Chapter Thirty
"Marty, I'm so proud of you. Wake up! It's 10:30." My young and handsome Father was standing over me shaking my shoulders. "Don't forget to shave today."
Oprah was sleeping next to me in the bed, curled up beside Nancy. I could see shadows through the giant, curtained window. Dave Price and Candace were trying to see inside. "C'mon, said Dave. He was used to getting up early.
I quickly rose, showered and shaved and joined my party outside. They were standing in a semi-circle outside my room, looking like a coffee tasters convention seminar. Each one had paper and Styrofoam cups, each with a different logo on the side, full of steaming, black, liquid amphetamines. They were anxious to get things started. Even Bob had a coffee, except it was in a container too large to be referred to as a cup, with two enormous bendy straws, one red, one fluorescent green, stretching nearly the 3 feet between his mouth and the tub of caffeine. It said SPEEDWAY in giant letters on the side. I thought that was aproppo.
"Alright friends, it's off to Barbara's gift shop, I'm driving!" I said it with such conviction that no one dared deny my mission. Russell, his eye working much better now, shot straight for the back seat of his SUV. Everyone ran as if time was short and boarded with the precision of a Shriner's mini-motorcycle drill team. Down the street we went. No trains would stop us today.
I drove by the "Feedbag" diner and it was really there.
Russell was anxious to tell us all what he saw on CNN that morning. "Did you hear the latest about the virgin birth? It was a hoax!"
"Of course that's what they're going to tell you on CNN Russell! They're just a tool for the Government." Louis said as he stuffed his prosthetic arm beneath the seat in front of him. "Congress don't want no Jesus, then we don't get no Jesus....Plain and simple."
"They say the woman was a virgin and she used a turkey baster to get pregnant."Russell was full of anxiety at what Louis might say to that.
"I have trouble basting a turkey with one of those things, how in fork do you get pregnant with one?" Deborah was probably the only person in the car besides Russell that knew how to cook.
"You can't get pregnant that way, talk about lies. So who are they saying is the father?" Louis pointed at Russell.
"Some baseball player, a minor leaguer with a .247 batting average." Russell winced at his goofy reply, knowing Louis was coming right back.
"Sounds like his average should improve somewhat now."
"What about Raymond, What was he doing there?" I asked Russell.
"Turns out he's dating Madonna."
Everyone in the car screamed simultaneously. "What!"
"She met him at the drug store in Arfordsville and they fell in love."
I couldn't believe my ears. "What was she doing in Arfordsville?"
"She had come looking for you Marty...Didn't you know? She believes that you are the Messiah. Something about this new weird religion she's into. They have statues of you and their disciples are wearing golden fried chicken leg medallions around their necks. At their services they are wearing great big bandages on their heads." Russell was on a roll.
"You're kidding right?" As I asked the question of Russell, Mary Beth opened her blouse enough to show me the medallion adorning her chest. When I looked in the mirror I saw Lisa doing the same thing. 24 karat fried chicken leg on a golden rope chain. "Holy Mother of God!." I said.
"Marty, they had them at the gift shop in the Hotel." Louis said.
"The Holiday Inn has a gift shop?" asked Deborah.
My son Louis was reading a Historical Guide to Old Vincennes that he picked up at the Holiday Inn Gift shop. It was filled with fun facts about Vincennes. "Did you know Red Skelton was born here?" I coughed. "Did you know that John Mellencamp went to Vincennes University?"
I went over a set of railroad tracks a little too fast and everyone bounced high in their seats.
"There it is! Barbara's Gift Shopp!" I cried
We all piled out and went into the shop. We passed a man scolding his young daughter out in front of the store. "You just be quiet and let me do the talking. I can't believe you did this!"
We walked in to a wonderland of silly crap and kitsch. There were collector spoons and shot glasses and little metal banks in the shape of the George Rogers Clark memorial. There were adult items, jellies and oils, personal vibrators for sale. There were dolls and stuffed animals. At the counter there was a giant sign saying "This just in!" above a display of fried chicken medals. What in the world was I supposed to find here that was going to change my life anyway.
At the back of the store was a door to another room. Above the door was a sign that said "Instruments" Either side of the door had tables full of bongs, cigarette papers, and drug paraphernalia. I thought this must be the place.
I wandered up and down the rack of guitars, I took some down and strummed them, but nothing caught my interest. I figured whatever it was that I had been sent here for must be in the front and I walked back in to find Barbara herself, engaged in a fight with the man we saw in front of the store when we came in.
"There's nothing I can do about it!"she screamed. "It left here in perfect condition and I'm not taking damaged merchandise back just because you're unhappy with you daughter."
"But you started all this, I paid too much money to let this happen, there must be something you can do." His daughter began crying.
He opened up a guitar case on the floor to display a beautiful Paul Reed Smith guitar, perfect in every way, except for the burned image on the body. It was an exact replica of the scar on my head. I don't know how it ended up looking that way, it turns out the little girl was trying to burn her own initials on it with a craft tool and had a horrible slip of the hand.
I pulled a wad of cash out of my hand. It was two thousand dollars. I'm not sure how it got there and I know that it was the first time since the accident that I recognized the value of thee money in my hand. "I'll give you 2 grand for it."
The little girl look stunned and then happy. I took the guitar and walked out, a parade of friends behind me. She followed us out the door and watched us walk away in the direction of the Memorial. The sun caught the medallion around her neck and sent a gleaming sparkle in our direction.
I felt water hit the back of my neck. Bob had purchased a squirt gun.
Oprah was sleeping next to me in the bed, curled up beside Nancy. I could see shadows through the giant, curtained window. Dave Price and Candace were trying to see inside. "C'mon, said Dave. He was used to getting up early.
I quickly rose, showered and shaved and joined my party outside. They were standing in a semi-circle outside my room, looking like a coffee tasters convention seminar. Each one had paper and Styrofoam cups, each with a different logo on the side, full of steaming, black, liquid amphetamines. They were anxious to get things started. Even Bob had a coffee, except it was in a container too large to be referred to as a cup, with two enormous bendy straws, one red, one fluorescent green, stretching nearly the 3 feet between his mouth and the tub of caffeine. It said SPEEDWAY in giant letters on the side. I thought that was aproppo.
"Alright friends, it's off to Barbara's gift shop, I'm driving!" I said it with such conviction that no one dared deny my mission. Russell, his eye working much better now, shot straight for the back seat of his SUV. Everyone ran as if time was short and boarded with the precision of a Shriner's mini-motorcycle drill team. Down the street we went. No trains would stop us today.
I drove by the "Feedbag" diner and it was really there.
Russell was anxious to tell us all what he saw on CNN that morning. "Did you hear the latest about the virgin birth? It was a hoax!"
"Of course that's what they're going to tell you on CNN Russell! They're just a tool for the Government." Louis said as he stuffed his prosthetic arm beneath the seat in front of him. "Congress don't want no Jesus, then we don't get no Jesus....Plain and simple."
"They say the woman was a virgin and she used a turkey baster to get pregnant."Russell was full of anxiety at what Louis might say to that.
"I have trouble basting a turkey with one of those things, how in fork do you get pregnant with one?" Deborah was probably the only person in the car besides Russell that knew how to cook.
"You can't get pregnant that way, talk about lies. So who are they saying is the father?" Louis pointed at Russell.
"Some baseball player, a minor leaguer with a .247 batting average." Russell winced at his goofy reply, knowing Louis was coming right back.
"Sounds like his average should improve somewhat now."
"What about Raymond, What was he doing there?" I asked Russell.
"Turns out he's dating Madonna."
Everyone in the car screamed simultaneously. "What!"
"She met him at the drug store in Arfordsville and they fell in love."
I couldn't believe my ears. "What was she doing in Arfordsville?"
"She had come looking for you Marty...Didn't you know? She believes that you are the Messiah. Something about this new weird religion she's into. They have statues of you and their disciples are wearing golden fried chicken leg medallions around their necks. At their services they are wearing great big bandages on their heads." Russell was on a roll.
"You're kidding right?" As I asked the question of Russell, Mary Beth opened her blouse enough to show me the medallion adorning her chest. When I looked in the mirror I saw Lisa doing the same thing. 24 karat fried chicken leg on a golden rope chain. "Holy Mother of God!." I said.
"Marty, they had them at the gift shop in the Hotel." Louis said.
"The Holiday Inn has a gift shop?" asked Deborah.
My son Louis was reading a Historical Guide to Old Vincennes that he picked up at the Holiday Inn Gift shop. It was filled with fun facts about Vincennes. "Did you know Red Skelton was born here?" I coughed. "Did you know that John Mellencamp went to Vincennes University?"
I went over a set of railroad tracks a little too fast and everyone bounced high in their seats.
"There it is! Barbara's Gift Shopp!" I cried
We all piled out and went into the shop. We passed a man scolding his young daughter out in front of the store. "You just be quiet and let me do the talking. I can't believe you did this!"
We walked in to a wonderland of silly crap and kitsch. There were collector spoons and shot glasses and little metal banks in the shape of the George Rogers Clark memorial. There were adult items, jellies and oils, personal vibrators for sale. There were dolls and stuffed animals. At the counter there was a giant sign saying "This just in!" above a display of fried chicken medals. What in the world was I supposed to find here that was going to change my life anyway.
At the back of the store was a door to another room. Above the door was a sign that said "Instruments" Either side of the door had tables full of bongs, cigarette papers, and drug paraphernalia. I thought this must be the place.
I wandered up and down the rack of guitars, I took some down and strummed them, but nothing caught my interest. I figured whatever it was that I had been sent here for must be in the front and I walked back in to find Barbara herself, engaged in a fight with the man we saw in front of the store when we came in.
"There's nothing I can do about it!"she screamed. "It left here in perfect condition and I'm not taking damaged merchandise back just because you're unhappy with you daughter."
"But you started all this, I paid too much money to let this happen, there must be something you can do." His daughter began crying.
He opened up a guitar case on the floor to display a beautiful Paul Reed Smith guitar, perfect in every way, except for the burned image on the body. It was an exact replica of the scar on my head. I don't know how it ended up looking that way, it turns out the little girl was trying to burn her own initials on it with a craft tool and had a horrible slip of the hand.
I pulled a wad of cash out of my hand. It was two thousand dollars. I'm not sure how it got there and I know that it was the first time since the accident that I recognized the value of thee money in my hand. "I'll give you 2 grand for it."
The little girl look stunned and then happy. I took the guitar and walked out, a parade of friends behind me. She followed us out the door and watched us walk away in the direction of the Memorial. The sun caught the medallion around her neck and sent a gleaming sparkle in our direction.
I felt water hit the back of my neck. Bob had purchased a squirt gun.
5 Comments:
Sadly, Barbara's Gift Shopp is no more, replaced by a Religious Book Store featuring a Pat Robertson book signing next week.
By marksme, at 5:58 PM
I wonder if Robertson will make the appearance before he gets run out of the country?
By Joe, at 6:47 PM
Damn, you're good!.... REAL GOOD!
By Max, at 9:12 AM
I know I've said some stupid things in my life, but I was trying to be funny. The problem with Pat is he dead serious! His captive 700 Club audience hangs on every word, which is really sad.
By marksme, at 5:51 PM
I am using the mainstream media to get Robertson kicked off the 700 club so you can take his place.
By Joe, at 7:48 AM
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