Wednesday, August 29, 2012


Sarah and Edith got him into his cubicle. Looked like a plush, little walk in closet. You know, with those dark wood polished built-ins? They got 'em on HGTV and Million Dollar Listing, L.A. all the time. His has a lounge, or a couch, but it's really like a bed. Got fitted sheets and everything. Some guy they're friends with, a 'familiar' I guess, gave 'em all these real special buckwheat pillows. Annie says they smell like horse feed. But I notice she still snores real good every day.

Papa likes to sleep the way he did back in them neolithic times, which is to say sans loin cloth. Edith don't care. Think she used  to be a professional diaper lady at an old folks' jail. That's what she calls it. Makes jokes about it. But it was just a regular, pissed-up, nursing home. 'Cept they gave 'em meatball sandwiches and extra clean diapers on Saturday afternoon. That's when the company came.

Only thing is, Sarah seed all this fancy, Chinese, calligraphy writing scratched into the skin he got south a his belly button and north a the briar patch. Edith say it means something. She got out a menu-flier from some Chinese restaurant to see if any a the writin' matched. But whoever scratched him up wasn't talkin' 'bout no moo-goo-gai-pan, or General Sau's Chicken. And if he the general, why he not eatin' beef?

They 'bout to walk out and lock the door. It a real special lock. You would never even see it. But he start mumblin'. Sarah don't know what he say. She can read his mind a little bit, but mostly (at this stage) like if they playin' cards and she wanna know if he got Gin and all. Edith can do better than that 'cause she a witch. So she go back in and put her hand down on his belly. 'cause that where she feel it from. Then she start talkin' like Froggy from The Our Gang comedies. Eyes roll back. Whites flip up. Starts sweatin' under her titties and everything. Soaks right through her apricot lady-tee-shirt.

She say - Love me up good, you troglodite bitches. And gimme that pot a bear grease....... But apparently, they don't wanna give him no pot, 'cause like bear grease must a been la-dee-dah carriage trade stuff back then. So he jus' grab the pot and smear it 'round where it do the most good. Then he (Edith?) say something else. But it don't come out in English no more. And Edith startin' to get embarrassed. So they fasten the door and walk out. 

Sarah say - Why it smell like rosewood and ambergris in here?..... She been wit' the whales, so she knows.

Edith ain't got no idea. She just sit down at the little desk they got in the kitchen and start snoopin' through wilkravitz' Twitter stuff. You can never trust an ole, Piney, witchy-woman, you know. 

Starts readin' 'bout some .@LillithKain who live in Las Vegas and helps save animals, like baby seals and polar bears and all.... a real dedicated person, with a real good site. but that ain't what she want. She wanna find the nasty stuff, 'cause Papa got her all juiced up. But he don't got too much a that. So she say - Son of a bitch!... and slam it shut. Then she open the refrigerator and get herself a nice, big ice cream sandwich. Sarah in wit' Tomas by then, learnin' him to forget all about them mole-girls.

But it do smell all rosewood and musky in there. And if you listen real quiet, sound like a Chinese lady tellin' jokes and laughin'...

I Mister Never you Mind and I met a whole lot a Chinese ladies in my time...but never one like this...


please hit the SHARE BAR, OK? please COMMENT, OK? thank you and goodnight. 


Nephylim said...

I loved this section. It was sweetly told in a very innocent way. It was very interesting to hear such... erm... personal things being told in such an innocent way.

Billy Kravitz said...

Much thanks for your considerate comments. I blog it all as if I was taking dictation from the characters. they say what they say. If you have any links to any sites, please include them so we can return the visit.