Bad Dreams

Cherokee, Bloom county

I constantly wake up my father in the middle of the night to talk to him about celebrity gossip and other inane things. We share a closet me and God, in my room where my anxieties dwell and plague me at night. Their leader is the Giant Purple water-turtle, but the anxieties can range from typical things like giant snakes to politically-themed ones like a pair of disagreeing neocon economist. Tonight's anxieties are flavored with names changed to prevent indictment of the guilty one Mrs. Grigsby/ Deloris the church lady integration; even sally field couldn't pull this one off. Introducing Binkley the tent-maker looking to repair faulty seams.
Binkley was interested in an all southern American Anglo belles, named Blondie (scandalizing the rather conservative townsfolk, including her father; dammed Baptist moral fibers). Binkley campaigned with the Meadow Party, although he and his in-law are solid hawk-o-crats, my heavily armed kin. I heard brother art preach one night, said he would throw his television in the river, but fear of imprisonment for serious water pollution charges prevented action, here thy will git'cha ticketed for glass in a scenic river or stream bed. I try to be tolerant, but programming today make people dumb and dumber and is intolerable. The only tool I have anymore is to speak out and register my disapproval on record and turn them into opportunities to issue perfect diction.

Binkley's nature was to be one of a people pleaser in order to get things done. Diplomacy, ass kissing, ass kicking if that's what people prefer. 'I cannot use you if you do not like me, though. I will not bow to no crown wearer that wasn't also a cross bearer,' When I decided to stop lying, stop blowing smoke up folks asses, probing for peoples weaknesses, I didn't have squat to say to anyone, seems I refuse to lie just to make anyone feel good and smile if I didn't mean it. Simply…..I don't like anyone anymore if I have to play that game.

 Mrs. Grigsby set in front of me in church for six months before she recognized another human was also seated and behind her. Once a week for six months I got her number, I do.

Honesty is why I told Mrs. Grigsby her scion car was ugly. It draws too much attention, be prepared for some ridicule' I told her one Sunday post worship. The thing looks like a melting banana popsicle. She needed to hear it. I could have been nice and told her she had a superfine superficial, like everyone else, classic emperor has no cloths social virus. By her non-reaction she took offense. She knew I knew the only reason she bought that car was for the attention, a social band-aid for a spiritual wound.

 My boss sent me to Mrs., Grigsby's, she was my supervisor over at the local generic dollar thrift store. I like to talk about real magic!! I was praying for something to do and Mrs. Grigsby had just inherited a very badly mismanaged business and had been praying for help to straighten it up. Again, I had been praying for something to do. I walked in her store one afternoon and she was frazzled. I saw this ashtray/firepit that that belonged in the Smithsonian, it was the biggest honk'in ashtray I ever saw in my life, largest cast in the western hemisphere, easily make a coffee table. How much……?I was ready to pay twenty dollars. She said she didn't know, was two dollars too much? My conscience would not let me leave it alone. I am like, where is your boss, don't he know your giving away the farm? I m the boss, the only experience I have is as a scanner pusher past-er at Wal-Mart she said. Please let me help you fix this, I think I can help, my silent thoughts. Ok, I got dibs on the ashtray, when we figure it out. We got to talking and I told her that ashtray on steroids might be a genuine fined with road-show potential and a I don't know shit about it disclaimer. She and I talked on and I asked her if she needed any volunteer help, told her some of my business experiences, you know a "business consultant" covers a lot of area. She quickened, looked me square in eye and exclaimed "God sent you!!" I tensed up (God, wow!), regained my composure trying to play it off, yes mum…he…. he….did, did indeed. Where do you want me to start I shot back?

We both agreed that we should pray at that tender moment, for we both knew He knew her new car was ugly and assaulted our senses, there was also that prayer…..two prayers one answer is awesome any day, and better drama than any one episode of young and the restless.

Mrs. Grigsby was fifty-ish, only three years older than me but she thought I was thirty-five and I never told her no different, and cast her in a maternal role. I didn't know if I should be flattered or suspect of her poor eyesight. She liked the respect of that Mrs. General manager Title, I didn't cheat her out of any glory. It made her feel too good about herself. Turns out she needed her self-esteem issues resolved and not her clerical skills to be a good manager, I can say from my experience this is often the case in many people in general, but only seems women are more prone is because men guard and shield weaknesses better, both with equal potential to process raw emotion. Was not surprised the giant ashtray was gone, she claimed she didn't get it. The ashtray vanished, imagine that. Was there ever an ashtray?….. were we the only two that saw it? Does it matter?

That's how God transformed Deloris the church lady into the widely heard, rarely quiet Tami Faye clone of Tahlequah. Today she has a troop of eight or ten pink hat donning middle aged social mouthpieces, sometimes mouthy, the groupies of their generation, hopping on and off the patriotic bandwagon as the season changes and political weather permits or Oprah endorses, in short a purpose. Seems kindda stupid to key each others cars over their magnetic ribbons manufactures but that is a reality today…...the hue of a wrist wrap risks assault, I warned her first two years before. These talented ladies are also a chorus and I suspect Della's car was keyed as retribution for one of her solo medleys and likely a legitimate tort. When I hear it I instinctively want to punch circular disks out of three ¼ inch drywall hung on two foot studs unloading ever six inches; I only support her at brick and concrete supported venues , as they do her, under bridges mostly. Also I bring Samson for Della, of course, she knows this and is motivated to successfully navigate into higher pools of abstract noise, I didn't have to tell her, I am guilty only of encouraging her. She knows now not to ask me a question unless she already knows the answer or wants the truth where ever that leads, I owe it not only to her to be genuine and sincere, but more to God where my own self respect resides. I ran into her at the grocery store not long ago, been five years 'tween, now and she is driving a Lex, her, new upgrade, husband is a local evangelist with no formal theological training or specialized social skills, ten years her junior, he told me he never thought about monotheism, said he had some hand sanitizer hankies his wife put in the lower inside watch pocket of his raiment "if slobber and snot starts to spew," I was sincere when I prayed God help us that day and decided then and there being a Christian roadie wasn't my gig; novice tent-maker learns life lessons on the road .

 One of the benefits of volunteer work is you cant get fired but can quit anytime. For some reason it always irritates me to shake a pastor or deacons hand and notice the timepiece on his other wrist is better than mine, some as much as my car and mobile home, women check their mates bling, they are lying if they say they don't, sometimes much, as I ware no bound symbols about my wrists. It would seem I can almost account for every minute of every day without man-made increments; I lost that unnatural nervous tic of looking at my wrist five years ago. God gives me my sense of time as a natural biologic clock, all the tools I need to be human were already here when I got here. I have never not been standing were I was supposed be at that very moment. I have never had a problem with tardiness although I am subject to be first at the earliest available moment, I have never stayed too late or quit too early unless I was without the support of artificial time. My time is the general hospital theme telling me I missed one-life-2-live, OL2L if I watched OL2L. That is how I reset my bio clock daily, I am obligated to ring her spiritual doorbell, I confront her with her hypocrisy for her own salvation, she is not yet ready to listen. I cant help but assume that she is still the project god sent me to work on, you know the one I prayed for, like I cannot grow anymore until we both get over the hump. I paid it forward and I ain't sure what I bought. The way I see it I should get credit for half a seven year season with the option of blessing for my effort and full seven years credit should she change or die trying, God…reserving the right to forfeit anytime after seven years, wont budge. I didn't say what condition. She knows I love her and I woke God up at three thirty-three to write about and pray for her, hope she sees herself; I think I liked the old church lady Mrs. G. with the self-esteem issues better. How ever it turns out my conscience is clearing after the second caution I am out of it, next is he that sent me. Can you hear Festus Hagen sayin 'now I done told ya and you went out and shore 'nuff got yourself kilt.' I expect her back soon, home is calling…..binkley wake upzzzzzzzzz(Y)
………………………………....Kosmicdebris