St Muckymuck, Season 2: Duet

Duet

There was a chirp in the distance….The sound of the ocean roaring onto a shore even further away…Somewhere a foghorn blew.  Something tempted him to open his eyes but the soft, soothing serenity of the seaside sounds seemed to prompt him to keep his eyes closed.

Everything was comforting – everything was calming.  Like a patch of sun beaming through the living room window, he was utterly content, completely at peace, warm.  How long he remained there basking in the relaxation, he did not know; he did not care.  But at some point, his eyes slowly opened.

The sky was misty, yet he was not cold.  The mist seemed to radiate a gentle warmth.  When he sat up, he saw seagulls in the distance darting about above steely black water pounding on pure white sand.  His green eyes watched the gulls as they played and zoomed at one another.  It brought a smile to his face.  Some children were throwing a Frisbee way down at the far end of the beach.  Their giggling reached his ears – causing him to chuckle.  He sat up, hoping to see them better.

“Well, there you are, Sleepyhead,” said a soft voice.  “I thought you were going to nap the whole day away.”

“Huh, I’m sorry,” he responded.  “I was enjoying the beauty of the seaside.  I guess I dozed off.”

“Quite understandable,” said the other voice with a strong, Scottish accent.  Then he appeared, but in shadow.  “Here you are, my love.”  A glass of wine was handed to him.

“Thank you, Sweetheart,” he replied.  He took a sip.  “Wow, this wine is delicious.”

“I brought it especially for you.  It’s your favorite from that winery in the Napa Valley that you like so much, Cakebread Cellars.”

“OH!  It’s their Rubiyat?” he asked, breathing in the wine’s bouquet.  “Mmmm.”

“It is, indeed,” said the Scottish voice.  The diffused light from the mist in the air made it impossible to see who was speaking.  But it didn’t matter, he knew the voice like the back of his hand.  It was just as soothing as the playful gulls and recreating children, whose giggles filled his ears again.  He looked over at them, a smile lighting up his face.  The smile grew into his own laughter.

He laid his head down and stared up into the mist, sighing blissfully.  He felt a gentle touch on his stomach – it began to massage him.  “Mmmm – that feels so good.”  He began to drift away again, seeming to move upward into the blinding mist.

“I’m glad, my love, it is always and only for you.  Just you,” said the other familiar voice.

“Yes – yes, and I am only for you…” he said, breathlessly, sotto voce.  He was rising…rising…rising…

ST MUCKYMUCK

Season 2

WRITTEN BY STEVEN GORMAN

WHAT YOU ARE READING IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

 Ginger and Elsie arrived at Sam n’ Ella’s a few minutes later.  Timmy trailed behind along with a host of penguins.  People gathered around and helped the besodden tarantula into a seat.

“What’ll it be, Ging?”

“Two teas, Sam, and pour a generous dollop of brandy in this young lady’s cup, if you don’t mind.  It’s on me.”

“Right you are,” said Sam in his characteristic Irish inflection.

“Does someone have a jacket.  This poor girl is freezing,” said Ginger.  A blanket appeared, which Timmy placed lovingly around Elsie’s shoulders.  She thanked him.

“She huddled over her tea after Sam set it down.  “I cannot get the image out of my mind of the look of surprise on his face as he slipped away.”  Tears began.  She’d cried so much that her eyes stung as the moisture formed.

“He will be back.  I can feel it in my heart.  He didn’t slip away.”

She sank into the cup, almost knocking it over.  Timmy settled it.  “Oh God.  Where is he then?  I saw him get swept away, Ginger.  I saw it!”

Ginger smiled almost pityingly.  “I don’t doubt that you did.”

“Then how can you sit there and be so calm.  How?” said Elsie, tears clinging to her eyelashes.  “HOW?!”

“…I cannot say…but I do know.  I know it…in here,” he said, tapping his chest over his heart.  He smiled more brightly but it seemed only to cast Elsie into further darkness – she looked away from his brightness.  She could still feel Bandit’s paw in her hand; feel the delicate softness of the pink pads on it.  In automatic response, she closed her fist, trying desperately to grab onto it.  But it eluded her and she collapsed into renewed soft sobs.

***

Bandit sat up – startled.  A crab was crawling over his stomach.  He shooed it away but it merely hissed and scuttled off.  He looked around.  He was on a beach – the sun was beaming down on him and it felt good, as he was soaking wet.  He tried to get the crab’s attention to ask where he was but the crab continued moving away hissing something at him he couldn’t quite make out.

“Where am I?” he turned and looked around.  The beach was completely abandoned.  “And how did I get here?” he asked to no one.  He racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened.  But he couldn’t… “How odd?” he said to himself.  “I can’t remember anything?  Maybe I got hit by a car…or was beaten by a cruel owner?”  A memory flickered from a distant corner of his mind of a woman hitting him with a broom.  He winced as the distant broom’s impact cracked his ribs.

Several crying gulls swooped overhead, awakening him from his nightmare.  One landed next to him.   

“ ‘Allo, Love,” he said.

“Hello,” said the cat.

Another gull landed beside the first.  “Oooo..where you from, Love?”

“I…I…don’t remember,” he said, concentrating very hard.

“Ooo…you don’t have to get cheeky!” said the seagull.  “I was only askin’.”

“I’m not being cheeky on purpose…” said Bandit, truthfully.  “But I can’t remember anything…I don’t even know where I am.”

“You’re on Southport Beach, near Liverpool,” said the first gull.

“Liverpool?” Bandit repeated, sitting.  He placed a paw to his forehead.  “England?”

“Aye,” said the second gull.  “Maybe you should see a doctor, Love.  We know where you should go.  We can take you.  It’s free here, you know.”

He turned to go with them and collapsed from a sharp pain in his side.  “Ouch!” he said.

“Oh…Love, you’ve got to see someone.  Sharpish.” Said the second gull, staring at his left rear leg.

“Why?”

“You’re injured, Love,” said the first gull, who sounded male.  “It doesn’t look too serious but you’ll definitely have to see the doctor.  Can you walk?”

Bandit got to his feet and gingerly put weight on it.  “If we go slowly, I think so.”  He slipped slightly

“ ‘Ere, Love, we’ll help you,” both seagulls put a paw over their shoulders, and helped the wet, injured cat to his feet.

“Name’s Joseph, Love,” said the male seagull on Bandit’s right.  “An’ this here’s Mary.”

“ ‘Ello,” said Mary to his left.  “An’ who are you?”

“…I…I” Bandit stopped.  He searched every square inch of his feline brain.  “…Dunno…”

“Oh, bless you,” said Mary.  “Pray to St. Anthony.  He’ll help you remember.”

***

“Well, I wish I had your confidence,” said the tarantula, now staring into her tea as though hoping it would divine Bandit’s existence and whereabouts.  Nothing happened.

“Look, Elsie,” said Ginger, moving forward slightly.  “Bandit lives in my heart.  It doesn’t matter where he goes or what he does.  I will always be with him and he will always be with me.”

“Just like I am with you, Baby,” said Timmy, nuzzling Elsie, who closed her eyes in gentle reassurance.

“Don’t leave me, Rocky, don’t ever, ever leave me,” she whispered.

“Never, my Precious, never, never, never.”

People gathered closer.  “We’re all with you, Elsie.  Every single one of us.”

©2011 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.