As always, this is unedited copy as I wrote it, so don't bust my balls if there are typos, grammatical errors, or choppy sentences. The final version will likely be somewhat different. By the way, I write on the Atlantis word processor, which costs about $35. I love it because it is better than anything else for ten times the price, and it has sounds. When I write I like to use typewriter sounds. The one that comes with the program is not that great, but you can find others on the web and substitute them. The other thing is that the support is great--very responsive. I also use a typewriter font--kinda like the way it looks.
Margold took a shower to get the stench of cigars, sage and cedar smoke off his body. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He was a bit thinner than he had been in a while because he hadn’t had anything to eat and no booze to drink in a couple of days. He actually felt more awake and clear-headed than he had in years. He
thought of the visions he had had, including the naked women. That was a hell of a vision, he thought. They seemed so real he could reach out and touch them. But isn’t that what a dream is? Maybe those mushrooms did the same thing to the brain that dreaming does. Seems like one would have to be careful, though, or one could eat way too many mushrooms. Then what? Would you become a vegetable, slobbering all over yourself in you pajamas in your wheelchair in the home for the rest of your life?
Just as all these high thoughts were passing though his mind his cell phone rang. He could tell by the barking dog ring tone that it was his wife. That’s pretty much what he heard for the past ten years whenever she spoke to him.
“Mary,” he said as he answered the phone.
“Hi, Margold,” she said, “how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m laying in my bed thinking about the hallucination I had today in my sweat lodge after eating magic mushrooms.” What the fuck, he had nothing to hide, and the honesty was refreshing.
“You what?”
“You heard me. I’m trying to extricate myself from Mr. Death.”
“Well, I’m glad of that, but don’t do anything crazy.”
“Too late. And in the next couple of days I’m going to do something even crazier.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“All I’ll tell you is to go look on the internet for O-kee-pa.”
“O-kee what?”
“Pa. O-kee-pa.”
“What’s that?”
“I ain’t going to tell you. Maybe I’ll tell you after.”
“It doesn’t sound good.”
“I got a feeling that it ain’t gonna feel good, either.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, what can I do for you?”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I want you to come home.”
“Oh, really? Well, you should have thought of that before you had me taken by the police to a nut house, and destroyed all my paintings while I was there.”
“I’m sorry about that, Margold, that was a big mistake.”
“You bet it was.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. You have forfeited the right to have an audience with me. You’re lucky I answered the phone.”
“Margold, don’t be so hard. I understand what you’re going through now and I want you to come home.”
“Nah, can’t see it.”
“What about Jonathan?”
“What about him?”
“Are you abandoning him, too?”
“I’m not abandoning anyone. I just need a while to myself. When the time is right I’ll probably come back, or at least visit. I’m not sure I can forgive either one of you for what you did.”
“We were concerned about you and saw it as the only way to be sure that you were not a danger to yourself.”
“All right, I could almost forgive the nut house thing, but destroying my paintings was pure, unadulterated meanness. That I can’t forgive.”
“But you can’t hold that against Jonathan.”
“I don’t. I don’t hold Jonathan in the same contempt as I hold you. I just don’t need him around right now.”
“Then you’re not coming home?”
“Hell no.”
With that, she hung up. Just like her, he thought. If you don’t get the answer you want, just hang up, either literally or figuratively.
After talking to his wife it was a real temptation to fix a pitcher of martinis, but he had more spiritual work to do in the next couple of days, and he needed to fast and to refrain from strong drink. He fell asleep with images of the naked woman vision in his head.
Margold took a shower to get the stench of cigars, sage and cedar smoke off his body. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He was a bit thinner than he had been in a while because he hadn’t had anything to eat and no booze to drink in a couple of days. He actually felt more awake and clear-headed than he had in years. He
thought of the visions he had had, including the naked women. That was a hell of a vision, he thought. They seemed so real he could reach out and touch them. But isn’t that what a dream is? Maybe those mushrooms did the same thing to the brain that dreaming does. Seems like one would have to be careful, though, or one could eat way too many mushrooms. Then what? Would you become a vegetable, slobbering all over yourself in you pajamas in your wheelchair in the home for the rest of your life?
Just as all these high thoughts were passing though his mind his cell phone rang. He could tell by the barking dog ring tone that it was his wife. That’s pretty much what he heard for the past ten years whenever she spoke to him.
“Mary,” he said as he answered the phone.
“Hi, Margold,” she said, “how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m laying in my bed thinking about the hallucination I had today in my sweat lodge after eating magic mushrooms.” What the fuck, he had nothing to hide, and the honesty was refreshing.
“You what?”
“You heard me. I’m trying to extricate myself from Mr. Death.”
“Well, I’m glad of that, but don’t do anything crazy.”
“Too late. And in the next couple of days I’m going to do something even crazier.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“All I’ll tell you is to go look on the internet for O-kee-pa.”
“O-kee what?”
“Pa. O-kee-pa.”
“What’s that?”
“I ain’t going to tell you. Maybe I’ll tell you after.”
“It doesn’t sound good.”
“I got a feeling that it ain’t gonna feel good, either.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, what can I do for you?”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I want you to come home.”
“Oh, really? Well, you should have thought of that before you had me taken by the police to a nut house, and destroyed all my paintings while I was there.”
“I’m sorry about that, Margold, that was a big mistake.”
“You bet it was.”
“But . . .”
“But nothing. You have forfeited the right to have an audience with me. You’re lucky I answered the phone.”
“Margold, don’t be so hard. I understand what you’re going through now and I want you to come home.”
“Nah, can’t see it.”
“What about Jonathan?”
“What about him?”
“Are you abandoning him, too?”
“I’m not abandoning anyone. I just need a while to myself. When the time is right I’ll probably come back, or at least visit. I’m not sure I can forgive either one of you for what you did.”
“We were concerned about you and saw it as the only way to be sure that you were not a danger to yourself.”
“All right, I could almost forgive the nut house thing, but destroying my paintings was pure, unadulterated meanness. That I can’t forgive.”
“But you can’t hold that against Jonathan.”
“I don’t. I don’t hold Jonathan in the same contempt as I hold you. I just don’t need him around right now.”
“Then you’re not coming home?”
“Hell no.”
With that, she hung up. Just like her, he thought. If you don’t get the answer you want, just hang up, either literally or figuratively.
After talking to his wife it was a real temptation to fix a pitcher of martinis, but he had more spiritual work to do in the next couple of days, and he needed to fast and to refrain from strong drink. He fell asleep with images of the naked woman vision in his head.
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