The Feet of God

123 - BEWITCHED

We passed Key Largesse and headed for open waters.  For a clunky ol’ rust bucket, The Tempest made pretty good headway to our unknown destination.  The breeze was cool.  The sky still pulsed a bright red color that I noticed was gradually darkening.

“How come you think my sister is somewhere around here?” I asked Crespo.

“Just a hunch.”

“Just a hunch?  Is that all?”

Crespo stroked his white beard.  “I consulted an old Seminole who was known for certain witching ways....”

“You mean a witchdoctor?”

“Something like that.  He informed me she could be found in this vicinity.”

“Anything more specific than that?  Like an email or forwarding mail address, or anything?”

“No.”

My confidence levels just sunk.

“And you?” he asked me.  “How come you think your sister is here?”

Truth is, my answer wasn’t any stronger than his.  “Oh, just a feeling I had,” I said.  I didn’t get specific telling him about my dreams and visions and such.

After a pause I asked him, “So where’re we headed?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Crespo replied.  He turned and laughed, “Do you know that ‘nowhere’ is the definition of the word ‘utopia’?”

“Huh?”

“Utopia comes from the Greek, ou topos, literally ‘no place.’”

I confessed I did not know that.  “You seem to know a lot,” I told Crespo.

“Education makes a man fit company for himself, it is said.”

I changed the subject back to the statuette.  “How much is that lady figurine worth anyway?”

“Priceless,” came the reply.

I then noticed a couple’a jars of honey and some rum bottles sitting under a shelf.  It made me feel homesick for The Rusty Trumpet, and we shipped out less than an hour ago.

“How come you carry so many weapons on board?” I asked.

‘You can never be too careful,” Crespo replied.  “Lots of drug running and piracy on the high seas.  I’ve sailed throughout the world and I always stay prepared.”

“Where you been to?”

“Many adventures in many places, let’s just say, and all for profit.”

“Sounds real exciting, I mean, all them adventures.  Ever find any lost treasure?”

“I have been very fortunate,” red eyes drilled in on me.  “Now all I seek is your little sister.”  He held the small statue in his hands.  “Circe.”  He kissed it.  “Pure beauty.”

Popular posts from this blog

The Feet of God

67 - ONE IOTA OF DIFFERENCE It was turning light outside and morning dew sparkled like glass beads.   It was time for me to go.   I tucked the gun back with the stacks of bills stashed inside Yeller Tom’s leather case, then headed over to a gravel path that snaked downhill toward two lanes of asphalt where I might hitch a new ride. While walking along the path a white pebble landed at my feet.   I didn’t know I had company.   I looked back and saw an old man and woman tossing away whitewashed stones from the second letter E in BIBLE HELL.   (I figured there wasn’t much for kids to do around here except maybe Fentanyl, alcohol, screwin’ their first-cousins, and pull’n practical jokes like this.) “Hey, up there, watch out!” I shouted, as a flung white rock hit me above the eye. The elderly couple stood up in a shock of surprise, almost as if they was caught red-handed do ’ n something wrong. “Sorry, friend.   We were cleansing away some smut.” ...
Read more

The Feet of God

60 - UP AND AT ‘EM I heard Yeller Tom whistling Reveille .  “Wake up,” he gave me a smack to the head. I rubbed my eyes awake.   The effects of knockout gas and dope and booze still lingered.  He handed me a small pack of seeds. I didn’t disguise my disappointment.  “I was kinda hoping for an omelet with bacon or French toast or something more nourishing.” “It is not for you.   Feed le pigeon , Gertrude.” The smell coming from the cage below my seat was getting kinda rank.   “Ain’t you gonna clean this bird’s cage?” “ Non .”   Yeller Tom’s nose flared.   “Now we fly.” I ripped open the bag of seeds and threw ‘em below my seat. Yeller Tom pulled on levers and knobs and dials again, and his little blue biplane started with a huge discharge of smoke.   As we taxied down the bumpy path I knew there’d be no in-flight meals served but I could sure go for some breakfast.   Even a lousy bagel without the cream cheese, but I didn...
Read more

The Feet of God

64 - HATE TO EAT AND RUN I watched Madame and Yeller Tom grow smaller and smaller until they vanished through the swing door back of the pastry counter.   My head rolled backwards and my eyes saw above me countless holes in ceiling tiles moving, breathing, expanding, shrinking...damn, this was some kinda special cream cheese. I then heard a voice, “Jeebus, how much didja eat?”   It was the bear of an airplane mechanic, Chuck.   He’d entered the bakery shop and sauntered over to the coffee stand and poured a cup.   “Here, drink this, it’ll help pull you together.” I fought to stay focused as I held the hot mug.   “You’re no barrel of laughs,” I cracked myself up.   “Mr. Grease Monkey.”   I doubled over laughing. “Just drink,” the huge man ignored my convulsions of idiotic laughter.   He grabbed a folding chair and sat down beside me.   “You’re gonna be stuck in that plane with Tom for hours, y’know, and you don’t wanna be flying high...
Read more