Chapter 21

the sound: Elton John – Tiny Dancer, The Carpenters – Rainy Days and Mondays, Terry Jacks – If You Away, Bread – Guitar Man, Christopher Cross – Sailing, Bobby Goldsboro – Honey, Neville Brothers – Tell it Like it Is, Tommy James and the Shondells – Crimson and Clover, The Beatles – Come Together

I wake up again some time later and it’s decidedly dark in the room. I lay cocooned in the eiderdown for minutes trying to remember where the hell I am. “I think the time has come to admit that you’re scared Baby…you obstinate fool…look what not thinking has got you into this time – apparently your father is right...you are a fool…now just how the hell are ya gonna get outta here?”

I lay back and think of what Michael would have said of my never ending penchant for acting first and thinking later. I burrow back down under the covers.

I, once again, stare at the ceiling and I realize that again I’ve awoken crying that there are tears rolling down to dampen the pillow…

Eventually I do stop crying…when I realize that the bladder gets to be the boss of me and I climb out of bed to use the facilities. Once in the bathroom I find towels laid out, a tooth brush, shampoo, conditioner and there’s even and clean clothes.

“Someone was in here while I was asleep!” I panic staring about to see if they are still there. I look back to the clothes…they are not my clothes, but they are my size and clean.

“In for a penny, in for a pound” I shrug and turn on the facets for the tub. There is simply no chance I am going to get into a shower so soon after that dream.

I soak in the tub for what seems to be a long time…but knowing me and my propensity for quick and clean it’s likely just a few minutes. I get out and towel myself dry and wander back into the bedroom without getting dressed.

As I walk past one of the curtained windows I pull aside the curtains to reveal the window high and tiny, nothing like I expected from the size of the draperies.

I can see sky out there and starts but little else.

I am dressed and standing at the big mirrored door of the armoire brushing my hair when I hear the door snick open behind me. I whirl around to see rather large man standing in the doorway dressed completely in black arms crossed over his chest. I struggle and come up with a name…”Snot”

“Made yerself ta home, I see” he snorts.

I nod and continue to brush my hair. He announces that I should get my boots “we’re going out” and before I can ask if he means out doors or out to party or a bar even…he’s gone. “Fine then,” I snort as I grab for my boots and haul them on, “be like that why don’tcha?”

Once I’m fully dressed, my makeup is on and my hair is braided over my shoulders with a bandana head band tied on for good measure, I head out the now open door of the bedroom through the hallway to the living room…”not much of a living room if nobody uses it” I think as I pace through the empty, now sterile, looking room.

Once I get to the door I find myself curiously reticent to open it and head out. “Truly…I only know one person here” and just as I decided to head back to the bedroom to find my stuff and sneak off the door opens and there stands Robert.

Large
Large
Robert.

Chapter 20

the sound: Enigma – Principles of Lust

I dreamed of sex in the shower...

not the kind of sex that is safe
or marital
or repetitive

but
hot
wet
monkey sex

the man is ruddy and handsome
in a bad boy sort of way

he enters the shower wearing
riding leathers and boots and jeans
straight off the road

his red beard and strawberry blonde hair
fresh with the thick sent of a man
who's ridden long and hard
to get to his destination

his arms are tanned and corded
and his hands are strong
and gentle

he reaches around behind me and
gathers a fist full of wet hair
pulling my head back to expose my throat
and the pulse there

his closely cropped beard
has just enough grey in it to be interesting
and tickles as it drips water to my breast

his breath is hot on me
as his lips graze my nipples
I breath his name
“Micheal”
and place my splayed hands
on both sides of his head
lifting his lips to mine

his kiss is electric
and pulls on me at my core

he lightly runs his tongue
over my lips
and I
whimper

his hands skin down from my shoulders
to almost my elbows
and I am released
bereft

he struggles with his clothes
and we become a tangle
of wet leather
and denim

buttons pop
and his plaid shirt tears

I struggle with his belt buckle
impatient and clumsy in my need

he whispers my name
and presses me up against
the shower wall
lifting me slightly

he is hot and musky
as I breath in his heat
I run my fingertips
down the length of him
and he shivers as I feel
the outline of his core

he raises my leg to his hip
his penis brushes my thigh…..

My eyes open and I am at once awake.

I realize that I am in a strange bed, in an unknown place. I stare at the ceiling and realize too that tears are already rolling down through my hair to the pillow…

I breath his name again, “Michael…I have been dreaming of my Michael
Again”.

[under the auspices of "there's no such thing as a coincidence" it fascinates me that as I got to the point in this story to recover this post from a piece I'd previously posted without alluding to it's being from my past life...I had in my mind's eye this as the perfect piece of music for it's background...and in the week or so prior to my actually getting to the point in the story to post this...not one but 2 of my friends brought this exact piece of music to my attention..."out of the blue"......curiouser and curiouser!]

Chapter 19

the sound: Little River Band – Reminiscing, Elton John – Your Song, Love Story – Henry Mancini, Joan Baez – I Know You Rider, Lionel Richie – Hello, Dan Hill – Sometimes When We Touch, Gordon Lightfoot – If you Could Read my Mind, Ian and Sylvia – Four Strong Winds, Stan Rogers – Northwest Passage

Left alone to my own devices my mind begins to race again….“So”, I think, “here you are”….”I wonder what this is all about?” “are you outta your fuckin mind?” “get the hell outta here you fool!”

I look around the room and again am stunned at the caliber of luxury. Not a single soul looking at the outside of this old clapboard house would know that one whole wall of one of the bedrooms would be an exotic fish tank, nor would they know that it even contained a bedroom that was clearly three, maybe even four times the size of my studio.

I walk to the closet and pulled open the door to reveal a walk in recess that would rival most small shopping malls. I stand breathing, touching, smelling, feeling…trying to get the gist of the person who lives here.

It’s quiet…almost too quiet considering how many people there are outdoors.

I am surrounded by cherry wood cabinets and the smell of cedar. There is a fascinating collection of everything from very very large plaid shirts and jeans, to suits with designer name tags and a whole case of fancy watches. Run down riding boots to designer dress shoes all of which are large enough for me to fit both my feet into them.

As I step out of the closet I look to the other side of the room and see another door…and when I open it I find it leads to a bathroom that would rival the Taj Mahal (er my understanding of the Taj Mahal).

I lean against the wall just inside that room as I look about. There is a sunken marble tub that could easily sit a half dozen, there is a shower stall that’s more of a room than a stall and easily has a half dozen shower heads scattered about the walls at indiscriminate heights and one large one in the center of the shower ceiling that looks for all intents and purposes like the colander that I use to drain pasta at home.

I am awestruck.

“what the fuck is up with this place? Better yet…where the fuck am I?” and “boy could I use a drink” run through my head in quick succession and I slide to the floor.

I feel as if I am invading someone’s privacy and almost immediately I climb back up to my feet and wander back into the bedroom to come to a stop beside the bed. I lean against a poster and lazily watch fish as my mind tries to wrap itself around the how’s and the where’s of my position. This room is a warm oasis by comparison to the elegant yet cold living room and it is so diametrically opposite to the image I’d viewed outside of the building that I feel like maybe…just maybe I’m stoned and when I wake up this will all be a dream.

I shake my head…I’ve not headed back down that path yet again...but still…not much of this truly makes sense to me.

“Well then…if I’m to have a nap I might just as well lie down” and I step back a few paces about to take a running jump at the side of the mile high bed only to notice a small set of steps at the foot of the bed. A small set of steps exactly the same the same color as the plush brown pile carpet and the wood of the bedposts.

“This is just too much like the Princess and the Pea” I think as I kick off my boots and climb up on the bed squirming around to make myself comfy. I pull my hair out of it’s ever present braid and spread it about me on the pillows, but somehow that’s not enough. Never having been one for sleeping in my kit I scuttle out of my jeans and drop them over the side to the floor, then looking at the unlocked door, grab a fistful of eiderdown comforter and pull it over me….just in case.

I think to myself “this is some kind of comfy…a girl could get used to this” but as I eye the door warily I also think “I’m just way too wound up to ever get any sleep…I mean really? Anyone could walk in that door at any minute!”

And that’s the last thought I have for a while.

[Good thing nobody took that bet...turns out I needed a mental health day...although my throat is still sore...it's liveable....

Alrighty then my prettys....another question for you to answer for me....do any of you listen to the music? the links to you tube? or should I just stop with that part?

Wyz]

taking bets?

well

I think that
the cold/flu/virus
that I've been "fighting" off
since the beginning of fall
woke up
in my chest and throat today

I feel like crap
I came home from work mid afternoon

funny how when yer so busy you can't think
you don't get sick
and then when you slow down and relax...

BAM!

with any kinda luck
I'll sleep my way thru the evening
and it will be gone in the mornin

taking bets?

Chapter 18

the sound: The Police – Message in a Bottle, Edgar Winter – Free Ride, Steely Dan – Reelin in the Years, Focus – Hocus Pocus, Guess Who –Sugar, Sweet – Little Willy, Brownsville Station – Smokin in the Boys Room, Cool and the Gang – Jungle Boogie, Carly Simon – Mocking Bird, Redbone – Come and Get Your Love, The Hollies – The Air That I Breath

Boomer then announces that “this is the Skull Crunchers…an MC Baby – you know the rules.”

All of the men are well over 6 ft tall (I later find out that it is a pre-requisite of the club). They all also have long hair, many in braids, many wearing bandanna’s tied up like sweat bands, there’s every length and style of beard you can imagine and I think I even see someone with little wee skulls hanging out of his.

They are all wearing leather and jeans with big silver rings and chains, wallets on chains, chain link belts and there’s more tattoo’s here than I’ve ever seen in my life, and I am reminded of my friends at home telling me of the old biker adage that says: “Canadian bikers talk about doin it, while American bikers are doing it….whatever “it” may be”.

I look around me and realize that truly this is a large group of larger than life men and there standing right in the middle of it all is Robert, big as you please, with a grin on him like a Cheshire cat.

Just as I get to the point where I am completely overwhelmed the woman called Old Rosie (who’s not really so old) elbows her way through the crowd and tells me that I look terrified.

“I am” I gulp.

“Ya” she says, “they may look tough, but they’re all pussy’s when they want some” she grins at me. There’s all manner of disagreement in the responses to Rosie’s words and the male cacophony of noise intensifies to a level that truly should inspire fear.

I am either too stupid or too tired or even too hung over to go there .

She takes me by the hand and begins to elbow her way back through the crowd leading me towards the old house. She allows as she’s “Old” cos her daughter was “Young” and she’s “the owner of all the pygmy’s” as she points to the tiny goats.

“Rosie!” Robert hollers and she stops in her tracks.

“You take care of my Canadian Baby….make sure she’s safe and sound now!…don’t be too long though…she’s got her some beer to drink!”

Rosie turns to question me and the look on my face more than tells her how I’m feeling.

“Robert you old goat…don’t tell me you pulled the ‘one can of beer’ line on this poor child!” she hollers at him. All the men begin to laugh as Robert allows as he has.

“Men…the eternal conundrum”, she mutters and I am shocked that this seemingly dumb blonde knows a word that large. I do however have the presence of mind to keep that thought to myself but I’m unsure if it’s because I’m afraid of embarrassing her or embarrassing myself.

“Stop judging books by their covers” I think as Old Rosie escorts me the rest of the way through the crowd. As we walk towards the house she explains some of the set up there, that the barn is for “wrenching” that they (being the men in the club) build their own rides and restore old cars (she points to a truly beautifully refurbed Cadillac convertible complete with white leather interior and a beautiful new white rag top)

She continues a litany of rules for me to remember…the do’s and don’ts of living at “the farm”. She tells me that “the boys” make all the decisions and I need to remember three things to get along there: 2.Shut up. And 3. Pay Attention. She says Robert lives in the house and most everyone else along the tree line. She allows as most people don’t get to go into the house and that if I’m smart I’ll just wait there till someone is sent for me.

All of which, I pretty much immediately forget…all that is, except the part where she says “number one….no matter what happens, no how, never – never ever ever make the mistake of calling Robert anything other than Robert. He’s Robert, not Bob, not Bobby, not Rob or Robby….Robert, not Large Robert, Robert not Fat Bobb… He’s just plain Robert…..”

This portion of the litany is delivered with such vehemence that it burns in to stay.

We head into the dilapidated old house and once through the door the immense luxury inside hits me like a physical blow. Black leather couches and ottoman around the big white living room, mirrors and glass and long plush white pile carpets, (white?) chrome and pewter candelabras and a chandelier that would rival the one in my grandmother’s formal dining room.

Rosie drags me willingly through the room to the hall leading to the rest of the house.

She takes me to a bedroom with a huge wooden “Paul Bunyan” 4 poster bed that looks like the Jolly Green Giant should sleep there….and advises that I should likely have a nap.

I try to ask questions “who’s room is this?” “why am I napping?” “what time is it?” “how many people live here?” “how long have you been here?” “why don’t they fix up the outside too?”….but she just shakes her head and closes the door as she leaves.

Garden of Eden

my fat ass!

it's 2 freakin degrees
and
snowing

some bloody
Garden of freakin Eden
rainforest
this turned out to be!

Chapter 17

the sound: The Carpenters – Mr Postman, Aaron Neville – Tell it Like it Is, Led Zepplin – Whole Lotta Love, Eddie Holman – Lonely Girl, CCR – Travelling Band, The Jaggerz - The Rapper, The Five Stairsteps – Ooh Child, James Brown – Get Up (Sex Machine), Charles Wright – Express Yourself, Fifth Dimension – One Less Bell to Answer

I climb out of the car and am almost instantly surrounded by people.

Boomer is making like big man on campus and I am introduced to so many people in that first 15 minutes I know I hold no hope of remembering them all. They mill around all laughing and talking and muttering at once and while I am still terrified I begin to see a familiarity to this motley group.

I hear my name “Baby” ripple through the crowd and I understand that both the highlight anxiety and the stress of these first few minutes will be hearing their names.

There’s California from Texas, and Texas from California, there’s Bald James, there’s Wheelie, there’s Spider and Sam, there’s Little Man and Wonder Woman, there’s Old Rosie and Snot, there’s the Rat and the Mouse, Briskett and Boxer, Killer, Axeman, Butcher, the Executioner, MonkeyMan and Magilla, (not to be confused with) Gorilla or Chimp, Tiger and Tigger, Hard Harry, Dog, Prince of Pain (PP for short) and Skert, Nails and Hammerhead.

Then there's the names that fall on the flip side of the coin like Casanova, Lothario, Prince Charming, Ladykiller, Playboy, ShowBoat, The Stud, Wolf, Injun and Tobias. And finally I am introduce to a teeny tiny woman named Little Ugly who may well be the most beautiful Indian woman I have ever set my eyes on.

I think to myself…”what? There’s nobody simply named Pete or Joe or Fred even?” and beyond this thought comes the understanding that all of these names have been picked, chosen, given or earned by their “family” to differentiate them all, to individualize them and to emphasize their personalities or traits.

Just like me….“Baby”.

I am a creature of habit

for 10 years I've lived in this building
and for 10 years I've complained about living in this building

I need to get outta here
but that involves packing and moving
and I am a creature of habit

and then there's the whole conversation
about the VOD
and what/how the hell I'd be able to deal with that

she won't move into a house with me
she now won't move to my bother's cos
he's got a girlfriend
and besides
there's a possibility the fadder
will be living in his trailer
there for a couple of months

the blister will drop in from afar
again in Jan or Feb
to once more tell me
how much I owe the VOD
and what I should be doing
to take care of her properly
and then she'll bugger off again
leaving me
a creature of habit
alone here
with the "Queen" of Resistance to Change
(at least I come by it honestly)

ugh

I had almost made up my mind
to wait till I am 55 to purchase something'
because I want a mobile
and everything that's been in my price range
has been in a 55+ park
and besides...that's only 2.5 years

but today I'm thinking
that I need to get on this
this morning
I went to the laundry room
during my scheduled laundry time
to find some guy in there going thru my knickers

not that there's anything more than
cotton old lady drawers
but they're mine
and he should fuck off!

I'm so tired of not being able to live
in my personal space
the way I want to
imagine getting to a point in your life
where you fantasize about
doing laundry when you want

I think I'm right fucking tired
of having to base my decisions
on "adult" thought processes
as opposed to gut

I WANT OUT of this building
but I guess I want an easy way
cos
I'm not sure I can afford it
nor can I handle the idea of packing

on the flip side
the drunken deviant
that smashed my trike in the parking lot
in Sept
handed over 14 - 100.00 bills yesterday
as a start in paying for the damages
to my trike

so
thats one less thing to scrape for

jeeez
do people actually get to a point
where they don't have to base their
life decisions
on how much
they'll have in the bank?

how is it that all these people I know
travel
and I can't afford a car?
how is it
that so many people
own their own homes
and I can't afford
an outhouse

I think maybe I should just shut up
I'm starting to scare even myself!

Oriahe Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow, have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, min or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can beat accusation or betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life from it's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon - YES!

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bond and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are or how you came to be here. I want to know if you can stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me what or where or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in empty monuments.

--An Indian Elder

Chapter 16

the sound: Minnie Riperton – Loving You, AC/DC – It’s a Long Way to the Top, Paul McCartney & Wings – Let Me Roll It, The O’Jays – I Love Music, Hall and Oates – Sarah Smile, Olivia Newton John – Angel Eyes, Billy Preston – Nothing from Nothing, Helen Reddy – I am Woman, Tony Orlando & Dawn – Tie a Yellow Ribbon, Rush – In The Mood, Barry White – My First My Last My Everything

There’s a huge barn/garage to the left, peeling red paint and triple sliding doors, with a hay loft door open above…and there’s more bikes and old cars and trucks in different stages of repair than I can count at a glance.

There are more people than I’d expected to see and dead ahead of us is some kind of race track, in a field marked dead centre by a huge flat top boulder the size of a small car.

Along the right side of the tree line there are numerous tents and cabanas, cars, trucks and trailers and with people milling about. At a glance I see, canvas tarps, and clothes lines, and a couple of fire pits, I smell smoke and bacon fat, all of which make me think of a “gypsy” camp from those bodice rippers/fantasy books Mike used to say I had a lien towards.

To the left of the barn/garage there’s an old red clapboard farm house…more than a little worse for the wear. The garage/barn is in much better repair. It sits on a little rise, there’s a cement pad like drive up to the huge open sliding doors in front. It too is red, but newer and has what looks to be a brand spanking new red metal roof.

I can glimpse through the open barn doors to see more tool boxes than you’d usually see at the hardware store, there’s pulley’s hanging from the ceiling, an old fashioned coke a cola machine, and the ever present music.

To the left and slightly behind the farm house there is a huge old oak tree and I spot some other rather dilapidated old buildings and shacks behind them. Running free everywhere, there’s chickens and the occasional pig…and goats, about 30 small goats noisy goats.

As BarnYard pulls up in front of the old house a group of people begin to move towards us from all over the “farm”. BarnYard and Boomer hop out and BarnYard advises as I should “get my arse up and meet people”.

[ok kiddies..another note from Wyz....don't be surprised if this stops for a while...I think I'm getting the blahs...besides...I ain't even sure anyone's reading the damn thing anymore...and sometimes all this remembering isn't pretty over here....so...don't be surprised~I'm just sayin]

Chapter 15

the sound: America – Ventura Highway, Barbara Streisand – The Way We Were, ABBA – Waterloo, Three Degrees – When Will I See You Again, Grand Funk Railroad – Heartbreaker, Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody, Chicago – Just You n Me, Argent – Hold Your Head Up, Rory Gallagher – Messing With the Kid, Loggins and Messina – House at Pooh Corner, Jim Croce – Operator

Conversation and laughter comes to a stand still as we drive along the side of the house and round to the back past the old white wooden 3 car garage with it’s almost French style doors. Sun flits through the leaves in the trees and I feel like I’m in a movie…a “B” flick.

As we pass the garage I begin to wonder again just where the hell we are going. We pass a huge garden, rows and rows of vegetables and flowers and I have a quick thought….“how civilized”.

Once we are completely past the garden we come to a large double wide, white, wooden gate between two very old stone palisades. Boomer hops out of the car to walk once again and walks ahead, pulling out a key ring and unlocking the padlock to open the gates.

We drive through the gates and Boomer closes and locks them behind us. He jumps back into the car and we descend down a long winding, rutted, dirt and grass road into a small valley. I turn around and look behind us and I can no longer see the house for the trees and the hillside and I begin to get that feeling in the pit of my stomach again.

“We must be getting somewhere”, I think, as I begin to hear the strains of music. We continue forward and the music gets louder and louder. It has to be loud to be heard over the roar of engines.

Lots and lots of engines and music getting louder and louder.

We break through the trees at the end of the dirt road and I am at once assaulted with sights and sounds.

Chapter 14

the sound: Free – All Right Now, The Guess Who – American Woman, CCR – Looking Out My Back Door, Mountain – Mississippi Queen, John Lennon – Instant Karma, Edison Lighthouse – Love Grows, Lee Marvin – I was Born Under a Wandering Star, Simon and Garfunkel - Cecelia, Christie – Yellow River, Mungo Jerry – In the Summertime

We drive for about an hour and a half, the men are all laughing and talking I’m making a full time job of braiding my hair and making sure that the toes of my boots aren’t too scuffed…as in spending the majority of my time with my eyes glued to my toes on the floor boards and a silent prayer on my lips.

At each and every intersection I look about the industrial area we are driving through and hope against hope I will see some sort of deliverance. Something that will spark the idea I need to get outta there.

Eventually we drive into an older residential neighborhood, houses with porticos and verandahs, houses with huge yards and lots of oaks and elms. And then eventually the houses get farther and farther between and begin to look more and more like farms or estates.

Finally we pull off on a dirt road and come up upon the front of a house, butter yellow, with a long wrap around verandah. The windows have open shutters and are painted black the verandah deck is black as is the door. The walk way winds it’s way through the yard around elm trees and when I look back at the house I can see through the many windows to the white lace curtains inside. There’s several wooden rocking chairs on the verandah and a porch swing like I’d imagine would be on a house in the deep south.

The house looks serene. Like I am at Grandma’s house, and I begin to think this may not be as bad as I thought. I give myself one of my never ending pep talks…”there’s nothing to fear but fear it’self”.

There’s a long drive to the right of the house and it wraps it’s way around the side and back of the house…it’s old style…made of oblong cement pads in two runners with grass growing between them.

The mustang slowly begins to pull into the drive and Barnyard leans over and turns off the radio. “Must n’t upset Mrs. K” he says.

Chapter 13

the sound: Moody Blues – Just a Singer, Cheap Trick - Surrender, David Essex – Rock On, The Hollies – Long Cool Woman, Starz – Cherry Baby, Blondie – Heart of Glass , Jethro Tull – Aqualung, Uriah Heep – Easy Livin, CCR – Bad Moon Rising, Ozark Mountain Daredevils – Chicken Train, Charlie Daniels – Devil Went Down To Georgia

We drive for about 20 minutes, the wind whipping my waist long hair around me like a halo, and I’m distracted by it. I’m distracted enough to find myself sitting in the front seat of a mustang headed along the freeway in Minneapolis but not distracted enough to forget the mountain of man in the backseat, gently chiding Boomer and BarnYard as to just which liquor store they should stop at.

We pull into the parking lot of a Liquor-Mart and I am flummoxed at all the advertising…”2 for 1 Brewsky’s…cans or bottles” “Fifths for $4.50” I think that maybe I’m in booze heaven and just for a moment I forget where I am and what I seem to have gotten myself into.

Robert leans forward and quietly speaks to me, his voice masked under the noise Boomer and Barnyard are making around their discussion of booze selections for the evening, “I understand your fear little girl”.

I catch my breath, scared again, “yo you do?” I breath

“ah-yup” he replies “tell you what….jest cos yer nervous I’ll make ya a little deal. A little deal but a good deal cos I’m a fair man.”

I turn sideways in my seat and look at him….”Robert certainly is large” I think once again and now I can’t stop my mind from running round with thoughts of white slave markets and girls disappearing off of the face of the earth. In a flash I realize by comparison that all my troubles at home somehow seem not quite so “big”.

“ah-yup…I’ll make you a deal fair and square….these 2 jackass’ are gonna go in to that there store and buy us all sometin to drink, and what they are gonna buy you is just one can o’beer.

Then we are goin to go over to the house and you are gonna have that one can. After that one cab iffn you are still scared as white as ya are now, I’ll have Boomer put you on a bus back to Canada.”

I’m afraid to breath.

I’m thinking that this just might be the break I need. “One beer..that’s it…one beer and then I can get the hell outta Dodge! Maybe there’s a way to get outta this after all.” I take a deep breath and smile at Robert and agree.

Robert smiles and nods to the boys who head into the liquor store. We sit in silence, Robert looking off into the city streets and I look at my hands in my lap, wearing that smug little smile Mike always said I get when I think I’ve come out on top.

The door to the LiquorMart crashes open and out falls Boomer and BarnYard laughing and swaggering followed by a grizzled old timer pushing a moving dolly.

A moving dolly…carrying a keg of beer…and I begin to fear the worst.

“one…..

single…..

can of beer….”

As the dawn of realization comes over me I turn to glare at Robert and he smiles and winks at me. Boomer and Barnyard howl at the joke. I slouch down in my seat and think that maybe now would be a good time to take up praying for a living.

Chasing Cars

We'll do it all

Everything

On our own

We don't need

Anything

Or anyone

If I lay hereIf I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know

How to say

How I feel

Those three words

Are said too much

They're not enough

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told

Before we get too old

Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Let's waste time

Chasing cars

Around our heads

I need your grace

To remind me

To find my own

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told

Before we get too old

Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am

All that I ever was

Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where

Confused about how as well

Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

~Snow Patrol~

Chapter 12

the sound: Cream – Crossroads, Janis Joplin – Cry Baby, The Temptations – Papa Was a Rolling Stone, Deep Purple – Smoke on the Water, Elton John – Burn Down the Mission, Moody Blues – Go Now, Herman’s Hermits – Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter, Rolling Stones – Brown Sugar, Lulu – To Sir With Love

The sights and sounds of the Minneapolis freeway immediately transport me back to the last time Beach and I had ridden across the border with a gang of friends for a concert and a weekend of drunken debauchery.

We’d stayed at the Duluth Radisson and driven the rest of the guest’s in the hotel crazy running around the circular hotel from room to room, most of us half dressed and half drunk like big kids in a big kid’s candy store.

We’d ended up partying with the headliners from the concert we’d attended and found out just how decadent life could be when you had “enough” money…tequila bottles and lime rinds had littered the floor of the pool and when the hotel manager tried to stop the partying the band’s manager gave him a wad of cash tied up in a rubber band “to cover the damages” he said in his staid British accent. Mike had loved it, the band was one of his personal favorites and he felt like he was living large accompanying them to the show.

Before we came home Fred’s wife Moira (the self proclaimed sex fiend) had decided that we couldn’t leave without stopping at a sex shop and we’d had a laugh terrorizing the staff there as well. I mean, really, just what is so scary about 12 bikers and 7 women in a fuck book store?

In the end we’d come away with a 10 inch penis shaped vibrator for all the single girls back home. Mike’d been puzzling about how we were planning to get them across the border without claiming them and having to pay extra but Moira told him not to worry as she had a plan.

We climbed on our bikes and headed out to the freeway, I remembered the roars of the engines and looking ahead to see Al’s ape’s and Fred’s chopper glistening in the sun. We’d only ridden about 15 minutes when Moira’s arms started flapping around like she was having a seizure.

We’d all pulled over on the side of the road and Moira jumps off and drops her drawers for all to see and fishes out the Benewah balls she’d purchased for herself in the store!

More laughter was had by all, a little name calling not withstanding and I remember thinking that we really were a family – a family of misfits, but a family none the less.

Just before we’d got to the border Fred had pulled us all over and Moira had slipped a vibrator into the pant leg of each of the guys as they sat on their bikes, the end result being that all of them looked like they were hung like horses and happy to be there!

And as only our good luck would have it we had all female border crossing guards that day…all they did was look at the bulges like they were gob smacked and wave people through to the other side.

Mike and I’d laughed all the way home.

We interrupt this story.....

to all you faithful story readers

I'm going away for the weekend

so you'll have to wait a day er two

for the next piece......

but I'll be back....

promise!

Chapter 11

the sound: Elvis – The Ghetto, Heart - Barracuda, Styx – Come Sail Away, Player – Baby Come Back, Uriah Heep – Wizard, Harry Chapin Taxi, Joan Armatrading – Love and Affection, The Doobie Brothers – Listen to the Music, Linda Ronstadt – Blue Bayou, BTO – You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet, The Guess Who – Share the Land, AD/DC – Let there Be Rock, Ozark Mountain Daredevils – Jackie Blue, Little River Band – Lonesome Loser, Midnight Oil – Used and Abused

It's only a matter of minutes before Boomer thunders into the ladies room bellowing like a bull "Baby…hurry up and finish yer bidnezz girl…times a wasting and I can't wait for you to meet the boys!"

I shudder, and say nothing.

“Baby…I know yer in here woman…come out come out where ever you are” Boomer continues, “Look…me n the boys got places to go n things to do…get a move on it girlie!”

I still make no move.

Boomer roars, “GET THE FUCK OUT HERE GIRL ER I’M COMIN IN!” and I am once again reminded how he got his nickname. I hear a woman further down the row of stalls whimper and I understand that she doesn’t know I’m here or that he’s after me.

*sigh*

I guess I really don’t’ have a choice. I stand up and open the door. Boomer envelopes me in a bear hug and I remember Suzie’s comments about his teeth and breath. My stomach roils and I can’t tell weather it’s fear, a reaction to his body odor, more hangover or something of all of the above.

And again I think “what the fuck where you thinking Baby? How the hell did ya let yerself get talked into this?”

Boomer drags me by the arm out the door of the restroom and through the airport. I am surprised to find the mustang still sitting at the curb in a no parking zone and BarnYard in a heated “discussion” with 4 armed airport security. I glance up at the mountain in the back seat and think that then again, maybe I’m not so surprised.

Boomer ushers me into the front passenger seat, completely ignoring the airport security and jumps up onto the trunk of the car swinging his legs over to rest in the seat beside Robert.

I scrunch down wishing that by some act of god the taramac will open up and absorb me as BarnYard just pulls away from the curb leaving the security guards standing there mid-citation.

“Great” I mutter, “I’m not even here for an hour and I’m gonna get shot leaving the airport!”

I hear a rumble from the backseat and realize that it’s laughter coming from the behemoth sitting behind me. “That’s showin them” hollers Boomer as we head out to the parkway Boomer’s hair flapping like a hound dogs ears.

Chapter 10

the sound: Blue Oyster Cult – Don’t Fear the Reaper, Chicago – If You Leave Me Now, Bruce Springsteen – Thunder Road, Carly Simon – You’re So Vain, Kansas – Carry On Wayward Son, James Brown – Sex Machine, David Bowie – Changes, Bob Dylan – Lay Lady Lay, Donna Summer – Love to Love You, Elton John - Rocket Man, Procul Harum – Conquistidor, Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Blinded by the light, Rolling Stones – Wild Horses'

Boomer finally comes on the phone and he's exuberant and happy. He sounds like he's never been better and I think to myself "well, things are looking up".

"Hey Big Boom Boom I'm here," I says in my best tough girl voice.

Boomer hollers "hey Baby, great! Cool! Me and a coupla the guys are gonna come getcha…we'll be there in a jiff!"

I hang up the phone wondering just how long a jiff is and head for the front doors of the airport. I am waiting for men are Harley’s so I am a little surprised when 15 minutes later a baby blue mustang convertible pulls up in front of me.

In the passenger seat is Boomer. In the driver's seat is Boomer's riding buddy BarnYard. (I’ve met him once er twice in the past) In the back of the car where the back seat should have been sits the largest, furriest, meanest looking human being I have ever seen.

We're talking 6 ft 6 and 526 lbs…give er take a ton er two….Waist long brown hair and a beard that rolls down his chest to his belly like carpet. His hair is braided in spots as is his beard and hanging in those braids are bits of metal and feathers, what looks to be a cat skull and god knows what else.

“Robert certainly is large”, I gulp.

I take one long look and before they notice me I sprint back into the airport and make a beeline for the ladies room. I get there only to find pay toilets and me with no money. So I get down on the floor and scoot under the locked door, climb up on the seat and scrunch my feet up under me so that no one knows this stall is occupied.

"You weren't kidding when you thought this was a stupid idea…this may have been the biggest idiocy of you life bar none" I think to myself.

Chapter 9

The sound: SuperTramp – Dreamer, The Sweet – Ballroom Blitz, Karl Douglas – Kung Fu Fighting, Seals and Crofts – Summer Breeze, Lou Reed – Sweet Jane, Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On, Bad Company – Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Chaka Khan and Rufus – Something Good, Chicago – 25 or 6 to 4, Rare Earth – I Just Want To Celebrate, Tom Jones – I Who Have Nothing, Cliff Richard – Girl You’ll Be A Woman Soon

As we are de-boarding the plane and I am listening to the announcements for those of us that need to go through US Customs, I reach in my purse to snag my ID.

It is then that I realize that although I have my bucket and my toothbrush and even my freakin ID, I have no money. Nor is the little plastic case that holds all my credit cards there.

"Fuck me" I think, "let me rephrase that…if this ain't the stupidest thing you've ever done Baby girl it is damn close to it."

So I bullshit my way through Customs and once out in the baggage claim area I sit down on the floor and dump my purse into my helmet to see what I actually have.

Besides a headache, I mean.

ID - check

Toothbrush - check

Eyeshadow – check

Mascara – check

Cigarettes – check

Mike’s Zippo – check

Lipstick - check

Nail clippers - check

Hair Brush - check

Hair Ties - check

Rolaids - check

Socks - check

Cheque book - nope

Change purse - nope

Credit cards - nope

"Aaaaaarrrrrrghhhhhh! Now what the hell???" I snivel to myself.

Then I discover, folded in the lining of my purse, one slim Canadian dime and 3 shiny new Canadian pennies. Pay dirt!

So I load everything back into the purse and head for a payphone to call Boomer. I put my dime in and the US payphone spits it back out. And thinking that there is something the matter with the phone I drop the dime in again only to have it spit back out by the phone.

Then it occurs to me…"Canadian dime, American phone…sheeeeeeeit! Now what the hell?"

A lady walks by and I ask her if she will exchange a Canadian dime for an American one and she says, "how much you got?" When I show her my thirteen cents she snakes it all and drops a US dime in my palm. Cheap bitch!

I call the number that Allan gave me and a big deep accented voice answers, "House o Whore’s Bal'James at your service" he says with a drawl that'd cut butter.

I take a deep breath", "H-hello" I squeak, "I'm looking for Boomer"

"Heyull is ya'll da Canadjian gurrul Boomer's bin a'waitin fowr?" "Hey Boomer! deys a gurrrul on da phone fer ya!"

By the time Boomer gets to the phone Bald James has asked me a multitude of questions I don't want to answer and lots I can't even understand cos of that deep south accent. And once again I am thinking maybe I'll be ok cos I’ll just get Boomer to buy me a ticket home and I'll wire him the money when I get there.

Chapter 8

the sound: David Bowie – Ziggy Stardust, Ram Jam – Black Betty, Shirley Bassey – Diamonds are Forever, Jesus Christ Superstar – What’s the Buzz, Thelonious Monk – Round Midnight, Bee Gees – Message to You, Golden Earing – Radar Love, Marshall Tucker Band – Can’t You See, Jim Croce – Bad Bad Leroy Brown

By the time we get to my house it's 8:30AM and we still have a twenty-minute drive to get to the airport. All of a sudden I am consumed by this need to get to there and get on this plane. I race into my house and stuff my toothbrush into my purse, grab my jacket and head bucket and out the door I go…back to the truck.

We arrive at the airport with about 3 minutes to spare. Suzie even deigns to give me a hug and a wish for luck as Al hands me a slip of paper with the number I should reach Boomer at.

And before I have time to take a deep breath the plane is taking off. We get up to altitude and there’s the sun….my head hurts too much to think so I'll just sit here and rest my eyes, and the sound of the motor almost immediately puts me to sleep.

I wake up sober….somewhere over Duluth. I’m panicked for a minute while I try to figure out just where the hell and am. And by the time we land in Minneapolis I understand that this is likely not the wisest decision I have ever made.

Not one of the worst but sure as hell not one of the smartest either.

But it's gonna be ok because at least Boomer will be there and I kinda sorta know him as a friend of a friend and besides “Just how large can Robert be?” I joke to myself.

Dumber than paste....

ok
so I'm at work on Sunday
cos we have this huge data input project
that has to be done
and I can't do it
with "Hysteria" warbling
in my ear

she's given me very specific instructions
as to how to do it
(input each person by each class singly)

....and I have been doing it this way
for 3 hours today

about 5 min ago
I got up for a walk
to the outhouse
and come back
to realize..
if I'd have done it the other way
(input each person with
all the classes they are enrolled in
at once)
I'd have been done
2 hours ago

sometimes
I'm just
dumber than paste