the mission

To provide a forum for the intersection of spirit and art - a place to share what creations we must manifest to continue living in a meaningful way.


I'm open to what develops here - poetry, fiction, non-fiction, images, videos, quotes, insight - mainly looking at this blog as a record or shared diary in a spirit of playfulness and inspiration....mental froth, mind's eye materialization, and life songs lost and found.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Key part 4

His mind had a lizard tongue, a flicker that was bright red and licked randomly, speedily and with a lisp of silence. When he was tending bar inside the colossal tree stump, he wore casual beige pants held up by red suspenders over his bright green lizard skin of perpetual goosebumps. He was a bony gecko man, a bartender with connections, a listener and a storyteller by trade, ambition and fortune.

“Set me another pint, ‘bro -there,’” the glass thumping on wood woke Karl up from a lucid dream that was a good start to his day.

“Whatchoo restin’? Jobs! Beer, dummy!” Karl never once had a boss he liked.

As he lifted his head off the wet bar, his drool spilled freely down and hit the skeleton key hanging off the hemp rope around his neck. “What the..?” Karl thought his most common thought.

“That dream was awesome,” he realized, staring blankly at the clammy customer and then down at himself and the stained suit he wore. He’d been a way cooler bartender in the dream. The morning sun came through the hotel’s front window and hit the good feeling in him that the dream had left.

“Yeah bro, there’s a beer for ya.” He poured and set down for the clam.

His overnight rest, the dream and the sunshine allowed him some happiness and clarity. She, the Sneer, was no better than he was and here he was with a job, a job and a dream to start the day. “When a young man has dream like that, nothing can stop him,” Karl thought, steadying his hands on the bar.

Not that it was a dream like a goal, he couldn’t much pursue being a lizard bartender inside a tree of misfit patrons, or could he? Ha ha, no matter. He fingered the key and took a deep breath. Despite his earlier confusion misplacing it, finding it, trying to swallow it (embarrassing!), the key was his security; he would always have a place to stay at Grandma Anjie’s, even if the tea was laced. He'd have to tell Josh about the dream. He took out his cell.

“Yeah, had some problem getting the mix, can we just party at the bar?” Josh said.

“Dude, the party was last night, man, what happened?”


“Yeah, what? Hey, I’m having a breakthrough here, man.”

“You mean good or bad?”

“Dude, let’s have a meeting, I’ve got the key still.”

1 comment:

james said...

OK - now you're making me laugh...

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