Is There Liquor In Purgatory
I was getting rid of the evidence of irresponsible behavior over by the bocce court when I stubbed the second little piggy of my right foot on the sharp edge of the rock border. I looked down to see it bleeding right away and whereas my first instinct was to cry like a little girl I chose instead to spew obscenities like the ill-bred, frustrated, benighted blowhard that I am. Almost spewed out, and ending with a whimpering "oh golly that hurt," I began limping towards the pool, which caused the pain to increase so much that I briefly considered the possibility that I might be dying.
In Purgatory I am sitting on a bench next to a black kid with bullet hole between his eyebrows. When he turns away from me I notice that the back of his skull is missing. Hey kid, I say, I just have to know, did that hurt at all?
Naw mane, nuh uh. I got a little scared before it, think I shit myself...yeah you did, I interrupted...but no, he continued, I don't think I really felt nothing at all. Then I'm just sittin' here, guess I gotta go represent.
Is that right? I say
I don't know mane, he says turning away, I look like I got any brain in there? I don't know what all go on up in here. What about you, pops?
I glance down at my toe, embarrassed.
He says, oh you that man that crying like a little girl cuz he hurt his footie. Oh man, everybody be talking about you, how that so sad how you acting 'bout your toe. Something else you should know, pops. He turns to face me and I notice what a good looking kid he is. He has high cheekbones and his clear black eyes have me hypnotized and I'm thinking he may be descended from royalty when he interrupts my thoughts with a zinger. You ain't even dead, he tells me. You just trippin' or something.
I'm driving the Polaris over to the burn pile to off load some twigs from a big apple tree branch that broke off in the last storm. My toe isn't really hurting that badly anymore but I'm going to drive down to the house anyway to pop some Tylenol when I see an electric company bucket truck coming up the driveway. I head on over and pull up beside it and turn off my ignition. The man is looking for someplace this is not. I try to help him. He looks at his directions and tells me where he's supposed to be is near a liquor store. I suffer a momentary burst of elation like in those dreams where you open a door in your house and find a whole other wing that you didn't know about and is always way better than the house you actually live in. But I'm not tripping so I ask him if he is sure he is in the right town and he verifies by naming the town, that he is. When I tell him there is no liquor store here he says that the sheriff told him the same thing. Oh, he did? I say and he says, she. Oh right, she, I say.
He seems upset remembering his meeting with the sheriff and says, how did that happen, weren't there any men running? I tell him that yes, there were three rather impressive male candidates. He takes a call and I wait. Across from the newspaper office? he says into the phone and I nod even though he isn't looking at me.
While he's talking I'm doing some math in my head figuring how much of my gas money could be going towards liquor. Before he leaves I say, hey, just in case you do find a liquor store here will you come back and tell me where it is?
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