Chapter Fifty Seven

I was unconscious for a couple of hours there in that field of beautiful bluegrass. During my blackout I went to a place unlike any I had ever visited. A place of such incredible mediocrity that I would've rather been sitting in the waiting room of a half blind dentist.

I was seated in a folding lawn chair, the aluminum, tubular kind, with worn, tattered green and white webbing. I was shirtless, wearing a pair of stained, white shorts and black cowboy boots with silver tips. A pink kiddy pool was only a couple of yards away, near the middle of a postage stamp yard that was surrounded by an 8 foot stockade fence. Every minute of the two hours elapsed while I sat. The only distraction came as a tabby cat wandered part way across the skimpy lawn and decided to lay down for a nap next to a dirty, striped, toy ball.

After about an hour and forty minutes a gleaming white baseball came over the top of the fence and landed not far from the pool. I stood up and grabbed the ball, tossed it back over the wall and clumsily drove my boots back to the chair. I noticed a bird had "shat" a small but fruitful white blob on the arm. Making no attempt to wipe the gift off, I sat back down and arranged my arm and elbow in such an uncomfortable way as to receive the benefits of sitting in the chair and yet live with the danger of possibly touching it.

Near the end of the dream I saw a pair of hands at the top of the fence near where I had thrown the baseball. The sounds of straining came from that direction giving the impression that someone was trying to lift themselves by their fingers to the summit of the stockade. The noise and the signs of blood being pushed around inside the digits lasted for several minutes, providing some much welcome suspense to my terribly boring plight. A head emerged and the young man threw his elbows over the top. He was a horrible looking human, smiling the smile of tremendous gratitude, giving me the indication that the ball had belonged to him and he wanted to show some appreciation for having it returned. His smile did not bring pleasure. The ugly young thing had too many teeth. I had the thought that he probably had twice as many teeth as a normal person would have.

A hammer with a yellow handle was laying at my feet. Impulsively, I picked it up by the colorful grip and threw it as hard as I could in the direction of this hideous creature. He continued his mutated smile as the tool flew end over end towards his head. I awoke with a start at the moment it would've hit him.

My body felt like every bone had splintered into a thousand pieces. My spine wasn't strong enough for me to sit up even though I tried and tried. I could see Cy lying next to the crumpled car. He was still alive and unconscious. I could tell because he was snoring with the volume of the engine that drives the octopus ride that would occupy the streets of Arfordsville, across from Raymond's drug store, during the tobacco-days festival held every summer about this time. This was the first time I had ever considered the possibility that a person might snore after having their brains knocked unconscious.

When I was young my father had told me that the way to tell the quality of a cigar was the by the length of the ash. The finer the cigar, the longer the ash would stay intact. Cy still had a long , Churchill, cigar between his front two teeth, and although it had burned for quite some time before it extinguished, it still looked like a complete but gray stogie. Only the best for Cy.

The sun was rising and the grass was wet with morning dew. My pants were feeling uncomfortable with the wetness. There was no sign of Ted or Serge the monkey. I sighed with the thought of his demise. "What am I gonna do now!" I lamented.

"Your going to do what your supposed to do Marty." I knew what Ted was going to say before he said it. His cowboy boots nudged me in my ribs. "Don't try to get up just yet."

"Thank God your alive." I shielded my eyes from the rising sun as I spoke. Ted snickered at my words. "You are alive aren't you?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I'm not exactly who you think I am Marty." There was a kindness to his voice.

"I knew it! You ARE the Devil, aren't you!"

"Would you stop with the Devil shit? For the last time, I'm not the fucking Devil....OK?"

"Then who are you Ted?" I was desperate and my words sounded more like crying.

"First of all, my name's not Ted Stockings. I made that up. That's a joke." I looked at him bewildered. What kind of joke is that?

"Ted Stockings is name of a kind of support hose. It's a T.E.D. Stocking. It's something that a patient with arterial problems or varicose veins or Gangrene would be prescribed to reduce the possibility of thrombosis or some such shit. It helps prevent blood collecting in one spot. It keeps things moving. I thought it was funny."

"Hilarious." I said sarcastically.

"Hey, go into a hospital sometime and ask for a Mr. Ted Stockings and just watch the nurses pee in their panties laughing."

"I'll do that."

"We gotta work on your sense of humor."

"So what do we call you now?"

"You don't call me anything my friend. You won't be talking to me anymore. It's time for you to get up and face the music by yourself. It's time for you to put yourself together."

"Hey! I was getting used to you leading me around by the nose. I was used to following."

"What do you mean getting used to it? You've been letting people lead you around and tell you what to do your entire, pathetic life. I was trying to show you what a Goddamn wimp you've been. I've been painting you a picture of a pitiful, piss-ant of man named Marty....Marty." Ted gave himself a quirky smile with his tirade.

He reached down and yanked off his boots and socks. I watched in horror as he removed his clothes until he was completely naked. "I don't know what's going to happen next, I can only speculate. I don't know anything about the future, I only know your past. I'm here to give you the shit line on what you've done. What you do next is anybody's guess. I do know that whatever you're going to do, you'll do it as a whole person. That I can Goddamn guarantee!"

Ted bent over and grabbed the upper part of my mouth with his left hand and the lower with his right. "In case you need it spelled out for you..." He opened my mouth so wide the bones in my jaw cracked. His right foot went over my tongue and into my throat. "My name is..." He shoved his other foot inside me like a man slipping into a sleeping bag. I could see his penis and balls coming toward my face as his hips squeezed through. Although this image would have normally horrified my homophobic side, I found his jewels somehow attractive. His chest passed down my gullet and he and I were face to face. Seconds later he would pass completely through into my body and fill me with his presence. My body would no longer feel broken. I soon would be able to hop to my feet and find my own way out of here.

While we were still face to face he told me who he really was. I expected "Beelzeabub or the Dark Prince." The truth was really no surprise.

"My name is Marty." Ted said calmly. "Live with it asshole."