4-tracks and a microphone
I got Uncle Dave home and onto his couch. Brought in that cooler of Natty Ice and finished most of ‘em before headin’ out. I left the truck and walked the mile or so back to my place, wonderin’ what the deal with them crows was. Wasn’t my birthday. Wasn’t Uncle Dave’s either. Happy birthday …
It’s hard to recall exactly when I started paying attention to the crow problem. By the time school had started back up I was takin’ notice of the fact that maybe there were a few more around than normal, but it weren’t ‘til that game with Norwood that it really became apparent as to what …
It was pretty middle-of-the-day meanin’ there were folks out in the cemetery, visitin’, and I felt a bit outta place just walkin’ through there given my current appearance. But nobody really paid me much attention as I wove my way out to where we’d been, tryin’ to mentally itemize all the shit that we’d probably …
“I had that shitty lighter and it didn’t wanna kick off. By the time I got that bowl fired up you were pretty much comatose, so I just sucked that whole pile down in one go, tryin’ to catch up. It tasted funny, but not what I thought frog or toad or whatever was gonna …
I was there in the clinic with him when he came to. We’d gotten a makeshift tourniquet placed just above the wound, just like we’d learned in boy scouts thirty years back. I’d slung him over my shoulder and got him in the truck, hauled ass into town with his complexion lookin’ like a Hummel …
This here’s my take on what happened. Uncle Dave seems to remember it differently, but that’s because he ended up on a different timeline, I’m pretty sure. He’s alive, and that’s sayin’ a helluva lot. Maybe this is some Portrait of the Artist As a Young Dog short story kinda deal, or maybe we broke …
You’d a thought we were packin’ up for some kinda expedition, what with all the gear went in the truck bed: Burlap bag fulla cassettes we’d just dubbed, liter of bean hooch, two mason jars, compressor, cannon, quart of methanol heads I’d been pullin’ off each run through the still, two lawn chairs, the Ouija …
We nursed them two hemorrhoids and smoked a coupla cigarettes without sayin’ another word for a good long while. Then I looked up and seen them two burlap bags hanging above the workbench, and a little burst of light went off in my head. Coulda been a blood vessel burstin’ thanks to the bean hooch, …
We had many a conversation about what we were gonna be up to on the 26th. Seemed like somethin’ special was in order, lest them boys not show up again. Uncle Dave had connections from Window Rock to Pagosa, and so he was talkin’ anything from peyote to scopolamine to some Georgia Homeboy. I just …
Nice long days out there midsummer in Mud Creek. Ain’t got no mountains to the west and it stays light ‘til damn near ten o’clock for about two weeks on either side of the solstice. Uncle Dave and I drank jug after jug of cheap red wine, since we’d finished readin’ all of Fante and …