Cathy’s New Coat                                                   

By Dred One:                                                        

 

“It is not my intent to corrupt the youth of this day; But rather, to, if I cared at all, save them from .. The organized corruption that is the status quo. Now, somehow, in some respects, this makes me a criminal.”

 

 

 

 

    Am I the only one who wakes up with this kind of meaningless bullshit dominating the psyche? It always seems like it should be a quote of some maniac, executed in 1793 for crimes against the state.

    This morning, I woke up feeling rather okay, the motherfuckers didn’t ambush me in the corridor, and I didn’t even wonder why. I thought that it was because someone was sleeping next to me. I know that it is a child’s logic, to think that motherfuckers or demons as some people call them, rely on stealth and won’t jump you if there is someone else there to see them. But, as a child, sleeping in a sorcerer’s house, (who masqueraded as a Pentecostal preacher), I did have a collection of stuffed animals that did keep most of the motherfuckers at bay. Just not the ones that mattered.

    I felt good enough to put yogurt on my watermelon. Rabbit, my loving wife, got up and mumbled around, doing Rabbit stuff. With little effort, I stayed out of her way. (One doesn’t wish to incur the wrath of a freshly wakened rabbit. One, could be threatened, clenched rabbit fist held aloft, with a pop in the kisser. But this is just Saturday morning talk.)

    The day drifted on into mid-afternoon without a hitch. I love a day that knows how to drift along unguided and hitchless. That’s actually a quote from my friend Denis. Having a respectable-loose grasp on the English language, when he got back from the ‘Nam, his wife asked him what to call their son. Their son at this point was 4, home schooled to grade 3, and was also curious as to what his name might be. He had asked his mother several times, but she insisted on waiting until his father got home. Of course, after the second asking, and he didn’t have a name, the other children stopped playing with him. Which is probably how he got ahead in school. Denis studied the boy’s hopeful upward stare, enjoying the boy’s willingness to have the shape of his ears examined to suggest just the right nomenclature. “Dale”, Denis announced. Just Dale? Asked his wife. No, Day’l corrected Denis, as in Day’l come. After this, the boy got a little bi-polar. Whenever he was called by his full name, he was either in trouble, or they were having ice-cream.

    The boy lived another ten years. The same age Denis was when he went to the ‘Nam.  Day’l was shot on a job that Denis took him on, to pay some overdue bills. By the time Denis came through my kitchen door with Day’l cradled in his arms, I could see his colour wasn’t right. It was black-blood in the hole. All I could do was stuff a tampon in it,.. to give the boy 10 more minutes. Laying on my kitchen table, head and shoulders still cradled in his father’s arms, the boy looked up and said, ..Is this the day that was coming? Denis nodded. Day’l said, thanks for including me in your life, it means a lot. Denis sang Day’l his favorite lullaby about snakes. The boy shared a last cigarette with his dad, as I stood back in sadness. Denis said nothing about Day’l messing up the filter with the little bubbles of blood coming over his lips. The time for lessons was over and a few minutes later his lights went out. Denis went out to the car and came back a few minutes later with an empty green kit-bag and flipped me a bundle of hundreds. Denis always paid his debts in Spades, no matter what it cost him. Denis started to put the body in the bag, so naturally I leaned in to help. Denis was not much less than curt, when he said, I’ll take care of this.

    When Denis got home, ten days later, and Day’l wasn’t with him, she left him for being a fuck-up. Denis then paid all his bills plus interest, and cleaned all evidence that his family had been there, before signing the house back to the bank. As his back grew smaller to me, him walking into the forest, I said, Now that guy knows how to fuck up in an orderly fashion.

 

    When the doorbell rang, I was happy for the distraction. My mind has a habit of returning to rage against the candy floss eunuchs with little boy haircuts, who talk about family values as a reason to fuck, real humans, over.

    Now normally my rage is split equally between these worthless fucks, or as the bible calls them “the fearful and unbelieving”, who get annoyed when free men do not remain sedentary in the boxes drawn around them and; anti-smokers who I could club to death with less remorse than baby-seals. (But then there would be questions.)

 

    At the door, was a squirrelly-eyed girl asking if she could play in the garden. This is a normal, polite child’s question, to which I usually say yes. At a glance, it seemed like Tina, the yellow haired girl with cobalt eyes, was kneeling on the cobblestone, under a big tree, dividing hostas or some such. To avoid Tina’s meditations being interrupted, I suggested to the girl at the door, that we have tea at the table. Okay, she said, but I can’t stay long, I’m getting a knew coat.

I brought the tea and biscuits and sat opposite her. Now children of a certain age, do not know to be modest, will say look at my new panties in the same breath as I lost a tooth, and it means nothing. This child however had an adult look in her eye as she fluttered her dress repeatedly until she was sure that I saw what she was trying to show me. I choked a little before saying, are you always this old? No, sometimes I’m older, but mostly I’m young.

    Tina walked silently behind Cathy without being noticed. As she began to be eclipsed, Tina smirked and swung her hips like Buick windshield-wipers, as if to say, satirically, ooh, sexy! I didn’t queer her play,  just in case I needed back-up. 

    Tina opened the backdoor and closed it behind herself.

    Immediately, Cathy lifted her dress high, to be sure that I couldn’t not see her finely striped triangle underwear. From behind the now Asian-fan like dress, a blues-y voice said, I’ll such your cock for four cigarettes.

    Four huh, I pretended to ponder, that’s very nice, but I already have someone who does that for me.

    Cathy brought her dress down now to cover her lap and pulled the hem passed her knees to say, You can poke me in the bum for eight cigarettes. Biting her lower lip with her upper teeth.

    Why all this commerce at tea? I asked, hoping to distract her from this purpose. Seems a touch, oh I don’t know, rude?

    At this point, she rolled up on one leg, lifted the other, stretched her panties aside and exposed all that was. See, see, its nice she said in a growly whine. You can put your doohickey in the back, but not the front because I have to save my v’ginnity.

    A vain man, may have been flattered, or even thought that this had something to do with him. I was not a vain man, but this shit seemed ‘present-tense’.

    Nothing seems more threatening, in the western world, to a well established man of normal predilections than, ‘the naked sexual aggression of a child.’  I was like a baby goat, caught in an anaconda’s stare, except that I couldn’t even squeak.

    I had fought the good fight. I had paid all appropriate bribes. I had allowed them to investigate me until they became bored. But, this is the kind of thing that could bring down a pope. There was no possible ‘good’ outcome. In the eyes of the law, child sexuality does not exist, so therefore, an adult, (usually the one present during the display,) … must have introduced the notion. (..and the bars clanked shut behind him.)

    Just reviewing my options; another body more or less, in the sink-hole, with a bag of lime chaser, made no difference, but, something less absolute, one hoped, would spring to mind before ‘that’ became necessary. From other encounters with the court system, I new it to be cheaper to have the ‘principals’ of a case killed (along with a few assorted dick-heads), than it was to clear ones good name. Not in the mood, to give the court system $100,000 to fund a three act play  for the public’s edification, I offered the little brat more tea.

    My eyes had fogged over whilst I pondered my new reality. Children are like landmines, sure there is a map somewhere, (like in a retired soldier’s footlocker,) but the average guy has no idea where the real trouble is.

    Just then, I heard an oh-oh, and looked up to see her still in pose. From her rectum squirted out something like from a toothpaste tube. First a little, like a new-born mouse’s tail, a pause and a half, followed by profound swirls of significant amount. Now in my world, I understand that all things are brown. Red, yellow, blue, ..its all brown. Leaves before they fall, the fruit after 28 days on the top of a vat of porch-climber, brown, its all brown.  But, this was white, or rather cream, like mayonnaise or glue or hand lotion.

    It didn’t stop coming either, soon she was sitting upright again, the basin of her chair, filling just short of oozing over. With slight relief, I offered the pink-faced child a digestive cookie. She waited until I set the plate down closer to her to take one.

    Suddenly, Rabbit was behind Cathy. With one hand, Rabbit took a handful of Cathy’s  hair, canting the child’s head back whilst caressing its nose with a medium-large bore snub-nose. It looked like the one from the toolbox in the pantry that the plumber had left behind. Rabbit ordered like a school teacher, “Back away from the Bisk, bitch.”

    I am sure that she meant biscuits, but the intent was clear when she forced Cathy to de-conceal the razor blade now stuck to the underside of the digestive cookie afore mentioned.

    Then, there were more people in the yard. The gun went away with the razor-blade; and I said cheerily, “ Good afternoon Mrs. Scott, how wonderful to see you.” As I rose to meet her, leaving Rabbit and Cathy to sort out the other mess.

    “Oh good, you found her, we were worried sick!” … Just then another man joined the group and whispered, “we found the car Mrs. Scott, the driver’s throats bin slit.”

    “oh good, good” she dismissed him with a lavender gloved queen wave. “Whose cock does one have to suck to get a cigarette around here?” She asked stepping closer to the table.

    I gestured to the always full box on the patio-table. “Oh, good,” she said, helping herself, as gestured, “Civilized society at last.”

    Lighting and smoking like it had been awhile and was much needed, “Fucking peasant staff, that I’m forced to employ, are doing a ‘work-to-rule’.” she ventured, “Won’t let me smoke in my own house or car,… neither will they bring them from the market.”

   “ Tragic,” I commented, puffing gamely and rocking heel to toe.

    “So how are you anyway, Doc. ? we haven’t seen you since Cathy’s tenth birthday. My god its been 28 years. Cathy darling, do get up, the tailor is here with your new coat.”

    “Is it red? I asked for red. I had one before, but it was white and the sleeves weren’t long enough, it pinched.”

    “Of course its red, special made for you, see how long the sleeves are? Sure not to pinch, even when you are completely buttoned up.”

    “I go by Reverend, now, they yanked my ticket for refusing to persecute smokers. There is a lot less paperwork, and my eyes aren’t any better. I have an appointment next month.”

    “My god, your medical license? How barbaric! Should I talk to someone?”

    “No, thank you, Mrs. Scott..,”

    “Call me Daisey.”

    “Thanks Daisey, but I think that I’m happier now.”

    “Do go on, I want to hear the details” she prodded while reaching for another cigarette.

    “Several years ago, on a strange day that was bright as it rained, a man limped up to my front door. I brought him in and began to look at him. He said that he was in an accident, but it was a clean simple break of the tibia and fibula.”

    “Leading you to suspect that someone had broken it for him on a curb or such like.” She interjected helpfully.

    “ Yes, exactly, but not one to judge, I prepared to set it. He insisted on no pain-killers, which I thought was strictly his business. I noticed a pack of smokes in his pocket and told him that he could smoke while I set the leg if he liked. As I was reaching to get him an ashtray, he said the coldest thing.”

    “Which was? C’mon dear, don’t keep me in suspense.”

    “He said that his doctor had told him that smoking was bad for him, and did I concur?

It was at that moment, that I saw the microphone wire leading to the receiver in the pack of smokes. I looked him cold in the eye and said that he could believe anything that he chose to, but my views differed. Then, I set the leg, being dead sure of both seams, made a cast, and called him a taxi.”

    “How much did you charge him? Asshole fees and the like?” she asked reaching for her third of mine.

    “I said that it was on the house and even gave him cab fare. I knew that it was over, no sense making an enemy. Jenkins, Wizard and Gooney, all signed the writ of unsound practice against me. I didn’t even attend the hearing. I just took down those diplomas, and put up my doctorate of divinity.”

    “Fucking Christ man!” she was near ecstasy, wallowing in the warm tobacco glow, leaning back and blowing smoke-rings, like only a girl from the yacht club could. “You know that Jenkins did suicide, Gooneys’ in a coma and Wizard works out of the back of a post-office,  just off the kiddie-stroll’.?”

    “No, I didn’t, but everything in its place eh?”

    “Yeah, they keep him there to tidy-up, if a ‘City-Father’,… goes too far,.. with one of the children. They say that he’s losing his marbles over it.”

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.”

    “The marbles or the city-fathers part?”

    “The marbles part.” Wanting to say something else, I added. “I hear that they do a good business, seizing ‘John’s’ cars.”

    “I heard that they put the money from the car sales into a pension fund for the boys and girls on the stroll for when they turn 16” she added, happy to know something.

    “nice,” was all I had for 2 cents on the subject.

    She looked across the patio as she stub out her cigarette, and called out “Well Kitty-Cath ,  should we get out of the good doctor’s grill and go do some window shopping on 11th while Marc sorts out this car nonsense?”

    “yes please” said Cathy.

    “Marc?” I posed.

    “Short for  Marc-my-words”

    “I thought that he looked familiar”

    “Yes, Denis’ boy with Sarah, stand-up-motherfucker alright.”

    “Is Cathy ‘alright’?” I asked out of curiosity.

    Daisey put her hand on my arm and leaned in conspiratorially, “At her 10th birthday, it was already evident that she was bat-shit crazy. You were the only one who took the time to play with her and make her feel special. She never forgot that, to this day. In fact I think that she’s sweet on you. But lately she’s been on this yogurt kick. All that she will eat is vanilla yogurt.” Then Daisey’s head dropped four more inches in double secrecy and said,  “I believe that she gives herself enemas with it. She says that it keeps her young. Tray bee-zsar, ness-paw?”

    “Seems to work” said I.

     “Mommy, can I hug the doc before we go?”

      “What? With your new coat all buttoned up?”

      “Yes mommy, I can do it.”

    I smiled at her, and she came running at me as only a loony can. With amazing agility, she leapt and grasped my upper thigh with hers, and climbed up to my torso like a Koala being pursued by a python, punctuating each notch by pressing what she had shown me earlier firmly against what it was next to. The sensation was as if the Koala was carrying a slightly damp kitten. I held her close with love, but pressed the corner of my head into her cheek-bone, to keep her teeth away from my jugular. I relaxed for a second and felt white-lightening teeth snap, very near my ear lobe. Cathy jumped down and ran to the car as I watched, her heels just a little too for apart.

    From behind, Daisey said, “its been lovely, do you mind if we come again?”

    “I’d like that!” I heard myself saying, knowing that I wouldn’t see them until Cathy escaped again. At a glance, Daisey had placed, what looked like four, one hundred dollar bills folded under Cathy’s teacup. She placed her hand on my shoulder, then let it drag as she passed until she was out of reach. Marc gave me a respectful smirk and a nod, like he had seen something new today.  I reciprocated and he turned and followed them out to the car.

    Sitting quietly alone now, I looked up to see Tina smiling at me through the screen door. As she shifted her weight, away and back, her pixels seemed to de-constitute and re-constitute in slightly different colour variations.

    Rabbit called out the kitchen window, “Hey, you fucking idiot, are you going to sit there all day, or do you want to come in? We made some lunch.”

    “I’ll come in.” I said as I collected the bills from under the teacup. Tina pushed the door open for me as I approached. I handed her one of the bills and put one in my jeans.

When I handed Rabbit the other two, she asked “What’s this?”

    “$200, your cut of ‘the housecall.’”

    “ These are thousands, not hundreds, when is your eye appointment?”

    “Next month, but still, you saved my life. I could have been killed by those nice people.”

             “Or worse.” Said Tina.

     “Fucking idiot” said Rabbit, in a loving sort of way.

 

DO NOT MISS THE NEXT marrow coagulating CHAPTER! The Parson’s Parishioners or How do I tell what’s real?