Well fellow bloggers – things are going to get a little hectic for Ice/Pup, because we are off to the big city in a couple of days to sell puppies, visit parents, kids, grandkids and friends, and then back here to see pup’s Mom and Dad, “he” who has just returned from Alaska, brrrrrrr.. – and depending on what kind of get together they have over at the plantation, we could be out of circulation for a few days, as many of you may be yourselves, so, I guess we will just have to meet up again on the other side (of Christmas) when all the commotion has subsided a little. I will try and post or comment when I can, but we will just have to see how it all shakes out as they say. I’ve been running around wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, but this one is for all my great friends on the blog – “Merry Christmas – And - Be Safe”
Now, is there anything left in the ol creative brain for Ice to leave as sort of a Christmas present, uh, eh, let me look around in here, man – my mind sure is cluttered. What’s over there? Oh, a game I have an idea about, I am thinking we could play this game on the blog. But, no, I will wait for later to bring it out, things are too hectic right now for a game. let’s see what is this? Hmmm… nah, I will do that at another time too, hmmm, what is this? A thought just zooming through the “Icey mind” = let me reach out and grab it, oh, yeah, I’ve got it, and here goes === btw before we get started I just had another thought. Nah, that can wait too. So, here goes on the other thing======
a narrow little path
lined with scraggly trees
full of rocks and sticks
guarded by weeds
such a path I travel
without complaint
my choice - this path
less traveled
it was a conscious decision
many years ago
and remains so
each and every morn
and tho I’ve often wondered
never have I regretted
choosing my life’s route
on this narrow little path
Not bad, I kinda sorta like it. Kind of a takeoff on Robert Frost’s poem which I’ve always loved, “The Road Less Traveled”…. He was a genius you know.
Let’s see, anything else “popping” in the kernel bag? What about this?
Just leaning back in chair, music rolling over me, all around me; and behind me it makes a wide circle and heads back this way. But – before it gets back here, listen my friends ……
to a story I need to tell….
It was a cold winter night, a few years back, kind of like this one, although it was after the Holidays; you know - one of those cold ass February nights, they are so fucking blah.
I’d been drinking Corona all day, since it was a Saturday, and as I fell into the night…. I had enhanced everything with some good – do I really need to spell this word – nah, I didn’t think so. Anyway, the night was becoming more and more enhanced, with each passing moment, and it just so happens that pup was out at a baby shower, or something like that, and I had the house to myself, which I really don’t care for, but, ol ice has this habit of making the “best” of everything, so, as you can tell, that is what I was doing that cold ass night in February.
Breezing along, minding my own business, I wasn’t bothering nobody, when all of a sudden – “knock knock” on my door. “Hey you guys know what it’s like” - sometimes when the phone rings, or a knock knock bangs on the door; you just really don’t want to answer the summons. I know that the thought ran through my mind to ignore the knock knock, but, in the end, I decided to see who the hell was knocking on my door on a cold ass February night.
As I stood at the door, staring at my visitor in shock, I remember thinking that nobody would ever believe this, and if I tried to make anyone believe me, they would probably end up locking me away somewhere. So, I knew right then that I would have to keep quiet about my visitor until there would be an outlet where I could tell it. And, now after all this time, and thanks to this blogstream, I can finally tell everyone of my late nite visitor, Ol Abe.
Yeah, it was Abe Lincoln, and no, he didn’t resemble the guy on the penny, because first of all he was much younger. Ol Abe must have been, around 30 something, and he didn’t have a beard, but I recognized him easily enough for he was carrying a big white sign on a stick that said “Abe Lincoln”, in big black letters.
Of course I invited him in, shit, he’s the prez you know, or at least he used to be anyway. Abe came in, water dripping off his worn black coat in sheets, gently falling to the floor beneath his boot clad feet. I told him to make himself at home, and he did so promptly, by sitting in my favorite chair, and kicking the lever back he reclined, and let out a great big “ahhh”, as he kicked his boots, mud and all, off onto my carpeted floor, while I wondered again, where all the water was coming from, it had not rained in a month, and we were in need of some moisture. So… running over to the window I looked outside, but, nah, it wasn’t raining.
Turning back to Abe, I inquired of where he had encountered the water? Abe, just shook his massive head, and this is when I noticed the toothpick that jutted from the left hand corner of his mouth, and as he rolled the toothpick expertly around in his mouth, transferring to the opposite side with ease, he said, “ raining down at the crik when I crossed, but it quit - when I got to the other bank, kind of strange, but that’s the truth”.
Now was I about to call the President of the United States a liar? Nope. So I just said, “well how many inches do you think we got”?
“Weren’t in it long enough to really tell, but I’d guess a couple at least”, was Abe’s reply.
I nodded, as the Prez pulled out some rolling papers and began to roll a cigarette, or so I thought at the time. “I didn’t know you smoked”, I said, as I watched intently; his expert fingers rolling a perfect cigarette.
“Didn’t used to he said”, as he patted down the pockets on his coat, looking for matches I presumed. Thinking quick, I looked in my desk and found some matches (I could of lit his cigarette with my throwaway lighter, but I didn’t want to startle him with the workings of a modern cigarette lighter), and starting to strike the match so I could give him a light; I myself became the one startled as he said, “here it is”, and pulled out a zippo lighter, flipped the damn thing easily, popping the lid up, along with a neat little flame. It had been years since I’d seen that trick, but man, did I enjoy seeing it again, although to be honest, I was wondering how ol Abe even knew what a zippo lighter was?
“Where did you learn that trick, Abe”? I asked.
“Nam, back in 68”, he said.
“Ahh” we said in unison, as the smoke drifted into Abe’s lungs and over to where I was sitting. “Some damn good smelling smoke Abe”, I told him, my eyes shining bright. “What brand would that be”?
“Dixieland Delight, bought it down at the 7-11 a few minutes ago.
“SHIT”, I said, jumping up, “you didn’t buy that at no 7-11!
Ol Abe looked up at me, grinning like a millionaire at a whorehouse, and said, “no, I guess not,” and smiling he handed me the joint. So, we sat there in my living room smoking the joint, (man that was some of the best damn weed I’d ever had) – listening to Santana on my stereo. Directly, I inquired to whether or not he wanted a beer, and he told me “yeah, a Corona if you’ve got it”, and I told him “sure” as I headed off to the fridge to fetch a couple of beers.
Coming back into the living room I handed him one of the beers, and noticed that he drank like a very thirsty man, drinking almost half of it in one gulp. Wiping his lips, he “leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling, while I just sat back down on the couch and took a sip of my own beer.
“Long day”, I asked him, as I took a hit off the joint.
“Yeah, the lousy war sucks, and I get really bored with Congress, that bunch of losers”.
Thinking to myself that whatever I’d been smoking before Abe got there must have been some knockout shit, cause I knew that I couldn’t “really” be sitting in my living room getting high, and drinking Corona with Abe Lincoln, as he bitched about the Civil War and Congress.
So, I decided to “test” this character who had invaded my Saturday night, and my house. Looking at me, through a haze of blue smoke, he grinned and told me to “go ahead, test me”. That was a little odd, cause I didn’t remember including him in on my thought to “test him”.
As disconcerting as this was, I pressed on with a question, “Abe, aren’t you dead”?
To which he replied, “I’m not quite sure, all I know is that I keep popping up in other time periods, but I always go back to where I was before”. “It’s been this way ever since I went to Ford’s, that night”, you know the night I’m talking about don’t you”?
“Pass that joint over here”, I told him, thinking that - "that" was probably the last thing I needed to be doing, and answering him as he handed me the joint, “yeah that was the night you were assassinated”.
“Don’t get too excited friend”, he said, as he detected my voice becoming a little shrill. “I’ll only be here for a little while and then I’ll be popping off somewhere else”.
As I leaned back against the back of the couch, sipping on my beer and watching the prez, I thought that maybe I was dreaming, but when I pinched my arm it hurt like hell, and caused me to slosh my beer a little, so much for dreaming.
About that time The Stones started playing on the stereo, and the song was “You don’t always get what you want, but you get what you need”, at least I think that’s the name of it, I can’t always remember the exact title you know.
Suddenly, the knock knock came back to my door, and as I looked at the door, thinking, “now what”, the Prez jumps up out of the recliner, downs the rest of his beer, and handing me the joint he walked over to the door and opened it.
And in stepped this dude wearing a getup that looked like a butler or something, he faintly resembled “Jeeves” the little guy on my computer who is always telling me, “you have mail”, in a creepy deep voice.
The prez said, “do you have the message”? To which the butler guy said nothing, but reached inside his coat and handed the prez a folded sheet of paper.
The prez unfolded it and whipping some Wal-Mart reading glasses out, stood there reading the message.
The butler guy looked at me and said, “you mind if I hit that thing”, pointing at the joint I had in my hand.
I told him, “knock yourself out man, it belongs to your boss anyway”.
“Damn”, the prez said, folding the paper up, and handing it to me. “Guard this with your life Ice, I’ve got to go now”.
Resisting the urge to “click my heels” and “salute him”, I said, “yessir”!
He sorta of half saluted me with his right hand, turned and walked out my door.
The butler guy took another quick hit off the joint, handed it to me and followed the prez out the door, gently closing it as he exited.
Sitting down in my favorite chair, the one the prez had occupied while he had been here, I unfolded the paper and read the message, which read as follows:
To all those who have been reading this story told by Ice, of a cold night in February when he met Abe Lincoln; “I’ve run out of things to say here, so I will end the story now”. “Abe, you and that butler guy need to get out of here before my wife comes back and catches you here”, and though I’ve enjoyed your visit, it’s time for you to go because “Seinfield” comes on in a few minutes, and I want to watch it, so, hand this note to Ice, tell him to guard it with his life, and go on back to wherever you came from”, and thanks for stopping by”.
Merry Christmas Everyone…..…..
Ice
p.s. remember the "music that was behind me"? "Well, it's coming back around, headed my way, and it's "Elvis" and he's singing -
"Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten, look away, look away, look away, Dixieland...
p.s.s. - did anyone notice that Ol Abe forgot his boots? lol
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