A long time ago, when Wracks washed out of his residency, he ended up back at home. His parents have him see a doctor. He sits in the green chair and reads and goes out to walk his little silky terrier, which is old now. They walk to the lookout and watch the ocean, the water a greyish blue with white caps demonstrating the ever-present onshore west wind that begins at twelve o’clock noon and sometimes abates at 5 PM for a glass off. The little dog sits next to him attentively, and they watch, and the sun slowly descends and eventually kisses the ocean until sunset. Because his dog is old, he carries him back in his arms like a father carries a baby child. Then at home, Punkie dances and goes to sleep in his little box underneath the barbecue fireplace in the living room.
Grandma is gone now. The Wracks sleep in her bedroom, and he can still smell the perfume she liked so much, “white linen”. The cotton sheets with French etching cover the maple trellised bed, and now it is his. Nobody is here, his mother has a job at the V.A., and she says she is a notary, and his father still holds two erratic jobs, one that lays him off periodically and the other part-time affair, a teaching post at the college downtown. He looks out the window as he always does, and the white rose in the planter box is blooming, a single flower on a barren plant, and the Wracks looks at it and remembers. Mother is home now and she suggests that Wracks go to the library in the next city and meet a reading group there. “Maybe you can make friends,” she says. The next day, the Wracks take the blue bus to Monica, get off, and walk to the public library there. The library there is a newly constructed affair for the literate, and the Wracks climbs the trellised stairs to the second-floor reading room. In the room, in the center, are approximately four people sitting at a table, all wearing off-work clothes, jeans and sweat shirts and adidas tennis shoes. They all have short hair, are tall and lanky, and giggle when the Wracks approaches so he sits at the table across from them, alone, and he pulls out a textbook and starts to read. From out of sight approaches a middle-aged man in a leisure suit who looks around, then sits across from him in the corner his back to the wall. Then a mid-sized gentleman. A little on the small side, dressed in a worsted grey suit with tie and matching belt and shoes, approaches and looks at him. His eyes are grey, and a little on the bluish side, his nose and chin are aquiline and penetrating, and is hair is not grey, it is not white, it has no color but silver. Silver. It is longish and swept back as if he had just had it coiffured. He asks, “May I sit here?”. The Wracks says yes, and the man pulls the chair from the table and sits down.
My name is Montgomery he says, perhaps you have heard of me. The Wracks says, “No, I haven’t, but continue”, and the man smiles with a full set of teeth in a knowing way. I would like to tell you about my life, which I spent in the military.
“When you interrogate prisoners, interview them one at a time, ask them a question, and if you do not like the answer, shoot them in the head. Throw the corpse outside. Ask the next hostage a question about the information you want to know, and if they do not answer or expunge erroneous information, you shoot them in the head and add them to the pile. Eventually, the hostages betray their own kind and when they do, put the man in jail until the information validates, and then let them free. Their own kind will deal with them.”
And he smiles.
“When you invade a town, surround it with tanks and then blow the central bank apart. Blow open the safe with a cannon shot. Divide all the loot among the men so they can send it home to their families. Save the best of the spoils for yourself. Tell the men that they can have any fortune they can steal if they include you in the plunder and kill any of the citizens if they complain or resist.”
And he smiles
And his bluish grey eyes seem to glow, or is the Wracks hallucinating
Be sure to get up every morning at six AM and take in the morning air. This is imperative. Every morning until you are home, do the same thing. In the morning. The opposition uses carrier pigeons to relay messages because radio waves can be jammed, and other forms of communication can be seen. If you see a bird in flight in the morning, they are near. Sound the horns of battle and muster all the men. They are close.
And he smiles.
“ Be sure to wear high boots because the wogs throw cobras at you and then run away.”
And he smiles.
His teeth are long and white
He said more, but the Wracks was a neuro patient, and his head started spinning, and he could not believe what was just conveyed to him.
It is nice to meet you, Dr. Wracks. Perhaps we can meet again. He stands up, dusts off a dress hat, moves away without a cane, and disappears. The valet looks around, stands up, and follows him out the rear exit.
The Wracks never went back to the library, and he told his mom it was too far away to take a bus ride. Young people are so naive and stupid that they do not realize the goose with the golden egg is sitting in front of them. To his disadvantage, he never went back, and now he realizes his immaturity and stupidity, but to no avail. It seems that in times of war and strife, Yahweh sends special people to lead the multitude to safety or to victory. Their methods might be unusual or even evil, but these are the ones sent by the maker to impart salvation and justice and peace. Pacifists call them vicious animals. Effeminate call them crude and crass. The bottom line is that these intrepid warriors ensure the multitude another generation of peace. These are one-of-a-kind people, and the rulers keep them close, often under wraps for their lifetime, and for their own safety.
Wracks sits at the lookout with his old dog, who still has a beautiful coat because his owner feeds him spaghetti and meatballs or ballpark franks and rice. His dog looks up at him and yips. The sun is setting, and the clouds are orange, slowly becoming pink and then purple. The yellow orb descends into the ocean, slowly, and then melts away, and night begins. Wracks carries his little dog home in a backpack, in front, and sets him on his bed. Punkie wags his tail and moves his feet.
When you see the old fool on the hill, wave, and say thank you. They bestow the people with another day to raise their children and watch the sun go down. And the eyes in his head see the world spinning round, pip pip, cheerio, and carry on.