Poison As Remedy?

Clay flattened out his left hand. JuJu buzzed over to it from the bottle and landed in his palm. An observant man of high reason would have wondered if JuJu resided somewhere on Clay’s person or flew many miles to find him. Denial makes fools of us all sometimes.

The sun, freeing itself from the horizon, announced the time as being shortly before 8 am. A muskrat swam by and nearly bumped into Clay’s line. I wanted to trade places and swim away.

“You know, Migizi, I told Clay to invite you here. A lot was riding on you accepting and here you are. Glad you made it.”

“Well, Thorny, and hello again JuJu, how’s about sending Clay back out. He got me here like you wanted so…”

“So, Migizi, you want me to leave before we’ve had our chat. Sorry, as I said, it’s important you hear what I have to say, far more than you know. I can say what Clay never can.”

I slipped my day pack from my shoulder and put it on the ground along with my pole and creel. Crossing my arms in defiance, I replied.

“What the hell do you or Clay have against me? My intensity made my words louder. “What have I ever done to Clay that he needs a persona like you to defend him?”

“Hey, fishing voice please,” said Thorny. “We caught a couple monster Brookies in this hole already and I bet there’s more. And, why do you assume you’ve offended Clay? We never said you did, well, not exactly. No, what I need to tell you is for your sake, a gift from Clay.”

I sat down on the bank and leaned against a big cedar. Opening a warm bottle of pop, it spewed brown foam. Quickly capturing what I could with my mouth, Clay shook his head but Thorny commented.

“Yup, going back to being kids, you always had a knack for doing that. Hey, Migizi, you’re and educated man. You ever heard of bee venom therapy?”

I burped and nodded yes. “I presume you’re talking about bee stings for treating arthritis.”

“Yes, exactly,” said Thorny with a knowing smile. “It’s all about homeopathy or the principle of letting like be cured by like. Sometimes pain is best treated with pain and, Migizi, you have pain that has turned putrid and poisonous. It’s been killing you, ever so slowly, for most of your life.”

Without realizing it, as if trying to bury myself and hide, I had dug ruts in the loamy dirt with the heels of my shoes. Tensing with anger, I squeezed the pop bottle while eye-balling Clay’s neck. I heard my wife’s voice in my mind.

“He’s right and you know it hon.”

 “You’re the expert Thorny,” I said sarcastically. “Enlighten me.”

Clay’s fishing line went a tiny bit slack. He focused on it while letting Thorny take me to task.

“Tell me, when did you first meet Clay? Don’t say it was when you were young teens at the train bridge because that isn’t correct.”

“But dammit, it was at the train bridge and my earliest memory is of us as teens.”

Clay tightened his line.

“Migizi, share your earliest memory, any memory, with me.”

“Okay, Thorny, I remember being maybe 8 and going to Pow-Wow. I was walking with my mom and dad when some older Rez kids walked by and said that half breeds weren’t allowed.”

“Hmm,” said Thorny, “just as I thought. That’s among the first of poison tipped arrows to hit you.”

The end of Clay’s pole dipped down slowly, jerked, and we gladly abandoned the chat. Clay set the hook.

“Fish on!”

Copyright © 2015 Migizi M. New Song. All Rights Reserved.