Come Alive (30.3)

Come Alive image 3

Oh yeah…the music…can’t have words without music.

Chapter 30.3

He wasn’t hungry, not in the least, but he had to order something…didn’t he? So he slipped a zofran under his tongue and let it dissolve, then ordered his usual escargot and roast duck in lingonberry sauce while everyone looked on to see what he was going to do. They relaxed after that and Dina turned to Edith…

“So, you knew Henry what he was…”

“Yes, we grew up together.”

“You were close, I take it?”

“Once, for a year or so, after my sister passed.”

“Oh? I’m so sorry.”

“Her name was Claire,” Henry said, breaking the sudden tension hanging in the air. “We were together, from the beginning – I guess you could say.”

Dina looked at Edith. “You were her younger sister, then?”

“Yes, by a year.”

“And did she look somewhat like you?”

And again Henry broke into the stream of interrogatories. “They might have been twins, Dina. But an interesting aside, they’re related to Olivia De Havilland. What do you think? Can you see the resemblance?”

“Indeed I can,” Dina sighed, acknowledging this sort of defeat – again, as she had all her life. “You were a most lucky man, Henry.” 

Taggart shrugged. “We were in love. That’s all that mattered.”

“Indeed,” Dina whispered. “So tell me. Did you love my daughter, too?”

+++++

“I’m going with you, Henry,” Rupert Collins said. “This is a military op, and as far as I’m concerned it makes no sense for you to go alone.”

“And it makes no sense to risk both of us, does it? Not when I can do this by myself.”

“My mind’s made up, Henry, and that’s all there is to it. You have no idea what kind of risks you’re facing…”

“And you do?”

“No, but I am a trained fighter pilot, and I have to assume my experience might come in handy.”

“You assume? That’s kind of funny, Rupert. Considering.”

“Considering – what, Henry?”

“That I’ll be flying the damn thing, not you.”

“Low blow, Taggart. Even for you, that was a low one.”

Henry smiled. “I have to keep in practice, Doc.”

“Gee, thanks. I think.”

“Maybe we should stop off in Ensenada on the way back. I’ll take you to see the donkey show.”

“Ha! There he goes with the mythical donkey show again. Ain’t no such thing, and you know it.”

Henry shook his head. “Is that so, Mistra Know-it-all?”

“Yeah, I picked up the truth about that shit from some shuttle drivers who went down to Hussong’s. All they picked up was a hangover to go with their crabs.”

“Hussong’s? You kiddin’ me, right, white boy…?”

“That’s the place, Taggart.”

Henry snorted. “Man, they were off by about thirty clicks. The real deal goes down in at a moonshine palace out in the sticks…”

“So, you’re saying you’ve been there? You’ve actually seen this thing?”

“Man, if I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’…”

“And a girl goes down on a donkey?”

“Now, I made no mention of the genders involved, Rupert.”

“Oh…Henry, that’s just gross.”

“I got another one, something even grosser.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” Collins sighed, leaning closer to Taggart.

“Yeah, well, I’m taking this genetics class at Berkeley and the prof was a real stoner, really way out there…”

“Sounds like just your type, Henry.”

“No way, man. She wore socks with her Birkenstocks, and I doubt she had ever shaved her legs. I mean not once, Rupert. Ever…”

“Stop! No, no more! I repent…say no more, please…!”

“Anyway, she’d been showing us these reproductive biology films…you know…stick Tab A in Slot B and yada-yada-yada, that kind of shit. So one day on comes this film from the bio department at UC San Diego…”

“That’s the one in La Jolla, right?”

“Right. So yeah, where was I? Oh yeah, this title comes up, says something like ‘the following was shot at the San Diego Zoo on such and such date and then we’re looking at a bull elephant, a real ornery looking old bastard, standing in his enclosure. So yeah, this chick comes in wearing nothing but a blue bikini and some boat shoes…”

“No fuckin’ way, Taggart! No! Way!”

“Well, wait for it, Doc. So yeah, anyway, she comes up to the camera and explains she’s Doctor So-and-so and that they’re going to collect a semen sample from said elephant to use in some sort of artificial insemination experiment…”

“Henry? You pulling my leg?”

“Nope. Anyway, Dr. Blue-bikini has obviously been working with this old dude because she taps on a concrete bollard looking thing and then he kind of rears up and puts his front hands on it. And about that time two guys come in wearing yellow Haz-mat suit looking get-ups, and they’re carrying a little trash can with some kind of sterile collection bag in it. Yeah, so you gotta keep in mind that this old guy had been an inmate at the zoo for years, hell, maybe more than a decade, so this guy had Blue Balls, with big Bs if you know what I mean. So the guys in the yellow suits take their positions up there by the old guy’s front legs and get their little trash can in place.”

“Oh dear Lord…”

“Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. So yup, and now, here goes Dr. Blue-bikini; she slips on a windbreaker and begins to tickle the old guy’s tally-whacker and Rupert, you ain’t never seen eyes like this old elephant’s. Wide open is an understatement and as she gets after it those eyes are rolling all the hell over the place. Then the drool starts.”

“Henry, maybe you better stop now…”

“No way, Doc. We’re in too deep to stop now.”

“Bastard.”

“So it takes two arms to encircle his thing, right? And there’s Dr. Blue-bikini giving it all she’s got…and all in the name of science, you understand. Then the old fart kinda rocks back onto his hind legs and does a Louis Armstrong imitation and his eyes are spinning like cherries in a slot machine right about the time he’s had about all he’s gonna take…”

“Oh no…”

“Oh yes, and ten years of dammed-up splooge, who knows, maybe more, launches from this guy’s willy and those poor bastards holding that dinky little trash can were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rupert, it was more like a tsunami. Knocked ‘em off their feet and off they go, sliding for Hell and gone and out of camera, and their little trash can literally just disappeared within a flyin’ wall of goo. And then the old dude’s prick goes into recoil mode and about two or three gallons arcs back through the air and lands on Dr. Blue-bikini’s blue bikini, among other places.”

Collins’ eyes were wide open and rolling now, too.

“Then it’s like she assumes this classic pose, her hands are up and her fingers spread wide and you can tell she’s almost in a state of shock, and then the clip ends with some kind of admonishment about the dangers of hands-on science, some kind of shit like that…”

Collins was on the floor now.

“Yup. You earned that one, Rupert. Now tell me…how are we supposed to sneak into Russia and steal a fuckin’ Russian spaceship?”

© 2021 adrian leverkühn | abw | this is a work of fiction, pure and simple; the next element will drop as soon as the muse cooperates.

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