Journal: (Sat. This
is deep and I’m a poor swimmer)
“Alight then brother, no offense meant. Hey, let’s
go to the elder’s tent this morning at Pow Wow. They’ll be serving up free
breakfast food for us card carryin’ geezers. There will be Egg Mc Frybread with
sausage and cheese and Jim Snorton coffee and donuts for our Canadian relation.”
Clay stood, laced up his shoes and said, “C'mon,
let’s go Ain’t it. I wanna get as much of our grub past my lily liver before it
goes on permanent strike and turns me pitiful yellow.”
“Okay buddy, my bones need their aches appeased with
some movement. You doing fine though, I mean no-pill-needed fine?”
Clay was up from his chair and heading to the door
already. He seemed better off than me dammit all. Maybe those pills would whack
the sense of dread on its noggin poking out from somewhere deep in my
subconscious. I considered stealing one.
“I’m fine brother, yah, feelin’ saucy even. Look,
it’s a fine Saturday morning. Shucks, if I feel this good tomorrow I’m goin’ to
church. You can come. Never too late ya know, get your heart healed and set
free, and the preacher…”
“Hell no! Don’t start in on me with that again. You
know I got no respect for the man after what he did to you, well, failed to do.
He scoured your ass with scriptures when you were suicidal that one time. He
should’ve put hands and feet to what he blabs about and been a friend to you on
a regular basis. He only has a flock of 25 sheeple. Anyway, no thanks. I
respect your belief but not region.”
I had unduly insulted Clay and my outburst made for
some delicate silence as we walked to the Pow Wow in late morning sunshine and
tee shirt weather. I drove quiet reflection away with an apology.
“Man brother, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to slap the
shit outta your good mood. I wasn’t any better than what I accused the minister
of doing. You held no grudge with him. Anyhoo bro, I apologize. Hey, speaking
of names, what do make of the names used by these spirits of yours?”
Clay cleared his throat and coughed.
“I forgive ya Ain’t It. And with them names of
spirits, not sure. Doc said I made them up to help me, yah, like spirit guides
or somethun. Said they face and do what I can’t. Nah, ain’t so. I didn’t make
them spirits up and give ‘em names. They are real and I betcha even you, Mr.
Skpetical science guy, is havin’ second thoughts about it.”
“Cripes Clay, you could have said I don’t know when
asked.”
“How ‘bout you Ain’t It? You think them names mean
somethun? Maybe you oughta ask.”
I squeezed the shotgun shell from the outside of my
jeans pocket and imagined lining up Clay’s spirits. If I mashed them into a
tight line side by side and stood at the right distance, I could blast all 8 at
once, be done, and go home.
Things were getting serious and we needed some fun.
Maybe the event organizers would do so corny skit or game later.
“Well ignore me why don’t ya,” said Clay.
“Oh, ah, sure bud. Next time one shows up I’ll ask
about the name,” I replied.
I thought of home and how my wife’s love increased
with each day I put behind me in hell surrounded by fudgies.
Copyright © 2015 Migizi M. New Song. All Rights Reserved.
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