Sunday, January 23, 2011

Sunday Slumber

Hi there.

Just got in from playing cards and realized I hadn't finished my Sunday story for you.

Please forgive me. It will never happen again, until the next time.

Here is what I have so far, but I have to finish this part out for you today, and that will happen later on after I get some sleep.


++++++++++++++++++

A strange-looking fellow appeared in the bay of the garage right where the length of the deck started.

Folks immediately went to greet this strange looking dude. He looked as though he hadn’t bathed for a week, with his greasy purple hair that hung limply down the right side of his head over a shaved scalp, and potato chip crumbs on the top of his belly.

He wheezed when he was not talking and sometimes while he did. Upon closer inspection of his scalp when he bent to pick up an empty wine bottle lying on the deck in order to read the label, I noticed that the roots of his purple hair were red.

Jerry was a ginger.

Most of the people had left at various points during the morning and then come back later on, all freshened up, but we brothers had each brought a back pack with a change of clothing inside.

Jerry read the bottle label out loud. Chateau Loudenne. 1961.” His eyes widened. “This is a Medoc from Bordeaux. From nineteen fucking sixty one. Who in the fuck is drinking this?”

Bryan went over and shook his hand, consummate gentleman that he was. “Hi there, I am Bryan. I believe that you are responsible for helping me out of last night’s stupor.”

Jerry shook his hand and grinned. “You were pretty fucked up there, man. Glad to help out.”

Of course he was. By “helping out” me and Bryan, he had sold more of his wares. That was pretty smart. He did not even charge us for his services.

While this was going on, I spotted Sean and went to ask him something. The shock of what Bryan and I had discovered in the secret porn stash would not leave me. I took him aside and said, “What the fuck is up with Tellesco’s dad?”

Sean stood back and frowned. “What do you mean?”

I just looked at him. His face didn’t change. So I went on. “Sean, there are some pictures we found in a hidden place. Boys.”

Sean’s face began to turn red. “Show me.”

I stood my ground. “No. Not now. Not during this party for Bryan. But you know what the fuck I am talking about. What is going on here?”

Sean folded his arms and began to growl under his breath. He looked into my eyes so deeply that I swore he could see the back of my head from the inside. Then he said simply this, “Tellesco went through some fucked up shit.”

And that was all he would say about it.

I said, “We will go to those photos after this party is over.”

Sean’s face was impassive.

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We went back to the deck and I shook hands with Jerry. “That was something else,” I told him, “How one minute I was sleeping in my bed of warm water and the next I was flying through space. It was like a dream or something.”

Jerry giggled. Yup, this big dude giggled when he found something funny. It was a bit unnerving, kind of like a crazy-clown-with-an-axe giggle. He said, “You could have used a good old fashioned stomach pumping. But there are always alternative methods.” Then he giggled again.

Fuck.

Shit gave me the creeps.

Jerry turned and introduced some other folks who stood behind him. “These are my friends and they would like to play some music for your party, if you will have them.”

Three guys came forth. They were an interesting crew to behold.

One had a Mohawk in white spikes, each three inches at the base, stuck up a foot high. “I’m Lewis. I’m the drummer.” He smiled broadly and shook my hand with a powerful grip.

The next was bald, with giant gauges in his earlobes that held chrome spikes. “Hi there. I’m Frog. I play bass. Thanks for letting me into your home.” That was respect.

The third was a lanky fellow who had hate in his eyes. “Hey.” He did not step forward, and kind of looked like a whipped dog. He looked off at the pool.

Jerry said, “Gunner here fucks a guitar up. He also screams in pain.”

Gunner scowled.

I supposed that he wrote his band’s music and lyrics.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Folks helped the band in with their gear and they got set up. Jerry cornered me. “Dude. Someone here is drinking some very expensive wine. I want to meet them.”

I just looked up at him, and smelled old dirty clothing. “Why? Thirsty?”

He giggled a little bit. “Just curious. Someone is either very rich, or they don’t know what they have. Either way, that is the person I want to party with tonight. Show me who this is.”

I put my hands up. “In due time, Jerry, in due time. Are you hungry?”

Jerry was always hungry. It takes quite a bit for a person of his stature to maintain such a full physique. Probably 4,000 calories a day, judging by his height and huge bones. Why, his melon alone must have weighed twenty pounds. Odd that I would be thinking that.

Jerry ate all the rest of the breakfast meat in the fridge and chugged a gallon of orange juice to finish his snack. He said, “One must always replenish vitamin C when partaking of the moon dust.”

He was an odd bird. So I asked him, “Why is that, Jerry?”

He smiled, and thankfully did not giggle. “It is because of the receptors.”

And that was enough for me.

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I went around to the front to get some fresh air and saw a huge hearse sitting in the driveway. There was a large circle A spray painted on the door.

See you in a few hours.


---willies out.
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