The Island CH 4

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The Galiant Fuck
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The Island CH 4

Post by The Galiant Fuck »

The Island CH 4: Blessing and Curse



Blessing


It’s different to grow up on a rez. Everyone knows your shit. It’s because everyone knows you. It’s similar to a small town in many ways. It’s different because we are Tribe. We share the same blood.


Each morning, when The Woman was there, she woke before the first light. Quiet time. These days, that’s when I’m heading to find my pillow.


For her, it was when she could get anything done. She put a perc of coffee on the wood stove, smoked her cigs, and she wrote by oil lamplight. Quiet music form the transistor radio, the sound of pen on paper. She wrote books of poetry and stories. These eventually were published.


I snuck peeks to see what the woman was doing in them early hours. After midnight, before the hint of a glow in the east, that is the time of secrets. Folks in the world outside used to treat each other much differently when they were headed to their early jobs. Respectful. Quiet nods of some sort of understanding. The sky was a very deep blue, with stars and planets winking out of view before the pastel of dawn and explosion of the sun in a couple hours.


Sometimes, a neighbor would come over and start the coffee before she even woke up. We never locked our doors. We lived on an island, and we had our own sense of security. Someone was always up, watching out for everyone else. That’s the difference between a small town and a rez.


Curse


Of course, some had their eyes out on others. Damn was there some draaanking. Most were cool, and a few were bad boys, up until their seventies. Some are still here. Fighters. Creepy to youth. Lewd, crude, and shrewd. Now, stop salivating. This will not be dirty laundry. I will always be Tribal.


But, one time, one of the wild ones was in a bar, and had to take a piss. He went in there and looked around. A crowd along the long, ceramic pissing trough. He grabbed one guy and threw him back across the floor, still pissing, sliding across on his back. Piss got all over everyone else during his short air travel. That wild one walked over, took his place and did his own business.


Of course, there was a bar fight, except that it was in the men’s room. I know that wild one’s name, but it will never be written, here. I’m Tribal.


Another time, a different wild one felt he’d been cheated at a card game. He ran across the road form his own home with a shotgun, and began firing at the house across the road. Thing was, it was still filled with bird shot. It was his own brother’s home he shot at. Of course, it woke up everyone, and then there was a tribal street fight. Ah, the good old days.




. . . . . . .




Blessers and Cursings


Sometimes, we had folks come live here who had both things in mind. Chicken coups. Some hold the prey in a cage for their plucking, and others make the cage into something better.


See you next time.


Not long enough? Huh. It's been said; breadth and girth is better than a long pencil.


.
There is a Blackout Island. It exists. I've been there many times. The map is on the bottom of the bottle, to be read from the inside.

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oettinger
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Re: The Island CH 4

Post by oettinger »

I`d be pissed too
Drink!
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