c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(7-25)
After a hearty, traditional
breakfast, my stomach felt full and satisfied. But when I got up to help my
host clear her dining table and clean up the trailer kitchen, she squawked and
pointed toward the chair where I had been sitting.
“Naw, naw, y’all just sit there
and talk to me. I ain’t used to havin’ company, that’s a privilege, I reckon.
Rest yer ass fer a minute!”
I shifted to a polite mode of
deference by habit.
“Ma’am, I’m used to handling
household chores on my own, after fifteen years of living alone...”
Her face flushed a bright shade of
crimson. She nearly threw the dishcloth in my face.
“WHAT’D YA CALL ME? MA’AM? WELL
LORDY BE, THAT’S A WORD FER GRANNIES, LITTLE KIDS, AND PREACHERS, Y’ALL DON’T
GOTTA BE FORMAL WITH ME, RAWD! WE’RE BUDDIES NOW, OKAY?”
I slouched in the seat, with my
head drooping.
“Umm... sorry. Despite my life
experiences, I grew up with Appalachian traditions...”
Kookshow giggled and splashed foam
in my direction.
“Look, I got all that teachin’ in
my head too. But y’all can relax, this ain’t a Sunday School class. It’s a damn
pleasure to have a man in my crib. Maybe folks think that I get to see all
sorts of famous people, and rub elbows with celebrities. But actually, it’s
kinda dull here a lot of the time. Work, work, work, ya know? Terry and Tiffany
don’t charge me any lot rent to stay at the abandoned drive-in, so I help out
whenever I can. That’s how mama and my granny raised me. Fair is fair!”
I nodded in agreement, while
sipping the last of my coffee.
“Of course...”
My host wiggled her curvaceous
hindquarters, unselfconsciously, while doing the dishes.
“So, what I’ve been a-wonderin’
is, have y’all ever thought about gettin’ out of Ohio? I mean, the DuFoe family
headed west, out of Illinois. I came here from the southern states. A lot of us
in California are from somewhere else. It’s given us a better way of livin’
than we had before. I hear ya talkin’ about lonely days in that mobile home of
yers, by Lake Erie. And I know that y’all must wanna get into the fast lane
sometimes. Them neighbors ya talk about ain’t disposed to understandin’ how ya
think. Or what ya write. Y’all are an alien in that run-down park, I know it
without ever settin’ foot in the Midwest!”
Her words resonated deeply. I had
to sigh heavily, before answering.
“Yes, yes I am...”
Kookshow gestured with a yellow, rubber
glove, and a soap sponge.
“Now I’m not tryin’ to hit on yer
ass, don’t take it the wrong way, but I figure y’all could stay here until we
find a second trailer bungalow for this property. I bet ya’d fit right in,
with the cats and collections, and visitors showin’ up for a taste of Cult
Radio publicity!”
I had to hold my breath while
listening. Her invitation wasn’t something I expected to hear.
“Well, I don’t know what to say,
honestly...”
Suddenly, she fell into my lap.
Her sweet, ruby-red lips pressed against mine. I started to tremble as if a
heart attack was imminent.
“Say yes, Rawd. Say yes!”
For a moment, temptation erased
all of my inhibitions. It reverberated in my temples. It pounded like a
doorknocker, on the inside of my skull. I fantasized romantically about this
new associate, in her crop top and denim shorts, legs akimbo, messy hair flying
in the breeze of a summer day. With all her feminine charms tumbling over me as
I sat in a field, playing guitar. The luscious purr of her voice tickled my
ears. I was on the crest of an emotional cascade, falling into a foolish,
impulsive, flight of fancy that would swallow me with waves of need, want, and
desire. A luxury that I didn’t deserve, and could not justify taking for myself,
as an old, disabled hermit, who had been temporarily liberated from his cage on
wheels.
I could see that her suggestion was
spoken with honesty. It came without conditions or pretenses. But I knew that
too many issues remained with my own, humble existence in the Buckeye State. I
could not yet commit a jailbreak from that familiar paradigm. The environment I
loathed, however dark and dank, and disgusting, had shaped my art. It had given
me prowess at the keyboard never before distilled from any other experience. It
made my work vital, and immediate. It caused my pulse to quicken with the lure
of every unfilled page, waiting to be made useful. It forced me into a corral
of discipline and intensity that lazy days of silent angst never witnessed.
I wanted to match her purity with
a sample of my own. Yet took a less courageous course toward gentle diplomacy.
In effect, I lied convincingly. Either she didn’t notice, or perhaps, the true
intent of my deception was enough, for the moment.
“It’s a brilliant offer. Hard to
refuse, for certain. But I’ve got many loose ends left untied. Leaving would be
a process, not just an event...”
Kookshow hissed through her teeth,
while grinning.
“Horsepoop! Y’all are a gawdamm
chicken, Rawd! If Terry had been like that, he’d never have gotten all the way
to SoCal and the life he leads, right now! He’s king of a little empire, and
that woulda never happened at WLUV, the radio station in a cornfield!
Sometines, ya gotta think big! Get it? Y’all have to gamble a little bit, or
fold yer cards. I don’t think ya look like the type to rest on yer haunches,
and stay stuck on one spot. Especially when there’s a chance to fly free! Whatever
the case though, just remember. There’s a way out, if y’all want it. Ya kin put
yer boots under my bed, anytime!”
My face was burning like hot coals
in a Weber, kettle grill. Everything came back from memory, as I pondered. Both
divorces, my career collapse, social alienation, poverty, disability, and
finally, a tumble into the pit of agony that eventually spat me out as someone
stronger, smarter, and more complete as a creative wordsmith.
“In the words of Elvis, ‘Thank
you. Thank you very much...’”
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