Chapter Forty one

The second night of playing music on the flatbed truck at the BBQ was more fun for me. I felt comfortable enough to take chances when I was playing, and as any good musician will tell you, nothing will happen until you can "Let go."

The original drummer for the 60's rock band the "Who", Keith Moon was playing this night, along with another group of musicians I didn't know. He was wild and manic and very creative, we were having the time of our lives. That is, I was having the time of my life, Keith was just having fun.

The only queer thing to happen was when Jesus escorted John Mellencamp to the stage to give the crowd a thrill. He jumped up on the flatbed and grabbed a microphone. His smile was a mile wide and he waved at the crowd like he knew every single face out there. I had never been a big fan and I was hoping he wasn't going to ask me to play one of HIS tunes, He looked over at me and yelled "R O C K in the USA, Marty...Hit it!"

I looked over at Keith and he just shrugged his shoulders. Looking back at Mellencamp I shook my head to let him know that I'd never heard it.

"Do you know What I Like about You by the Romantics?" I nodded my head in the affirmative. "Just play that, it's the same song!" Keith banged his sticks together for tempo and off we went. I really liked that song. While we were playing I had the idea to make a whole bunch of new songs by just using the music from some of my favorite tunes by other artists. That would be easy and fun and it would attract and instant listenership without having to come up with something original. I really thought I had stumbled on to something when I looked down at the audience and made eye contact with Jesus. He knew what I was thinking. He was shaking his head "NO!" Lesson learned.

It was what happened after the show that changed everything. It was what opened my eyes to the world for good. I had been carrying quite a load. A load of guilt. Stevie Ray Vaughan had told me that I wasn't a womanizer, not yet anyway. Still, everything that had happened to me up to this point was pointing in the opposite direction. Why all the girlfriends and ex wives? Why the "How to pick up chicks" manual from Raymond. Why the lighter from Elizabeth? Was the head wound the only reason I couldn't remember my past and sort out my life?

After the show, Lynette and I went back to her place. I had no need for sleep and neither did she. We started a rambling conversation about our lives. When she spoke of me and my life, she always spoke with a laugh in her voice, as if my life had been a dull and boring joke. She characterized me as a typical accountant, lifeless, focused on numbers and having an tendency towards bad luck. Still she admitted that she had been in love with me and would have slept with me if I ever asked her. She would have married me had I asked. I never picked up on the clues, I could've never imagined such a thing, according to her. When I was married, it was because a woman had overwhelmed me and directed me to marry her. I remained faithful when I was married, in body and mind. My wives had left me because I was dull, boring, and focused on the numbers.

"Do you remember Elizabeth?" I asked

"Are you kidding? Louis' wife? What a crazy biatch!"

"Stop it!"

"Marty, give me a break! She was as nutty as a Snickers bar."

"She loved me, she gave me gifts. I think I killed her."

"What?" Lynette threw her beer bottle across the room and into the face of the TV set. "Don't worry, I do that all the time, it'll be better in the morning."

"Has she been here, have you talked to her?" I had tears streaming down my face as I asked. I expected to see her around every corner since I arrived, even though I don't know how I would recognize her. I couldn't remember what she looked like.

"She's watching FOX-TV in HELL Marty! How do you think you killed her?"

"She loved me so much, she gave me gifts. She gave me a chocolate cake on my birthday and I took it back to her house and threw it on her porch. The cake attracted bees. She was allergic to bees Lynette. They stung her, and killed her." I was sobbing.

"B. U. Double EL SHIT!" Lynette stood up and grabbed my collar. She yanked until I stood face to face with her. "Elizabeth wanted you for herself, her husband's best friend. She knew Louis was a cheating, lying, son of a bitch, and she didn't care. She was a cheatin, lyin, bitch, herself. You weren't the only man she was chasing. She screwed everything that moved. She had more than one abortion."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"When you wouldn't come to her she went off the deep end. Do you know their Dog died that same day?"

"What do you mean?"

"The fucking dog died the same day she did!"

"So what?"

"Marty, do you remember how she loved those murder and mystery novels? Do you remember how she watched those "forensic" murder, reality shows endlessly?"

"No."

"Well she did!"

"So?" I was totally lost at this point.

"She was a troubled woman. She had contemplated suicide for a long, long time. When she couldn't have you, her thoughts turned to murder."

"Murder? Me?" I could feel the tears suck up back into my eyes.

"That cake she brought you was poison. It was something she learned from the TV and followed up on the computer. It was untraceable poison, something called Kurtisnuk. The cake was full of it. One slice of cake and you would've had a massive, lengthy, and painful heart attack. She had covered all of her bases and left no tracks. " Lynette's face was beet red and her voice had gotten higher and softer as she tried to scream.

"I can't believe this!" I pulled away from her. Louis' love would never do such a horrible, despicable thing. These were lies! I wasn't in any kind of heaven. I was in hell. Elizabeth was a saint. Her only crime was falling in love with me. "How do you know these things?"

"I was in love with you Marty, my reward after death was to follow you around. I saw the whole thing happen. I was powerless to save you, and part of me didn't want to save you, part of me wanted you here in heaven with me." Now she backed away.

"How did she die then? Did she kill herself?"

"She let the dog out without noticing that you had left the cake, neatly, not thrown, on the porch. The poor dog gobbled up half of the thing. She let the him back in and just like every dog owner with a mental problem, she let that butt-licking greyhound kiss her on the lips. That dog was already having convulsions when she went into cardiac arrest. She stumbled out the back door and into the angry bees."

"Why did the Doctor call it an allergic reaction?"

"It was that dumbass, Granger!"

"Nuf said." The room went silent. Lynette was still staring a hole into me, the veins in her neck were full of blood. Saliva was on her lips.

My mind began to play pictures like a videotape machine in reverse. I was walking into that stark room in Hell. I was walking past the cold, unseeing faces of the damned to the empty seat that I occupied that one horrible night. For the first time I could see the face of the woman in the chair next to mine.

It was Elizabeth.

Chapter Forty

The big beautiful TV in Russell's house turned on with an audible thud. The screen jumped to life in High Definition. Russell raised the foot rest of the green Barcolounger that he had worn the shape of his butt in, and opened a Diet Coke. My son Louis sat on the couch with his tennis shoes atop an ottoman. Oprah's voice came booming through the surround sound speakers.

"Today, Live on Oprah, we talk to the friends of Clark Martin. We look into this new religion that bears his name and claims to heal the lame and cure the soul. We hear a remarkable tale of the day that John Mellencamp was crushed to death." Louis my son rubbed his hands with anticipation.
"Joining us in our studio are some close friends, here to tell their unbelievable stories."

Russell fidgeted in his chair."Quiet...Here we go!" Louis looked at Russell with disdain. Louis had not said a word in the last 20 minutes.

"This is Dave Price of the CBS Early show. Candace Kane, morning personality at WGID in Chicago, Louis Tooth a man whose life is invisibly connected to Clark Martin's, Lisa Karr, Clark's girlfriend." Lisa smiled nervously at that introduction, she had not approved of the words. "and Clark's close personal friend for many years Bob Dilley." The music swelled and dipped down. Bob looked confused, he didn't know anyone named Clark Martin, he only knew Marty. "Joining us via satellite is Rock Diva, Madonna from the new home for the CMB religion in Knoxville, Tennessee." The audience applauded in appreciation. "All on today's Oprah!"

Russell pushed the foot rest back down and brought it up again. He drank his coke to the bottom and belched, unintentionally. The arm rest opened easily with a flick of his wrist revealing a cooler with 5 more chilled cans inside. He popped the tab. "SHHHH!" Louis held his index fingers to his lips, retaliating for Russell's scolding a minute earlier.

The opening titles animated out and a boom camera swept across the audience. Oprah came striding out with great enthusiasm as her adoring, largely female audience, cheered her on. She came striding up onto the already full stage, wearing a brown suede dress, and black, knee high boots with spike heels.

"Isn't she beautiful!" Russell lilted as he followed her every move. Louis looked back at him with a curious glare. It had just occurred to him that he had never seen Russell with a woman. He was trying to remember if he had ever spoken of a woman. His eyes scanned the room, desperately seeking a picture with a female face on it. He looked for a girly magazine laying somewhere. Louis' shoulders drew up to his chin as he considered the possibilities.

In all of the excitement and noise of start of the program, Oprah the dog broke free of Bob's arms and ran across the stage. He stopped briefly and did an Oprah show of his own, leaving a small moist package of poop behind. The stage manager chased him down and returned him to Bob without noticing the mess. As the female Oprah walked up the step she planted her spike heels directly into the gooey pile and her feet came out from under her. Louis, anticipating her fall had already leapt from his chair and firmly grabbed the superstar talk show host to stop her drop.

Oprah was noticeably shocked and then gracious. The smile that charmed millions of viewers every day set itself free on Louis' eyes. "Looks like I really stepped in it now!" The audience roared with laughter. Her head whipped quickly from camera to camera, showing her embarrassment and her grace under pressure. "Thank you." She said to Louis as her smile diminished. She felt uncomfortable being held so tightly by a man when she didn't know his name. She had not met him before and had not studied his history. All of her information would come from her staff via cue cards and quick whispers from the various segment producers that stalked the stage from behind the set and cameras. She softly spoke to Louis. "Really, I'll be fine, you can let go."

"I can't let go." Said Louis.

Oprah looked down at her arm and saw only the impression of fingers where a hand should be. Louis was holding her with his Phantom Limb.

"Jumping Jesus!" Oprah screamed. The screen at Russell's house went black.

Chapter Thirty Nine

Meanwhile.... Louis and Lisa were walking out of the medium's parlor in Chicago with Bob in tow. It was a mall of Mystics and Spiritualists out on the west side of town. They had a name for it but because of legal reasons the sign had been removed and there was nothing but a sandwich board on the sidewalk outside that announced what was in store for you inside. They had been sued by a large Chicago corporation that didn't like the name they had given themselves. It was called the "Seers Tower."

Lisa was trying to sneak looks at Louis without being obvious. She didn't want to admit her feelings for him. She was afraid that if she held his hand that they might be seen and it would get back to Marty. She knew that if Bob saw them acting affectionate everyone within earshot would know. With Bob, earshot covered three states.

They got into the large, white, stretch SUV, limousine that waited at the curb. A uniformed man opened the door with his left hand while holding Oprah by his leash in the other. Lisa and Louis climbed in to find Dave and Candace drinking champagne and nuzzling one another. Bob knelt down and began stroking Oprah at the curb while the chauffeur stood at attention, waiting for his charge to join the rest inside. It took a while.

Bob looked up at the uniformed attendant and said to him, very matter of factly. "Johnny Touga is dead."

"Yes sir." Said the chaffer, with a bit of remorse in his voice.

"Francis Vido crush him."

"I understand."

"Do you know Opah?"

"I just work for her company sir, I have taken her to the airport on several occasions."

"Opah is a boy!"

"Excuse me sir?"

Bob picked up Oprah and turned him over, he put his finger very close to Oprah's penis and then held him close to the man's face. "Opah is a boy dog!"

"Very good sir. Are you ready to go?"

"Otay!" Bob took a good 5 minutes getting himself into the limo. The chaffer wanted to help and put his hands near helpful spots on Bob's body, but felt too self conscious to grab and push. He acted as if he were about to help but stopped short of actually touching Bob. He was like the Mime I ran over outside of the Kmart in Redneck Heaven.

Dave Price held up his hand for a "High Five" greeting. Bob made his best effort to comply but missed Dave's hand by a wide margin.

"Alright Bob, way to go buddy, you all set to meet Oprah?" Dave asked

Bob's face looked as perplexed as a human face could ever look. He stared at Dave for a long time. He looked down at Oprah sitting in his lap. Finally he held Oprah's belly up to Dave's face. "Opah is a boy dog."

"That's good, that's good." Dave pushed Oprah back to Bob with a ruffled scowl. He pressed a button on the side of the window and spoke into the microphone. "Harpo studios Grady."

The response came back."Very good Mr. Price."

Bob cast his eyes to the floor of the limo.

"Opah is a boy dog." He spoke so softly.

Chapter Thirty Eight

The Mach 1 was gorgeous! It was blue with black stripes and had that real air scoop sticking out of the hood. They call it a "shaker scoop" because the vibration of the gigantic engine makes it shake like crazy. It came with a license plate on the front that said "Marty." They sure like putting names on crap here in Redneck Heaven.

I became very curious about the phone call I got from Louis. First of all, I don't own a cell phone, I don't like them. Secondly, how in the world could I get a phone call in heaven? Granted that enough weirdness has happened to me in the last few months that something as innocuous as a phone call shouldn't really excite me. Excite me it did. Lynnette explained to me that over the years they have tried many methods for souls to respond to a seance being held by their earth bound counterparts. In some instances people have had to make the long tiring trek to wherever their friends are gathered around a crystal ball or Quija board and knock over vases and make curtains fly. Some people got others who wanted to raise a little stink on earth to hang around the parlors of mystics and speak for them in absentia. Talking to the living requires effort and interest, and just like she told me before, this takes away from all the drinking.

So sometime in the last few years , the people running the show in heaven, devised a method that when someone is trying to contact you from down there, a phone would appear and you could carry on a conversation with your loved ones. They aren't on a phone, sometimes they are listening to a medium, but they get your message, in exactly the words you use. In the case of Louis, he was in a seers parlor in Chicago. Dave Price had convinced him that Chicago would be the best place to look for me. While there, Louis and Lisa had "discovered" their love for one another in a private suite of the Drake hotel.

Lynette and I had so much fun racing our muscle cars around. It took me a while to get the hang of hitting things in the way she enjoyed so much. After about an hour of dodging small animals and all the jerks I hated on earth, I allowed myself the pleasure of running them over. It was such a fabulous release. I still had whiteface smeared across my windshield from the Mime that bounced onto my hood when we pulled into the parking lot of the K-mart. Lynette pulled me out of the car and dragged me across the parking lot.

"This is one of the best parts of being dead!" She was talking faster that humanly possible. "Grab a cart....a big one!"

She was flying through the store, throwing everything that caught her eye into the cart. She grabbed clothes, game boys, lawn furniture. In a matter of seconds she had become a mobile pile of K-mart goodies. "C'mon Marty, get with it." I had a hat in my cart. It had a picture of a Mustang on the front and on the back was the Ford logo.

"Lynette, I'm leaving here soon, what am I gonna do with a load of junk like this?"

"I just leave it in the parking lot!"

It became apparent to me that the fun was not in the kill but in the hunt. I started loading my cart with CD players and golf balls.

When we got back to the car I took a sleeve of Titlests out of the pile and stuffed it in my pocket. We left the bulging carts sitting in the lot and merrily drove away. It was time to find the party.

Chapter Thirty Seven

In many offices and schools around this great country there are computers linked together to make a network. Right there on your desktop you can do whatever business you need to do and then, when necessary or bored, you can access the internet. That is unless you are in an office or school that has a squad of righteous geeks who have built their own, controlling, mutated, computer universe. If this is the case, you are no longer on the internet. You are on the intranet. When you dream, it is a world that is both controlled by you and yet uncontrollable. You confront ideas that exist somewhere in the realm of your memories and experiences. Sometimes what you experience during REM seems to be a learning experience in itself, but this is never the case. You are on your own closed circuit cable TV. You cannot read a book you've never read while sleeping. You may believe that you've met someone while in repose that you've never met before, but as Sigmund Freud was telling me yesterday, that person, once analyzed, will in fact be You, or your mother. At the time, he was arm wrestling with Carl Jung. Carl was saying that there are a number of things inside you that you may never see, in a dream or anywhere else because they are too painful for your conscious to deal with. Sigmund pinned him so hard I thought I heard a bone snap.

The point is that having your own dream can be quite an experience. Having someone else's dream can take that feeling of being out of control, and as Lynette said, multiply it by a jillion. My dream in that fantastic trailer was like riding the rail of a rollercoaster on a mini bike. Being asleep in Redneck Heaven was like leaving the intranet and hopping on to the internet in my head. It seemed innocent and silly at first, like walking into the blacklight poster room at a head shop. Just when I thought I was a stronger mind than Lynette is about time I found myself looking at the world through my navel. It was a hot poker up the ass of reality. I met people and creatures that never knew my Mother.

When I awoke to a warm bright sun casting beautiful shafts of light across my bed sheet I felt as if I could let time pass me by for now. I could sing a tribute to those souls that I would never meet but somehow knew them intimately for the rest of time. The silence in the room was deafening, nothing to be heard but the beating of my heart. As I lay there, wistful, reflective, satisfied, the door flew open with a loud bang. Lynette came traipsing in, naked to the waist, her ample chest waving in all directions. Dogs of all kinds ran around her, some jumping on the bed and licking my face, others running wildly about the room, barking and nipping at their playmates.

"Time to get in gear Chicken Bone!" She was waving a cigarette like a magic wand. "you have chores!"

"Could I just sleep a little more." I pleaded.

"Gets contagious! You need to get up and discover what death is really like!"She laughed at the humor of her own little pun.

"Why are you topless?"

"Oh good lord how sick is that? You are getting excited by your best, dead friend naked! They have names for people like you."

What would Carl Jung think about this? I'll ask him the next time we talk. She did jump into bed with me, along with a host of canines. She actually did jump, and between all the bouncing and barking it was apparent that my sleep portion of this journey had ended. I got out bed, showered and shaved and slipped on some very Hawaiian looking clothes. It felt pretty good.

"I got you a car of your own, a Mach 1, vintage. Let's play!" She fled the room. As I was trying to select some nice flip flops I heard a ringing. There was a cell phone in my pants. I plucked it out and answered. 'Marty here."

"Marty, it's Louis, are you alright?"

"Louis, it's so good to hear your voice...yes, I'm just terrific."

"Where are you? When are you coming home?"

"I'm not sure, but it will be alright, don't worry about me, I'm in great hands."

"Ok, should we call off the search?"

"By all means...and Louis, don't worry about your feelings for Lisa, it's alright."

"Thanks Marty, I know if the tables were turned...."

The thoughts of Louis' late wife Elizabeth gave me a shiver.

"Marty, how did you know?"

"Louis, did you see me float away on the backs of angels?"

"Yes. Yes I think I did."

"Then don't be a dumbass."

"You must be with Lynnette."

"How can you tell?"

"Wild guess."

Chapter Thirty Six

There was a bong sitting on Lynette's coffee table. The base was a human skull. I silently asked myself the question "What is the one thing I would've never guessed I would see in heaven?"

Lynette's trailer was enormous. It had a brick facade and palladium windows like you would see on an incredibly expensive home. There were huge stone pillars that held up the giant sun shade. The front door was as wide as a bus with giant iron knockers. Strips of aluminum skirted the bottom to cover the wheels. I counted 20 dogs running around the yard, there were 20 more inside. Fortunately they chased themselves around the 50 rooms of the house and were barely noticeable except when they would roll, fighting and playing into the living room. If Lynnette became upset with their presence she would say "Hey!" in a coarse growl and they would pin back their ears, park their tails between their legs, if they still had tails, and quietly vacate the room.

It took me a few minutes to notice, but the granite coffee table that I'd placed my beer, was a headstone. It was Lynette's. There were potato chip crumbs stuck inside the etching of her name. "So Marty, what have you been up to?"

"It's a long story, suffice it to say, it hasn't been dull."

"Have you seen that bitch Cheryl lately?"

"Are you still pissed off at her?"

"Me?" She pulled out a cigarette, lit it, sucked in the smoke and let it out in one fluid motion. "Why would I still be pissed?"

"You sound angry Lynette, it seems that death hasn't put much distance between you and your hatred for her."

"Oh, I don't hold grudges Marty, I don't wish bad things for her, I just want her to become really familiar with the FOX network program lineup for all of eternity."

"Whoa! Take it easy there Spunky! You are still fostering a little ill will, aren't you? I grabbed my beer and chugged.

"Listen, here you can feel what you want, there are no rules about how to behave, it's not like it is in church. You don't need to pretend, feel holier than thou while you kiss God's ass. Trust me, even God doesn't buy that shit." She accented the remark by holding her mouth open and letting the smoke drift out of the gaping cave and into her wide open nostrils.

"You know God?" I accidentally let some of the beer in my mouth roll down my chin.

"Hey...Where do you want to land? You can have your run of the house." She paused and began gyrating her shoulders. "I have a very comfortable bed, if you wanna get a gooood nights rest."

"Somehow I didn't think that there would be much need for sleep in heaven."

"Who said anything about sleep?" She blinked her eyes suggestively.

I wasn't ready for that, maybe not ready for the rest of eternity. I loved Lynette as much as I had loved any of my girlfriends and wives, but it was somehow more special than the affection you have for a lover. Plus, there was something about knowing that Jesus was still somewhere in the immediate vicinity that made me put the whole idea of sex way back on the back burner. Back, back, back.

"Marty, get into bed, lay back and close your eyes. I'm not sure what will happen, but I can guarantee you, that you have never experienced anything like it. Imagine your wildest most beautiful dream and then multiply it by a jillion." She grabbed me by the hand and led me up the winding staircase. We stopped climbing at the first landing and walked down the hall of the second floor. She led me to a door, grabbed the knob like the handle of a safe and turned her face to mine. "Unless I miss my guess, your room should be ready." She opened the door to a cavernous suite. There was a giant bed with a canopy. A luxurious bath was attached. There were silk curtains rhythmically swaying from the warm soft breeze coming in through the balcony doors. She opened a closet filled with a fantastic wardrobe for me, although there were many more pairs of shorts and flip flop sandals than I might have ever desired, it contained all I could ever need. "I'll leave you now Marty, see you in the morning, or afternoon, or late afternoon. The party won't start again until evening, we don't want to miss it." She kissed me on the mouth and let herself out.

I wandered around the room for a while in amazement. Something led me to the carved oak dresser and inside I found a pair of pajamas. They were printed with sacred hearts. I slipped them on and brushed my teeth. I pulled back the bedspread and folded it down neatly.

There were mints on the pillow.

Chapter Thirty Five

We pulled into a clearing that probably wasn't 50 yards from where I rowed ashore from the river. I think she just wanted to drive a while. There was a pretty good sized party going on with barbecue, beer, all kinds of smoke, mullet haircuts, bare chests of all sexes, and a rockin band playing on a flat-bed trailer.

"How's this for heaven." Lynette pulled a hank of her long brown back and fixed it behind her big Kentucky ears. "Look who's sittin in with the band."

There was a long haired, bearded man, dressed in a flowing robe, playing a beautiful wood grain guitar. The headstock was unusual to say the least, it made a large ornate cross at the top.

"Oh my lord, it's Jesus Christ!" I couldn't believe how he could play. It didn't matter that he was drifting into an original solo inside of the tune "Jesus is just alright with me" by the Doobie Brothers. He was wailing on that cross like he was possessed.

"Pretty good, huh?" Lynette was presenting Jesus to me like she discovered him. "When he first started playing here he was so nervous he could hardly stand up. Now he just walks up like he owns the place."

The rest of the group was made up of some fabulous musicians that I didn't readily recognize. "Who's the band...The apostles ?" The song hit a break and Jesus filled the silence with a knee bending flourish. He jumped high in the air and the song came to a crashing conclusion with his landing. The audience applauded madly.

"We're gonna take a little pause for the cause, we'll be back before you know it. Drink it up folks, if we run out....Well, if we run out..."

The other band members chimed in. "What'll happen if we run out?"

"If we run out...."

The audience joined in. "What'll happen if we run out Jesus?" The call and answer session repeated a few more times.

"If we run out...Then I'll make some more." The crowd went wild.

Lynette pulled me aside to meet her girlfriends, a gaggle of beauties dressed in halter tops, jewelry, and too much make-up. "Hey everybody, I want to introduce you to Marty an old friend of mine from the coal mine." Lynette always called the accounting firm the coal mine, even when she was alive. Her friends were mostly hairdressers in their previous lives.

The girls surrounded me and covered me with kisses. One of the women with a large bouffant hairdo asked me "What are you doing here Marty ? I don't mean to offend you, but you don't look like you belong at this party."

"I'm not sure." I looked at Lynette. "You should probably ask her, she brought me here."

"I didn't bring you here Marty, I just saw all the angels down by the river and I went over to see what was going on. Jeannette is right though, you DON'T look dead."

"I'm not dead, I'm alive as hell." The atmosphere of the party was starting to rub off on my speech patterns. "I assumed that you called me here like all the other dead people have been doing."

"What happened to your head Marty? That's a pretty serious looking scar." said the girl in the cut-off jeans.

"You people don't know about me?" I was a little surprised. "I had an accident and ever since then I've been in and out of some interesting places in the afterlife."

The girls and a group of bikers who were listening in behind them all shook their heads "no" in amazement.

Lynette spoke for the group. "We don't take much interest in the living here, it's like going to the library, or watching television. It really cuts in to our drinking time."

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder that radiated down to my feet. I turned around to see the glorious face of Jesus, his left hand on my body, his right hand holding his guitar. "It's your turn Marty." The faces of the crowd around filled with shock and then excitement. As he pushed me towards the stage he forced his golden instrument into my arms. "This is where you get your chops."

I can't imagine doing anything so bold for anyone else in the universe. I put the strap of thorns over my shoulder and walked up on the flat-bed truck. The golden plug at the end of the cable running from the Fender tweed faced amplifier slid silently into the guitar and I looked towards my band mates. Their eyes gazed at me, silently asking what it was I wanted to play. As I lay my fingers on the fretboard, they seemed to hear the answer and readied themselves to join in. My heart stumbled across my chest as I muffed a few lame notes. I gathered my composure, and dove right into a phenomenal riff. It astonished me more than anybody. The cooks in the back stopped flipping burgers and turning brats and held their spatulas high in a salute, smoke pouring from their grills.

Jesus looked up at me from the base of the stage, his face glowing with a divine light. He made a fist and held it low so only I could see. He pumped his hand twice in a sign of holy encouragement. The biker standing next to him passed him a joint, and he opened his fist to receive it.

I played the distinctive open to "Manic Depression" by Jimi Hendrix and we were off and running. The crowd loved it. "Manic depression, touching my soul." I sang the lyrics while I played. "I know what I want, but I just don't know, how to go about getting it..." Lynette closed her eyes and waved her arms above her head, all the while dancing from the waist down. "Music, sweet music, wish I could caress, with a kiss...Manic depression is a frustrating mess!"

The band was sharp and the audience was with me from the start. I played the night away. The party was all fun. A few fights broke out, but no one got worried and the cops didn't come. The guys that fought would eventually stop and hug, wash their blood off with beer, and go right back to having fun. I ended the night with an original song called "Heaven in a nutshell." As I walked off the stage to an uproarious cheer, the band saluted me by breaking into "Chicken,gravy, and biscuits." by Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials. It was the most rocking night ever.

Jesus took his guitar back and patted my back. "I think you'll get it in a couple of days, see ya tomorrow night."

"Get what?" I shouted, but Jesus disappeared into the crowd.

"Ready to see my place?" Lynette was already pulling me to the car.

"Let me guess....Trailer?"

"Quadruple wide!" We got into the Road Runner and roared into the night.

Chapter Thirty Four

She was driving like a crazy woman, cigarette in her mouth, beer between her legs, right hand on the shift knob, and the pedal to the floor. The road was windy and dusty and she took every curve sideways. I was pushed back into my seat by the G forces. It reminded me of the time she took me to the airport, I was flying to Chicago to see a baseball game. That was the flight that crashed and killed most of the passengers, and I just broke my toes. I was honestly more frightened by that ride to the airport than I was when the plane was going down.

As thrilling as the tour in the aged muscle car was, it now started to get nutty. She spied a possum by the side of the road and swerved so she would hit it. "Ta-thump." Soon there was a raccoon..."Ta-thump." Skunk..."Ta-thump." Ten wiener dogs..."Ta-da-ta-da-ta-da thumpety thump thump thud." She looked at me, her eyes opened wide and she let out a scream of delight. When she turned her eyes back to the road she was surprised, downshifted the knob and put both feet on the brakes. There was a large, dark Mercedes cruising slowly down the middle of the road. The windows were blacked out and the added chrome tacked to the sides seemed to weigh it down so it sat low down to the ground. Lynette beeped her horn, a noise manufactured to sound like the Road Runner of cartoon fame. There was even a picture of the animated bird on the steering wheel, in the spot where you would make the horn work. "Beep Beep!"

The honk had the opposite effect. The car slowed. The Driver's window came down and a dark finger emerged. Did I tell you Lynette has a temper? She floored the gas pedal and rode the bumper for a short time. Then she ran halfway off the road in an attempt to get around. The Mercedes just sped up to keep pace and slowly edged toward my door. Her face lit up again. She threw the steering wheel to the right and smashed hard into the black car. It came back at her and we collided again. I grabbed my head to cover my wound. With a hearty laugh she pumped the gas and crashed hard into the vehicle, sending it flying off the road and into some mighty oak trees. The Mercedes burst into flames and bodies went flying. Those who weren't trapped in the wreckage came running out onto the road, covered in gasoline, and flaming like human torches until they fell helplessly to the ground. "200 points!" Lynette chimed.

"Where are we?" I yelled over the howl of the powerful engine.

"Can't you tell?" She answered as she swerved to clip a deer.

"Hell?"

"No."

"Heaven?"

"No."

"Purgatory?"

"Nope."

We passed the Palomino Drive-in theatre. The sign was crappy and needed the weeds pulled out from around the bottom. The name of the current movie playing was displayed with black uneven letters. It was the kind of sign that could be quickly changed every time there was a new feature playing. They could've written the name of the movie currently playing here in stone. The movie that is playing for all of eternity at the Palomino Drive-in Theatre answered my question.

"Redneck Heaven?"

"You guessed her, Chester! Wanna go see "Smoky and the Bandit" tonight?

I'm a bird you cannot change

Chapter Thirty Three

As I got closer I could see the woman was a good friend of mine that had worked with me at the accounting firm of Foot, Carp, and Thor. She and I had our desks side by side in the "bullpen" there for several years. We were very close in a work kind of way. Every time one of our co-workers did something stupid or something mean, she would point out their flaws, secretly to me. Every time a manager would act like an ass, we would hate them together. We were an army of two. She and I would frequently eat lunch together and share our hopes and joys. It was a marriage without rings in our office without walls.

Once, when we were newly acquainted, a partner Mr. Carp, who was obviously gay, came up from behind me and started rubbing my shoulders. He began discussing my future with the company. He told me that he thought I was bright and a hard worker, and he handed me a cigar, patting me on the back as he walked away.

"Are you going to smoke that?" She asked.

"I think I sort of have to." just a little embarrassed that I had received the attention and not her.

"Lucky man." She said, looking down at her desk. "Lucky, lucky man."

"Why am I so lucky."

"Most of the men here have to lick his butt to get ahead."

"I don't think I'll be doing that." I sternly replied.

"If you put that cigar in your mouth you will."

I waited until I got outside to throw it in the trash.

Lynette had a coarser sense of humor than me, having grown up in a trailer in the hills of Muhlenberg County Kentucky. At first I found it a little off-putting, but after a few months I came to look forward to her brashness.

Cheryl, a very obese woman, worked in our section. She was very bad at her job, and frequently critical about the work of others. Part of Lynette's job was double checking Cheryl's work. Many times the information was so poorly done that she would end up doing the job from scratch, basically making Cheryl useless. Usually she would put the work back on Cheryl's desk without a word, knowing that any mention of her ridiculous performance would send Cheryl into a crazed rant, or what Lynette would call 'Mad cow disease."

In one instance, when Cheryl had done a particularly bad job, that could've cost a client their business had it gone unchecked, Lynette plopped the file down in Cheryl's abundant lap. "Do you ever eat at Chin's Garden?" She asked.

"Oh I used to." She replied hastily."But the portions are so small, and the servers are so rude, I won't go back there anymore. Why do you ask Hon?"

"I was just going to say, if this report got filed the way you did it, nobody would ever eat there again. As a matter of fact Mr. Chin would probably get deported after they let him out of prison." Lynette focused her steely green eyes into Cheryl's glazed over peeps.

Cheryl grabbed a compact from her purse and opened it. She used the tiny mirror to carefully place each perfectly aligned spit curl on her tight, brown, middle aged hairdo. This was her common reaction to conflict. Her fat little fingers worked like a machine, pulling out the already exacting follicles and placing them back in the same spot they were before, all the while muttering unflattering comments about her seldom vicious attacker. It was ironic that the bulk of her bulk was a mess. She wore terrible, ill fitting clothes that did little to flatter her horrible shape. She was strikingly lazy about trying to make herself healthy or attractive, but her hair was perfect.

Lynette spun on her heels and as she walked away said. "If you really wanna get somewhere, you should get a bigger mirror."

A few years before I had my brain damaged, Lynette was the victim of uterine cancer. It sneaked up on her and put my friend on her death bed, way before her time. I was at her side just before she passed away. She told me that when she got to heaven she would get the place straightened out so it would be perfect by the time I arrived. She also said that if she knew what was eventually going to happen to her Uterus she would have used it a lot more. Lynette went out as feisty as she came in.

Now she was standing at the base of the bridge, waving with one hand and holding a beer with the other. She was wearing a turquoise, jersey top, shorts, and flip flops. Her outfit answered one burning question I had about heaven. Is there a Wal-mart there?

She practically yanked me from the boat, hugged me, kissed me, put a fresh can of beer in my right hand and a cigarette in the left. "C'mon." She urged. "The band is about to play Free Bird." It was her favorite song. We jumped into her 1968 Plymouth Road Runner and she turned the roaring engine over. She opened the glove compartment and pulled out a foam rubber sleeve. "Put this around your beer...It'll keep it cold!"