SHORT STORIES By Arthur G. Slade |
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So I'm at the Shaunavon rodeo sittin in the stands and it's a typical small town day flags waving clowns laughing hot dogs sizzling and damn if these trumpets don't play a loud glorious note and a voice on the intercom announces the next rider is Jesus Christ and I doubletake twice saying Jesus Christ and this man in funny robes beside me pipes up with yeah, Jesus Christ Almighty and he's pretty good I've been following him for about two thousand years and so I sit back in my seat and wait and wait and wait cause there's all this opera singing first and a smoke show and angels performing some mystery play and my attention starts to wander so I turn to the guy next to me and ask so what's your name anyway buddy and he answers kinda sad it's Judas So finally the music's over and there's this commotion in the arena you see they've just wheeled out this stall with a dark dark one-eyed stallion inside and he's kicking up dust and snorting fire and his name's Mephistoffily or some such long-winded thing he looks evil mean and I know this horse comes from hades acres the big burning ranch down under then another trumpet sounds and in walks Jesus or the holy cowboy as we call him in the west and he's wearing the slickest snakeskin boots rawhide chaps blue jeans a white t-shirt a big texas hat and a leather glove on his right hand and he bows to everyone then swings himself over the fence lands square on the bronc grabs the rigging nods to the gatekeeper and the crowd takes a deep long breath do you know who I am Judas asks me right then and I get kind of annoyed but I remember something about thirty pieces of silver and a kiss and him stringing himself up and I mutter yeah yeah yeah and he says everyone remembers me for that one day then he shuts up cause there's this noise like trees snapping in two and the bronc busts outta the open gate his back end bucking his body twisting in the air and that white hat Jesus was wearing goes shooting straight towards the heavens up there with sputnik I guess and the bronc hits the ground and the earth shakes and sparks explode off its hooves lava shoots skyward and somehow through all this fight and fire Jesus is hanging on and I can see he's grinning too Judas kinda sighs saying I never really knew what I was doing you know it seemed like the right thing at the time betrayin' him to the elders an all that and I think why of all the people in the world do I have to sit beside Judas Iscariot then there's this crack of thunder that silenceseveryone you see the stallion has leapt so high that he actually blots out the sun and angus-black clouds have darkened half the sky and the bronc kicks and bucks in the air like he's not ever gonna come down again then Jesus lets out a yippe yi yay doggie and lightning strikes them both lighting them up like those bright flashing signs in the city and the horse and Jesus plummet to the ground and the crowd is going absolutely crazy bananas clapping and hooting and saying right on Jesus though for a second I think I can hear crying or sniffling beside me but then Christ digs his heels into that bronc's side and it gives its final burst of rebellion breathing fire twisting bucking and shaking like he's caught in a giant invisible paint shaker then he spins around so fast he looks like a tornado and you can't see a thing but dust smoke and ashes a moment or two later it all clears and there's Jesus smiling away his arms in the air and that bronc is whinnying and neighing and trotting backward and forward whichever way Jesus wants and the crowd cheers so loud they hear it in Ottawa then the apostles come out and surround Jesus like bodyguards and the intercom announces that's the end of the show folks and people start lining up to meet the star performer and I see Judas beside me just staring like he's a kid looking through a glass wall at a prize he could never ever own and I get this kinda almost sad ache and so I ask why don't you go down and talk to him you know he's got this rep of being a forgiving guy and Judas just shakes his head and says naw he said it would have been better if I was never born he doesn't ever want to see me again not after what I did to him and for the first time I look right at Judas right at his face and he looks just like me or like my uncle or like someone I knew a long time ago then he pulls up his hood turns and he's gone away from the crowd out the back of the stands and I watch as he disappears into the great wide open space of the prairies I look down at the people gathering around Jesus asking for autographs or blessings and Jesus is waving his hat and everyone's laughing and laughing and people are kneeling and the sun is bright and I feel my face cause there are tears in my eyes and I cannot tell if in this very moment I am feeling joy or sadness
THIS STORY IS PUBLISHED IN THE ANTHOLOGY "WRITING THE LAND" FROM RED DEER PRESS The Worded Man desperate to see her finally she agrees we meet in a cafe the smell of coffee a wraith between us and she whispers it's not right you and I and her words stick to the sides of my face like flies she opens her mouth and launches we're not meant to be that's just the way it is a spattering of letters marring my forehead bleeding nausea and now other conversations on black minuscule wings are diving towards me from other tables how's your mother she's fine how's work work's good a shadow strafes me with are you ready to order I flee the table the cafe and dash into streets sweltering with life watch it ugly sticks below my eye and I'm running cause words are chasing me like angry bees stinging my neck filling the pockets on my suit nice day ain't it have you got the time buzzes over my head stings my bald spot and now I'm on the pier running running hey mister where you going pushes me ahead and down down I fall parting the ocean feet first but the words cling tight make me heavy and as my lungs fill with salty water I open my eyes and see spiraling towards me like black minnows what'd he do that for he'll drown THE ELEPHANT KING By Arthur G. Slade `I went to Paris today.' Gerry held up a spoon and squinted at his reflection. He looked like a dried up, DT'ing Jesus. Everyone in the coffee shop was gawking at us, I could feel their beady eyes. `Or at least I think I did.' `What?' Gerry lowered the spoon. Started rubbing his wrist. `I saw that Ethel tower--' `--Eiffel Tower--' `--Yeah, that's it and all these French women with hats and fancy clothes and everyone was talking all pretty...you know how they speak, Keith, like lovers--even if they're orderin' a hot dog they sound sexy. And birds were singing, lots of birds and people eating in outside restaurants.' He opened his hands, stared at his palms. `I touched one of them gendarmes. He was strolling by and I reached out and grabbed his arm. I thought he was gonna shoot me for awhile there...he didn't understand English at all.' I sat back because Gerry was leaning a little close--he's my friend, we went through rehab together--but he stinks. And the summer heat didn't do him any favors. `Have you been taking your medication?' Gerry rolled his eyes. `Keith, c'mon. This has nothing to do with that stuff. I just went.' `How did you get there?' `Huh?' `Well did you fly? Bus? Walk? Hijack a hot air balloon?' `I don't know, exactly. I was thinking about it and then I was there.' `For crying out loud, Gerry, when the man says take your pills, you take them. I do. You do. Then everyone's happy. You don't want anymore bathtub incidents, do you?' He looked like I'd just told him Bambi was squashed by a two ton garbage truck. Too bad, cause he needed to remember one simple rule--take `em when you got `em. You pay the price if you don't. I have. Tried to fly south with the Canadian geese. Fell twenty feet. Broke a few bones. Still have a dent in my forehead. Gerry was making eyes at his spoon again. `You don't believe me, do you?' `When's the last time you saw Roger? Have you told him about your vacations?' `Yeah...he gave me more pills to take, red ones. Said to call him if I got the shakes. Or if I peed blood.' Gerry paused. `I wanted you to believe me.' `Why?' `Well it's just that...I wanted you to come with me. Maybe to Africa again.' `You went to Africa?' Years slipped off his face, revealing a grinning child. `Saw the elephants. In the wild, not in a zoo. Man they're big, Keith. Old too and smart--it's in their eyes. I think they're as smart as dolphins. I met their king, just before he died. He went off alone `cause he knew it was his time. It's their way...don't want to be a bother to anyone. It's so...noble.' I felt guilty, but I had to bubble burst. `How could someone who gets 400 dollars a month from the government go all the way to Africa?' Gerry stared at the table, didn't move for at least a minute. Was he catatonic? `I guess I couldn't,' he admitted finally. He had aged again, his voice millenniums older. A big downer was creeping through his system, I'd seen it before. `It's impossible, isn't it? Just another lie I've been telling myself. I thought there'd be a place where the broken people could go and be put together again. A reward for the suffering.' `There might not be any reward. We just have to keep struggling.' He nodded. `I guess,' he murmured, then he stood slowly. `I wish you believed me. Maybe...maybe that would mean something.' He slouched out of the cafe, eyes following him, then looking back at me. He's my friend, don't stare. Life has given us a few extra knocks. I remembered finding Gerry in the tub, bathing in red water, babbling about seeing his mother. Maybe I'd been too harsh. God knows, the kid probably just needed a few kind words. I tossed some coins on the table and left. I tracked Gerry, not rushing, but keeping an even pace. A minute later I saw him across the street, hunched over, navigating by watching his feet. He turned into an alley, one of those dark lanes you only find in our fair city, and I felt a chill. What if he killed himself? I sped up. My mind awash with all the ways to die, a suicide gallery. Why else would he go down there when he lived the other way? I crossed the street, darting through traffic. All I found in the alley was the backside of buildings, the smell of tar and garbage and no sunlight. It'd be a stupid place to die. I hurried down the lane and reached a dead end, a brick wall decorated with graffiti. John Lennon sucks. God was stoned when he made the world. Hitler is smiling right now. Then I heard Gerry, above me. `Keith, Keith, Keith.' `Don't jump.' The words spilled out automatically. I scanned the rusted steel balconies. Was he perched on one? A ventilator coughed out the smell of restaurant food, making my stomach tighten. `Gerry, don't do it.' `Keith. Keith. Keith.' Now he was close. Very close. His quiet voice calling from the wall beside me. Behind the bricks. Inside the dead end. Keith. I turned and I saw him briefly, not in the wall but beyond it, as if I were staring through a waterfall. He was standing in a rectangle of light, a bright sun behind him, surrounded by grey tree trunks. Trumpets blaring like judgment day. Then I realized they weren't tree trunks. They were elephant legs. I saw one move ever so slowly. Gerry held out his hand. Keith, come on...step through. It's not that far. I was frozen. He motioned, urgent. Keith. I edged my right foot ahead, then my left, sleepwalking. A car horn blared on the street behind me. It sounded so real. I hesitated. Gerry became fuzzy and vanished. I stared at the wall, reached towards it. First my fingers touched, then my palms. The bricks were oven warm and solid as stone. (This Story was originally published in Transition Magazine)Stay Tuned! More stories coming soon!
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