Monday, October 23, 2017

Graveyard Everlasting (Blogophilia 35.10)

In an old cemetery on the outskirts of town, a buried couple is resting contently. From time to time, their conversation is heard through the light breeze.

“A lovely night, Mary.” The man had a low nasally voice. “Air crisp with the coming cold. Look at the magical colors in the leaves. And the moon, when have we seen it so full?”

A birdlike voice replied. “It’s beautiful, Liam, so full and illuminating. Almost like our first night together, remember?”

A small chuckle. “Halloween and you were dressed as a the good witch, all in white.”

“And you were the Vampire, ready to bleed me blue.” She turned toward her husband. “You asked for my hand and I gave you my heart. Mmm...such a wonderful night.”

They gazed contently over the field. Liam turned to his mate.

“Mary, may I say I've never wanted another woman?”

“You are still so sweet.” She paused, “I certainly never needed another man. Even old, you were clever and reliable. I'm so thankful we died in each other's arms. I was 87 and you were 89 and I still looked at you like the stars that shine even tonight. But I wonder?”

"What's that, Love?"

"If those above realize we still hold hands."

With a wink. “Like the Cialis commercial?"

There was a long trill.

"Haha, Yes. I can still turn and see your lovely smile over the edge of my box. Our own version of heaven.”

A rustling came from beyond the edge of the brush. Mary whispered.

“I hear something. I hope it isn't that young couple again."

"But that was fun.” Liam said with a smirk. “Didn't it remind you of us?"

"A little too much. They certainly didn’t leave anything to the imagination."

"Neither did we. Consider it karma for our engagement night."

"Hahahahahah.” She twittered. “You’re right. We never did let our love be secret. But I wonder if old Martin was as aware of our tossing over his grave?"

"He was jealous."

"Oh, stop it, Silly”

They fell silent as a boy and girl emerged from the woods. He had ginger hair topped with a jesters cap and dressed almost formally in a blue cutaway coat with a party striped cummerbund over a matching set of trousers. She wore a long black dress that complimented her ample body and a small pointed hat perched over flowing blond curls.

“Shhh! It IS them.” Mary shifted up as much as she could. “That's a lovely dress she has on."

Liam joined her. "If it is like last time, it won't be there long."

The bony point of the elbow missed his rib cage.

"You really are a dirty dead man.” Turning her attention back to the couple. “ Mmm... He is a nice hunk, though. Like you were at his age."

"Thank you, Love. I kind of miss that."

"Oh, I do, too. But time does go on. Let’s see what happens.”

A small wicker basket was set on the foot-stone. Opening it, the young woman pulled a wool blanket and spread it just beyond the old couple’s final resting place. But It had not settled when passion took over. The coat and cummerbund soon lay on the grass. Buttons loosened one by one as her ruby lips followed.

“Say, it looks like she's taking the lead tonight.” Mary’s bony hand drifted over to her mates lap.

The fire between them warmed the chill of the evening. Hats released their hair, sending it flowing across bare shoulders. Trousers drifted downstream followed by the black dress, forming a pool of fabric at their feet.

Ooh, Love, he looks like you in other places, too!” The old woman squealed. “Why I believe this is our great-grandson, Harry. Didn't he grow up to be a handsome lad.”

Ginger Head explored quivering pastel mountains while hands sought soft peaks. Sighs and the scent of flowers surrounded the scene.

"And he's got my good taste in ladies, if I do say so myself." as he slipped his arm over Mary’s shoulder.

"Thank you, Dear. They really do look like us back then" She said with a wink. “Makes me want to join them"

Suddenly, the girl stopped and pulled back from her lover, putting a hand over her naked breasts.

The boy looked puzzled.

"What's wrong, Amy?"

“Harry, do you hear something?"

Slowly, the blond curls turned toward the headstone.

"It sounds like an old couple talking. Talking about us."

The boy sat up, looking like half dressed clown he was. The sweat of their efforts flowed across his belly, dampening the waistband of his boxers. It mattered not a whit. Reaching behind him, he produced a small box. With a grin, he got on one knee.

"That may be Great-Grandma Mary and Great-Grandpa Liam. I didn’t realize it the first time we came back here, but this is their grave.The family story was he proposed to her in a cemetery on Halloween and my Grandmother came soon after.”

He opened the box.

“I wonder if..."

Moonlight reflected from the ring onto their faces. The beseeching look came as it slipped on her finger was answered by a beatific smile. Pulling his face up to hers she looked deep into his starry eyes and completed the sentence.

"...they are watching?"

A deep kiss followed as her hand circled slowly over his bare chest.

"I believe they approve.” She kissed him again. “Harry O’Reardon, you are the most wonderful man I have ever known. I love you. The answer is YES! I want to be your wife forever."

Harry and Amy hands clasped together. Two bony hands rose from the ground on each side and embraced the young couple in benediction and love. There was no recoil at the cold hardness, for they knew it was the spirit of their love. The last of the cloth vanished. And as their bodies melded into one, supplications to life echoed off the stones and filled the forest with their joy. They were all free.

*********************************************************************************

The next year, the old couple were still at their place holding hands. The darkening indigo sky welcomed the Harvest moon. Soon, the memory of the prior year came to them. They smiled.

“Oh, Liam Love.” Mary whistled. “It has been a year. I do wonder how Harry and his Bride made out.”

Liam sighed. “I’m sure they are…: He paused “Wait...I hear something.”

As soon as the words left him, Harry and Amy emerged from the woods. Time had transformed the children into striking adults. Dressed in common working clothes, they were no less joyful than before. In her arms was their newborn son, suckling contently. Liam and Mary’s souls filled with pride.

He was carrying the wicker basket and set it down in front of the grave. With a flourish, the wool blanket was spread and a banquet served in front of the double stone. Two glasses of wine were poured and set in front of the grave. Harry then poured two more for him and his bride. Smiling, with chalices held high, Harry spoke first.

“Mary and Liam, we wanted to come by today. It is the anniversary of our engagement and we thank you from our hearts for overseeing it.”

They both drank deeply. Amy leaned over with the baby and kissed the stone. Together they introduced him.

“This is Liam Charles. We named him for you, Sir. Our prayers to life were answered with your undying love. Your embrace still is with us. May you, and all of us, be blessed for all eternity. And may the same loving spirit follow our son throughout his life.”

They finished the wine and Harry kissed his bride again, one hand in hers, with the other on his son’s soft head. When they turned back to headstone, the glasses on the stone were empty. And they saw the bony hands locked in their own embrace. The fire was warm coals, banked for the long haul.

What was asked would be done forevermore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pic Guesses: Pastel mountains (in blog), Soft peaks (in blog), Peaked prism. Magical colors. Fire on the mountain, Paradise.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Eddie's Auto (Blogophilia 34.10)



Eddie’s is gone. The place where wayward bound gearheads turned wrenches on hoopties. Gone to the whims of commercial development. Oh, it had to happen. After all, Eddie himself passed on to the great car show in the sky a few years ago. And the wives of would be mechanics and racers were relieved. You see, there’s no such thing as fun for the whole family, you know. 
 
 
We spent our weekends in friends’ carports, 12 packs and parts scattered next to our rusted out hulks. We pounded and cussed at cranky bolts. Screamed when flames erupted out of throttles. Car virgins getting their first hot oil baths were always good for laughs. It was a simpler time. There were no OBD codes to figure out. Engine bays had room to work. A universal joint elbow was rarely required to get to a key bolt. Stuff was done out of pure obsessiveness, some cosmetic, most mechanical. It was how you got to the top of the street pecking order cruisin’ down Roswell Road.
 
A lot of us got our start in one of Eddie’s six bays. He wasn’t much older than us, but he had track experience and enough smarts to know just how far to go. Some of us just wanted our beasts to run. Others wanted to run from the cops. The cops took notice, too. Soon Eddie had the contract for the North County precinct. And he kept it after the city incorporated, too. Multiple generations of Ford Interceptors and Dodge Monacos littered the parking lot, most too broken to resurrect. 
 
This guy:

Would have been right at home. 
 
If this sounds like a requiem mass...well it is. A eulogy to a youth well spent sucking up gasoline and exhaust. A remembrance of the small block Malibu with the two speed Powerglide, The rusted Olds 98 with the propeller in the trailer hitch, the Volvo 144 that would puke its innards every six months like clockwork and all the other four wheel conveyances that got me from point A to Point B. They never were sports cars. I was too practical minded for those. But I enjoyed working on them.
 
Today’s kids are missing out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Topic-Dave Coon
Pic-David Schrader
Pic guesses- Hoopties (in blog), Gearhead (in blog), beasts (in blog), cruisin’ (in blog), sports cars (in blog), Little Red Corvette, Shiny, Metal Girlfriend, Shake Stand, Detroit Iron, Bat Out of Hell, Checkered Flag. Concours.

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Sleepless

I had a dream last night
A dream of you
Perfect in imperfection
Shelled with your scars 
Showing.

Bonded, we snaked alongside
Each other
Giving, taking
And giving again.

I wondered if it were mutual
Through the ether
I find you were sleepless  
All night. 

Monday, October 9, 2017

Greater Fools (Blogophilia 33.10_

This is a post about fads and to what extent a fad market can explode. 
 
There is a show on Cartoon Network called “Rick and Morty, that involves a scientist and his grandson time traveling through history.” I’ve only seen a couple of episodes, but my sons think it is the most brilliant thing ever. Especially my younger one. He is also the entrepreneurial one, always on the latest trend. 
 
In a recent episode of the show, Rick and Morty transported back to 1998 to attend to a family matter. When he landed, he immediately went to McDonald’s. You see, this is when the movie Mulan was first released and Disney had a merchandising license with the company that included a Szechuan chicken dipping sauce (that also is tasty with duck). Rick called it the best sauce ever made. 
 
He took a huge number of packets back to his time machine to enjoy in the present time.
 
The fans of the show took notice. There was already a small collector market for the sauce and prices on Ebay went wild. So wild that McDonald’s re-released a very small batch to take advantage of the interest. My son tried get some to resell for a profit (he needs new tires on his truck), but it had all been spoken for. The company then released this status update: 
 
 
It is for the the best. Like all fad markets, the price of Szechuan sauce will continue to rise until the new batch gets released, or the fools find some other shiny bling to spend money on. The ones left holding the hot potato then get burned. It is a disaster that repeats itself over and over again. 
 
It is our choices that show us who we are. When a food condiment is more important than the victims of [insert your choice of disasters from the last three weeks], we need to take a long look in the mirror.
 
The image doesn’t look good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pic guesses: Duck, An obscene term not involving a duck, Dinner Guest, Gilbert Gottfried, Plucked, Roasted, Daffy in retirement, Marvin’s revenge, Duck Dodgers in the 24 1/2 Century, She doesn’t look Chinese, Pre Paté, Mallard’s rest. Gander,

Monday, October 2, 2017

About Last Night (Blogophilia 32.10)

A single beam of light found it’s away through the blinds and into her eye. Slowly, she stirred. Where was she? Legs cramping, the bed creaked as she shifted into a more comfortable position...
 
I wrote this log line yesterday as a story builder. I didn’t know the character’s name, how she got into this bed, or whether she was alone. I’ve handled characters like her before. Naive and vulnerable, it may have been her first time waking up in a strange place. The start of an adventure, either good or bad.
 
Opening the news feed this morning gave me a similar feeling. Where am I? Have I really fallen through the looking glass into a warped vision of humanity? Did one of my very darkest scenarios of all time actually come to pass? 
 
It’s 9:17 AM EST and the powder fog is lifting a bit. A man decided to declare war against his fellow man. The motives for his actions are unknown and honestly, do not matter. Early reports show he was a local of some means, well known in the casino community. No police contacts as far as anyone can tell. He used his Significant Other’s information to check into the Mandalay Bay Thursday afternoon without her knowledge (she was out of the country). Hotel management wasn’t concerned, since he was a regular customer that spent money. They gave him a room on the 32nd floor facing the open lot across Las Vegas Boulevard he requested. It gave him strategic advantage. 
 
He spent the next several days gathering the material for death, putting in time in the casino from time to time to keep the management happy and unaware. The motives for his actions are unknown. And now we wake to the aftermath of his party. There are at least 150 casualties, with 50 or so dead.
This isn’t the first time we’ve woken up in this bed. I doubt it will be the last. 
 
Forward, backward, inward, outward 
Come and join the chase!
Nothing could be drier 
Than a jolly caucus-race

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pic Guesses: Bon Bon, Lips, Oral fixation, Vulnerable, Ghost face. Three strands, Bejeweled,