Taken with a phone camera.
The Orchid and The Gathering of Souls
"It looks like an orchid." I said. "With the folding petals that go from the inside and outward."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
She blushed. No one had ever told her that before. Thinking back on it, at that moment in time, it really did look like a Cattleya labiata. It came to me from a print I had on the wall at home. The thought hit me like a 2x4 stud, right between the eyes.
I kept staring in amazement at the lush moistness between her legs. Her wrinkled labia took forms I never knew existed before.
"What kind of acid was that?" I said.
All she could do was giggle. She tried to talk but all that would come out of her were giggles. Was she laughing at me? Most likely that was the case with her.
I sat on the floor in front of her while she sat on the couch; legs spread and naked. When she laughed her tits jiggled. Being in an altered state, moments became years and seconds became centuries. I found myself barely able to sit upright. A million crazy thoughts ran through my mind and I realized that I thought I was out of sync with the lovely on the couch before me. For that brief moment being in sync seemed extremely important.
"Gawd I am horny." she said.
She was rubbing the inside of her thighs. I watched, fascinated like I had never seen this part of the 'movie' before. She barely had any idea of what was happening and I didn't either. We both had transcended our own bodies right at that moment. Then she lit a cigarette and watched forever the smoke rising from her exhaled breath.
"Let's not fuck yet." she said.
I poured the wine in her glass and was amazed at myself that I could still do it. I leaned back on the couch with my head between her legs and watched "Bewitched" on the TV or maybe it was "The Andy Griffith Show". We both heard the driving rain pounding against the side of the house. It was dreary and it was lonely.
Both of us knew Good Time America had been gone for awhile and no one liked it. We both had friends killed in the war. Those thoughts briefly occured to each of us and we said as much to each other. Sirens careened past the house on the street going to a wreck. We had both noticed a loud crash down the street. Shit like that seemed to happen all the time.
I tried to determine just how messed up I was by trying to stand on my head. I knew if I could do that then anything was possible including pouring each of us a glass of wine and talk some philosophical shit that wouldn't make any sense later. If I had taped it you would have laughed and said, "What kind of stoned fucks would say something like that?"
I was getting off too much and I felt like I had to bring this high down a notch. I could tell this because the mess in her house still bothered me. I could fix that easy enough with a little smack. Cross-eyed and I started to get in sync now.
"Why don't you fix us some junk?" she said.
Then she giggled and rubbed the inside of her thighs some more. She sighed and brought her knees to her chest. I fixated on that for a moment. Or was it longer than that?
I knew that if I obeyed her request, that the rest of the night would be wasted. Another pitiful, pathetic and wasted night in purgatory. Some day I will have to change that but not that night. Shit we wouldn't be able to get up and change the music. That is low rent shit. I walked into the kitchen, pulled out a long pipe and grabbed a candle on the way back to the couch. She had since stretched out on the couch in anticipation. I lit the candle while she fixed the pipe with smack.
I noticed on the end table underneath the lamp a letter but paid little attention to it. I couldn't make out the typing on the envelope. The Gathering of Souls then occurred to me but I sloughed it off. I refused to care and didn't want to know.
"Hand me the candle." she said. "I wanna get this lit."
Melted wax dripped and splashed on her nipple when I handed her the candle. Fascinated, I swirled it around the base of her erect nipple before it hardened. I was not surprised that she didn't flinch when I did that. She puffed a few times on the piple and then handed it to me.
I watched her begin to drift after chasing that dragon. I wondered then where she went. Did she drift to Tibet? Why was there such a grin on her face?
She was losing touch and I was too. What kind of waste land would we travel? I knew soon we would not care what dumb ass shit popped into our minds from this moment on. Cross-Eyed Linda pulled up her legs and I sat on the couch. I unraveled a half inch of tobacco from a cigarette and replaced it with some smack. She sighed and the contents of the pipe swarmed through her. I followed her not long after that.
"gawd," she said, "My brother was killed." and she pointed to the letter on the end table.
I could do nothing but shrug and the Gathering of Souls for me at least began to slip away from my grasp. I was grateful.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
She blushed. No one had ever told her that before. Thinking back on it, at that moment in time, it really did look like a Cattleya labiata. It came to me from a print I had on the wall at home. The thought hit me like a 2x4 stud, right between the eyes.
I kept staring in amazement at the lush moistness between her legs. Her wrinkled labia took forms I never knew existed before.
"What kind of acid was that?" I said.
All she could do was giggle. She tried to talk but all that would come out of her were giggles. Was she laughing at me? Most likely that was the case with her.
I sat on the floor in front of her while she sat on the couch; legs spread and naked. When she laughed her tits jiggled. Being in an altered state, moments became years and seconds became centuries. I found myself barely able to sit upright. A million crazy thoughts ran through my mind and I realized that I thought I was out of sync with the lovely on the couch before me. For that brief moment being in sync seemed extremely important.
"Gawd I am horny." she said.
She was rubbing the inside of her thighs. I watched, fascinated like I had never seen this part of the 'movie' before. She barely had any idea of what was happening and I didn't either. We both had transcended our own bodies right at that moment. Then she lit a cigarette and watched forever the smoke rising from her exhaled breath.
"Let's not fuck yet." she said.
I poured the wine in her glass and was amazed at myself that I could still do it. I leaned back on the couch with my head between her legs and watched "Bewitched" on the TV or maybe it was "The Andy Griffith Show". We both heard the driving rain pounding against the side of the house. It was dreary and it was lonely.
Both of us knew Good Time America had been gone for awhile and no one liked it. We both had friends killed in the war. Those thoughts briefly occured to each of us and we said as much to each other. Sirens careened past the house on the street going to a wreck. We had both noticed a loud crash down the street. Shit like that seemed to happen all the time.
I tried to determine just how messed up I was by trying to stand on my head. I knew if I could do that then anything was possible including pouring each of us a glass of wine and talk some philosophical shit that wouldn't make any sense later. If I had taped it you would have laughed and said, "What kind of stoned fucks would say something like that?"
I was getting off too much and I felt like I had to bring this high down a notch. I could tell this because the mess in her house still bothered me. I could fix that easy enough with a little smack. Cross-eyed and I started to get in sync now.
"Why don't you fix us some junk?" she said.
Then she giggled and rubbed the inside of her thighs some more. She sighed and brought her knees to her chest. I fixated on that for a moment. Or was it longer than that?
I knew that if I obeyed her request, that the rest of the night would be wasted. Another pitiful, pathetic and wasted night in purgatory. Some day I will have to change that but not that night. Shit we wouldn't be able to get up and change the music. That is low rent shit. I walked into the kitchen, pulled out a long pipe and grabbed a candle on the way back to the couch. She had since stretched out on the couch in anticipation. I lit the candle while she fixed the pipe with smack.
I noticed on the end table underneath the lamp a letter but paid little attention to it. I couldn't make out the typing on the envelope. The Gathering of Souls then occurred to me but I sloughed it off. I refused to care and didn't want to know.
"Hand me the candle." she said. "I wanna get this lit."
Melted wax dripped and splashed on her nipple when I handed her the candle. Fascinated, I swirled it around the base of her erect nipple before it hardened. I was not surprised that she didn't flinch when I did that. She puffed a few times on the piple and then handed it to me.
I watched her begin to drift after chasing that dragon. I wondered then where she went. Did she drift to Tibet? Why was there such a grin on her face?
She was losing touch and I was too. What kind of waste land would we travel? I knew soon we would not care what dumb ass shit popped into our minds from this moment on. Cross-Eyed Linda pulled up her legs and I sat on the couch. I unraveled a half inch of tobacco from a cigarette and replaced it with some smack. She sighed and the contents of the pipe swarmed through her. I followed her not long after that.
"gawd," she said, "My brother was killed." and she pointed to the letter on the end table.
I could do nothing but shrug and the Gathering of Souls for me at least began to slip away from my grasp. I was grateful.
Blood Red and the Cadaver
I worked for a time in the student government building. I was a shitty custodian. Every week I waxed and buffed the floors. I hated it and I hated it worse during the Winter. I could put a shine on it so glossy that you could look up women's skirts from the floor on a busy day; If you were at the right angle. Problem was, the minute there was snow outside, people would track mud and water in and grind it into my beautiful buffed floor. Then some asshole from student government would bitch about how fucked the floor looked. I couldn't mop a floor to save my ass but I could sure put a shine on the tile in the entrance.
Every Saturday, I would mop the place down and then strip the old wax off with a buffer and a plastic scouring pad that went on the bottom. I knew a midget on campus and for a few bucks and a six pack, I could get him to sit on the buffer while I stripped and buffed the place. He would drink beer and read The Iliad; go figure.
He had nothing better to do and I had a floor to wax and he was the proper weight. I would spray a little water on it and it would shine like glass.
The real bitch though was cleaning the restrooms. Sometimes it was fun, even when I caught chicks giving their boyfriends blowjobs in the ladies room.
"Don't mind me man," I would say, "I'm next." Then I would hear rustling of clothes and zippers. Next the two would emerge from the door in 20 seconds flat, looking at the floor and walking fast. It was a hoot.
----
One Saturday I walked into the second floor women's restroom to clean it like I usually did before waxing the floors. It was freaky when I went into the first stall. I was shocked. It looked like the St. Valentine's Day massacre happen in the stall. There was blood all over the place. Blood on the sides of the stall, it covered the floor, the toilet and toilet seat. It was everywhere. It looked like someone was chainsaw massacred in it yet, there was no body.
I ran down the hall and call the campus cops. They were on the scene immediately, surveying the stall. They were puzzled as well and marked the bathroom as a crime scene and called the city police. Another cop shows up with a detective. It took them 5 minutes to figure out it was menstrual blood. I couldn't believe some bitch was that nasty with a used tampon. It took me a full two hours to clean the dried crap off of everything. I always wondered why some bitch would do that.
----
They finally hired me some help. She was pretty, worked as hard as I did and we worked well together. We could kick out that building in half a day on Saturdays. We were a good team. To keep things interesting we would have cleaning contests to make the time go by quicker and have a little fun.
She started to grow on me. Needless to say I dumped the midget riding on my buffing machine and picked up the new custodian chick. It was thrills and chills on the buffing machine on Saturdays. She didn't mind. Maybe there was something about riding on it she liked. I never asked though.
Next to the student government building where we worked, was what we called the cadaver building. It belonged to the medical school and my co-worker was one of the few people that didn't mind going in there and cleaning it. I was curious at first. Because of my liberal arts major, I didn't need to take anatomy unless I took it as an elective; I elected not to.
The anatomy building was not advertised as such. It was just there in the back of the parking lot. Some people knew what it was but most didn't. The building was where all the anatomy classes were held. She was pre-med and had taken the course so it didn't spook her to go in there at nights to clean the small barracks-sized building.
"Have you ever taken anatomy?" she said one evening when we had finished for the day. "It's a pretty cool place." she said, "We give 'em all names. We don't know who they really were. They gave us all a great gift, they donated their bodies to science."
"No," I said, "and I don't plan to start. I don't care about their contributions to science either." She would sheepishly grin when I said that and then she would go into the building and emerge about an hour later.
I don't know but what kind of chick would get off on working with and being around cadavers? "I could sure pick 'em." I thought. But she was becoming too attractive to me to simply ignore.
It took its form in the nature of joking around that I did while working together. I am not the kind that goes into a bar and starts asking every single looking lady if she wanted to go home with me and get it on. With my co-worker that was as far as it would go though and never any further. I toyed around with the idea but I didn't want to seem too available. That is, until one night.
"Come on," she said, "let's go inside the anatomy building. I really wanna show you around there."
"Naw no fuckin' way babe. It's too weird for me."
----
She finally talked me into it. It was my curiosity more than anything that drove me to do it. When I entered I didn't know what to do at first. I stood around and looked. It was one large room with a slab and a high intensity light above it. There various gadgets and tools I assumed that were used for dissecting cadavers. It was hard to tell what the sex was of the cadaver.
"When class first started," she said, "we named her Molly. We took suggestions and then voted on a name and that is what we decided on."
"So you give them names?" I asked.
"I guess it is tradition to do that." she replied, "It makes it a little more personal while you are working on their bodies."
I didn't know what to think, as I looked around the room. It looked clean and didn't look like it ever needed an hour's work that she committed to it every day.
"Oh," she said, "I sometimes just come in here and talk to her and look at her."
I know people do this at cemeteries, I guess it is a catharsis for them. But this was a cadaver. Not anyone that she knew.
We stood there for a little while. She went over to the cadaver and started talking to it. She didn't say much but I thought it was freaky weird. Then she walks over to me, stands very close to me and says "Let's make love in here." she said, "Over there in that chair."
That floored me. She was hot but not that hot. Some chicks like a candlelit bedroom. This one liked a cadaver in the room. "I've never done it in here before." she said. "I think it would be kinda fun, doncha think?"
"Why don't we go back into the student government building and screw?" I said.
The idea didn't particularly turn me on though. But I thought if this was the only way I could get a blowjob...well.......
"Come on, it'll be fun." she said. Then she started rubbing me. I couldn't resist.
----
I had to admit, at the time it was one of the most soulful screwing I'd had up to that point. She got into it with abandon. At first my mind wasn't on it but I quickly forgot about the cadaver lying on the table across the room.
After we finished and got dressed, we started cleaning up any evidence that we were there.
"Don't turn out the lights yet." she said. "I wanna say goodbye to my aunt."
Every Saturday, I would mop the place down and then strip the old wax off with a buffer and a plastic scouring pad that went on the bottom. I knew a midget on campus and for a few bucks and a six pack, I could get him to sit on the buffer while I stripped and buffed the place. He would drink beer and read The Iliad; go figure.
He had nothing better to do and I had a floor to wax and he was the proper weight. I would spray a little water on it and it would shine like glass.
The real bitch though was cleaning the restrooms. Sometimes it was fun, even when I caught chicks giving their boyfriends blowjobs in the ladies room.
"Don't mind me man," I would say, "I'm next." Then I would hear rustling of clothes and zippers. Next the two would emerge from the door in 20 seconds flat, looking at the floor and walking fast. It was a hoot.
----
One Saturday I walked into the second floor women's restroom to clean it like I usually did before waxing the floors. It was freaky when I went into the first stall. I was shocked. It looked like the St. Valentine's Day massacre happen in the stall. There was blood all over the place. Blood on the sides of the stall, it covered the floor, the toilet and toilet seat. It was everywhere. It looked like someone was chainsaw massacred in it yet, there was no body.
I ran down the hall and call the campus cops. They were on the scene immediately, surveying the stall. They were puzzled as well and marked the bathroom as a crime scene and called the city police. Another cop shows up with a detective. It took them 5 minutes to figure out it was menstrual blood. I couldn't believe some bitch was that nasty with a used tampon. It took me a full two hours to clean the dried crap off of everything. I always wondered why some bitch would do that.
----
They finally hired me some help. She was pretty, worked as hard as I did and we worked well together. We could kick out that building in half a day on Saturdays. We were a good team. To keep things interesting we would have cleaning contests to make the time go by quicker and have a little fun.
She started to grow on me. Needless to say I dumped the midget riding on my buffing machine and picked up the new custodian chick. It was thrills and chills on the buffing machine on Saturdays. She didn't mind. Maybe there was something about riding on it she liked. I never asked though.
Next to the student government building where we worked, was what we called the cadaver building. It belonged to the medical school and my co-worker was one of the few people that didn't mind going in there and cleaning it. I was curious at first. Because of my liberal arts major, I didn't need to take anatomy unless I took it as an elective; I elected not to.
The anatomy building was not advertised as such. It was just there in the back of the parking lot. Some people knew what it was but most didn't. The building was where all the anatomy classes were held. She was pre-med and had taken the course so it didn't spook her to go in there at nights to clean the small barracks-sized building.
"Have you ever taken anatomy?" she said one evening when we had finished for the day. "It's a pretty cool place." she said, "We give 'em all names. We don't know who they really were. They gave us all a great gift, they donated their bodies to science."
"No," I said, "and I don't plan to start. I don't care about their contributions to science either." She would sheepishly grin when I said that and then she would go into the building and emerge about an hour later.
I don't know but what kind of chick would get off on working with and being around cadavers? "I could sure pick 'em." I thought. But she was becoming too attractive to me to simply ignore.
It took its form in the nature of joking around that I did while working together. I am not the kind that goes into a bar and starts asking every single looking lady if she wanted to go home with me and get it on. With my co-worker that was as far as it would go though and never any further. I toyed around with the idea but I didn't want to seem too available. That is, until one night.
"Come on," she said, "let's go inside the anatomy building. I really wanna show you around there."
"Naw no fuckin' way babe. It's too weird for me."
----
She finally talked me into it. It was my curiosity more than anything that drove me to do it. When I entered I didn't know what to do at first. I stood around and looked. It was one large room with a slab and a high intensity light above it. There various gadgets and tools I assumed that were used for dissecting cadavers. It was hard to tell what the sex was of the cadaver.
"When class first started," she said, "we named her Molly. We took suggestions and then voted on a name and that is what we decided on."
"So you give them names?" I asked.
"I guess it is tradition to do that." she replied, "It makes it a little more personal while you are working on their bodies."
I didn't know what to think, as I looked around the room. It looked clean and didn't look like it ever needed an hour's work that she committed to it every day.
"Oh," she said, "I sometimes just come in here and talk to her and look at her."
I know people do this at cemeteries, I guess it is a catharsis for them. But this was a cadaver. Not anyone that she knew.
We stood there for a little while. She went over to the cadaver and started talking to it. She didn't say much but I thought it was freaky weird. Then she walks over to me, stands very close to me and says "Let's make love in here." she said, "Over there in that chair."
That floored me. She was hot but not that hot. Some chicks like a candlelit bedroom. This one liked a cadaver in the room. "I've never done it in here before." she said. "I think it would be kinda fun, doncha think?"
"Why don't we go back into the student government building and screw?" I said.
The idea didn't particularly turn me on though. But I thought if this was the only way I could get a blowjob...well.......
"Come on, it'll be fun." she said. Then she started rubbing me. I couldn't resist.
----
I had to admit, at the time it was one of the most soulful screwing I'd had up to that point. She got into it with abandon. At first my mind wasn't on it but I quickly forgot about the cadaver lying on the table across the room.
After we finished and got dressed, we started cleaning up any evidence that we were there.
"Don't turn out the lights yet." she said. "I wanna say goodbye to my aunt."
The Fly Swatter
This is in slow motion...
Imagine that you are a fly. You have no longer than a month to live and you search constantly for water or moisture of some kind to lay eggs.
This is your only act of creation.
So you rest yourself by a drop of water on a counter top, in a kitchen. You are checking it out to see if it is a safe place to drop eggs. It doesn't meet your conditions that you know will sustain life for your kind.
Your search continues...incessantly.
But before you take off again on your quest for just the right medium, you pause.
This is fatal.
Quickly a massive shadow envelopes you and you see yourself being overcome by a large green plastic mass full of holes.
You don't think about it because you act only on instinct and nothing else. It is a life threatening emergency and you jump off the back two pair of legs and prepare your wings again to carry you on your journey; you are airborne at this point.
In that very instant, you are slammed down with a fatal force as the last thing your 1000s of eyes see is the kitchen counter top approaching you rapidly. Even in slow motion.
Then you are eviscerated and the process of evaporation immediately begins in the desert air.
Imagine that you are a fly. You have no longer than a month to live and you search constantly for water or moisture of some kind to lay eggs.
This is your only act of creation.
So you rest yourself by a drop of water on a counter top, in a kitchen. You are checking it out to see if it is a safe place to drop eggs. It doesn't meet your conditions that you know will sustain life for your kind.
Your search continues...incessantly.
But before you take off again on your quest for just the right medium, you pause.
This is fatal.
Quickly a massive shadow envelopes you and you see yourself being overcome by a large green plastic mass full of holes.
You don't think about it because you act only on instinct and nothing else. It is a life threatening emergency and you jump off the back two pair of legs and prepare your wings again to carry you on your journey; you are airborne at this point.
In that very instant, you are slammed down with a fatal force as the last thing your 1000s of eyes see is the kitchen counter top approaching you rapidly. Even in slow motion.
Then you are eviscerated and the process of evaporation immediately begins in the desert air.
Must Be The Season of the Witch: the Eritrean
When I look over my shoulder,
What do you think I see?
Some other cat looking over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange, sure he's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch.
Donovan - Season of the Witch
What do you think I see?
Some other cat looking over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange, sure he's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch.
Donovan - Season of the Witch
As these things go, RAM was banging the hell out of my girlfriend, although I didn't know it at the time. If he knew I was writing this right now we'd both be drunk and laughing our asses off about it. That's just how it was with me and him. Sure I should have been supremely pissed off about it but...well...you know, a good friend is forever and a piece of ass is only as good as the last time you got laid. Regardless, I was one beautiful loser.
n fact, the night my father died, RAM spent the night on the couch in the living room. At 3:00 AM, my girlfriend woke up and answered the jangling phone. A phone call at 3:00 in the morning is never good. Even a friend high on acid won't call you at 3:00 in the morning. Junkies definitely would not do that. It would take away from their high or rather their low as the case may be.
That morning she took me to the bus station and I was on my way to something few of us care to envision. The last thing I was thinking about was her spreading her legs for his ass. In fact, I wasn't thinking about it at all. Then she drove back home fingering herself and getting lathered up about seducing him. Anyway, that was what she told me later. Knowing her, it was believable too.
When she arrived back at the apartment, RAM was fast asleep until she grabbed his morning wood and started sucking his eyeballs out of their sockets. That is how she was. Don't ask me why I put up with that shit. I never understood why.
Thrusting her snatch on his wood that morning was the first time she seduced him and they hammered each other like that for months afterward. She had a mystical power over him and I. Neither of us figured it out for months. Years later after she was out of my life, we shared stories and discovered that we both liked it when we could do her while having her stand on her head. She prided herself in being gymnastic like that.
For awhile however there were 3 of us she was banging; enter the Eritrean, a petroleum engineering student. He was an odd sort (a mystical Coptic Christian) and friends to both of us. I met him in class and invited him out to dinner with my girlfriend and I one evening. From that moment on, she was all worked up about him and the mystical aura that always surrounded him.
His one passion besides my girlfriend was the liberation of Eritrea from Ethiopia. Of course the Ethiopians could'nt allow that because they would otherwise be landlocked to the outside world.
There would be times I saw him around campus arguing with Ethiopian students. Had they been white, you would have seen their red faces and jugular veins bulging. The arguments were heated. The Eritrean was friends with only one of those Ethiopians. I am not sure what their bond was but it was there. I never figured it out because most of the time they spoke in another language, some kind of South Semitic language I suspected.
"I wanna fuck him." she said one humid, sultry summer evening underneath the huge elm tree.
"You're a fucking slut." I said to her in jest.
Well...you know...call a spade a spade.
Unknown to me at the time, she was already planning her strategy to get him to nail her, regardless of whether or not I acknowledged her. I know just how she would have done it too. She would have put on one of those sweet cotton summer dresses with no panties or bra on and sat on a chair in the shade of that big huge elm tree just outside the backdoor. Then during some kind of political discussion about the oppressed people of Eritrea. Then she would do it, I can see it now, she would hike up her skirt and show him her pride and joy and that would be it; end of political discussions. What else could he do?
"Leave him alone damn it." I said.
But she couldn't be denied. I should have known better. I imagine it would be some kind of trophy for him to hammer a pasty-white American woman with 'Greek toes'. He could take that back to a desert monastery and repent for a millennium if he did. I doubt that not one Eritrean would have believed him.
"He believes in this weird form of Christianity." she said. "I don't really understand it. I wanna find out more about it."
Yeah dude...I know how you like findin' out about things. I had to chuckle about that.
One time I saw him on campus and we chatted about stuff. He was interesting and I always asked him questions about Coptics and The Ark of the Covenent.
"Oh yes," he said, "It is in Ethiopia. Guarded by the the Coptics. I hear it is beautiful."
"I thought you couldn't look at it." I said.
"Special priests can, if they take precautions and wear a special apron." he replied. He was intense and serious. I dropped the subject. I never heard any more about it or discussed it with him.
That summer was fun despite all this. My girlfriend and I and numerous friends and we would go to the lake to lay around, get high and make bar-b-q. One afternoon the Ethiopian and Eritrean came with us. It was unmercifully hot and me and my girlfriend sat in the shade. It didn't bother the other two.
"She's a witch." he blurted out after a sip of beer. It came out of nowhere it seemed to me.
"Well...you got four letters right." I said. I thought it was an insightful comment.
"No," he said, "She really is a witch. I don't know much about white witches."
I noticed how serious he was. It hadn't occurred to me until he said it that there might be something to his comment.
I just assumed that he had be screwing her for the last couple of weeks. Sex gets to the souls of people if you care to look there.
"Because she is a witch," he said, "something bad will happen today I fear."
People and friends started arriving and more meat was thrown on the bar-b-q...more beer was drank. The Eritrean sat and watched everyone, including his Ethiopian friend. The lake, Lake Thunderbird, was placid as always. Everyone drank too much beer and ate too much. My girlfriend and I left by 6:00 that evening. We were both beat and tired.
I was in class that Monday and after the first class on my way to calculus class I ran into the Eritrean.
"The Ethiopean drowned at the lake yesterday." he said. He was saddened by this.
"He didn't know how to swim." he continued. "I will pray for his soul."
After that I never saw the Eritrean again. He quit seeing my girlfriend and I eventually left her. There is a cost to being a witch, even a good one.
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