The Feet of God

10 - BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE

I caught myself thinking how life can be so confusing.  We find ourselves living in this world, experiencing everything the senses have to offer, and then suddenly, it’s all over.  Other people are in the same boat, which makes me wonder.  I mean, if my life is uniquely my own, who the hell are all these other people sharing the experience?  And while they’re at it, why do they have to ask a lot of nosey questions or stir up trouble or want something I ain’t ready to give ‘em?  My mind began to reel, but I snapped out of it before I dropped off asleep.

I was standing in the doorway of a large room where an overhead bug light cast everything in a yellow glow.  Just for a second my gut tightened.  I wasn’t sick or scared, but this was new and big and I wasn’t sure of myself.  I looked around at a bunch of Seeker kids lounging in an old-fashioned parlor with a huge overstuffed chair set in the middle of everything.

The big overstuffed chair was covered in loose tattered fabric with a floral print.  It was surrounded by tiny carved wooden tables covered with glass jars of flowers.  A few bare light bulbs was strung from the ceiling creating a soft and even glimmer.  Sweet smoke filled the room, but not enough to disguise the scent of premium scotch whisky.

Curled up in the big chair was a womanish creature all wrapped in orange gauze material, with real close-cropped hair if not totally bald, horned-rimmed glasses, and lots and lots of shiny bracelets on her shriveled arms.  I had to squint a bit, but I was pretty sure the scrawny thing had a trace of a mustache above the upper lip.  In one hand she gripped a cocktail while in the other hand she fingered a burning clove cigarette.

Bob bent to place a respectful peck on the old woman’s cheek.  “Look Ma,” she pointed at me, “I brought home a newbie Seeker.”

“Faaaar out!”  Ma rejoiced.  “Come in, come in, and join us.  Rufus, my lamb, please be good enough to get our newbie Seeker something to drink, would you?”  Ma stared into my eyes, “What would you like?”

“A beer would be just fine with me, if it’s not too much to ask, ma’am.”  (I figured I shouldn’t go pushing for some of the Johnny Walker Black right off.)

“Beer it is.  Rufus, get our friend a can of PBR,” orange gossamer trails whooshed and waved through the smoky atmosphere as she spoke.  “Oh, and Rufus, please put this safely away,” Ma handed over the sacramental offering of Johnny Walker Black.

Ma turned her attention back to Bob.  “Dear lamb, we’ve missed you like the deserts miss the rain,” her arms swept about in another majestical orange flourish and she flashed a wink and a thumbs-up to the young Seekers.  “Tell us everything about your trip along The Path.”

“Ma,” Bob was very serious, “we have a problem.”

“What do you mean, lamb?”  I noticed Ma’s mustache bristle a little bit.

Just as Bob was about to answer, Rufus tossed a can of Pabst my way.  “That’ll be $7.50,” newbie.

“Say again?”

“That’s $7.50.  Seven dollars and fifty cents.  Get it?  The beer costs $7.50.”

I was disappointed my hosts wasn’t providing free beer for their Seeker guest.  But I reached into my pocket to pay him anyhow.  Rufus explained in a tone as chilled as the can of Pabst, “We may be a non-profit, newbie, but we’re not a charity.”

“That’s okay, Rufus,” Bob interrupted her consultation with Ma to holler over.  “He’s with me.  I’ll get that one.”

Bob’s attention immediately refocused on the elderly woman.  “I was asked to submit to a retinal scan.”

“Oh, I had one of those once,” Ma blurted out laughing as she slapped a knee.  “Found out later he wasn’t a proctologist at all.”  She doubled over in hysterics again.

“Retinal, Ma, I said retinal.”

“Oooohh, that’s not good,” Ma rolled her eyes in the direction of young Rufus.

“No, Ma,” Bob continued, “this could alter The Path of the Loud Enlightened One.”

Ma’s eyes shifted back and forth while she sipped her cocktail.  “Who would request a retinal scan of my dearest little lamb?”

“Not sure.  I only asked the pastor for a few measly bucks to get some gas, and they demanded an eye-scan before donating any cash.”

There were peeps and murmurs amongst the assembled Seekers.  Ma slumped visibly in her large, stuffed easy chair as she lit another cigarette.  She had her glass refilled while she gazed over her assembled followers.  “Listen, my poor little lambs, the Master has taught us:  This land is your land, this land is my land, and we are all united in living off the fat of the land.  Am I right?  We drink from the same cup of abundance, as we are entitled, and as is our hallowed right.”  She stopped and pushed orange sleeves back against her bony arms like she meant it.  “But there are worse things in this world than the cynical unbelief of the others.”  She stopped again to enjoy her drink, carefully sipping with llama lips so’s not to miss a single drop.  The room fell silent as everyone waited for the old woman to speak her wisdom.

“Sing it, Ma!” a Seeker boy exulted.