BINGO BOY - post 51
Welcome. Welcome, Oh, best beloved. Witness the first day of the New Beginning. Yes, I heard many of you saying we were wrong. But we of the Fifteen Kingdoms are not wrong. Palenque was right. Chitzen Itza was right. Ush Mal was right too. I do not recall the names of the rest, for I have been dead so long. What do they call me? You could not say it. Your tongue is crippled for such words. So do not sing our songs. Just call me Bayba.
And I have never so much as breathed the air of your land, for they brought me here as a mummy, dragged out from my tomb beneath the Temple of Kul Kul Can. Would they do the like today? I think not. But this was long ago, before machines learned to fly. Now I rest in a case deep within the Meso-American wing of a great Philadelphian museum. School children, barely into their first katun, go 'ewww' when they see me. But, oh, how I smile at them.
My spirit flits about the city like a hummingbird. I go north. I go south. Toward the dawn. Toward the dusk. The tale of 'The Ricky and The Little Chrissie' is quite known to me. So permit me to narrate what happened today.... In our hearts, The First Day... The Dawn of All Things New.... How I miss the piquant casseroles of my homeland. But I digress. So let me go on.....
Thing - the - First~~~ The people from the magic talking box (TV) cornered the one known as Marty as he ate a sausage stuffed with giant deer fat on the street. I believe you call it a hot dog. They beckoned him into a wheeled vehicle (truck) and regaled him with visions on a little box. He saw the bingo hall. He saw the games. He saw looks pass between hard, low-born women, as they pretended to win a game they had not. A woman who worked for the magic box spoke. She said - We have hours and hours of tape. And it gets so very much worse. What have you to say? ..... But Marty was silent. His eyes bulged out, but he was silent. And he pushed her aside, as he escaped the dark confines, and tumbled onto the street. 'Muscles' was there to help him to his feet. They ran back inside, raced down the center aisle, disappearing into the room behind the mirror, where they locked and barred the door.
But the thin, old man, known as Uncle Patsy, never missed a beat and the games, such as they were, went on, as he droned out the numbers to a mesmerized throng.
That is how 'Thing - The - First' began....
Thing - The - Second, is less volatile. A woman on the cusp of her third and fourth katun (20 year period) rides in the back of a great, mechanical conveyance. I believe you call it a Lincoln Town Car Limousine. It has a silvery, metal skin. I do not know the provenance. And a well-stitched leather interior crafted from the hides of the same giant deer used to make the fatty, street-side sausages. She listens to music, escaping from discrete, little tambors (speakers) hidden throughout this special vehicle. She dreams of a rather trim old man, who awaits in a city by the sea. I believe you call it 'the Jersey Shore'?
They must talk and make decisions. Her heart beats, as the huge Lincoln thing rolls on. She gazes at the cold, evergreen woods racing passed the window. A strange, little, juvenile creature ( young Jersey Devil) gazes back. But she does not see him. Perhaps he is a northern variation of my homeland's chupacabra?
Thing - The - Third plays out quite near the smoky bingo hall. A stout, young woman, known as Big Chrissie, buys a meal at the counter of a pressed-giant-deer meat-pattie-vendor. The drowsy girl on the other side says - Hello. and how many pounds of food does the lady wanna eat today?.... But a manager runs over to correct her. He says - That ain't how it goes!.... The counter girl rolls her eyes. She goes - All right! I know! I forgot! Go to hell! Go to hell! (you know how much they love that phrase 'round here). Then she smiles at Big Chrissie (who appears to be in some sort of distress) and continues - How many pounds of food does the 'nice' lady wanna eat? And do you got any fuckin' coupons? You gotta tell me now, or else a lot a crappy shit is gonna happen, OK?....... Big Chrissie belches and responds. She goes - No coupons. And I think I'm gonna have the pound-a-food special....... Then, as the counter girl pushes ' Santa Claus Spicy French Fries' on her (they get points), Big Chrissie's water breaks and gushes down all over the wood patterned, laminate floor. I think some splashed on a little boy eating a chicken skin nugget, but he don't care...... Without missing a beat, the counter girl yells - Baby water clean up on register one! Baby water clean up on register one!........ Somebody gives Big Chrissie a medicinal brew, known as a Diet Coke.
And thus did Marty's third child begin it's trip into our world.
Now please allow me to drift back toward my sarcophagus. I yearn for my desiccated cadaver. But pay attention, oh best beloveds. The world is new now and things will begin to change.....