The Writing of Bobby

           

Halfway across the river the skies cleared, there really was a moon and stars and planets, and shooting stars, ancient constellations that I had only glimpsed as a young boy, and since only experienced by pictures and read about in old “Playboy” and “National Geographic” magazines found by the old fishing pier on the water’s edge. As clear and crisp as the air tonight the footing was like walking on an ice cold crunchy salad bed of baby lettuce as I sprinted from the river shore, past some mangroves, areca palms, into the warm humid, tropical cypress tree forest, below scented “brassavola nodosa”  wild orchids, and fragrant night blooming jasmines, giant staghorn ferns cascading from the limbs of the beautiful healthy cornucopian garden of plenty, a little north of my destination, but this will do beautifully, today I will have to stop and settle down, breathe and rest drinking plenty of fresh water, until we meet again tonight, needing sleep and rest, I closed my eyes,  and gazed into what might be my new or old dream.

Blinking my eyes as I passed through a cloudy prism of primary colors and variations, weaving into and out of the years and light, the music was alive, emerging, arising, simmering, shimmering,“As I walk along I wonder, I wonder why” than a giant of a speed bump skip that jolted me deep like a dagger into my heart, “As I walk along” bump,“As I walk alone” bump,“As I walk along”...I walked as I always walked home from school, alone, slowly, independently, nonchalantly acting quite smug in my 1961 disguise, with my black, single breast pocketed tee shirt tucked in, and a pullover three buttoned lime green “vee cut” shirt with tail out flapping in the breeze, levys, “Thom McCann” ebony black, pointed toe, ankle high “moc” boots, and a swooping blond big pompadour which I thought was perfectly cool and clever enough to hide in and cover up for any lack of experience, personal esteem, reputation, recognition, after all I’m thirteen years old, and this was my first big day in seventh grade at “Palmetto Springs Jr. High.”  2:15 PM and before the last bell ceased ringing, kids were already racing on the sidewalks of suburbia on their way to “somewhere,” to the beach, football practice, maybe the bowling alley or “Pizza Palace,” lounging in an aquamarine naugahide booth under the erratic, hardly spinning, spider webbed filled ceiling fans and a big, noisy rattling window mounted air conditioner, ordering a cherry coke and french fries, ogling girls, laughing, eyes flirting, dancing...But on this day as I’m starting the trek home, I happen upon the white “Good Humor” ice cream truck, and who do I see in front of me? Gary Wienerham,15, straddling a smoke spewing Triumph 500  motorcycle, long sideburns, black leather jacket, bad teeth, “Pall Mall” chain smoker, needing a shave and smelling like he used thirty weight motor oil on his long grimy, dirty hair.“You, your the one, get over here,” Gary shouted, as he coasted the Triumph onto the grass swale and just dropped it easy like and let the bike fall, somewhere...somehow I managed to keep my heels on the ground and slowly eased into a circle that was clearing, in the midst of a rapidly growing crowd of just turned blood thirsty, mad dog rabid, over hormoned, pimply faced, teenaged boys who were anticipating a free after school amusement, an all out bare knuckles no-prize fight war. Without waiting or warning Gary took a swing at me that somehow missed my chin, I reared back and popped him hard three times in a row on his jaw, he was a little off balance and stunned and I planted a solid right, drawing blood from his eyebrow,  I got in one last roundhouse of a hook as he fell, tumbling in a heap to the ground, I could hear him moan as more blood started trickling from his nostrils, but before I could continue any more bodily harm, Gary looked up and meekly said, “that’s enough”, he quickly arose, kick started his bike and roared off in a puff of polluting blue vapor. This was all too easy and the tension that had filled the air dissolved, evaporated into the atmosphere, and every one was patting my back, laughing, shouting, the ogre of a bully was defeated, humiliated for this one day. But all I was doing was just standing my ground, I have to live with myself and them, here in this neighborhood and I continued on my wayward, winding path towards home, a little delayed but feeling good, I had a successful first day at junior high.

Mademoiselle MaMa Roux Papadoo blissfully married her true love the honorable Dr. Maurice Papadoo, under cerean blue swirling Van Gogh skies in the outskirts of Lincoln Logs in Itchyheppa Park by the River LaDidah on a beautiful sunny Renoir lit afternoon. With merely a few cottony puffs of clouds serenely floating, drifting through the heavens, rays of daylight were being dodged by the leaves of jacaranda and banyon trees blowing in the warm semitropical breezes, throwing lively dancing shadows, adding just enough animated sparkle to this jewel of an impressionistic kind of day. In and about and around like tiny living helicopters flitting, darting, hovering in midair ruby throated hummingbirds droned and hundreds of fluttering multicolored, pollen spreading, nectar collecting butterflies flew and landed sharing flowers with scores of buzzing wild honey bees drawn together and living in wonderful harmony by the sweetly jasmine scented Monet garden of lilac, yellow, and white wild flowers growing by the old lily pad pond. Pure cool spring water bubbled up and flowed over smooth time worn rocks, trickling into and feeding a large marble fountain spraying into the air, and emptying into the lily pad pond in front of the giant “Southern” magnolia tree. One hundred and twenty folding wooden chairs were set up for the guests, who were hurriedly arriving and assisted by the ushers Mister Jocko Jay Jones, and his half brother John E. Antoine Smith, trodding on a luscious velvety carpet of almost emerald green Bermuda grass sloping gently towards the golden sandy duned bank of the gently flowing aquamarine river. There a roseate spoonbill with its beak in the crystalline water looked up and saw it was the most beautiful of beautiful Spring days...The photographer arrived in a shiny simonized white Jeep Cherokee Classic, attired in a crisp, too shiny black tuxedo and just in time with his Hasselblad 500 CM camera, 45 degree prism with Acute matte Architectural gridded screen, Carl Zeiss 80mm lens, four 220 backs, Metz 60 CT1 strobe with two extra dryfit batteries, checked and rechecked his depth of field and shutter speed and focused on, and...On a pair of white laced stockings filled nicely with shapely legs, a baby blue garter belt showing with a tiny white satin bow. MaMa Roux was slowly emerging out of the reversed backdoor of a white Cadillac stretch limo assisted by her Maid of Honor Nadine Fontaine, and the chauffeur holding a fifth of an expensive “French” brut champaign. Standing by was Miss Deloris Del Rey and the aging but still fair spinster Mary Lou LaMar, both were experienced bridesmaids and having fun giggling, teasing, posing and putting on quite a show, jiggling around and almost falling out of their low cut orchid patterned silk gowns, to the delight of several single male guests while the young boy ring bearer Bennie Lee Rhett frowned and pretended not to notice his discomfort as he looked on with the shy, demure flower girl, the precious angelic Hannah Minnie, carrying a hand woven basket of ivory white rose petals, and silver sparkling stars of hope strewn and scattered before the bride’s feet, marking the path to the future...I was in the nearby cypress forest listening to the sounds emitted from the wedding party echoing through the  air, lying in the shade under a fallen tree in a makeshift lair of vines and leaves and closing my eyelids for just a second to rest my head and suddenly I was looking into me and watching the indexing of my  very brain, trying to make sense of it all until I heard a 1929 blond Kay upright bass being French bowed, my mind spiraling up and soaring away as a dark shadow passing through touched me eerily, I saw three morning doves fly by to steer, guide me from the darkness and towards tomorrow and the cure while knowing full well that I wasn’t finished or completed with today until it becomes yesterday, tomorrow... Professional Professor and jazz great Albert S. Greene head of the low note department of the Southern Coopertown Music Conservatory and Lionel Trains Hamptonite Band and Sammy Asparagus Spear Orchestra leaned over and rasply whispered to me, “Rufus I know you can play your Fender Precision Bass, but take a tip from me and accept this blond plywood Kay not as charity, but a gift and token of my  respect of your abilities, also take this French bow and Simandl book and come by the house this Sunday afternoon and we’ll play and play and practice together until you can read as well as me.” As fast as fly specks flew by and formed in a dust storm of irregular staccato notes that began to empty, pour forth from your heart and soul that’s still pure and simple and fat free. We began looking for “that note,” a perfectly shaped vibrating living tone, formed and controlled by adept walking finger tips arched just so over an ebony neckboard, and emitting rich, warm deep tones from the f holes carved from the cavernous body, somebody give me some resin I think I’m about to enter bebop bass heaven.
 
Once I sensed the golden sun sinking slowly, falling in the western sky, I would be able to freely open my eyes without discomfort or pain and view the world as The Great Lawyer meant for this paradise to eternally be. When I open my eyes I’ll stir about, start my preparation to seek out, The Good Dr. Maurice Papadoo, Ph.D., of Yellow Livers, being a newly, happily married man and at their wedding reception celebration, with his bride the beautiful MaMa Roux Papadoo, would be awaiting on me soon by the bandstand in Itchyheppa Park. For many years I have been crossing the mighty river and meeting the good doctor, in the parking lot of “The Mall of Lincoln Logs,” and in my silence, leaving no evidence of my existence or disruption in the delicate elusive patterns of the ripples in time and secretly delivering the months supply of Gris Gris on the opposite shore, where it was so desperately needed in Coopertown. With each passing season many were saved from this alphabetical intrusion of viral infection, and the other good Coopertonians would keep on continuing on to try, each and every Friday night testing the new Gris Gris potent, to see if it was their time, to spin “The Magical Medical Wheel of Fortune Game Show,” to win the coveted earned prize, and not having to buy a vowel from Miss Vanna or enter the mystery room with its trap doors and invisible trip wires and forced to endure too many “sides” was the goal in this on going battle, medical trial, an experiment, a lottery for and of those seeking to be healed. But, at this time the infected  players were amassing faster than the  magic potent cured, and so on I go on my seemingly endless quest for the panacea, until the blessed day we all have the one “Magic Gris Gris,” the cure for us all within everyone’s grasp.....“I now pronounce you man and wife,” was heard by all, and Doctor Papadoo kissed MaMa Roux tenderly, he caressed her hand, wiped a glistening tear of joy from her cheek, and both Mo (his friends called him Mo) and MaMa were glowing with an aura only known by the pure of heart and forever loving and trusting, they turned, faced the audience, smiled and happily walked away as one arm in arm. And, from near the makeshift altar a Hammond B3 organ’s Leslie speaker started spinning, confetti was in the air, hands were thrust out joyously to congratulate the new couple as they passed by, rice was raining down on all, laughter was in the air, it was a most remarkable afternoon for a wedding. The chickees in the park were filled with savory down home culinary treats, dishes home baked with love by guests to tempt and delight the senses, and now the giant barbecue pit was alit and smoking and there was a serve yourself smorgasbord, and full beer bar, and at the bandstand a five piece all star combo was tuning, and the festive gala party was about to kick off rocking and rolling until the park closed down.....The wonderful aromas and sounds drifting from the wedding reception in Itchyheppa Park traveled wafting in the breeze entering the forest nudging me from my uneasy slumber. As I opened my eyes, all my senses were instantly rushed, overcome and sated to the point that my right foot shook, and then my leg started jumping up and around keeping a constant rhythm, I was almost overcome by an uncontrollable yearning, a desire to Boogie Woogie. But, I didn’t have my old trusted Fender and was here on a truly important secret mission, but plans could be changed, if only if I changed the plan, I hear my amigo Carlo walking on a “Jazz” bass, I think I’ll emend the plan, and maybe jam with the band.
 
Acting outwardly as natural as possible but inwardly astir, a bubbling brewing cauldron, kettle of profound emotions deep within my very being, I was overwhelmed, awed by the splendor, lushness, and sheer magical pleasure of seeing the evening star rise, while traipsing along the sandy, weedy and rarely trod upon path exiting the cypress forest at dusk winding towards the wedding reception party in Itchyheppa Park. Wearing a London Fog and wide brim Panama hat pulled low over my eyes, I stepped upon the bandstand and Carlo nodded and half smiled at me and held up his “Jazz bass” invitingly, we did the old “High School Basketball Court Sock Hop” end of set switcharoo, I stood behind him and to the side and took over fingering the fretboard  with my left hand, then I reached around him on the right and gradually started playing the strings with my thumb, and Carlo unhooked the strap and attached it around me, we were in the back of the stage in the middle of “Killer Joe” and I don't think anyone noticed save Doctor Papadoo and MaMa Roux who were beaming as they danced to this bluesy-jazz jamming fusion of the Quincy Jones classic. Then as we ended Davey on lead turned to me and said “Route Sixty-Six” “in B flat just like when we were fourteen, lets see if we got it down yet.” It was getting dark as I stepped up to the mike then I heard Davey, now a bit older but as confident as ever say,“hey Rufus we’ve done this before,” count off the song and the intro was a bluesy half speed version that after two times through someone shouted “step on the gas” and we came to a perfectly controlled stop and Davey flipped to his treble pickup and started playing a power chord filled rhythm, Birdie countered with a rim shot, started a perfectly timed drum roll and we all came in on cue and I was walking on that bass, smoking those notes feeling good and came in,”If you ever plan to motor west, try take my way its the highway that's the best, get your kicks on route sixty-six,” I had on my “Ray Bans” and must have resembled a beatnik who was totally rapt and into the groove when the song seemed to end so soon, I remembered I was there for the Gris Gris, handed the bass to Carlo thanking and waving to the guys as I leapt off the back of the stage and found the Good Doctor and MaMa Roux awaiting me, and we all embraced as Mo put a bag in my pocket and said that I had better hurry, it was dark and the rangers would be closing the park soon, MaMa kissed me on the cheek, I wished them happiness and headed up the path again smiling feeling good, life seemed right again... Midway across, the eternal flowing, divider of night and day I sensed an eerie, cold sinister presence, darkening, threatening my existence as midnight engulfed me in its deep black velvet veil and thickened the River LaDidah into a contaminated slurry of India ink, I clung unto a log under a starry sky 'til the twinkling faded into light devouring oblivion. I made sure my bag of Gris Gris was knotted securely around my neck, and floated, drifting with the currents navigating like an amphibian thrusting his legs, whencesoever I began to notice the air thickening into a thick soupy smog and the no-mistaken reeking, acrid nauseating stench of the hazy mist of a fog of green toxic vapors, an inert lifeless cloud hovering over and dooming the Town of Cooper. This was the point of no turning back, having reached the spot in the river where sight was almost useless, now I would lash myself with vines and palm fronds to my raft and rest for a few hours, there was nothing farther to observe 'til I landed on the opposite shore, south of Coopertown, I could now not stop from closing my eyes, I closed my tired eyes and tried to ignore the sirens call so beautiful...Oh however as I try why may I never reach that safe harbor, and not be fooled, lulled to sleep and in my slumber allured into her midst by the involving intoxicating romantic song, and hallucinations, a spider web of vibrations, patterns emitted by the siren of the mist Ramona, sometimes emerging, appearing and reappearing as I penetrated deeper into the mist and the sickly, unearthly green neither light nor dark glow where from afar the sound of waves breaking blends into a sweet song of love, hope and sorrow drawing me near, calling me closer to the danger of Ramona and her appealing magenta aura, holding her hand to me, so inviting. I reach out anywhere and everywhere she is.

When I closed my weary eyes a Pandora box of unfulfilled dreams unsealed beneath my lids releasing images in Technicolor that sated me with drunken pleasure, wonder, Ramona arose levitating, hovering above all, an almost transparent magenta orchid fragrant vapor emerging from a giant pink alabaster conch shell singing her eternal haunting aria alluring me. To be with her, for she is everywhere and everything I desire, I began following an aromatic perfumed trail of lust and desire drawing me near, closer to Ramona overlooking the dangerous breaking waves over the partially submerged jagged reef of Ramona’s River Ait, and I openly wept, thirsted, howled for her lips to kiss as I felt her dry-icey, burning cold fingers slip from my grasp. We were separated, swept apart by the powerful rushing incoming current and I witnessed her timeless ageless beauty change, a complete reverse metamorphous, unmercifully age, wither and gray as the air transformed from magenta into the hazy rancid green foggy mist, I tried to leap overboard from my crude river raft to reach her, but was restrained by the knotted palm fronds and vines binding me, holding me back, and Ramona's face turned into a fine diamond sparkling carbon dust, falling, swirling around and then disappearing down into the deep dark whirlpools eddy into the abyss, spinning like ashes in liquid passing through a drain. I reopened my eyes and the magenta sirens charms were only a fading memory, reality was sickly green and up a head in Coopertown.

  Paul Simon was playing “KodaChrome” on an endless loop in my head, Gris Gris was taking effect lodging itself in my cells, waging war, an internal combat with the invading horde of the yellow alphabetical infectors. For seventy-two hours the resistance fighters of the Town of Cooper calling themselves the Cheppa would endure many strange and hopefully temporary afflictions, but Cheppas also gained strength in numbers with the union of fellow  Coopertonians and joined together in thanking the God of The Great Lawyer for the power and strength to exist and patiently wait on relief, and if the Gris Gris is good, each week a few were cured and would make the dangerous trip across the river, to stay for a month with the Good Doctor Papadoo and then quickly recover while on MaMa Rouxs healthful regimen...To escape from the cloud, the hazy noxious evil green mist devastating Coopertown was everyone’s dream, and to ultimately join alphabetically freed Cheepas exiled in the hills over looking Lincoln Logs, and to eventually free Coopertown of Heppernags and worms and return to Coopertown the healthy pure light of the sun. These were the thoughts that would bring tears of joy to those who only knew the darkness and malefic, malicious malaise under the haze that was once Coopertown.

What apparently appeared to me to be people clad in loose raggedy robes, were silhouetted against the bright white light up ahead in the rocky cave making facial distinctions or expressions impossible. In the beginning of the trek there were many walking, limping, crawling towards the light, but many were tired, exhausted and spent and tempted by the calls and invitations from others loitering in the dim murky shadows among the rocks along the walls to stop, rest, and being assured everything would be ok. Some actually turning away from the hopeful glare and disdaining the brightness and embracing the dark, I could visibly make out horrible obscene actions and crimes occurring and being committed along the edges. I tried not to look and instead concentrated on my pilgrimage to the warmth emitted by the light, stumbling forward towards the ever brighter light impelling me forward, then being informed it wasn’t time for my exodus, I turned and thankfully fled as my high fever broke and I opened my eyes.

Leaping blindly headfirst into the flaming pit was my last resort, a chance and choice that had to be made between facing the flesh devouring marauding Heppernag and a sure horrible dismembering bloody death, or entering the unknown. So I dove knowing full well that the Heppernag would be repelled by the fire, but by fortunate luck I kept falling and falling and after quickly passing through the flames fell infinitely, finally coming to rest in a beautiful mountain pool. I had heard ancient stories of a mysterious hidden tarn, lit by a heaven of flames and thought it to only be a fable, an old wives tale. This was a great discovery a place for Coopertonians to live without fear while planning on mounting an attack to free our town of Heppernags and worms... I was first struck by the blinding light and had a difficult time seeing in this brightness, and I pulled my trusty Ray Bans out of my pocket and reveled in the beauty of this amazing garden of plenty. I lounged on the shore for what I thought amounted to three days, living off the bounty of natural fruit consisting of bananas, coconuts, papaya, mangoes and several types of citrus, my strength was returning and I was beginning to have a healthful glow, color on my skin again. I fashioned a rough but functional lean-to, and started exploring the area, the one thing that I hadn’t taken into account was that there was seemingly noway out of this subterranean paradise, I was lost in paradise and I had dedicated my life towards freeing Coopertown of Heppernags and worms, the green haze of a maze, and oozing filthy goo. I couldn’t just change my life and dreams so suddenly and experienced nightly visions of my good friend Doctor Papadoo and Mademoiselle MaMa Roux. I was certainly happy that I wasn’t dismembered by a Heppernag but felt I was wasting away my time in paradise and  not contributing, I needed to get back to the surface, who else was going to cross the River LaDidah and bring back the desperately needed Gris Gris?...Eerie was the night that always came on so suddenly, no heavenly glowing bodies just blackness in the sky, the first few nights I would hear splashing sounds emanating from the dark lake, alarming me so that I fashioned myself a spear and stood guard until out of human necessity falling deeply asleep. Then daybreak was just as abrupt and quite startling, I would awake blinking still clutching my spear, and I would laugh at myself and my unspecified fears, blaming my imagination, how could anything harm me here? I called my new home Magnolia because of the wonderful sweet scents pleasantly perfuming and drifting through the air and began amusing myself by singing old songs, while I would wander and explore my new surroundings looking for a path to lead me somewhere, with the passing of time I became more patient, I had handily near everything I needed to survive but love, companionship, a pet, something or one to share my existence, my thoughts with.

Remembering, yes it was all rushing back as though ocean tides flowed through my veins refreshing my awareness of a natural central omniscient presence, releasing repressed old memories of Coopertown, Lincoln Logs, Heppernags, and Worms, and the misty hazy maze of a fog, Ramona, the Good Doctor Papadoo and Mama Roux. Ahh, I remember the good fight to save Coopertown.

The Heppernag of Coopertown haunts the midnight streets, lurking in the foggy mist eating homo sapien meat. Beware, begone and off my child, watch those dark alley ways, for in the Town of Cooper the Heppernag will prey......

Opening my eyes, and upon seeing the bright rays of sunlight dappling the room while thin yellow and white checkered curtains danced in the breeze. I sneezed, took a breath and sneezed twice more. Then, noticing an oversized manila envelope addressed to Rufus laying on the rustic old wooden table, I wondered who was it from? Who knew I was here, and where was I, and how did I get here?

With trembling fingers I opened the envelope and pulled out a parchment manuscript with a handwritten overleaf and read,
 “To Rufus, welcome back from your adventures, everything is within yourself, this is a token of our appreciation, thank you, Doctor Maurice Papadoo. PS keep this manuscript with you and swim home across the River Ladidah, you will soon understand.” I proceeded on and tried in vain to read the folio and saw that it was inscribed with runes, warm to the touch, golden symbols that I have never seen the likes of before. I clutched the good doctors manuscript close to me and walked outside and gazed at the mighty river and without any delay leapt into the cold water and swam, and swam and nothing happened, I kept on and on til totally exhausted and began to sink into the depths still holding onto the warm manuscripts. I had no more strength, nothing left to give, I was falling, sinking into mindless dark despair, I closed my eyes.....

“Rufus, Rufus wake up, come on it’s check out time, lets get out of this motel room, we’ve got a long ways to drive.” I opened my eyes thinking that I must be having a vision because there was Suzy, beautiful Suzy, I had tears flowing down my cheeks, I embraced her and held her close. “Rufus, my baby what’s wrong, you must have been having a nightmare,” said Suzy as she tenderly blotted away my tears, and I felt her warmth and held onto her as though she might suddenly disappear. I peered into Suzy’s clear blue eyes and sensed that our hearts were now beating as one, my fears were evaporating as fast as morning dew, her warmth was my beacon, I was out of the stormy waters. This was what I was seeking, it was within me and Suzy, the hope, love, and most of all the warmth to weather storms in the night.

                                     Ramona

Unforgivingly a noisy alarm clock atop the night stand ticked away as though counting off the time of my existence, precious seconds born of the present continuously becoming moments in my past. Time was expediently becoming my quiet enemy, life was vanishing into the vast darkness of the night, stealing along with it my hopes, dreams, and desires. Silently tacit sobs resulting in desperate tears dampened my face, as I stared into the abyss of obscurity, insignificance. So frivolous was my prior appetite for acceptance and attention that I froze upon my bout with receiving recognition, and fell into despair, devastation, and hopelessness, living a life sated with false attainments and lusts for inspiration to realize my ambitions. I sensed I was dying a wordless muted death, I had become quite numb.

Lying motionless I thought of Suzy, Coopertown, and the Good Doctor Papadoo, I had let everyone down, and was fleeing from reality such as a thief would into the veiled night. I was seeking some form of euphoria in my exaggerated lonely existence, an exile from reality, leaping blindly from responsibilities to the bottomless pit of self-indulgence. Now, was the time, the moment deciding and sealing my fate, although numbed by the narcotic cold blood running through my veins, I ignored my condition, reached for my cane, arose from my cotton fever induced nightmare and walked, crossing the road and stood still on the bridge spanning the river of my life.

Unaware of the gathering dark clouds above, I was standing alone on the small bridge, gazing downward towards the perfectly still waters, with mangrove trees flourishing along the shorelines, and reflecting on the brackish water's surface. This was a habitual daily occurrence in my life, sometimes watching birds, manatees, or schools of migrating mullet being herded and eaten by snook or jacks. But, today I was seeing nothing, just the deep inky water, and then raindrops falling, marring the mirrored surface with circular ripples, growing larger, meeting more ripples and countless raindrops. I tried to follow one ripple from its onset and followed it's arcs until I began to feel dizzy, different, so unusual that I held onto the bridge railing with my left hand and shifted my weight off of my bad knee to my stronger right leg and gripped my wooden cane securely. And, though my eyes were focused on the water, my thoughts, memories, dreams, and past became clearer and clearer as I stared into a ripple which quickly was changing into a small whirlpool, the vortex of a growing undertow drawing me towards the river's darkened waters.

I began shivering, not from the coolness of the southbound breeze, but from the icy cold blood surging through my veins, oh how I ached in anguish within my very essential being, so contaminated with impurities self-inflicted that my life appeared to be nearly over before it had actually began. I was gray, old, useless and damaged before my time, nothing seemed to be right, I had managed to lose my purpose and desire and only wanted to meekly retreat and ease into the dark passages of time running under the bridge of life and unfulfilled promises, talents wasted, and a mind filled with useless facts and circumstances that I once thought were knowledge. The river called to me and I was seduced and allured deeper into the spell being cast upon my weary body, my soul seemed dirty, overflowing with filthy dark, pitch black secrets from which I was hiding, and so ashamed. My brain throbbed with undesirable thoughts and the river incessantly summoned and all I could envision was an avenue to rest in peace and end this worthless existence running from and to nowhere. I was wrapped in a shroud of self pity and loathed my own body, but so extremely frightened by the unknown that I cowardly withdrew, and grasped the railing as tears swelled in my eyes running down my cheeks as I wept like a child.

Sheet lightning afar on the horizon, emanated deep magenta, like ruptured, hemorrhaging blood vessels on a greenish yellow yolked egg of a sky, showing through the edge of green tinged, tainted haze of a maze, and from this height it was not merely a sight, not only seen and sensed but felt, like waves of nausea, a sickness shared by those experienced with Gris Gris and rising too fast, but looking down for the assuring ground from this soaring altitude, and getting dizzy, like I was ready to trip, slip, fall off the edge of the earth, stumbling, tumbling, plunging into a pit of unknown darkness, fears, and Gothic nightmares. I was not only alone, but contaminated, isolated by my thoughts of a future dream, that would release me from my agony.

I was frozen in time, wanting not to exist in endless misery, but too frightened to die, my past surrounded me, haunting, taunting me with my failures, misdemeanors, reminders of a worthless trivial life. My private internal demons pushed me to the edge of the bridge, trembling as I peered downward, I sensed a gentle feminine voice calling to me, enchanting me. Such a faint beautiful soft appealing voice that I felt, yet also heard, while nearly losing my balance attempting to determine the source. I leaned farther over the railing still looking down at the darkened waters as my cane slipped on the pavement, my weakened left knee shook before giving way and I fell through the railing, falling into the swirling eddy below. I plunged downward falling and falling into the current of passing time and engulfed in the vortex of the whirlpool, time stood still.     

Between the blurry erose boundaries of dreams and sharp cutting edge of reality exists a safe room, my room, sometimes insanely irregular and large, or painfully confining and small, it's there that I cast my lot, among petty memories, grandiose plans, and sinfully misunderstood and mistakenly mishandled aspirations. Only the clever survive in this never, nether world of hazy almost forgotten, wistfully silent muted thoughts and wasted ideas. My halfway house of cards dealt off the cuff, floating, drifting in air, waiting to be played, only to be redeemed or lost in a wager, a gentleman's fancy, the moment between winning and losing, the second before knowing, soaring with anticipation, I opened my eyes and felt the everlasting narcotic kiss from the lips of Ramona, the sister of Morpheus.

Ahh, Narcosis is my savior, my release from eternal discomforts, agony, despair, and disgrace, for I have vanished from the surface of the earth, my very existence determined by my siren. With incomparable beauty she enters my dreams, she glides in and out of my mind, filling me with her unnatural love and lust, I long for her touch, for she is my life. With a kiss from the siren Ramona, I can dream, feeling numb, apathetic, uncaring and without pain.

Opening my eyes and realizing I was knee deep in rushing, swirling, icy cold water, I extended and flailed my arms about and began reaching outward into the seemingly eternal green misty haze of a fog, not knowing yet where I was or which way to slosh my way out. Then I felt a hand, an assuring feminine soft hand with long pointed finger nails like I had never felt before pulling me near. I was shaking, hot then cold, aching with fever and thought I was dreaming as we embraced, she began her aria, singing to me in a low soothing, unearthly, eerie voice that drew me even closer, I was under Ramona's spell, her beauty unmatched and her kiss everlasting. Not being able to be close enough I shivered as she wrapped her silken flowing gown around me and drew me closer into her body, and envelop me in her arms, I felt contented, a part of me was now connected and felt the vibrations of her song as she trilled and sang louder, the Siren's song of lust was all that I now existed for. Ramona pulled me in even more, and I almost felt satisfied yet yearning, like a narcotic, an opium yet undiscovered was flowing not warm but coldly through my veins, I could see into my transparent skin a green elixir mixing freely with my alphabetically contaminated blood. Try as I may I could not resist as she drew me yet closer, now into her ivory bosom I looked up and felt her lips touching mine, now we were completely one and she began retreating into her spider web of a nest deep below the inky water. I stayed partially connected with Ramona, though her lust was never sated, as she grew even stronger when I paled and felt weaker, my life ebbed as it was being drained from me, I closed my eyes and fell deeply into a dream.....I seemed to be entering a nether world, so dim and dark yet some objects gleamed and I began to sense the drums, faint conga drums beating exotic odd rhythms, Creole, tempos in four-five then seven-eight and constantly changing growing louder, then I slipped and fell landing on the floor in Ramona's silken lair.

Audibly sensing her aria wafting across the water, I quickly took a peek around Ramona's love nest and saw large silken cocoons hanging from the walls, and more appearing as a mosaic pattern against the high ceiling. And there stacked on the floor golden statues, looking like gigantic awards once given in Coopertown to popular actors. Then I saw my feet and realized that I was partially wrapped in silk and attached to a wall, and I became aware of my fate and I couldn't escape. Ramona floated into the room, her shining silver loose flowing gown following her, and she trilled in my ear her song, and I wanted her, as she wrapped me in her arms and pulled me close. Now, no longer bound, she pressed her body against mine, and as in my never-ending dark dreams of lust, I lost myself in her everlasting kiss. I closed my eyes.

Opening my eyes I found myself lying in a marsh close to the river's shore, looking up I stared into the deep purplish magenta skies, misty and hazy, as vultures were circling overhead. I tried to stand, but only rose to my knees before an agonizing pain in my right side forced me to place my hands in the shallow stagnant brown unmoving water, and I began to crawl through razor sharp sawgrass reeds, and various algae of many different hues. If I wasn't in such pain I would enjoy the colors, but having to continue edging myself towards the river's bank was draining my strength from me, all I wanted to do was sleep. So I sat back and paused for a few moments in the still water, and examined my left arm, peering deep and completely through my transparent flesh I noticed green fluid being pumped in my veins by my aching, broken weary heart.

My mind went blank and I almost swooned until seeing movement in the red lily pads ahead of me, I froze and held my breath as long as I could when I saw a giant golden snake weaving it's way into the reeds. Then I felt it's cold slimy skin rubbing against my upper legs, I was terrified and stopped breathing. The golden serpent kept weaving around me three, four times, I was in its tightening grasp. Then he shot his tongue in and out touching my anemic colorless skin, I could sense the viper's red glowing eyes glaring at me, then he tasted the green elixir which was oozing from my cuts, abrasions, and gashes that occurred while crawling through the double edged sawgrass reeds. He started rolling over and over in a convulsive state and I was set free, still not breathing I fell back into the water gasping for air. I was completely contaminated, even the snakes wanted nothing to do with me, I was poison.

Shaking the water off of me I tried rising up to stand, this time I fought off the pain that was shooting electric bolts through my shivering body and managed to remain semi-erect. My tired leaden legs, weak lame knee and numb feet were too heavy to lift, so I somehow shuffled my way out of the reeds and into the red lily pads. The shore was so near but appeared to be moving away, I forgot all my troubles and aches and began to slosh faster towards the vanishing shore. No matter how far I traveled inward, the shore just moved farther and farther away into the distant orange horizon, I was exhausted and stopped, sat down in the shallow shoal, and openly wept, why must I live and die and never feel satisfied, everything important to me was repelled, repulsed and shunned me, seemingly doomed eternally and exiled in the never ending still waters of the swamp.

Leaning back I stared into the misty magenta skies not fearing vultures, vipers, or any predator that crossed my path, the insanity was inside of me internally and I began to lose all hope, I was in complete despair, hating, despising, consuming myself with dark thoughts. Then I heard unusual Creole Conga drums began beating eerie monotonous rhythms, I was hypnotized, possessed, when I witnessed a white shining cloud heading my way. I feared no thing any longer, all I desired was to be released from my agony, and started sidling, moving and then pushing myself up and stood, I screamed,“ Whatever you are show me no mercy, please help me to become free of this agony.”

What appeared as a cloud in the yonder distance, was now waving, flowing in the breeze, the Congas were growing louder and louder. I somehow limped off balanced and was engulfed in the shining silver cloth, begging for mercy I reached out, stumbled and grabbed onto what felt like smooth silken feminine legs. I managed to look up and it was Ramona, beautiful Ramona. She sang her low soothing, murmuring aria, and after pulling me to my feet we embraced. I begged her to please forgive me, and she the sister of Morpheus placed her lovely lips upon mine, and I felt the everlasting kiss of the undead, and sensed the sedating narcotic Ramona emitted, running coldly through my veins. I felt, yes I felt no pain or aches only an empty vacuum in my cold longing heart. Slowly I closed my eyes.  

Slowly opening my eyes I was overwhelmed with thousands of visions of Ramona, rotating in bleary arcs, as though seeing through a multifaceted bees eye lens. Her silken gown and wrap accented with gold threads interlaced and woven in the fabric and sparkling, as was her flowing long golden blonde tresses, yellow piercing eyes, and knowing half smile, she was the epitome of grace and beauty, and was humming her haunting aria while brushing her flaxen hair before an oval crystalline mirror.

Memories were rushing through my being, looking down I could see that I was bound in a silken, waist high cocoon, and my arms were merely basted and tacked to the wall, where I was displayed as a common trophy catch. Looking through my utterly albino white fishy transparent flesh, my once blue veins were throbbing, pulsating and appearing putrid, and sickly green. I remembered Ramona's narcotic kiss, and somehow infusing me with her elixir and retched, pulling with all of my strength I freed my right arm and scratched with my nails at my left arm until flowing with yellow liquid streams of golden elixir.

Yellow!!! She was gradually turning me into gold and I had to escape, somehow forcing myself to stay awake long enough to, long enough to what? I had no workable plan, until I felt into my back pocket and pulled out a broken lens from my Raybans, my fathers old shades were maybe once again my savior. Seeing Ramona effortlessly glide into the room, I quickly dropped the erose edged polarized glass into my fop pocket, and mentally began a chant, an appeal to any entity, vibration or to my own self to stay strong. To somehow keep my presence strong enough to persevere and survive, subconsciously my chant changed from,"I'm Rufus," "I'm Rufus," "I'm Rufus," to, "Suzy, I'll love you forever," and as Ramona floated nearer her image became one. She drew me closer to her cool ivory breasts, lifted my chin higher and wrapped me in her silken gown, and with her everlasting kiss rendered me helpless. Only being able to whisper aloud one last time, "Suzy, Suzy, please remember me."

Feeling a distinct unnatural iciness flowing through my veins, I fell into a deep drug induced dark sleep. Seeking warmth I dreamt of my family, mother hanging laundry on the backyard clothes line, white sheets and shirts blowing in the breeze, and mom singing the MaGuire Sister's hit, "Sincerely," while my younger sister was amusing herself with a Hula Hoop, holding it out for my dog "King" to leap through. Suzy emerged from a glaring light as if a spirit walked up and was standing by the open garden gate, I laughed and my head began aching, a new chant was echoing in my brain, "Rufus and Suzy," continuously, ricocheting, my mind was vibrating, and my nervous system was ready to overload. Then somehow I overcame Ramona's potent and opened my once blue eyes, and began sawing and slicing the binding silk cocoon setting myself free with the broken sharp edged Rayban lenses.

Ramona was no where within sight which gave me time to start cutting an escape hole through the silk back walls of her nest, water rushed in from the river, collapsing the entire wall, I rode with the currents and rapids all the way to safety on the opposite shore of the River LaDedah. Washing up south of Lincoln Logs, within walking distance of the good Doctor Papadoo and his wife Mademoiselle Mama Roux's pink cottage, I needed help and the "Good Doc," was my only hope. Yellow blood was seeping from my cuts and I was repulsed, and dropped to my knees to relieve my nausea, then while laying in the sand I saw two feet walk up, being too sick to be afraid, I passed out.

Opening my eyes I noticed Doc Papadoo examining my skin and Mama Roux repeating,"Rufus, Rufus, honey please open your eyes and drink this Gris Gris. Strong Gris Gris to rid you of this yellow jaundiced malady infecting your blood." I drank and leaned back as Mama rearranged the pillows, while murmuring, "Poor Rufus, aint ever seen no one bleed yellow," and the Good Doctor Papadoo said, "Dont fret so Mama, this new brew of Gris Gris will flush and cleanse his system, if we can only keep Rufus alive long enough for it to take hold." I closed my eyes.....
Bobby