Thursday, February 16, 2012

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Medicine

Things got real quiet at the hospital. Once they get everything all set up there ain't much noise. Little Davey hung suspended in a twelve foot lucite cube. We have other names for the material now. But you'd probably call it lucite. The interior is filled with a clear substance much like aloe vera gel. Young Texaco floats in it. There are not tubes. Vital signs are transmitted directly through the gel to detailed read-outs on the exterior side of the enclosure. 

Oxygen transference is accomplished via chemicals and molecules dissolved in the clear viscous substance. The boy's eyes are open, though he appears to be in an unconscious state. He rests in a 'sitting position, but tilted forward approximately forty five degrees. 

Upon close inspection it is possible to detect subtle movements and currents flowing through the gel. It penetrates deep into the wound on the front of his shoulder and exits the opening on his back.

A physician, this time human, whispers something to Bart and his son, Zeb. They ignore most of the details, focusing on one pivotal phrase.....'We'll know more in the morning.'....................Zeb just swallows and nods. Bart demands more. He grabs the 'healer' by his upper arm and says - Wait a minute. If that was your boy in that thing. What would you wanna hear? Don't tell me what's 'good' for you. Tell me the truth.  'Cause what I'm hearin' is 'He ain't gonna die during my watch.' Is that it?.............. The doc exhales and says - what do you want me to tell you?.............Bart says - Gimme the odds. What's his chances?.............The doc studies the data scrolling across the side of the cube, thinks for a moment and says - Right now, he's got a thirty percent chance. We don't know what can grow in there. He's torn up real bad. They got so many prions and virons here. We don't know them all. How many generations have lived here? Not that many. It's gonna take centuries for us to get a handle on all this. ............Zeb wakes up and says - Well, what are you gonna do for him?...........The doctor says - This is it, I'm afraid. Will it be enough? I got to go back to what I said before. We have to give it a few hours............. Don't say 'it'! Don't say 'it'! He is not an 'it'! That is David Lightner Texaco you got in there. Do you hear me!? I give one point five mill a year to this shit hole... Gimme back my kid!!................ Then he knocks over the coffee machine. Doc don't care. He ain't gonna clean it up. Tuva-Tuva man come in to do that. Hell, he cheaper than a robot and damn sure less than an android.

Zeb try to get Bart out the door. Ole man slap him off. Doc say - Please, Mr. Texaco. We just have to wait...............Bart just stare him down and say - Look, you bastid. You charge like you sellin' miracles...You make sure he gets some......... Then he shove that 'dedicated man of medicine 'gainst a wall and stomp out............ Five yard later he yell - Zeb!..... And Davey's daddy runs out after........

Miss Monica a actor, jus' like her late husband. She play lot a roles. Loud mouthed hootchies a specialty. But she can do other parts too. Right now she playin' 'strong-woman-in-charge'. Got Miss Sissie upstairs in bed. Got the cops all liquored up. They did not want any at first, but it did not take too much convincin' to change they minds. Ev'rybody know how good Texaco   drink is. 

Nobody run over to scrape up Whitey or that sky-pony. Flies don't mind. More juicy meat for them. It crazy hearin' flies buzz like that at night. They far off from the house. But you could still hear 'em. Tillie, the kat-kat gal (excuse me, Tuva-Tuva) say some a them big blues (locusts) and squasha-bugs (another Mars variety) prob'ly diggin' in too. Cops don't seem to care much. They already got the truth. Got it straight from Stinker. And that all that count 'round here.

Miss Monica eyein' all that silver they got displayed in the fancy eatin' room. Got it all locked up in them fancy glass cupboards. Not that she want a big mess a old timey gravy boats and curly-que  candle sticks (some of 'em rumored to be from the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas, Earth), but she know how much wealth they represent. And she want the mama bear part a it  for her kids. 

India jus' set in the chapel mouthin' her prayers. Miss Sissie got it all tricked out for her Pittsburgh Platform, Reform Judaism psalm singin'. But Miss India say that don't matter none 'cause Jesus prob'ly prayed in place jus' like that...... 'Ceptin' all signs point to Him havin' a more Orthodox kind a upbringin'. 

Tillie laugh at all a them from the kitchen. She know her way the best. She grindin' her 'spirit' herbs in that little jade bowl. She hummin' her songs.  Dip a finger in it and take a lick. Oh, look at her. Now she start a tremble, doin' the Saint Vitus dance, 'cept they ain't got no Saint Vitus in her holy book. But them Tuva-Tuva ain't got no book at all. Well, they do, but it written inside they heads....

Sun gone pop up over by the big pond soon... Then maybe we know.

Miss Monica run her hand over that long shiny table....You can tell....She like the way it feel......


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