me his idea. Listening, I felt like an editor being schmoozed to accept a book proposal and wished I had let my brother be the agent on my first work. Maybe I’d have gotten picked up sooner by a publisher.

“Migizi, real generous of ya to honor my request. You didn’t know about my latest journey, yah, where I picked up these hitch hikers, these spirits here who ain’t payin’ rent. So here’s the deal.”

The roach perked up its antennae, twitched them, and booked off. Not thinking it possible, this increased my unsettled feeling as I waited for the rest of the pitch.

“Best I can offer is to be announcer at the Pow Wow that is me. When I’m at the control board and got access to the microphone, I’ll introduce ya to the not so dignified dignitaries runnin’ the country of Bizaaro Land in my brain. Yah, holdin’ me hostage bro, in a foreign country.”

Clay paused to offer me a response so I took it. His coherent chat seemed reasonable.

“Okay, how is this deal happening man? Do you know these spirits as you call them? If you do, it doesn’t seem like you have a mental disorder. Crazy people don’t know such things.”

Unhappy, His Favorite Gal kept hushed while squirming in her chair.