BINGO BOY - post 23
And the ripples in the ether come from me. It is I, Pennyfeather, the actor from The Walnut Street Theater. What brought me back? Relationships... alliances.... romantic dalliances. We of the stage relish such things. For what is a play, save an intricately woven piece of emotional conceit? Bodies come together... and then they pull apart. Some do so repeatedly, while others maintain the seal.
Ricky has his Chrissie, the little one, I mean. And she her Ricky-boy. What will become of it? How will the pudding set? And let us not forget the older lovers here. They also grow entangled, like ivy on a wall. And will the tendrils always climb, or will the trellis fall?
Ah, breakfast time in our secluded, basement dungeon. Abelard and Heloise had not a better spot. Marge fiddles with the vittles upon her Jimmy's tray and slides it to him through the iron bars... He drinks in her every move. And sees the pains she's taken to make her features glow...... He takes the and begins to eat. Then he says - Hey, old lady, how long the two shit-for-brainses gonna keep me here?..... Marge goes - I don't know. They don't tell me nothin'. I'm just her grandmom. And you know that little bundle we got upstairs?..... Jimmy goes - Yeahhh?..... Marge goes - I'm his (makes 'eyes') great grandmom... Jimmy says - No? For real?...... She nods playfully... He goes - I don't believe it. Tell me, old lady, how many years you got?..... She quietly ponders her response - You mean you wanna know how old am I?.... This time he nods..... She goes - I'm fifty five... No, I'm sixty. I'm sixty. I'm sixty. You know how it is... But that's not so old. Is it?....... He beckons her toward the bars. She comes closer. He reaches out, caresses her cheek and kisses her on the lips.... She sighs.... And he whispers - thank you for last night......... She wants to respond, but the baby begins to cry upstairs, so she pulls away, then turns and says - Tonight, for dinner, you want some take-out crab cakes from the taproom down the street?..... He nods and says - And get some for yourself. Why should we eat alone?
Later that day, as she takes the chubby bundle for his airing in a stroller, neighbor women can't help but notice how radiant she looks. Some of them whisper to each other.They say - What the hell she done to herself?....... But only her basement house guest knows for sure.
When dinner comes 'round, they sit together, though separated by the bars and quietly eat their meaty seafood treats, while watching Wheel of Fortune on the little TV. He's wearing the sweater from Kohl's. And except for his printed sheet kilt, plus the unusual surroundings, they appear to be an old, married couple.
Weeks go by. And that's the way it is......
But Little Chrissie wants some 'toys'. She buys herself a magic, little screen...an I-Pad, or a tablet, or some such thing. Wants to write, perhaps a blog. So she reads them, to better understand the form. And becomes enamored of one such daily epistle penned by a Shropshire lad known as David James. One day she responds, leaving a comment at http://davejameswriting.blogspot.com that leads to certain troubling complications.....