I am standing
in the middle of the road, Rt 44, usually bumper to bumper, but there
are no cars. Way off in the distance I see tail lights, the Galaxy 500.
I start running, have to catch them. I cannot run fast
enough, suddenly I am behind the wheel of the Catalina, driving, balls
to the walls. Paul says; too fucking heavy, too fucking fast, no one will ever catch her, long as she goes straight, can't corner for shit. Paul is riding shotgun. I always felt save with him on my side, seemed so natural. But he has a fishing net wrapped around him. "You should have stuck to cars" I tell him. "That fish net will kill you". "You're always too late, it already did" He smiled "You can't save them you know" Suddenly I am at the funeral, everyone is looking at me, Jill, is pointing at me, she is screaming, "Why, didn’t you stop them? You could have saved them all, who the fuck are you." Then I wake up. One.  Debbie punched me in the arm, she punched like a girl, no weight behind it a fly could have done more damage. She giggled and with that sly smile of hers, she had a funny smile, only half of her mouth got into the act, the other half may have been occupied with a pout. It was kind of a sexy way to smile. On her it was natural; other girls would most likely stay up late into the night to prefect such a smile. "I guess your car doesn't want to get laid". She said snickering. “Sure a shit”. I answered. Debbie said mockingly, "what was it
you said, the first time we came here? If you’re not here after, what I'm
here after, you'll be here after I'm gone?" She walked over and leaned against the front fender, her body turned into the car, she had her hand on one elbow and her head propped up on her chin. As usual she had on a brown overcoat, which covered her all the way down to her feet. Her long thick brown hair followed out and around like a mink stole. Her face was very pale framed by her dark brown hair. It was a pretty face, not perfect or beautiful but just pretty. And not a freckle on her, I know I spent hours looking for one. She looked a bit like Janis Joplin. I bent down and packed a snow ball and
hurled it at the car. In 65; the Catalina was a dream car, the big bloc, gave
it balls to the walls power. And the Power blue paint shone like only a new car
could. By 75 it was held together with rust and duct tape. The paint was
dull light blue and if I needed rust I could reach under any fender and come up
with a handful. Connecticut is a small state. Although densely populated,
when you’re cold and there is snow on the ground and by design, you're miles
from a phone, at the place, specifically chosen for the lack of traffic. You
and she are seventeen in love and completely screwed. We needed leave,
obligations to keep and people depending on you, you turned the key and all you
hear is click click click...we were in the shit. The Hereafter was a small turn around, the entrance
nothing more than a brake in the trees. The Snowplows kept it clear, I as it
was the only break for miles. It was
about 30 feet deep, with trees on all sides, the car was completely hidden from
the road. we left
the car behind and started walking along the road, Debbie put her arm around me,
and I pulled her in as tightly as I could, it was cold and was not going to get
much warmer... suddenly, out of the blackness, reflecting brightly off the
snow, we saw headlights. We stuck out our thumbs and waved, smiled and tried
not to look like a couple of hippies, silly us, considering her Janice Joplin
thing, and me with my long hair and Army field jacked adorned with piece
symbols. We had hippie all over us. "Hurry and get in its freezing out there". Without a second thought we rushed into the back seat. Rushing in was easy for Debbie, a tiny thing she easily slipped in. Me not as graceful I banged my head on the roof, and had to apologize to the pretty blond girl who was holding the back of her seat to let me in, I push in and forced her back further that she expected. “Opsie”
she exclaimed and I bulled my way into the back seat, Debbie fit in like the
seat was made for her, I found a way to sit but I could never say it was comfy,
but it was warm and we were not walking
so I could not complain. VW bugs are air
tight, so when angel voice slammed the door, time stopped as brains were
momentarily stunned. This was typical VW behavior, in the winter, when windows
were rolled up tight. The girl with the angelic voice reached over and put her hand on the arm of the driver. They were a couple of years older than us, college kids. Clean cut, and smiling, I will never forget those smiles; they are seared in to my memory... Debbie is gone now, but I will always have her smile... how I wish I could lose their smiles. Debbie had her eyes closed and was breathing deeply, trying to control her shaking. She leaned hard into me, pressing her mouth to my ear she whispered as softly as her lips allowed, "Jesus Freaks". "Isn't our lord and savior Jesus Christ wonderful" the once angelic voice lilted, "He sent us to save you". "Jesus is so cool" intoned the smiling driver. Looking over to Debbie I could see the pleading in her eyes. It broke my heart; I had to shake my head no. I could see the blood drain from her face and her last hope fled with the realization that the 12 gauge was not with us. There would be no quick end. "I'm Bob, and this is my blessed girl Lisa" Bob exclaimed. "And we are heading over to Unionville" "Have you read the Bible"? Lisa's whose voice now sounded like fingers on a chalk board said. "And what are your names?" "In her best southern drawl Debbie said, "I'm Bonnie and this here is my man Clyde". Debbie rolled her eyes, she was expecting the non-reaction that came from Lisa, who said "praise the lord and bless you both." Debbie knew more about this than I. They did not care who we were, we were fresh meat in their grinder of love. Debbie's went to church every Sunday, her mom would not let her miss salvation. I had been in one once, when my grandfather died, guess I was going to hell. Jesus freeks; we were cooped up in the ever shrinking back seat of a bug, the captive audience of these Jesus loven drones. Suddenly everything changed, things started to look up, and I could feel Debbie relaxing; all because of what Bob said, next;”Did you know that the Bible is the perfect word of our God?" "It is true", he went on, "and we are going to see a man who will pay $5,000.00 dollars to anyone who can show him one single contradiction in the Bible." I looked and Debbie, and saw that sweet smile on her face, the one that never failed to turn my knees to jelly. Jelly knees or not, I knew she was counting our money already. She after all she knew her Bible front and back, and that my English teacher had recently assigned the short story "Espinoza on Market Street". She and I had been on a tear through philosophy, Kant, Descartes, Lock, Augustine, and of course Spinoza; these had replaced "The Lord of the Rings" as our favorite topic of discussion, we had discussed it all, we were stoked, loaded for bear, ready to rumble, at the cliche limit. For the rest of the ride, I ignored the inane patter coming from Bob and Lisa. Thinking where to start? So many contradictions to choose from and with Debbie to back me, how could we lose. We arrived in Unionville and pulled into a movie theater, the parking lot was full, somewhat confused, Debbie and I extracted our self's from the back seat of the VW. Bob and Lisa led us inside and told us to grab seats in the back of the noisy and very full theater. They it seems had reserved seats in the front row and would see us when the "service" was over. The lights went down, the music started, and it was magic time. A tall well dressed man appeared on stage, the curtain opened and a choir appeared. Suddenly the people around us went quiet then as if all reading from a script to which we were not privy, all hands went to the air, we could hear the preacher words which seemed to mesmerize the crowd, it was as if he were pulling strings in an great puppet show, people swayed to his commands, but he did not make commands, and we could hear hundreds of "Amen’s" and "praise be to God", "Jesus is the way" and the like. The Preachers words were meaningless recantations, but the puppet show went on, some went on to the stage only to fall and flail about. Others collapsed in place; the words of the preacher and the music ever so slowly were building in volume and intensity. Everyone around us seemed to be both in great pain and orgasmic pleasure at the same time...and the flailing became more widespread...and the music started to reach a peak... Debbie slapped me hard, then pointed out a group of people, all dressed in white who appeared suddenly then took up positions at each row, all of them holding buckets, as the preachers voice started to rise I could make out the words more distinctly. It was urgent and demanding, we were to give whatever we had to the lord our God, God needed money and lots of it. I burst out laughing; Debbie grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. "Goddamn" She said. "Fire up a joint". She took off walking not waiting for an answer, heading for the nearby gas station and its phone booth. I followed along still confused about what was going on. "So don't ya think we should stick around and try to collect the money?" I asked. She stopped and let out a sigh. "Ain't no money sonny. They just wanted to get us into the church." She started walking again. "But they are Christian’s right?" I asked while trying to roll a joint and keep up with her, ”Isn't lying breaking some rule or something?" "Right, fer sure". Was all she had to say. When we were working on my paper, she would say "Right, fer sure" as she was pointing out a particularity idiotic bible passage. It took us an hour to find a ride, no one stayed home on a Friday Night. As it turned out; a large number of people were actively looking for us. My parent’s phone had been ringing constantly for hours. And they were very curious as to why so many were so angry. Grass Land |
The Reluctant Crime Lord |