---
This part 4 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Conrad's eyes bounced around as he stood next to the bordello. Those whores ain't running down the stairs unless there's something mighty fine to shriek about, he figured. He smiled inwardly for a moment, but it was soon cut off.
"How's the evening treating you Joseph?" asked Jackson, wiping his mouth upon a handkerchief.
"Why best of the evening to you Jackson," replied Conrad, eyeballing him up and down. "And where might you be coming from, at this most opportune moment?"
"Just had a mighty fine lunch with the Judge, Joe," said Jackson, putting his bag down at the wall. "Nice woman".
"Why certainly, Jackson," said Conrad. "If you like your britches pulled down like a whore."
"Heh, yeah," replied Jackson. "Almost got my britches pulled down, but escaped on account of agreeing for her to buy me lunch" said Jackson, winking.
"Hah" spat Conrad. "Bought you some lunch did she?" he asked.
Now, Jackson didn't like the face on Conrad, but he put his hands in his pockets and kicked an imaginary butterfly. "Harper Lee sure does know how to tell a man a story," he said.
"Story," spat Conrad. "I'll betcha Harper Lee has never looked into the heart of darkness."
Jackson took his hand out of his pockets. "Heart of darkness, Joe?" he asked.
"Hell yeah, Jackson. The heart of darkness."
"Hmm." said Jackson. "My lady friend may just enjoy such a tale. Is it about ghosts?"
"Hah," spat Joe, "I'm very sure your lady friend will be very interested in this very tale, Jackson."
"And why might you say that?" asked Jackson, smiling back at Joe.
"Because, for one, Jackson," said Joseph Conrad, "your 'lady friend' is not really your damn friend by any stretch of the word!"
Jackson took a couple of steps back.
"For another thing," continued Conrad, "she isn't even at the morgue! Never was."
"Haw haw," said Jackson, slapping Conrad's back. "All those years of sailing have surely put a blemish upon your judgment, good man. Haw haw."
"I'm not kidding Jackson" insisted Conrad. He pulled out a small diary from his pocket. "Look," said Joseph Conrad. "There she is," he said. "Isn't she beautiful, Jackson?"
"She sure is," said Jackson putting his hands back in his pockets and tipping his toes.
"And there she is again," said Joseph, eyeing Jackson again. "Look at her, Jackson. Look at her."
"She seems pretty happy" said Jackson to Joseph. "Thank you for showing me these wonderful photographs, Joseph."
"Sure, Jackson. Sure she's happy. But look at it," he said, flipping the photograph that was pasted into the diary page.
"She ran away Jackson," said Conrad. "Years, you spent traveling up that river, and there she goes. Just running away."
"She looks happy though," said Jackson, bending down to appreciate the picture a little more.
"Sure Jackson. She's happy. She's happy because she ran away with your slave boy to Delaware, and now both of them are happy as pecan pie. Your hussy ain't dead by a long shot, Jackson - she clean ran away from ya" said Conrad, his eyebrows fuming.
---
Jackson hoped he hadn't permanently maimed Joseph Conrad. After all, he was only a little character in the entirety of things. He'd asked if he should call an ambulance, but Joseph had shaked his head furiously, weeping. As he walked up to the park, Jackson felt sorry for landing that blow upon Joseph Conrad's balding head.
"Why, hello there Jackson" said the ladies at the picnic.
"What a surprise to find you ladies here today" said Jackson walking in and shaking hands with all of the women. He took a deep breath, and then told them about Conrad.
"Oooh. No, baby," said Sylvia Plath, taking him by the shoulder and ushering him into their foray. "That man is certainly lost to us all!" They all giggled away. Jackson helped himself to a slice of honeyed turkey and home made bread. "He called her a hussy," said Jackson, munching away, angrily, "and he called dear Uncle Tom nothing but a negro slave."
"Well, that's certainly not acceptable" said Harper Lee, winking at the others. "Certainly not in any of my courts."
"Too right," fumed Jackson.
"So I hear your lady friend has gone away to the north," said Virginia Woolfe, passing Jackson some homemade orange confiture. "With Uncle Tom, no less."
Jackson smiled. "Well of course. I remember the times she would laugh and talk about old Tom. There is something beautiful about it."
"Jackson," said Sylvia, rising. "Why don't you let me take you home?"
"Certainly not, Miss Plath" replied Jackson. "You know I cannot go back there."
"Of course, of course," said Sylvia, sitting down again.
Jackson rummaged in his pocket. "There's something here," he said. "Joe must've slipped it in while I helped him up again."
The women all leaned over to look as he produced a bunch of paper from his pocket.
"Looks like ... a little story," said Jackson, musing over the sheets. "A History of the World" he said, eyeing it up and down.
"Really Jackson," gasped Virginia, clasping her heart, "Whatever does it say?"
"Well, Virginia," said Jackson, "says here, that mankind will do the ugliest things in order to try to make sense of, and improve, their lives. Hmm", he eyed down the document, "Nothing much here worth looking at," said Jackson. "Just the ramblings of a tired and depraved man, it seems."
"Burn it, Jackson," said Sylvia, Virginia and Harper together.
"Burn the History of the World, ladies?" asked Jackson, surprised.
"Yes, burn it."
Jackson looked at the History of the World. Then he looked back at the three women. "I cannot go home now, you understand," he said.
"We will never go home Jackson," said Harper. She stood up and pointed to the woods at the end of the park. "Look yonder, to those woods. We'll go into the woods, Jackson."
"The woods," said Jackson, a smile coming upon his pallid face. "Surely, the woods. Shall I burn this History of the World, ladies?" he asked.
"Burn it" said the ladies.
Jackson stood and bunched up the History of the World in his hands. He smiled at Sylvia, Virginia and Harper Lee, and tossed the paper into the picnic fire. Everyone let out a deep breath as the story hit the flames.
"It was poorly written, anyway," said Virginia, taking Jackson's right hand.
"A trifle in the mind of the living," said Sylvia, taking his left.
"Let us walk into the woods, Jackson, and never shall we return home" said Harper Lee, putting her arms around his neck and goading him forward.
---
This is the end. In a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Showing posts with label fancypants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fancypants. Show all posts
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Fancypants (Part 3): Hand Dryin'
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This part 3 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Judge Lee calmly washed her hands at the sink and then adjusted her coat in the mirror. She pulled the tweezers from her bag and, staring intently into her reflection, plucked out a gray strand of hair from the side of her head. Then, placing the tweezers back in her bag, she washed her hands again, took a deep breath, and turned around to the hand dryer.
Jackson stood there, waving his hands erratically under the blowing air. He looked like a homeless magician, his tattered sleeves flying about as his arms swung back and forth.
"Perhaps I should give you a dollar, Jackson" said Judge Lee sternly, staring at the man.
Jackson turned and smiled at her. "Why best of the afternoon to you, Harper," he said genially. "How was your lunch at this fine establishment?"
"Suzy Q's Diner is by far the best place to eat at in Jesup town, surely" said Judge Lee, without taking her eyes off him.
"True, true," said Jackson, turning back to his magical hands. "Though I wouldn't know much better on account of my meals being prepared for fit consumption by my fine lady friend" he said.
Judge Lee sighed. "What are you doing there, Jackson?" she asked.
Jackson pulled his hands from the dryer and walked over. He put an arm around Judge Lee's shoulder and guided her closer to the machine, which by now had turned itself off.
"Harper," said Jackson, "this must be the most efficient hand dryer I have ever seen in my entire life." He clicked on the dryer's button several times before it turned on, and then its loud whir filled the restroom.
"Just look at that," said Jackson, waving one hand under the dryer. The force of the wind blast caused the skin on his hand to fold and billow. "I have never seen such a wonderful hand drying machine in my entire life".
Judge Lee smiled at Jackson. "Surely, it is a most remarkable feat of engineering, Jackson," she said, "but you misconstrue the meaning of my question".
Jackson covered his mouth in horror. "Harper, please accept my deepest apologies, for I never intended such a vile transgression" he said. "Whatever is the hassle, Harper?"
"I want to know what you are doing, Jackson," said Judge Lee patiently, "in the women's restroom?"
Jackson's horrified visage melted into a wide knowing smile. "Ah, of course my lady," he said. "There is no cause for your concern, ma'am, for you may rest assured none of the intentions I harbour would be considered foul by any reasonable gentleman. Or woman, if it should so please you."
"Of course not, Jackson," smiled Judge Lee, "I wouldn't ever think so."
"No ma'am. I merely got wind of this fine hand dryer from lil' Devil Joe who sits at the front of the liquor store, and had to come see for myself."
"Ah" said Judge Lee. Jackson smiled back at her. "However, dear sir," she went on, "I have been informed as to your loafing around on that poor Miss Marjorie's land, and also of the dwindling of your estate. And what is this I hear about you sleeping in the morgue freezers? People are threatening to sue, Jackson."
"Sue?" asked Jackson, a geniuinely baffled look on his face. "Why, I have not heard tell of any Sue residing in Jesup for the duration of my entire life."
Judge Lee looked evenly into his face.
"Let's see ..." said Jackson, putting his hand to his chin, "my lady friend does sometimes give mention of a Sue Hurley down in Allenhurst ... but why would any soul down Jesup want to threaten her?"
Judge Lee sighed again. "Well, Jackson, come on now, I'll give you a ride home," she said, taking Jackson's shoulder.
"Harper, you know I cannot go back there," said Jackson with concern.
"Right, right" said Judge Lee.
---
"You know, let me buy you some soup Jackson" said Judge Lee as they walked into the dining room. "You look like you could use a good meal."
"Whatever for, Harper?" asked Jackson, confused. "Why, only two hours ago I feasted on a fine array of Southern cooking prepared especially for me by my wonderful lady friend."
"I'm sure you did, Jackson," said the Judge kindly, "I'm sure you did. But please, won't you have a meal if I sit with you and request your fine company?"
Jackson's wide smile returned. "Well, if you put it that way, ma'am, I would certainly be happy to oblige."
---
This part 3 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
This part 3 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Judge Lee calmly washed her hands at the sink and then adjusted her coat in the mirror. She pulled the tweezers from her bag and, staring intently into her reflection, plucked out a gray strand of hair from the side of her head. Then, placing the tweezers back in her bag, she washed her hands again, took a deep breath, and turned around to the hand dryer.
Jackson stood there, waving his hands erratically under the blowing air. He looked like a homeless magician, his tattered sleeves flying about as his arms swung back and forth.
"Perhaps I should give you a dollar, Jackson" said Judge Lee sternly, staring at the man.
Jackson turned and smiled at her. "Why best of the afternoon to you, Harper," he said genially. "How was your lunch at this fine establishment?"
"Suzy Q's Diner is by far the best place to eat at in Jesup town, surely" said Judge Lee, without taking her eyes off him.
"True, true," said Jackson, turning back to his magical hands. "Though I wouldn't know much better on account of my meals being prepared for fit consumption by my fine lady friend" he said.
Judge Lee sighed. "What are you doing there, Jackson?" she asked.
Jackson pulled his hands from the dryer and walked over. He put an arm around Judge Lee's shoulder and guided her closer to the machine, which by now had turned itself off.
"Harper," said Jackson, "this must be the most efficient hand dryer I have ever seen in my entire life." He clicked on the dryer's button several times before it turned on, and then its loud whir filled the restroom.
"Just look at that," said Jackson, waving one hand under the dryer. The force of the wind blast caused the skin on his hand to fold and billow. "I have never seen such a wonderful hand drying machine in my entire life".
Judge Lee smiled at Jackson. "Surely, it is a most remarkable feat of engineering, Jackson," she said, "but you misconstrue the meaning of my question".
Jackson covered his mouth in horror. "Harper, please accept my deepest apologies, for I never intended such a vile transgression" he said. "Whatever is the hassle, Harper?"
"I want to know what you are doing, Jackson," said Judge Lee patiently, "in the women's restroom?"
Jackson's horrified visage melted into a wide knowing smile. "Ah, of course my lady," he said. "There is no cause for your concern, ma'am, for you may rest assured none of the intentions I harbour would be considered foul by any reasonable gentleman. Or woman, if it should so please you."
"Of course not, Jackson," smiled Judge Lee, "I wouldn't ever think so."
"No ma'am. I merely got wind of this fine hand dryer from lil' Devil Joe who sits at the front of the liquor store, and had to come see for myself."
"Ah" said Judge Lee. Jackson smiled back at her. "However, dear sir," she went on, "I have been informed as to your loafing around on that poor Miss Marjorie's land, and also of the dwindling of your estate. And what is this I hear about you sleeping in the morgue freezers? People are threatening to sue, Jackson."
"Sue?" asked Jackson, a geniuinely baffled look on his face. "Why, I have not heard tell of any Sue residing in Jesup for the duration of my entire life."
Judge Lee looked evenly into his face.
"Let's see ..." said Jackson, putting his hand to his chin, "my lady friend does sometimes give mention of a Sue Hurley down in Allenhurst ... but why would any soul down Jesup want to threaten her?"
Judge Lee sighed again. "Well, Jackson, come on now, I'll give you a ride home," she said, taking Jackson's shoulder.
"Harper, you know I cannot go back there," said Jackson with concern.
"Right, right" said Judge Lee.
---
"You know, let me buy you some soup Jackson" said Judge Lee as they walked into the dining room. "You look like you could use a good meal."
"Whatever for, Harper?" asked Jackson, confused. "Why, only two hours ago I feasted on a fine array of Southern cooking prepared especially for me by my wonderful lady friend."
"I'm sure you did, Jackson," said the Judge kindly, "I'm sure you did. But please, won't you have a meal if I sit with you and request your fine company?"
Jackson's wide smile returned. "Well, if you put it that way, ma'am, I would certainly be happy to oblige."
---
This part 3 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
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Saturday, January 17, 2009
Fancypants (Part 2): Rattlesnakin'!
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This part 2 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Sylvia noted a small piercing in the toe that Doctor Chesterfield seemed to have missed in his autopsy. Upon further inspection, she saw that the puncture oozed a strange amber liquid. Not blood - it was something else.
She reached over the corpse for a syringe lying on the side trolley, when there was an odd humming noise somewhere behind her. Slowly, she placed the syringe back on the trolley and turned to look. There was nothing there - only the quadratic arrangement of freezer doors staring back at her. Four chambers on each unit, and they had two. It wasn't something you'd see advertised on the mortuary building sign, but everyone in forensics was mighty proud that Jesup could hold up to eight bodies at a time these days.
"What in sam hill..." said Sylvia, to herself. She cocked her head to one side, trying to define the noise. It was almost intermittent - the humming blended with the freezers' buzz, and only occasionally pitched a little higher, or lower, which was when she could hear it.
She looked briefly back at the corpse, and, satisfied that it didn't look keen on exercise at any near time, crept slowly to the freezers. Putting her ear to the doors one by one, Sylvia listened for the strange hum. Finally, at chamber number five, she stopped. There was definitely something humming in there. Sylvia stood at the freezers, her ear to the door of number five, listening. Occasionally, she turned back to check on the corpse.
It blended with the hum of the freezers, but again - once in a while - she would catch a slight change in pitch. It almost sounded ... human. Like a man's voice. Finally, rolling her sleeves up, and with a cry of "Lord help me", she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. Frosty mist uncurled in her face.
"Why, best of the evenin' to you, Miss Plath" said Jackson genially from the freezer chamber.
Sylvia, having recoiled with a shriek, put her hand on her breast and screamed into the freezer. "Jackson! God darn it, Jackson. Not again."
"Whatever is the hassle, Miss Plath?" asked Jackson. He was crouched up in the chamber, his legs crossed in an awkward way, and hands folded as though in prayer.
"Jackson, the director has been over this with you plenty now. How did you get in here?"
"Why, I merely gave Jeremiah the evenin' off so he can get dressed up to take Mary Lou to the county Ball tonight" said Jackson.
"Jeremiah's taking Mary Lou?" said Sylvia. Then, shaking her head, she said, "Whatever, whatever. Now, you get out of there Jackson".
"Honestly, a grown man sitting himself down in a morgue freezer," said Sylvia, taking Jackson by the arm and pulling him out. "I might have thought you were six years old."
"Now don't be angry with me, Miss Plath," said Jackson, climbing down tenderly. "I was sitting on that chair over there, taking care of the place, when she asked me in for the pleasure of my banter."
Sylvia sighed. "Who asked you in, Jackson?"
"Why, my lady friend, of course. She lives in there. Said she was feelin' a little sleepy this afternoon, and asked if I'd tell her a story to set her into bed."
"Jackson," said Sylvia, "She's gone. She's not in there anymore."
"Come on now Miss. Plath," said Jackson, smiling, and reaching into the freezer. "If she's gone, then whose hand might you say this would be?"
"That's old Dame Grimsby, Jackson. She had a coronary earlier this mornin'. Come on now, Jackson," she said, taking his hand.
"Dame Grimbsy?" said Jackson.
"Yes," said Sylvia, "now, come on now. Yep, let go off poor lady Grimsby's hand, yep, now, come on."
--
"What was that humming noise I heard in there, anyway?" asked Sylvia, as she led Jackson out of the mortuary.
"Well, my lady friend - "
"Dame Grimsby" interjected Sylvia.
"Uh," said Jackson, looking a little confused, "Dame Grimbsy, she fell asleep in the middle of my story."
"And?"
"Well, so I set myself down to do some tantric yoga, meditatin' on her pretty face" said Jackson, smiling widely now.
---
This part 2 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
This part 2 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Sylvia noted a small piercing in the toe that Doctor Chesterfield seemed to have missed in his autopsy. Upon further inspection, she saw that the puncture oozed a strange amber liquid. Not blood - it was something else.
She reached over the corpse for a syringe lying on the side trolley, when there was an odd humming noise somewhere behind her. Slowly, she placed the syringe back on the trolley and turned to look. There was nothing there - only the quadratic arrangement of freezer doors staring back at her. Four chambers on each unit, and they had two. It wasn't something you'd see advertised on the mortuary building sign, but everyone in forensics was mighty proud that Jesup could hold up to eight bodies at a time these days.
"What in sam hill..." said Sylvia, to herself. She cocked her head to one side, trying to define the noise. It was almost intermittent - the humming blended with the freezers' buzz, and only occasionally pitched a little higher, or lower, which was when she could hear it.
She looked briefly back at the corpse, and, satisfied that it didn't look keen on exercise at any near time, crept slowly to the freezers. Putting her ear to the doors one by one, Sylvia listened for the strange hum. Finally, at chamber number five, she stopped. There was definitely something humming in there. Sylvia stood at the freezers, her ear to the door of number five, listening. Occasionally, she turned back to check on the corpse.
It blended with the hum of the freezers, but again - once in a while - she would catch a slight change in pitch. It almost sounded ... human. Like a man's voice. Finally, rolling her sleeves up, and with a cry of "Lord help me", she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. Frosty mist uncurled in her face.
"Why, best of the evenin' to you, Miss Plath" said Jackson genially from the freezer chamber.
Sylvia, having recoiled with a shriek, put her hand on her breast and screamed into the freezer. "Jackson! God darn it, Jackson. Not again."
"Whatever is the hassle, Miss Plath?" asked Jackson. He was crouched up in the chamber, his legs crossed in an awkward way, and hands folded as though in prayer.
"Jackson, the director has been over this with you plenty now. How did you get in here?"
"Why, I merely gave Jeremiah the evenin' off so he can get dressed up to take Mary Lou to the county Ball tonight" said Jackson.
"Jeremiah's taking Mary Lou?" said Sylvia. Then, shaking her head, she said, "Whatever, whatever. Now, you get out of there Jackson".
"Honestly, a grown man sitting himself down in a morgue freezer," said Sylvia, taking Jackson by the arm and pulling him out. "I might have thought you were six years old."
"Now don't be angry with me, Miss Plath," said Jackson, climbing down tenderly. "I was sitting on that chair over there, taking care of the place, when she asked me in for the pleasure of my banter."
Sylvia sighed. "Who asked you in, Jackson?"
"Why, my lady friend, of course. She lives in there. Said she was feelin' a little sleepy this afternoon, and asked if I'd tell her a story to set her into bed."
"Jackson," said Sylvia, "She's gone. She's not in there anymore."
"Come on now Miss. Plath," said Jackson, smiling, and reaching into the freezer. "If she's gone, then whose hand might you say this would be?"
"That's old Dame Grimsby, Jackson. She had a coronary earlier this mornin'. Come on now, Jackson," she said, taking his hand.
"Dame Grimbsy?" said Jackson.
"Yes," said Sylvia, "now, come on now. Yep, let go off poor lady Grimsby's hand, yep, now, come on."
--
"What was that humming noise I heard in there, anyway?" asked Sylvia, as she led Jackson out of the mortuary.
"Well, my lady friend - "
"Dame Grimsby" interjected Sylvia.
"Uh," said Jackson, looking a little confused, "Dame Grimbsy, she fell asleep in the middle of my story."
"And?"
"Well, so I set myself down to do some tantric yoga, meditatin' on her pretty face" said Jackson, smiling widely now.
---
This part 2 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Fancypants: Why the Darkness was Agnostic & (Part I) High Falutin'
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This part 1 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
why the darkness was agnostic
beneath the slush of that leper dog's mange
rolled a man with the flyest pants known this side of the world.
antarctica was cool as hell, yet a mere mirage next to him.
conversations with germs and dirt
never brought him down, or threw hospitals by his way.
sat sometimes in the morgue freezer with his dead lady friend.
despite darkness akin to a cave in mourning
those sunglasses would never come off.
he'd wear them along with his fancy pants n' jive with the demons eyein' his soul.
sun shinin' off maggots in his toes
wind in his hair, flies in his teeth, he'd stroll
into miss marjorie's garden of thorns to rend the flesh from his bones.
High Falutin'
"Mightay sorry to rustle you from your sleep, Jackson," said Officer Woolfe, as I joined her for a stroll. "I wasn't akin to your being around at this time of day."
"Think nothing of it, Virginia," I replied, taking her hand. "Miss Marjorie kindly offered me leave of her garden until such time as I feel inclined."
"Well, she sure is a fine picture of Suth'n hospitality, that Miss Marjorie is" said Woolfe, looking around as she walked.
"Finest thorns in Georgia, surely. Why, I have not been here but four months, and already I'm yielding high spirits."
"Mighty right, Jackson, but you always did have a thing with high spirits" laughed Woolfe.
I smiled back, remembering the small moonshine business I ran in the woods as a child. "Why, you have me addled by your meaning there, Officer," I replied.
"But Jackson," said Woolfe, looking around before she faced me again, "that sweet Miss Marjorie, she's done thrown a mighty fine conniption back at the house.On account of you, from what the maid says."
"Virginia, please - join me here at this settee," I replied with concern, holding my hand out towards a small blue couch that sat in between two magnolia trees.
We walked over and Officer Woolfe sat down, smoothing her pants. I pulled out a bottle of Amaretto brandy from under a bed of vines, and poured a glass for her. "Jackson, Miss Marjorie - she's not too happy" said Woolfe, taking a sip.
"Whatever is the hassle, Virginia?" I asked,
"Jackson, Miss Marjorie, she says you've been rilin' her garden a little too long for her tastes."
I covered my mouth in disbelief as she went on. "She says that for the past four months, you've been doing nothing but loafin' around here, n' ruining her flower beds."
"Why, I never ..." I exclaimed. "Are you certain Officer Woolfe? My understanding was, Miss Marjorie being partial to my good nature, had given me leave of this garden. Why, I was certain it does her some good, having a respectable gentleman like myself but a kitchen call away, might any trouble come knocking around. Her being a young widow n' all."
"You have maggots in your feet, Jackson," said Officer Woolfe, sitting up a little too straight for my morning eyes.
--
As she led me down the path, Officer Woolfe asked "What happened to you Jackson? You were nothin' but the richest damned man any which way from Jesup town. Why don't you go back home?"
"Can't go back there, Virginia, you know that" I replied.
"Needs a little fixin' up, sure - it's been a year. But go home, Jackson. Fix it up."
"Can't go home Virginia. Look now, look here - why don't you drop me off at the hospital. I feel something of a headcold coming on, n' Doctor Chesterfield may have a little pill or two to put my way."
"Can't take you to the hospital, Jackson" said Officer Woolfe.
"Why ever not, Virginia?" I asked.
"Jackson. The mortuary director called me last week. You really must stop sleeping in the freezers" she replied.
---
This part 1 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
This part 1 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
---
why the darkness was agnostic
beneath the slush of that leper dog's mange
rolled a man with the flyest pants known this side of the world.
antarctica was cool as hell, yet a mere mirage next to him.
conversations with germs and dirt
never brought him down, or threw hospitals by his way.
sat sometimes in the morgue freezer with his dead lady friend.
despite darkness akin to a cave in mourning
those sunglasses would never come off.
he'd wear them along with his fancy pants n' jive with the demons eyein' his soul.
sun shinin' off maggots in his toes
wind in his hair, flies in his teeth, he'd stroll
into miss marjorie's garden of thorns to rend the flesh from his bones.
High Falutin'
"Mightay sorry to rustle you from your sleep, Jackson," said Officer Woolfe, as I joined her for a stroll. "I wasn't akin to your being around at this time of day."
"Think nothing of it, Virginia," I replied, taking her hand. "Miss Marjorie kindly offered me leave of her garden until such time as I feel inclined."
"Well, she sure is a fine picture of Suth'n hospitality, that Miss Marjorie is" said Woolfe, looking around as she walked.
"Finest thorns in Georgia, surely. Why, I have not been here but four months, and already I'm yielding high spirits."
"Mighty right, Jackson, but you always did have a thing with high spirits" laughed Woolfe.
I smiled back, remembering the small moonshine business I ran in the woods as a child. "Why, you have me addled by your meaning there, Officer," I replied.
"But Jackson," said Woolfe, looking around before she faced me again, "that sweet Miss Marjorie, she's done thrown a mighty fine conniption back at the house.On account of you, from what the maid says."
"Virginia, please - join me here at this settee," I replied with concern, holding my hand out towards a small blue couch that sat in between two magnolia trees.
We walked over and Officer Woolfe sat down, smoothing her pants. I pulled out a bottle of Amaretto brandy from under a bed of vines, and poured a glass for her. "Jackson, Miss Marjorie - she's not too happy" said Woolfe, taking a sip.
"Whatever is the hassle, Virginia?" I asked,
"Jackson, Miss Marjorie, she says you've been rilin' her garden a little too long for her tastes."
I covered my mouth in disbelief as she went on. "She says that for the past four months, you've been doing nothing but loafin' around here, n' ruining her flower beds."
"Why, I never ..." I exclaimed. "Are you certain Officer Woolfe? My understanding was, Miss Marjorie being partial to my good nature, had given me leave of this garden. Why, I was certain it does her some good, having a respectable gentleman like myself but a kitchen call away, might any trouble come knocking around. Her being a young widow n' all."
"You have maggots in your feet, Jackson," said Officer Woolfe, sitting up a little too straight for my morning eyes.
--
As she led me down the path, Officer Woolfe asked "What happened to you Jackson? You were nothin' but the richest damned man any which way from Jesup town. Why don't you go back home?"
"Can't go back there, Virginia, you know that" I replied.
"Needs a little fixin' up, sure - it's been a year. But go home, Jackson. Fix it up."
"Can't go home Virginia. Look now, look here - why don't you drop me off at the hospital. I feel something of a headcold coming on, n' Doctor Chesterfield may have a little pill or two to put my way."
"Can't take you to the hospital, Jackson" said Officer Woolfe.
"Why ever not, Virginia?" I asked.
"Jackson. The mortuary director called me last week. You really must stop sleeping in the freezers" she replied.
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This part 1 in a series. Jump to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
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