Written for Reenaβs Xploration Challenge 411.
The following quote is suggested as our muse:
“It was not my idea, but it happened.β
This is where my imagination took me.
Category: Longer Stories
Reindeer Christmas Party
This story is one of several I have written for our
5-year-old granddaughter, Colette, for Christmas.
I canβt wait to read them with her.
Also in response to Missyβs Mad Challenge#069
and for Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – βredβ.
Brothers Malone: The Break
Our friend Fandango and I share a fascination with
noir crime and detective stories. He recently wrote
a story called βFive Years Laterβ; it was great and
I was hooked. If you haven’t read his story, click the
link above. I noticed his MC and a character I have
previously written about share the same last name.
My imagination kicked in and I asked Fan if he’d
mind if I wrote a story that intertwined with his;
he said to go for it. Here it is …. longer than my usual
so make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the read.
Caliban O’Doole
Originally written in 2022, this is my take
on a beloved fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm.
Did You Know?
Boys Will Be Boys
Written for Stream of Consciousness – βWhatβs that smell?β,
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “humility” and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “departure”.
Growing up, it was just me and my sister β two girls doing girl things. And while we werenβt always best of friends, it was just the two of us. It wasnβt my fault that my mother went into labor smack in the middle of my sisterβs 4th birthday party; after making a hasty departure for the hospital, my mother arrived just in time for me to be born β¦. on my sisterβs birthday β¦. and sheβs never really forgiven me. I mean, she says she has but deep down thereβs resentment. But I digress.
Bitterness for being born on her birthday aside, we managed to get along ok. And we both had a bunch of little girlfriends whoβd come over the house to play and swim in our pool. Thereβs a definite advantage to having the only pool on the block β even if it was inflatable and barely three feet deep. We always had lots of friends over but there were never any boys around and, if an interloper did show up, he was quickly shown the way out before he had a chance to dip his you-know-what in our pool!
For the first six years of my life, I had very little contact with boys .β¦ except for my cousins and they didnβt count. In elementary school boys were just tolerated; they were looked upon as excess baggage. Of course, that all changed when I hit my teen years and realized boys had potential. I had a couple of crushes early on but nothing earth-shattering. Then, at the ripe old age of 17, I went on a blind date with a guy named Bill and together we learned all about boys and girls, how they were so wondrously different and incredibly well-made for each other. I was stunned by how much I didn’t know about boys.
So, wouldnβt you just know it! God, in his infinite humorous nature, decided to bless me with only boy babies. All those years of playing with my baby girl dolls, changing their diapers fashioned from paper napkins, powdering their petite girlie bottoms, all that didnβt come close to what these boys were packing! It didnβt matter how well I knew Billβs anatomy; he didnβt wear a diaper and I had never changed one β¦. at least not a boyβs. Talk about a rude awakening!
Let me just explain something very quickly here. When infant girls are getting their diapers changed, sometimes they pee but itβs a dainty little trickle that gently disappears into the absorbent pad under them. When infant boys are getting their diapers changed, parents put on a hazmat suit because that nozzle has a mind of its own and it is gonna spray wherever it wants.
Oh sure, parents can buy little wee-wee teepees to hold over the wee-wee while their baby boy giggles at them, but most times that thing is flying around like an errant garden hose and the pee goes everywhere. And, of course, thatβs where men first learn to pee with no hands β yawning and stretching and placing their hands behind their heads in a very satisfied βlook-what-I-can-doβ sort of way. Usually in those situations, there will be spillage. I have found, for the most part, the male species is not very discriminating and is quite happy to just βhit something“.
Which brings me to the heart of this story.
I love my boys and, in all humility, Bill and I did a good job raising them. BUT, nature will take its course no matter what we do. And let me tell you, there is nothing β¦. and I mean NOTHING β¦. like the overwhelming musky, barn-like odor that punches you in the face when you open the door to a boyβs bedroom. For the love of all things holy, what is going on in there? How is it possible for boys β¦. little or big β¦. to ravage so many briefs, boxers or tighty-whities in one day, not to mention the now-fossilized face cloths (and sometimes my good hand towels)?
Weβre all adults here and you know exactly what Iβm talking about.
Well, I finally reached the end of my rope. It became unbearable for me to do my teen sons’ laundry, let alone keep up with it, so I threw down the gauntlet. I led the boys to the laundry room where I proceeded to write on my washing machine with a Sharpie. In all the corresponding receptacles were the words βDETERGENT GOES HERE.β βBLEACH GOES HERE.β βSOFTENER GOES HERE.β Iβm sure they didnβt believe me when I said I was done doing their wash. After two weeks of their laundry piling up and them running out of clean clothes and their sheets desperate enough to literally walk off the bed and leap into the washing machine, they finally got the message!
As the old saying goes, boys will be boys, and I never had a problem with what was going on in my sons’ bedrooms β¦. within reason; if I thought something dangerous was happening, Iβd be in there in a flash. Iβd just had enough of cleaning up their messes. Now theyβre grown men, good men, married with children, and they get to deal with their own kids’ smells, sprays, spills and secretions.
And when I see them lugging a basketful of laundry to their washing machines, I chuckle and know I did them a huge favor.
NARΒ©2024
One of my readers once commented that I have a song for every story. Well, who am I to argue?
From the Broadway show/movie Hair, this is βSodomyβ.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Maximus Overdrive
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a fan of the great Mel Brooks.
Combine that with my fascination with gladiator movies
and my own sense of humor and this is the result.
Originally written in 2021, I’ve done some tweaking
and now present to you one of my favorite fun stories.
I hope you enjoy ‘Maximus Overdrive’!
Maximus Gluteus caught a glimpse of his reflection on a sheet of polished tin which his wife Labia used as a mirror. He had really let himself go! He was a disgrace, not just to himself but the entire world of gladiators.
Originally known as Maximus Biceptis, he was no longer the god-like hero of the arena. Where was that formidable champion of the amphitheater? Gone were the defined, well-built curves visible through his tunic, the muscles straining against the fabric at the forearms, biceps and chest. His sculpted calves, broad back and wide neck were flaccid, as were other parts of his anatomy which Labia was quick to point out.
Maximus was not only popular with the general public; he was greatly admired by the Roman emperor Sartorius for having won many battles against highly skilled adversaries. The emperor was particularly impressed by his heroics and rewarded Maximus with more palaces and riches than he could have asked for; he went so far as to honor Maximus with his prized solid gold chariot and team of Berber horses. Β
Besides gladiator matches, there was something else the Romans were famous for β partying! Those wild and crazy worshipers of Bacchus, the god of wine, knew how to have a good time. Maximus and Labia threw lavish Bacchanalia and partied like it was 999; debaucheries of every kind were practiced freely and enjoyed by all. Party-goers would spend uninhibited all-nighters dancing, watching circus performers, feasting on fattening foods and decadent desserts, engaging in unbridled sex and, of course, drinking themselves into a stupor.
Labia, a once-famous gladiatrix, was considered an exotic rarity by all who knew her. Attempting to maintain her impressively athletic yet feminine physique, she exercised frequently in the gymnasium and swam in the warm baths. Maximus, however, had become lazy and spiritless. He encamped himself in the large atria overlooking the Mediterranean, reclining for hours on end in the lavish gardens which had been planted with grape orchards, orange groves and trees bearing olives, figs, almonds, walnuts and chestnuts.
Maximus reveled in the good life, laying on his chaise lounge listening to poetry while the palace harpist played softly. Naked dancing nymphs performed for him, slaves fanned him with exquisite peacock feathers and beautiful servant girls fed him cheese, pheasant, figs dipped in honey, meaty chestnuts and wine. A life of gluttony and pleasure suited Maximus; he was a well-sated man.
Maximus became so fat, Labia refused to have sex with him. Even his concubines were repulsed by him but knew they had to do the deed or risk being executed. It got so bad, the poor girls resorted to pulling straws to see who would share their master’s bed. The ladies, however, had little to fear; most nights Maximus was so drunk he was in no condition to get it on …. even with the sensual songs of Marvin Gayeus playing in the background.
It didnβt take long before Labia began spending more and more time away from the palace. She would go for long walks along the seashore with her beloved greyhounds, Lingus and Limbus. It was during one of those walks that Labia first laid eyes on the newest and most popular gladiator who recently transferred to Rome β Maximus Erectus.
He was quite a sight to behold, especially when exercising naked on the beach. To say that he was well-built was an understatement. Erectus was perfection from head to toe. Tall, blond and powerful, sinewy muscles rippled down his arms and legs and across his Herculean back and chest. He was broad-shouldered with a flat, rock-hard abdomen. His body was bronzed from the sun and glistened with sweat. He was one ripped Roman!
Labia stared transfixed at the spectacle before her; even the dogs sat in quiet attention. Finishing up his exercise routine, Erectus ran toward the sea, jumped into the waves and swam for a long while. When he came out, he spotted Labia standing on the beach watching him. Without any hesitation or embarrassment, he walked directly to her. Smiling broadly, he reached down and patted Lingus and Limbus, laughing as they responded by happily wagging their tails. Labiaβs tail had already been wagging.
The two struck up a conversation. All the while they were speaking Labiaβs eyes kept drifting down toward Erectusβ magnificent member which seemed to take on a life of its own. When Labia mentioned she, too, enjoyed exercising and swimming, Erectus commented that she looked like she was in terrific shape and invited her to join him on the beach whenever she desired a partner.
Now, thereβs no denying Labia had a few years on Erectus, but she was still firm and supple. She decided to join him on the beach the following week; it wasnβt long before the duo became partners in every way.
Labia packed her bags and left Maximus Gluteus for her new lover. Tossing everything into the golden chariot, she clicked her tongue and the team of Berbers trotted off. Labia laughed gaily as she shouted over her shoulder, βSo long, fat ass!β
But Maximus Gluteus was too drunk to hear her.
That night Emperor Sartorius had a dream that he would be overthrown. He consulted the wisest philosophers and dream interpreters who all agreed this would indeed be his fate. Fearing torture and a slow death at the hands of his enemies, Sartorius made it known that should such an uprising occur, Maximus Gluteus was to be summoned to execute him; he trusted Maximus would end his life as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Sartorius was indeed overthrown and, per his wishes, Maximus was summoned. However, since Labia had absconded with the golden chariot, Maximus had no choice but to travel by foot to emperor’s palace. Alas, his massive weight slowed him down terribly and Maximus did not arrive in time to save Sartorius from an excruciating death.
Due to that unfortunate event, the expression “Lardum Asina” came about. Today we know it as “Lard Ass”.
NARΒ©2024
From the comedic genius mind of Mel Brooks, this is a clip from the movie “History Of The World, Part I” featuring Bea Arthur and Mel Brooks who wrote, directed and produced the 1981 film.
This is βEntry Of The Gladiatorsβ by Julius Fucik
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Tasty Balls
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “one day“
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “menu”
βMohammedan-owned Chinese/Tai/Himalayan/Middle Eastern/Indian Restaurant” β well, you certainly donβt see too many of those in Lancaster, Pennsylvania but there it is right in the heart of the downtown dining district. This meeting of culinary minds is definitely intriguing and what an original and humorous name β βTasty Ballsβ.
That caught my eye and gave me a good laugh as I read about the new exotic fusion restaurant in the newspaper. I wondered if my wife Judith intentionally left the paper on the kitchen table conveniently opened to the dining section for me to see. Judith has many fine attributes; subtlety is not one of them.
We met soon after I graduated college. I took a year off to backpack my way through Asia and the Middle East. Money was tight so I had to be frugal while traveling; thatβs how I learned to find really good food at cheap prices.
One day while trekking through Shanghai, I stopped at a noodle and dumpling place. I was drawn to the sound of feminine laughter coming from the next table. There were two pretty blondes who looked to be around my age; I asked if I could join them and they agreed. Judith and Eunice were cousins from England on holiday. I hit it off quite well with Judith and we agreed to meet the next night for dinner. After that night we knew we wanted to be together and the rest, as they say, is history.
As I continued reading the article, I learned this new restaurant was operated by the same people who managed a nearby tea house called βThe Barefoot Magpieβ β another place Iβd never heard of. How can this be? Iβve lived in Lancaster all my life and thought I knew every place there was to eat. Obviously I havenβt been getting out enough lately.
Whatβs this? βTasty Ballsβ serves only one item: dumplings. What made it so special was the staggering number of varieties of dumplings on the menu. Now I knew without a doubt that Judith left this article here for me to stumble upon; she knows I am the worldβs biggest sucker for dumplings!
Well now, letβs see what else the article says: βExtravagantly yet handsomely decorated β¦ moderately priced β¦ perfectly prepared dumplings β¦ culinary delight.β My stomach rumbled and my mouth watered as I read a description of just a tiny sampling of dumplings offered at βTasty Ballsβ:
- Jiaozi β A Chinese dumpling consisting of delicately sautΓ©ed ground meat and chopped vegetables wrapped into a thinly rolled dough-ball which is then fried to a golden brown or gently steamed.
- Xiaolongbao β A Taiwanese delicacy, this steamed dumpling has meat and broth inside. The small, succulent orb is meant to be eaten whole; one bite and the fortunate dinerβs mouth is filled with liquid ambrosia.
- Momos β A staple from Tibet and Nepal, these delectable pouches are filled with yak, beef or chicken and have become an obsession with the patrons at βTasty Ballsβ.
- Shish Barak β Middle Eastern ravioli-like envelopes filled with seasoned lamb, onion and pine nuts, these piquant squares are boiled, baked or fried and served in a warm yogurt sauce with melted mint butter and a garnish of chopped cashew nuts.
- Muthia β This Indian delight consists of chickpea flour, turmeric, chili powder, curry powder and salt bonded together with oil. Once shaped, these fritters can either be fried or steamed, depending on personal preference.
- Luqaimat β Originally from Saudi Arabia, this luscious dessert translates into βsmall bitesβ. Found in many Middle Eastern countries, this is a treat of fried dough sweetened with date syrup and garnished with sesame seeds. With a scoop of pistachio ice cream, this is a delightful end to an unforgettable meal.
I suddenly realized the newspaper was wet; either I was salivating over the scrumptious description of dumplings or I was crying tears of joy that this heaven-sent restaurant was now located in little old Lancaster. Oh, what joy, what rapture!
Judith came into the kitchen, took one look at my face and asked βWhat in the world has come over you?β
Holding up the soggy newspaper I exclaimed βThis β as if you didnβt know, you little minx! Tempting me with an article about delectable dumplings. Well, it worked. Itβs βTasty Ballsβ tonight!β
βOh, I donβt think so, luvβ Judith laughed. βThatβs Euniceβs. She must have left it behind when she returned to the UK after her visit. That paper is from Lancaster, England!
If I had a sword I would have fallen on it.
NARΒ©2024
This is Ronnie Spector with βTandoori Chickenβ written by Phil Spector and George Harrison.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Sky Mountain Pines: Part 2
To read Part 1, click ‘Previous Post’ below
When Ekon and Mosi awoke they were not in the same place as the night before. They were in a higher elevation; it was colder and there were traces of snow. They were laying in a rudimentary tent, comfortably covered in blankets with a small fire nearby. Shiga happily munched on a shrub to which she had been tethered. Besides the change of location, there was a much more obvious and puzzling difference in father and son: both had aged approximately five years. Mosi looked to be about 25 years old and Ekon’s hair and beard were now as grey as the mountain sky.
A group of strange-looking men emerged from the woods and started walking in their direction; immediately Ekon patted his chest, feeling for the vial in his wrap, and was relieved to find it where he always kept it; he placed one drop on the tip of his tongue. The leader of the group, who looked like nothing more than a dead tree branch, spoke in a senescent voice, explaining that two of his people, while out hunting, had found Ekon, Mosi and Shiga unconscious near the brook and brought them back to a safe clearing just outside their village. The brook had been poisoned years ago after a mysterious storm and the tainted waters resulted in a deep, years-long sleep for anyone who drank; there was no antidote that they knew of.
These men were the last of the Twigorian order of monks; they were learned men, wise in the ways of the universe, science and nature. They lived among the members of the ancient San tribe as leaders and teachers. The chief monk assured Ekon and Mosi they were in no danger. When Ekon answered in San, the monks were surprised but quickly discerned that Ekon possessed the power of the Jalβmboor. After the men had talked for a while, a few San women approached; they asked Ekon and Mosi to follow them into the village where they would be able to wash, don clean clothes and eat. Mosi immediately caught the eye of a beautiful young woman called Tayla and they exchanged smiles.
Ekon and Mosi listened as the San people explained their ways. They knew how to preserve food in such a way that it could be dried to last a long time and reduced to a compact size for easy transport and storage. They developed a shield of invisibility which allowed them to disappear at the first sign of danger, thus avoiding any conflict, violence or harm to themselves or their land. They were philosophers and great thinkers but lacked basic skills such as tool-making and construction. Their homes were straw huts and tents in a great state of disrepair and their boats were rotting; everything was falling apart.
Mosi and Ekon told the San people of their quest to reach the top of the Sky Mountain Pines. Many had tried but very few succeeded. It was a treacherous journey but the San promised to help if Ekon and Mosi did something in return: teach them to make tools to build homes, boats and proper implements for hunting, fishing and farming. The pair agreed and spent the next two years working with the San people. During that time Mosi and Tayla fell in love and he promised to return to her after they reached the summit.
The San warned Ekon and Mosi about the Sanguine Precipice, the Gralapthian Dragon Den and the bloodthirsty gorillas known as the Ikorana Buhangi. The monks gave Mosi and Ekon a map to help them safely pass the precipice. In addition, the monks presented them with the invisibility shield to evade the monstrous beasts along their way. Their promise and mission now complete, Ekon and his son prepared to leave the San people the following morning.
Shiga was loaded down with new flasks containing safe, clean water, sacks of food, blankets and the invisibility shield. Bidding Tayla farewell, Mosi and Ekon followed the monks until they were safely on the other side of the poisoned brook. At the last minute, Mosi fetched a dozen old water skins and filled them with tainted water. Now they were truly on their own, prepared but anxious. The higher they climbed the colder it became and they blessed the San women for the warm clothing they now wore.
The pair hiked for days, sometimes not uttering a single word. In one terrifying second, their silence was shattered by horrific screeches and savage bellows. They knew they reached the first deadly threat: the Gralapthian Dragons. The sound of enormous flapping wings filled the sky and father and son covered their ears from the deafening noise. Mosi grabbed the invisibility shield just before catching a glimpse of the nightmarish creatures; he quickly covered himself, Ekon and Shiga, gently stroking the terrified mule’s nose to keep her quiet. The Gralapthian hovered over them, sniffing the air with gargantuan nostrils. Mosi gripped the shield tightly to keep it from flying off in the great gush of wind caused by the dragon’s wings.
The Gralapthian angrily flew away only to return moments later, obviously in the hope of catching their prey unawares. Again Mosi almost lost control of the shield. The Gralapthian spewed fire in different directions and spittle like molten lava rained down but Mosi, Ekon and Shiga stayed put undercover and the dragons missed their mark. Disgruntled, the Gralapthian flew off beyond the high pines. Mosi and Ekon remained where they were until they were sure all was safe. When they felt the time was right, they carefully retracted the shield and secured it onto Shigaβs back. The shield had served them well and once again they silently thanked the monks.
At first Ekon kept a journal of the passing days and nights but eventually lost count. They walked for what seemed an eternity and Mosi questioned himself a thousand times over if this was only a fool’s quest. Lost in their thoughts, Ekon and Mosi were surprised when they came to a divide in the path. Unsure which direction to go, they consulted the San map but it was of no help. Not knowing which way to turn, they finally settled on one of the paths; it proved to be the wrong choice.
Rounding a bend they found themselves face to face with the much-feared kings of the mountain β the Ikorana Buhangi Gorillas. They were hideous beasts, a mutation of a gorilla and a rhinoceros. Ekon froze as the monstrous creatures slowly came closer, snorting loudly, beating their breasts and baring massive teeth. Mosi thought quickly and placed a drop of the Jalβmboor potion on the tip of his tongue.
To the bewilderment of the gorillas Mosi began speaking in fluent Buhangarian: βWe are travelers. We seek no trouble. All we wish is to pass by safely.β
The largest of the gorillas growled: βHow is it you can speak to us, human?β
βWe are magicians. We can offer you whatever you desire. What is your greatest wish?β Mosi asked, covering his fear.
βTo rip your body to pieces and eat you!β shouted the Ikorana Buhangi.
βBut you can do that any time. Surely there is something you desire above all other thingsβ countered Mosi. βI repeat β what is your greatest wish?β
βABSOLUTE POWER!β roared the beasts. “RULERS THE UNIVERSE!”
βIf that is indeed your greatest wish, I can instantly grant it. Itβs as easy as drinking the mystical waters in these skinsβ and Mosi tossed the twelve old water skins to the gorillas. They greedily swallowed every last drop the tainted brook water and were poisoned before they hit the ground. The earth under their feet shook from the tremendous weight of the gorillas but Mosi and Ekon were safe.
Elated with their quick thinking and great success over the Ikorana Buhangi, Ekon and Mosi quickened their pace as they moved on. Their relief was short lived, however, when they reached the Sanguine Precipice. Never before had they seen such a narrow path or so steep a cliff. Mosi checked the San map and saw a widening in the path about four feet ahead. Crossing that short but deadly span would mean victory or defeat, life or death. They could not make one false move. Mosi believed he and his father could do it but he wasnβt sure about Shiga. The men decided to lighten Shigaβs load by dividing it among themselves. She stood a better chance without the extra weight. Slow as snails they placed one foot before the other, Mosi leading Shiga and Ekon gently pushing her rear.
Just as they reached the safety of the clearing, Shiga lost her footing and landed full force on top of Ekon who howled in agony. Working quickly, Mosi uprighted Shiga and tied her to a tree, then he returned for Ekon. As soon as he tried to lift his father, Ekon screamed and fainted; Mosi immediately knew his fatherβs back was broken. Mosi gently carried Ekon and laid him in the shade of the Sky Mountain Pines; it was only then that he realized they had made it to the summit. His quest was complete but at what cost?
Slowly, Ekon opened his eyes and whispered βWe made it, my son!β Then quietly he exhaled and died. Mosi cried out in grief and Shiga softly brayed where she stood, still tied to a tree. Mosi buried his father on the summit of the Sky Mountain Pines, laying his trusty spear across the grave. Snow began to lightly fall as Mosi packed his belongings and secured them onto Shigaβs back. Now, knowing the safe route, Mosi and Shiga began their trek back to Tayla and home to the Sangala Valley. They left the summit without looking back.
The End
NARΒ©2024
Music Director Thomas Dausgaard and the Seattle Symphony perform “In the Hall of the Mountain King” from Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 by Edvard Grieg
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
Sky Mountain Pines: Part 1
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Sangala Valley and the day was already warm. Ekon, a middle-aged widower and his son Mosi sat outside as they did each morning eating their breakfast before beginning their long day. It had been just the two of them since Ekonβs wife Bisa died from a mysterious illness several years earlier.
The Sangala Valley is very small but a good home for Ekon and Mosi. There is an abundance of sunlight for growing crops and copious amounts of fruit trees to provide food and much needed shade during the hottest times of the day. Mosi fishes daily in nearby Lake Caballo; he has become quite proficient but Ekon is the hunter, always keeping them well-fed with rabbits, pigs, deer or fowl. They also keep roosters, chickens and have a mare mule for milk.
Three other families live in the valley and share the area peacefully, frequently trading with each other. Ekon and Mosi are fortunate to have a variety of foods to eat; however, they have had little luck growing wheat or other grains β something Bisa excelled at. Sometimes the women bring them flatbread and loaves of Green Mealies, a fluffy corn bread, in exchange for fish or rabbits.
Forests of wild pine trees grow in the distance and the view from the valley is magnificent. One evening as father and son relaxed by their campfire, Mosi expressed his greatest desire: βFather, one day I shall visit the Cloud Mountain Pines.β
βOne day?β exclaimed Ekon and laughed heartily. βMy son, the pines are hundreds of miles away, a rigorous and dangerous journey of many months. It is a quest, not a dayβs adventure.β
βBut how can that be, Father?β Mosi questioned. βI can see them as clearly as I can see Lake Caballo.β
βMosi, the wild pines are enormous and tower over everythingβ Ekon explained. βTheir closeness is a mere illusion.β
βBut Fatherβ Mosi argued. βLook across the lake. The pines are plainly visible and the land is flat. We can get there in two days!β
βThat is true, my son, but reaching the pine trees on Cloud Mountain is another story. You must give up this fantasy. Now, off to bed for both of us.β
Mosi did not mention the Cloud Mountain Pines again for a long time but he never abandoned his dream. One morning during breakfast Mosi told his father that he had decided he would not be able to rest until he traveled to the woods β or at least tried. Ekonβs first reaction was to once again talk Mosi out of his idea but as he looked at his son he realized he was no longer a child and his mind was made up. Ekon told Mosi he understood the need that drove him and they would make the trek together.
Mosi was overjoyed and immediately began to prepare. Ekon said they must bring only the barest of necessities, their fishing and hunting tools and their mule Shiga. There was also one priceless object which Ekon would never leave behind, a treasure handed down from generation to generation: a tiny vial containing the Tincture of Jalβmboor. One small drop on the tip of the tongue would enable the user to speak in any language chosen and the spell would remain until no longer needed.
They set out the following morning, reaching the woods at dusk on the second day. Mosi was shocked to find how much bigger everything was. Even the smallest trees were taller than him. Ekon and Mosi camped under the moon at the foot of the lake; after an early breakfast of fruit and nuts, they set off. The terrain was flat and easily passable until the fifth day when they came upon a vast, swiftly moving river blocking their path. Having no craft, the duo consulted an old map and chose to travel east. This would take them out of their way but it was the safest route. After many days of walking, they reached a shallow section of the river which they crossed safely.
The new terrain was steeper and difficult. The forests were dense and hardly any light shone through. They were keenly aware of the ominous stillness and Ekon kept his spear at the ready. Without warning the trees began to quake; suddenly hundreds of birds flew out and disappeared. A second later a massive Basambi Kurumandi Tiger appeared. He stared at Ekon and Mosi, deadly pale green eyes observing their every move. He snarled, exposing razor sharp fangs. Ekon whispered for Mosi to stand perfectly still but Shiga was spooked and whinnied loudly. In an instant the tiger leapt but Ekon was ready and felled the giant cat with his trusty spear through its heart. Father and son refilled their water skins from the river and, exhausted, went to sleep far from the felled tiger. They would start fresh in the morning.
END OF PART 1
NARΒ©2024
This is Yanni with “One Man’s Dream” (Live at the Acropolis 1993)
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
Pastimes and Predilections
Our prompt for today’s
Just Jot it January 2024
is to write a story, poem, etc.
and include the word “pastime”.
This is my response.
Just like most people, I have some favorite pastimes such as gardening, cooking, listening to music, watching sports, doing crossword puzzles, walking and writing for my site. Nothing terribly exciting but I enjoy them.
Iβm reminded of Frank Morelli from a story I wrote in 2022. He had a favorite pastime, one that brought him more trouble than he bargained for. Hereβs that story about Frank; some of you may remember him, others may not. I hope you enjoy it and please bear in mind something very important: This is a humorous work of fiction with no intention of disparaging any people, nationalities, ethnicities or professions.
This is βThai One Onβ
If you are seeking a woman with beautiful, exotic looks and a lovely disposition, a single Thai lady is the way to go. Thai women love to laugh and tend to be quite happy. They are demure and sweet in public, perhaps a bit shy, but when alone with their partner they are open and sexually accommodating.
Reading that online advert made Frank Morelliβs eyes widen. One of these Thai girls could be just what he was looking for. Intrigued, Frank decided to read a bit more. He scrolled down to see a bevy of available women β 922 to be exact. Beneath each pic was a name, age, contact address and the city in which the woman resided. There were also three options: 1) π¬ Say Hello; 2) π§ Send a Message; 3) β€οΈ Add to Hotlist.
There were some like Primmie who looked like she was just 17 and you know what I mean β a captivating schoolgirl-type with huge brown eyes, pouty lips and dewy skin. Primmie gave the impression of being a sweet, shy young thing with her glossy hair in pigtails wearing a short school uniform when in reality she could have invented sex. She was capable of teaching most men a thing or ten, taking them to erotic levels theyβd never experienced before.
Then there were others like Opia who looked like sheβd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson β and won. She had an angry scowl and a leathery face that could stop a clock. She wouldnβt even be able to arouse a blindfolded Wilt Chamberlain β and he is reputed to have had sex with 20,000 women!
More than a few of the girls could easily be adult movie actresses while others looked like the ubiquitous hunchbacked dishwashers in greasy Chinese takeout joints that smelled like burning rancid oil. And by some miracle they were all available and willing to be dutiful wives and make anyoneβs wildest dreams come true. At what cost? That part of the equation had not entered Frankβs mind. Even if it had, Frank was the type who acted first and thought later, if at all β a habit that got him into trouble more times than he was willing to admit.
The truth was most of these girls were looking for a ticket to The States, for some poor unsuspecting sap exactly like Frank to get them to fall madly in love and secure a green card and a one way ride out of Bangkok.
Frank made himself comfortable in his battered and patched pseudo-leather Barcalounger, his iPad nestled comfortably on his lap. A 25oz can of Bud Lite to his left and a bag of Utz pork rinds to his right set the stage for what could be the luckiest night of his vapid life. Frank loosened the drawstring of his sweatpants and wriggled his feet out of his Air Jordan knockoffs; this online mating game could take a while.
For lack of a better word, Frank was a βloserβ β a thirty-something, short, stocky, balding, bespectacled, single, white, Italian Walmart shelf stocker living in his parentβs basement in Queens, New York. In other words β he was George Costanza.
This wasnβt exactly the ideal living arrangement as far as Frank or his parents were concerned but it didnβt cost him a dime and his mother did everything for him. Besides being as lazy as a slug, he just didnβt have that many friends and most of the ones he did have were married with children. He went on a couple of dates but he wasnβt what youβd call βa catchβ and couldnβt hold a womanβs attention for very long. Frank wasnβt attracted to any of the women at work and the feeling was mutual.
There were a few things he enjoyed doing but most of them were solo activities like playing video games, listening to heavy metal music and watching porn. His father called him a no good, lazy bum and dreamed of the day he would move out of the house and stop being a drain on his wallet. His mother called him Frankie Boy and waited on him hand and foot, cooking his meals and washing his laundry all the while lamenting the fact that she was not and probably never would be a grandma. She tried matching him up with a couple of her friendβs daughters but Frank left them cold.
So there sat Frank, comfortably reclining in his βman caveβ, taking his time perusing the ladies on the Thai bride website, adding his favorites to his hotlist when suddenly a photo of a girl named βNiki β appeared. Frank nearly choked on his pork rinds when he saw her and he believed with all his heart she was the one for him. His iPad began to levitate as he felt himself getting hard. She was a hot number, that Niki, and Frank was only looking at a still photograph!
Frank made himself presentable and clicked the FaceTime icon, his finger hovering over option #1: π¬ Say Hello. It was now or never so, mustering all the courage he possessed, he pushed the button which could determine the outcome of the rest of his life β a life with the enchanting Niki.
A few strange electronic sounds were followed by a shrill ring, then a child-like yet sultry voice was heard coming from behind what appeared to be a satin curtain:
βOoh, swasdi. Hellooo, this Niki. You want Niki?β
Frank was flustered, intrigued and aroused all at the same time. βOh, yes. Hi. Yes, I want nookie β¦ I mean Niki. Hi, Iβm Frank; is this Niki?β
Giggles from behind the curtain on the iPad gave Frank an erection. βTee hee hee! Ooh, Frang want Niki nookie? Tee hee hee! Yes?β
βYesβ replied Frank. βNo. Yes and no. Is this Niki?β
More giggles. βYes, Frang. This Niki. You want Niki?β
βItβs Frank and, yes, I definitely want Niki.β
βWhat you want, Frang? You want tawk Niki, see Niki? You want marry Niki? Niki be good wifey.β
While Frank imagined Niki as his life partner from the moment he saw her photo, this was all moving very fast. On one hand he was thrilled to be speaking to a woman, especially a beautiful willing woman, and he hoped to have a relationship someday but on the other hand, was he ready to fly off and get married to a total stranger?
βFrang? Hellooo? You want Niki?β
Frank said the first thing that popped into his head: βHow much will it cost me?β
Giggles. βTawk free, see free on FaceyTime. Airplane tickie to marry.β
βI want to see Nikiβ replied Frank with an uncharacteristic smidgen of common sense.
βOkay, Frang. Here Nikiβ and the satin curtain was pulled back. There she was; Frank recognized her immediately from her photo. She was even more bewitching in person β long silky black hair, porcelain skin with tiny, doll-like features, a small mouth painted red and a diminutive body which Frank found delightfully appealing. Niki looked like Frank could snap her in two, like a delicate glass swizzle stick. She wore a lacy camisole which was surprisingly modest and revealed nothing. Niki was the opposite of all the blonde, busty, Botoxed porn stars he was used to where everything was supersized.
Frank was mesmerized.
βOoh, hellooo. You Frang?β
βYes. Hi. Iβm Frangβ was Frankβs dimwitted response.
Giggles. βOoh, Frang hansom Merican man from USA. You big strong. Niki like you. You like Niki?β
βYes, I like Niki very much.β
βNiki make good wifey. You come Bangkok. Marry Niki.β
Frankβs head was spinning. βWow! Yeah, that sounds great Niki! But first can we just talk like this for a few days and get to know each other?β
βOoh, Frang. Niki no do nookie on FaceyTime. Betta you come Bangkok. You like Niki, marry Niki.β
It was now or never time for Frank and he was squirming in his pants. He had to ask himself what was holding him back. There wasnβt a thing going on in his life; he had nothing to lose by jumping in. This could be his one shot at happiness.
As usual, before Frank knew what he was doing, he blurted out βYou know what, Niki? Youβre right, dammit! Iβm gonna fly over there and make you my bride!β
βOoh, yay!β Giggles and little hand claps. βFrang let Niki know when you come Bangkok.β
βI definitely will, sweetie. Talk to you soon, Niki. Bye byeβ and Frank wiggled his pudgy fingers at Niki like a ten-year-old boy.
Frank jumped up excitedly. He was a man on a mission. He went into the laundry room to retrieve his luggage and there stood his mother. Her face was as red as her hair and her expression said it all.
Mrs. Morelli clutched Frankβs suitcase and screamed at him: βYou ingrate! You are a complete moron! Look at you, all hot to trot! Why canβt you go out and find yourself a nice Italian girl like your cousin Gerald instead of traipsing half-way around the world to some Godforsaken place called βBangkokβ? What kind of sick, perverted name is βBangkokβ anyway? Oh my God, I think Iβm going to be sick!β
Befuddled and feeling like a little boy, Frank snatched the suitcase from his motherβs arms, yelling back at her βYou donβt know anything about it. Iβm a grown man! Just mind your own business!β
Frankβs father heard the arguing and was now in the basement. βWhat the hell is going on down here?β he demanded. βYou idiot! Look how upset your mother is!β
Mrs. Morelli wailed βHeβs running off to someplace called βBangkokβ where he thinks heβs gonna find a wife!β
Mr. Morelli slammed his hand on the washing machine. βYou ungrateful bum! Canβt you see what youβre doing to your mother? What kind of a sicko are you? I had a war buddy from my time in Korea who took off for Bangkok looking for a little filly. Nobody ever saw him again!β
βIf you leave here for that sex den, you better not step one foot back in this house!β Mrs. Morelli shrieked. βI work my fingers to the bone for you and your father. If you think Iβm going to start waiting on you and some mail order sex kitten living in my basement, you got another thing coming!β
βYouβre a disgrace to this family, Frank! A disgrace!β bellowed Frankβs father.
Frank sputtered ineffectually, pulled at what little hair he had and scurried back into his room. He could hear his parents shouting upstairs. Not live here? Where would he and Niki stay? Frank hadnβt thought about that. Well, heβd figure something out. Besides, once his parents saw Niki theyβd welcome her with open arms.
βIβll think about that later. Itβll all work outβ Frank muttered to himself. “Right now I’ve got a bag to pack.”
NARΒ©2024
(From 2022)
This is βYou’ve Got Another Thing Comingβ by Judas Priest.
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
WHEELBARROWS AND WOODPECKERS: PART 1
Taking a short break to celebrate
Christmas with my family.
Rebooting an old favorite from 2021;
some of you have seen it; many haven’t.
π«
My Dear Annie,
It took about ten minutes of me staring at a blank computer screen before I started typing this email β and thatβs just today. Iβve been doing the same thing every day for the last eight months. I’ll type a paragraph, then delete it. The idea of reaching out to you began thirty seconds after you left our house and closed the door on our life together. I have about a thousand thoughts and questions swirling around in my brain, much like the snowflakes dancing in the wind in our backyard.
I got up early and made myself a cup of coffee, then sat by the kitchen window and watched the birds at the feeders. Youβll be happy to know the red-headed woodpeckers have returned, just as they always do. How I wish you would return to me, too.
I held my coffee cup up to my nose and inhaled the rich aroma of dark roast. Iβm drinking from that cup you gave me ages ago with COOL BEANS scrawled across the front. I use it every day and always think about you (not that I need a reminder) and Iβve decided that today will be the day I must summon the courage to write to you to say “I’m sorry”.
You see, tomorrow is Christmas Day and I canβt think of a better time to tell you whatβs on my mind. If I donβt do it today who knows if I ever will? I miss you, Annie. I miss you so damn much it literally hurts. My heart aches for you and my stomach churns when I realize what a first class jerk I was to let you slip through my fingers.
I donβt know what I was thinking. No, I take that back; I do know. I was thinking about myself β me, myself and I. What a stupid, selfish idiot I was. Iβm sure youβd agree with that assessment. Iβm equally sure thereβs a spot for me in the Guinness Book of World Records as the biggest fool ever. How could I expect you to put your dreams and plans on hold while I pursued mine?
If Iβve come to realize anything over these last few months itβs the fact that what I want in life isnβt more important than what you want and all my achievements are not worth a damn without you. I am so sorry for not seeing that sooner.
When I finally realized how empty my life was without you and how much I yearned to be sharing and living our dreams together, you were long gone. I donβt blame you one bit; if I was you, I would have left me, too. Iβm useless without you and Iβm so ashamed that I put myself before you.
Do you remember that old wheelbarrow we found last year buried under weeds and ivy? It was missing its wheel and was of no use to anyone. You had the brilliant idea of transforming it into a planter instead of throwing it away. I have also lost my wheel, my direction in life and I find I canβt do anything without it, without you. I need you to help bring me back to life, to give me purpose. I need your forgiveness. I need you.
I was driven by my obsession for success and power more than anything else β more than putting you first, more than your deepest desire to start a family. How could I have deprived you of that? How could I have deprived us of that? How could I have been so blind not to see that was exactly what I wanted too? Well, I screwed up royally. All the success and power I ever wanted are mine now but they are hollow victories. The price was too dear β losing you and everything that was and might have been, that should have been. I wake up alone in our bed and come home to an empty house. And all day, every day, I simply exist like a wheelbarrow without a wheel.
I have no idea where you are, how you are or what youβre doing. I pray that you havenβt lost all faith in me, even though that may be what I deserve. That would surely destroy me because my love for you is stronger than ever. I wouldnβt blame you for not believing what Iβm about to say but I would do anything, give up everything just to have you by my side once again. I am empty inside without you and Iβm begging for a second chance. My one hope that I cling to every day is the fact that I havenβt been served with divorce papers β¦. yet. Please tell me thereβs a chance for us, a chance that you can possibly forgive me.
Christmas Day. What a blessing it would be to have you back, to have you tell me weβre going to be okay! How grateful I would be for the opportunity to show you how much I love you and need you in my life!
Don’t laugh but I’m going to attempt to prepare my very first Christmas dinner by myself. I bought a small turkey, all the fixings and a lovely bottle of wine .β¦ just enough for two. It would give me the greatest joy to share the day with you and every day after that, to hold you in my arms and make all the sorrow go away.
Annie, if only you could sprout wings and fly home to me like the woodpeckers! Will you come home for Christmas? Please come back to me and never leave.
I love you so very much.
Charlie
β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β»
Push send and cross my fingers that Annie hasn’t changed her email address. Going to bed and will say a prayer for a Christmas miracle.
NAR Β© 2023
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW
This is U2 with “Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)”
Warmest Wishes This Christmas Eve!
This portfolio (includingΒ text, graphics and videos)Β is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs TrunkΒ and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission.Β NAR Β© 2017-present.
THE DIABOLICAL DOCTOR DIAMOND
β¦οΈ
It was Devinia Diamond, Doctor of Pharmacology and loathed next door neighbor. Iβm sure sheβs the one who poisoned the seed in my bird feeders. And I know why she did it, too. Itβs because I mowed over her damn ivy vines that constantly spread into my yard, strangling the life out of my trees and latching themselves onto my lawn. I had every right to do so and I personally never stepped foot onto her property β only my lawn mower β yet she sought her revenge by killing the beautiful birds who visit my numerous feeders. All because Devinia Diamond is just plain evil, consumed with revenge and more than a bit demented.
Weβve had arguments for years now, mostly because she refuses to honor our property boundary lines. She constantly complains about my dog, Roscoe β a lazy old bloodhound who barely barks and never wanders off β but Devinia calls him a βvile creatureβ. If anyone on this earth is vile itβs her!
But this β the poisoning of my beautiful birds β was senseless and Iβm not going to let her get away with it! She thinks sheβs so slick. Well, weβll see about that, Devinia! Yes we will!
Now, dear readers, put yourselves in my shoes as I stood inside the post office collecting my mail and I overheard the news that Deviniaβs garage had all but burned down during the night! What’s that they’re saying? Spontaneous combustion! Of course, I had to act surprised; I bit my tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Earlier this morning I had heard the long-anticipated sirens of the firetrucks arriving at Devinia’s and I was as giddy as a schoolgirl!
The next morning I called for Roscoe. “Here, boy! Breakfast!” He didn’t come lumbering to the kitchen door which is unusual; Roscoe never misses a meal. He was probably snoozing under his favorite weeping willow tree. He loves his naps even more than food. I went out to look for Roscoe and did indeed find him under the tree, but he wasnβt sleeping; the poor old guy was dead. Not a single noticeable mark on his body. One would think he died of old age but I knew better. My buddy Roscoe β never sick a day in his life and now heβs dead β or should I say murdered? And by that lunatic Devinia, Iβm sure of it. She hated Roscoe just like she hates everyone and everything. This has gone too far and sheβs got to be stopped. That week I didn’t sleep well thinking about poor Roscoe and that she-devil, Devinia.
My goodness! What’s this I see? It’s none other than Devinia walking up her front path and she’s using a cane. “Why, Devinia! What happened to you?” I ask, my voice dripping with syrupy insincerity. “A loose step in the staircase leading to your basement, you say? You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck!” Too bad the cut made by my saw wasn’t deep enough. Next time I’ll make sure the job is done right!
If she knows whatβs good for her, Devinia will stay away from me and keep off my property. She’s killed off all the birds and my sweet boy, Roscoe; now itβs just me and my wife, Ellen. Deviniaβs presence is unwanted. Her very existence sickens me.Β
When Ellen announced she was going to be busy over the weekend with the church yard sale, I decided to drive to our lake house to do some fishing and get away from Devinia for a couple of days. My first night at the lake, I got a call …. the most horrible news imaginable. Ellen was dead! Apparently, she never showed up at the yard sale and wasn’t answering her phone. Ellen’s friends went to our house to check on her; they found her slumped over her desk, dead from an apparent heart attack. Ellen took great care of herself; she was the picture of health. Just like poor old Roscoe, there wasn’t a trace of foul play β no obvious marks, no detectable poison. But I knew. Only a maniac like Devinia was capable of this. She killed my wife and Iβm going to get my revenge if itβs the last thing I do.Β
Now I ask you, dear readers β who says revenge isnβt sweet? I watched the whole thing unfold from behind my bedroom curtain. Devinia getting into her car, turning the key and thenΒ BAM! BAM!!Β BAM!!!Β Devinia blown to kingdom come! She had no idea I was a demolitions expert in my army days. This was by far my greatest detonation death dance! No one could prove it was me who did this, just like no one could prove Devinia killed Ellen.Β Β
This calls for a celebration, a toast to my deeply despised and not-so-dearly departed nemesis, the demented Doctor DeviniaΒ Diamond. I think that $700 bottle of Opus One Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon will fit the bill nicely.Β
I remove the cork and take a whiff. Ah, so savory! Now for a sip. So smooth and easy going down. Exquisite as the most delicious taste of revenge! Finally I can relax.
But wait. Whatβs happening to me? My throat and chest are burning! I claw frantically at my shirt collar, ripping off my tie. No! This is not possible!! Always one step ahead, Devinia must have poisoned my wine collection!! I made a foolish mistake and underestimated just how diabolical she could be.
Damn you, Devinia Diamond! Damn you to hell!
β¦οΈ
NAR Β© 2023
This is Megadeth performing “Poisonous Shadows” live from the Wacken Music Festivial.
Hop on over today to
The Rhythm Section
for a very special
Guest Post
by our friend, Keith.
See you there!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
AMAGANSETT BEACH
This piece was originally written in October, 2020.
It was recently revamped to complement a flash
I wrote three days ago called ‘Force Majeure’.
This story is based on true events
and the people are my family members.
The names of the characters have been changed ….
all except Susie. Her name remains unchanged.
πΈ
Known for their dry wit and clever sense of humor, twins Ben and Jack couldn’t get anyone to believe they saw a UFO on the beach. No matter how hard they tried, everyone just laughed it off as a prank. The teenaged siblings, younger sister Jenny and their parents lived in a cottage one-half mile from the beach in Amagansett. Cousin Susie and her parents lived next door and the four teenagers were always together. It was a Saturday night and their parents were hosting the weekly bridge game. Everyone was slightly inebriated and laughingly dismissed the twin’s tall tale of UFOs.
It all began about two hours earlier. The foursome were on the beach listening to the radio, shooting the breeze and smoking cigarettes they snuck out of the kitchen cabinet. The sky that night was pitch-black, devoid of any stars or even a sliver of the moon. Their flashlights gleamed like little beacons as they sat in a tight circle on the sand.
“Twist and Shout” came on the radio and the girls jumped up to dance, trying to get the boys to join in. The twins just laughed and laid back on the sand, their arms folded under their heads. Looking up at the sky, Ben noticed an unusual light far off in the distance and pointed it out to the others. Holding their flashlights close to their faces, they started making up stories about the light being a UFO; the amber glow made their features look like they were extraterrestrials.
The teens decided the far away object in the sky was just a plane but there was something unusual about it. This ‘thing’ didn’t move in a forward direction as an airplane would; instead it gradually descended toward the water as it shifted slightly from left to right slowly approaching the shore. The closer the amorphous glow came to the beach the more it took on the appearance of a giant jellyfish.
The dim lights of the mysterious craft started getting brighter until they were so intense the four teens had to shield their eyes. The curious object began vibrating slightly; as the cousins peeked through their fingers, the vibrations increased and the ship started emitting shrill sounds. Covering their ears, they sought shelter behind an overturned rowboat. Realizing Susie was not with them, Jack looked back and saw her standing on the shore, arms outstretched and staring directly at the ever-increasing light.
The boys called out her name and yelled for her to come to them but their voices couldn’t be heard above the piercing noises of the missile. Susie stood in a trance, unable or unwilling to move as a shimmering halo surrounded her entire body. The strange craft hovered over her as long-reaching prongs crackled and sparked like electric tentacles. After about 30 seconds, the noises abruptly stopped and the lights dimmed; the missile spun around and shot off like a rocket in the direction from which it came. In an instant it was gone, swallowed up by the blackness of the night.
Susie fell to her knees, shaken and dazed but otherwise seemingly unharmed. The boys raced to their cousin, grabbed her arms and ran back to their hiding place. When Susie felt like she was able to walk, they made their way home; no one spoke a single word.
For a couple of days after the incident, the teens try to tell their parents what had happened. No one took their stories seriously and they eventually stopped talking about it. When a small article about strange sightings in the sky was written up in the newspaper, it was dismissed as a practical joke. As time passed, that night on the beach was never mentioned again.
Life went on as usual for the teens except for Susie. About six years after the incident on Amagansett Beach, Susie became ill with debilitating headaches and terrible pains in her stomach. After a series of tests, doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her yet she continued to suffer. One night while Ben, Jack and Jenny were visiting Susie, the conversation turned to that night on the beach. It was the first time in six years that the cousins spoke about that bizarre event.
Ben told the others of a strange recurring dream that had been haunting him. The room became silent as he quietly described legions of small humanoid creatures with conical heads working in some sort of laboratory. A few of the little men led Ben into a room; in the middle of the room was a large round cushion. Ben was stripped of his clothes, massaged with lotions and given a white robe to wear. He was handed a large vial of liquid and instructed to drink it, then he was told to lie down on the cushion. The last thing he remembered was one someone saying “Let the process begin”.
The silence in the room was broken when Jack declared in a disbelieving voice “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s not possible! I’ve been having the exact same dream!” In a trembling voice Jenny tearfully described her dream of being artificially impregnated and giving birth to numerous ‘alien’ babies. Susie gasped and turned ashen. It was then that she realized she had been having the same dream as Jenny. This was too incredible! The four cousins were shaken to the core by this revelation and had no idea what to make of it. One thing was for certain: they were convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever occurred that night on the beach was causing them to have these dreams.
Susie was overwhelmed by all the talk about the dreams and began to cry. Suddenly she clutched her abdomen and started moaning loudly in extreme pain, begging to be taken to the hospital. Her cousins immediately drove her to the emergency room. The doctors ordered X-rays, an ultrasound and CT scan for Susie; all the tests came back normal and she was sent home. In a voice no stronger than a whisper Susie told her cousins that even though the doctors could find nothing wrong with her, she knew she was very sick. Susie was in a very bad place physically, mentally and emotionally and no one knew what to do to help her. She just wanted to be left alone and to never talk about that horrible night again.
Over the next few months, Susie’s health worsened. At the age of 21, her periods stopped and she went to see her gynecologist; he determined that Susie had at least one miscarriage. She was aghast at what the doctor said and insisted that was impossible because she had not had sex in more than four years. The gynecologist assumed Susie was in a state of denial and referred her to a psychologist but she refused to go. Once again Susie was admitted to the hospital for a dilation and curettage to clear her uterine lining, a common procedure after a miscarriage. Two nights later she died in her sleep at home; an autopsy revealed no known cause of death, no medical reason why she should have died. Susie was just three weeks shy of her 22nd birthday.
Ben, Jack and Jenny were devastated by their cousin’s death; they made a pact that they would never again discuss their dreams or anything about that night on the beach. Eventually things returned to normal and the dreams stopped. The siblings all got married, settled down and raised families and that terrifying night years ago was all but forgotten.
Now here they were, just one month after Ben and Jack’s 75th birthday and reports were surfacing of luminous globes suspended over the waters of Amagansett Beach. Susie’s tragic death and sixty years filled with unanswered questions came rushing back. Despite all the unexplained happenings that Ben, Jack and Jenny experienced, word of these new sightings now left them with an inexplicable compulsion to go back to where it all began.
Is it their need to learn the truth or are they being summoned? Ben, in his typical rational and logical way made the final decision: in memory of Susie and for their own peace of mind they would never return to Amagansett Beach.
In memory of Susie M. (1949-1970)
NAR Β© 2023
This is the song that was playing on the radio that night on Amagansett Beach β the Beatles singing “Twist and Shout”.
HER DRIVING FORCE
When she saw him for the first time, he was walking alone at night in the pouring rain. She sat in her car, stopped at a red light, and watched as he slowly tramped forward, head lowered, collar raised and hands in his pockets. He seemed haunted, lost and oblivious to the weather and his surroundings.
He appeared to be in his late teens, tall and slim. Even though she couldnβt see his eyes she felt a great sadness must be behind them. She had the strong urge to reach out to him. She experienced that familiar combination of sympathy, nurturing, curiosity and desire.
The light changed and she had no choice but to move on. Instead of going straight she turned right once, twice, three times until she was now at the corner just as the teen approached. She pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window, asking if he needed help, perhaps a ride to wherever he was headed. At first her questions got no response; neither she nor the young man moved. Then he slowly raised his head and looked up. His eyes were lifeless, his face devoid of emotion.
Again she called out to him, saying he must be cold, possibly hungry. No reaction. She leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door offering him shelter from the rain. Still he did not move and she quietly asked him to allow her to help. His face softened imperceptibly and he tentatively approached the car. She said to please get in and close the door. She smiled as he did what she asked.
She inquired if she could take him somewhere; no response. Shifting the car into drive she headed in the direction of her house. She told him he could trust her. She offered him the comfort of a hot meal and a place to rest. He sat looking straight ahead, saying nothing. She spoke softly, telling him she had groceries in the car β a freshly roasted chicken and warm bread β and she noticed he inhaled slightly, savoring the delectable aromas. She drove into her driveway, pulled straight into the garage and closed the door using the remote control. With a velvety laugh she told the young man she was famished and was going inside to eat. He was welcome to join her β his choice.
She became aware of his presence before she saw him. He stood in the hallway, his sopping wet coat dripping on the floor. She told him to remove it and she gingerly helped him take it off, hanging it on a hook to dry. She placed heaping platters of food on the table and only then did he look up, his face expressionless yet more handsome than she imagined. He allowed her to lead him to the table where his hunger overcame him and he devoured everything on his plate, never once looking at her.
When he finished eating she brought him to the den where he sat on a sofa by the fireplace. Quietly she placed pieces of kindling and wood in the fireplace and watched as the flames began to flicker, filling the room with a warm glow. When she turned around the teen was asleep, his face finally at rest. She removed his shoes, covered him with a blanket and went upstairs to bathe.
Slipping into a sheer robe, she went back downstairs and silently walked into the den. Her guest was awake, staring at the fire. She sat beside him and placed her hand over his. He didnβt move away. Emboldened, she lifted his hand and placed it on her breast. He shuddered and closed his eyes. Reaching across his body she placed her left hand on his right shoulder, turning him to face her and for the first time they looked into each otherβs eyes. She shrugged off her robe and placed both his hands on her breasts, encouraging him to caress her. His breathing was ragged and she smiled seductively as she began to unbutton his shirt. Now his hands were roaming freely and he didnβt stop her when she unzipped his pants, feeling his erection growing harder beneath her deft fingers.
She told him it had been four empty years since her husbandβs sudden death and she was very lonely. Slowly she eased him back and mounted him, delighting in the exquisite sensation. She gyrated smoothy, deeply; there was no need to rush. Afterwards they went upstairs to her room. There was much she could teach this boy and the possibilities excited her.
The next morning when she awoke she was alone. She went downstairs but he was gone. Unperturbed, she walked into the kitchen and brewed some coffee. She lit a cigarette and sat at her laptop. Clicking a key she studied the roadmap that appeared on the screen, contemplating her next objective. In which direction would she drive tonight?
NAR Β© 2023
Won’t you join me today
for another rousing game of
Name That Tune?
It’s gonna be fun!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
TIME’S UP
βJesus Christ, Marco! Iβm a nervous wreck!β wailed Tina. βMeeting your mother for the first time is freaking me out! Do I look ok? What if she doesn’t like me?β
βAre you kidding me, babe? You look great! Sheβs gonna love you! Besides … my mother thinks we’re just friends; she won’t be judging you!β replied Marco with a huge grin and a bit too much enthusiasm as he selected his motherβs favorite Dean Martin record.
“But honey, you’ve told me how your mother scrutinizes everything with an eagle eye and doesn’t miss a trick. I’m scared of her and we haven’t even met yet! The pressure is killing me! What if she figures out we haven’t been honest with her?” Tina was getting frantic.
Marco reached out and pulled her close, giving her a comforting hug. His mother never liked any of his gitlfriends, saying no one was good enough for him. Just this once Marco wanted her to likr being with Tina for who she was, without any preconceived notions β even if it meant keeping the truth from her for a while.
“Babe, try to relax. Ma’s bark is worse than her bite. I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting yourself all worked up for no reason. When my mother finally hears the truth, it won’t matter that we didn’t tell her right away; she’ll already be crazy about you! I’m not a little boy and I don’t need my mother’s permission for anything. As long as Dean Martin is playing in the background, she’ll be fine.” It sounded to Tina like Marco was trying to convince himself as well as her.
The ring of the doorbell was expected but it still startled Marco and Tina. Carrying a box of Italian pastries, Marcoβs mother Francesca arrived promptly at 6:00 β ready and quite curious to meet this woman sharing her son’s new house. Introductions were made, niceties exchanged and then Tina excused herself to check on dinner. βShe certainly knows her way around the kitchen well enough; maybe her cooking won’t be so badβ Francesca thought hopefully while keeping a close eye on her son’s “house mate”.
While Tina put the finishing touches on dinner, Marco brought out some appetizers. βAh, bruschetta!β exclaimed Francesca but when she bit into the small thin slice of toasted Italian bread, she discovered the topping was raw meat. βItβs steak tartare, Maβ explained Marco. Francesca made a horrified face and hastily deposited her half-chewed mouthful into a paper napkin. βO Dio mio! Raw meat will give you food poisoning!β Francesca exclaimed. βI hope the rest of the meal is cookedβ, she thought.
In an attempt to calm his mother down and get her mind off the failed appetizers, Marco decided to give her a tour of the house he shared with Tina.
βLook, Ma. Isnβt this nice? A large airy kitchen with an island and plenty of room for a table and chairs. Here’s the dining room with a buffet and hutch filled with glasses and dishes that belonged to Tina’s great-grandmother. Isn’t the furniture beautiful? We got at a Roma’s in Brooklyn, imported from Italy. We even have a fenced-in backyard and patio with a barbecue grill. But the best part is two big bedrooms, each with a separate bathroom so thereβs no fighting over who gets to shower first.β
Marco realized he was saying too much and talking way too fast; he laughed self-consciously, feeling like he was 10 years old again and his mother’s laser eyes were burning right through his skull after catching him in a lie. He squirmed uncomfortably and quickly closed the bathroom door when he noticed the towels that were on the rack were embroidered with the words “HIS” and “HERS”.
Francesca just nodded her head and mumbled “That’s nice” every so often; she may have seemed indifferent but that was far from true. If Francesca saw the bathroom towels, she gave no indication. Now Marco was nervous about that … a careless mistake on his part.
“Come in the kitchen, Ma. Let’s have a nice glass of wine to celebrate your first visit to our house” Marco suggested.
“Our house” thought Francesca.
Francesca sipped her wine and silently simmered on a low boil, her thoughts working overtime while Marco and Tina puttered around the kitchen. βWell, Tina certainly made herself right at home, bringing over all her great-grandmother’s dishes and glasses! I don’t get it. Unmarried men and women sharing a house?” Francesca asked herself. “Maybe in a big house with five or six other people and a lot of bedrooms, but an intimate space with two people of the opposite sex? I don’t like it! And how come the bedrooms have such big beds? Something fishy’s going on here!β Francesca tapped her foot impatiently, her eyes taking everything in.
Finally dinner was ready; throughout the meal, Francesca couldnβt help noticing how attentive Tina was to Marco. By now she was very suspicious about their relationship; she was sure there was more than just friendship between the two of them and their little interactions further convinced her there was something brewing between her son and his “house mate”.
Recognizing the look on his mother’s face, Marco said βI know what youβre thinking, Ma, but I told you before β Tina and I are just friends. House mates. Don’t go making a big deal out of nothing.” Francesca smiled thinly and replied “Whatever you say, Marco”. But in her head she was thinking “House mates, my ass!”
About a week later Tina said to Marco βI know this is gonna sound crazy but I can’t find the napkin rings I used the night your mother was here. I’ve looked everywhere for them. You donβt think your mother took them, do you?β
βWell, I can’t imagine why she’d do thatβ, Marco replied, βbut there’s only one way to find out. Iβll send her an email.β
Dear Ma – Crazy question! Tina’s napkin rings are missing. Now, Iβm not saying you TOOK the napkin rings and Iβm not saying you DIDNβT take them but they have been missing since you were here the other night and you were the only other person to see them. Love, Marco
A reply came through one minute later:
Dear Marco – Funny you should ask! Now, Iβm not saying that you DO sleep with Tina and Iβm not saying that you DONβT sleep with her but if she was sleeping alone in her OWN bed she would have found the napkin rings by now β under her pillow. Love, Ma
Oh, by the way, I saw the towels, too.
NAR Β© 2023
Please join me today
In The Groove
as we continue our musical journey.
It’s really getting good!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
SAFE IN A BUBBLE
September 12, 2001 β The Bronx, New York
βArabic For Dummiesβ? The Qurβan? What the hell are these disgusting books doing in our house? Youβre still associating with that … that … savage, arenβt you, Gloria? Answer me!β
βPapa, please, calm yourself. Itβs not good for your blood pressure. If youβre referring to Yusuf, he is not a savage. Heβs a sweet, gentle and loving man and youβd realize that if you got to know him. Heβs a student at the university studying religion andβ¦..β
βAnd the making of bombs and God knows what else! Gloria, heβs an Arab, a Muslim, for the love of God! Havenβt you seen enough on tv to know what these people are capable of? You saw with your own two eyes what happened yesterday! Here, on American soil. Crashing planes into buildings! Innocent people jumping to their deaths because it was preferable to being burned alive! We wept for people we don’t even know, Gloria. We witnessed the unimaginable. They are animals, mass-murderers, all of them!β
βYou’re right, Papa; what happened yesterday was unspeakable. We will never forget such horror. Yusuf and his family are appalled and overcome with sorrow over this tragedy. But Papa, tell me β when did you become an expert on Muslims or Arabs? Youβve never even tried to get to know them. All my Arab friends are good people, decent, peace loving people. Weβve spent hours talking, exchanging philosophies and sharing meals.β
βI cannot believe what Iβm hearing. You actually sit down and eat with these people, if you can even call them that? This is a nightmare! How can you do this to me?β
βWhat am I doing to you, Papa? You havenβt even given Yusuf a chance. You refuse to meet him, to sit down and have a conversation with him. Youβd see he is a man of peace, a good man incapable of hurting anyone.β
βAre you nuts? Have you lost your mind, Gloria? Do you actually think I would sit with him in my house? Please, God, donβt tell me he has you brainwashed already! Thatβs what they do, you know β¦ draw you in to their cult and before you know it youβre hooked and thereβs no way out. Why canβt you stick to our own kind, find a nice Jewish boy? An Arab and a Jew … whoever heard of such craziness?!?
“I can’t believe we’re fighting over this again! Why must you keep bringing it up, Papa? You didnβt give Evelyn a hard time when she said she was going to marry Gino. And what about Kenny when he and Makayla got engaged? You now have an Italian son-in-law and a black daughter-in-law who you welcomed with open arms and you don’t want me seeing Yusuf simply because heβs an Arab!β
βOh no, do not be fooled, Gloria. Thereβs no such thing as ‘simply an Arab‘. They all have a hidden agenda! Are you blind to whatβs going on around you?β
βPapa, look at me. Iβm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. Why canβt you trust my judgement like you did with Kenny and Evelyn?β
βGloria, youβre not thinking clearly. Gino is a doctor, making an excellent salary. Your sister and their kids will never want for anything. Makaylaβs parents are lawyers and sheβs in law school herself. Your brother and sister made smart choices. They didnβt bring some maniac suicide bomber into our family.β
βSTOP! Stop saying that! You know nothing about Yusuf and you have no idea what youβre talking about! Heβs a wonderful man with a big heart and we have developed deep feelings for each other.β
βDeep feelings. Deep feelings? What are you saying, Gloria? Are you sleeping with him?β
βOh my God! I canβt believe you just asked me that! Iβm not a child and, frankly, thatβs none of your business.β
βNone of my business? As long as youβre living under my roof, itβs my business.β
βHere we go again! Well maybe itβs high time I moved out of this prison and found a place of my own!β
βPRISON! After all your mother and I have done for you, you have the nerve to say that! And by βa place of your ownβ, you mean shacking up with that terrorist, donβt you? Why donβt you just stab me in the heart and put me out of my misery!β
βGenug! Enough! Sei still!!
Whatβs going on here?
I can hear the two of you all the way downstairs!β
βHilda, ΧΧΧΧΧͺΧ (“my love”) I didnβt hear you come in.β
βAs if you could hear anything over all the yelling in here!
Whatβs gotten into the two of you?β
βItβs your daughter. Sheβs being absolutely unreasonable. I donβt even know who she is anymore.β
βOh, mein Gott! So now sheβs MY daughter? Sheldon,
the last time I checked she was OUR daughter.
Is this about that Arab boy again?β
βMama, please! I canβt talk to Papa about this any more. If anyone is being unreasonable, itβs him.β
βGloria, calm yourself, meine liebe Tochter.
Why donβt you go out for a while,
go to that nice coffee shop near the university?
Spend some time with your friends.
Sheldon, come sit with me.β
βHilda, are you crazy? Sheβs going to run right to him! Donβt you see what youβre doing?β
βJust like you ran to me, Sheldon, when your parents called me a filthy Nazi?
Look at me, Shelly. Do you remember what it was like for us
when we first met? You a Jew and me a German.
Ach du lieber Gott! What were we thinking?
My father was so furious, he wanted to kill both of us.
But we knew weβd rather die than be separated.
Sheldon, you should know better than anyone
that you cannot judge one man
simply by the sickening actions of others,
by his looks, what country he’s from
or what god he worships.
Youβre a good man, liebchen.
You were a good man when we were teenagers
and youβre a good man now.
Youβre scared, Shelly, just like we were scared back then.
But we persevered and in time my parents saw the real you
and your parents saw the real me.
Do you remember what you told your parents
all those years ago?β
βOf course I do. I said βI love her and I would die for herβ.β
βJa. And do you remember what I said to your parents?β
βLike it was yesterday. You said βI love him and I would die without himβ.β
βThings havenβt changed that much, Sheldon,
except now WEβRE the parents.
Shelly, you have to let Gloria fly on her own wings.
You have to trust her.
If you don’t we will lose her.
I hate to burst your bubble, meine schnitzel,
but they love each other
and itβs as simple as that.
Trust them.β
NAR Β© 2023
I hope you’ll join me today
for some great tunes
straight out of the Motor City!
https://rhythmsection/blog/
SEPTEMBER SONG
The events of 911 are on all our minds today.
I have chosen to repost a piece I wrote in 2020,
not about what happened on that horrendous day,
not about hate and violence
but a reflection on a simpler time,
a more peaceful time.
I hope it relaxes your mind and
soothes your heart and soul.
β€οΈ
When I was younger I remember my grandparents dancing in the living room to some of their favorite ballads: “I’ll Be With You In Apple Blossom Time”, “As Time Goes By”, “I’ll Be Seeing You”, “You Belong To Me”. They would drink a glass or two of sherry and talk about “the good old days” and how quickly the years pass. There was one song in particular that always made them somewhat melancholy. They’d sit side by side near the fireplace just listening to the words and holding each other close:
“When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn’t got time for the waiting game”
I was just a kid and I couldn’t understand why a song about weather and time made them sad. That’s the way it is with kids; time means nothing. If someone is 25-years-old, that’s practically ancient! We’d watch shows like “Father Knows Best” and “The Donna Reed Show”; the actors were probably 40-years-old, if that, but they looked decrepit to us. The concept of aging was nonexistent.
ββββ
You blink your eyes once and you’re suddenly in high school. Then before you know it you’re married with kids of your own. Wait a gosh darn minute! When did that happen? Funny how time has a way of creeping up on you. One day you’re sledding down a giant snow-covered hill and the next you’re taking your own kids sledding down that same hill.
Your little Katie with a head-full of golden curls is now a teenager and you hear yourself saying the exact same things your parents said to you. And now your parents are the ones sitting by the fireplace listening to “September Song”.
Then one morning you wake up and it’s Katie’s wedding day. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and your wife says how dashing you look, still so handsome in your tuxedo and you tell her she’s radiant in her gown, always the prettiest girl in the room. And in each other’s eyes it’s the truth; you haven’t changed a bit since your own wedding day.
You think about your grandparents, gone for a long time now, and you remember the call you got from your mother last week:
“Oh, dear, your dad and I are just heartbroken over this
but we aren’t going to be able to make the trip
up to Vermont for Katie’s wedding.
Lord knows, we hate to miss it but we’ll be there in spirit.
Please give our sweet Katie-Girl all our love.“
You understand; they’re 80-something and don’t get around like they used to. It’s a long trip from Florida to Vermont and they can’t handle the cold weather. Still, you feel very sad knowing they’ll miss their first grandchild’s wedding day.
ββββ
What a beautiful bride Katie was! Doesn’t her wedding photo look lovely on the mantle next to yours and your parents and your grandparents? Now it’s just the two of you in that old, empty house. Once upon a time, when you and your brothers and sisters were kids, the house was filled with your laughter. But wait β it’s suddenly not so empty and quiet anymore. Where’s all that noise coming from? You take a peek around the corner; there are your grand kids in the living room near the Christmas tree. There’s some rock and roll song on the record player, the 12-year-old twins are playing “Yahtzee” and your 15-year-old granddaughter is furtively sharing a sweet kiss with her boyfriend under the mistletoe.
“C’mon, kids!” Katie calls out from the front hallway. “Your dad’s got the car all packed up and it’s time to go. Say goodbye to Grams and Gramps.” And she gives you both a kiss on the cheek promising to call soon.
ββββ
It seems like just yesterday but you realize eight years have gone by since you left Vermont and retired to Florida. You think about playing golf but your rotator cuff has been hurting a lot lately and your wife isn’t quite ready to hit the links so soon after her hip replacement. Well, let’s not think about that now. There will be plenty of days for golf. So you pour yourself another cup of coffee and work on a crossword puzzle while your wife knits a blanket for Katie’s grand-baby β your very first great-grandchild.
Now in the evenings you sip sherry in the living room. “There’s nothing good on tv these days. How about we listen to some music? Well, look what I found!” and you blow the dust off an old forgotten record laying on the shelf.
“What memories that song brings back!” And you sit holding hands, gazing at faded family wedding photos on the mantle, listening to Sinatra sing:
“Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September”
And you give your wife a hug and a gentle kiss on the forehead.
NAR Β© 2020
| It was my great honor and thrill back in 2020 to be asked to narrate a few of my stories on the BBC radio show called Upload; this was one of those stories. I hope you enjoyed reading it today. |
The Elephant's Trunk 