gun for fire

a reflection by tmez

And then we were nothing more than an ant farm. We actually knew it. God’s farm. An experiment. Didn’t we always think that it would come to this? A secular world. Today is a good day to teach, even when the footprints are dusty. Eighth grade was a blast. Just before the green year. The nice guy finishes last. Never make friends with your next door neighbor. A hundred-percent hunter safety. Raised on the land. Conservation the key. Now what’ll I be? Please remember. It can never happen to me. I am a survivor. I have been shot. Shotguns never stop hurting.

It’s a bitch to be shot. Always hurts. A lot.. No brothers injured. Nightmares say different. Imagined large holes in the floor. Just in front of tiny feet. Blood pumping from small smiles. Never sleep again. Powder burns. Face and neck. Who is that? Can't be me. Hand distorted. Eardrums ringing. Those damn high pitches. Stupid gay tv. Thank you Lord for that. Thank you for My pain. I accept it. Thank you. Deo gratias.

I love my brothers. Didn’t know it then. Do now. My pain is mine. Theirs, my family’s, and mine are separate. Mine is mine. Can’t ya feel the pain? Some days are better than others. Today typing kinda sucks. I will manage. Dropped Typing-One as a freshman. No longer necessary. No longer possible. I sure wanted to take her call.

Agghhh, Tonya Labbee. She was the shit. She hung my moon. Did she really like me? I often wondered—after. No matter. I know I liked her. Blue, blue eyes. Light brown hair. That quirky laugh. Her front porch after dark. The awaited call. Country-boys do not like phones. Least not then. Way back then when the pain started. I learned women lie. Not on purpose. At least not all the time. But they do. She brought me cookies in the hospital. Told me she was sorry right before she married Kelly Lumley. I sorta liked the guy.

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Elkland, Missouri. Home of the only elk that came from somewhere else. Now they were still. Silent and grasping. What are they thinking? My dad’s deer was big. Not as big as an elk. But it gloomed over our bunk beds like a t-rex. A lot of sharp points to be reckoned with. Shadows casting demonic thoughts just before bed. When friends came over I loved that deer. Most of the time I was terrified of it. No deer is scary. I have a big gun. You don’t. I have camouflage. You are furry and cute. A dead doe hangs from the cold steel hook. But the shadows. Why then? I am so tired. Those damn casting embers of terror. Those crazy thoughts. Slow down brain. Please. Sometimes in my night, it would growl.

Tonya was from Elkland. Home of the Chicken-egg-squawking-thing at the grocery store. What were those called? Oh yeah, and the Movie Huts: Jeckyl and Hyde: the ravens. School is out forever. Now they work there. Tonya became a fellow student. It was her call. Just the distraction that fate needed. Now she went to Marshfield. So far away. Yet I could still hear her voice. Too bad I don’t remember how the L’s sound when they roll. Like a sunflower ready to bloom? Every word of her’s made me tingle. December 1st, 1984, I never tingled.

One-quarter gets you one-egg. Imagine the surprise. Mostly they sucked. Come on Golden Egg. I hated wishing my quarter would bring love. The school was out. They spent recess with us now. Jerry Cobb was my best-friend for years. He was from Elkland. Don’t blink. I loved that lil ole cow-path. Tonya lived three-doors-down. I knew Jerry’s family well. She gave me an after-school-snack. Her funeral was sad. Jerry made the stone. It had color. It was good to see him. Grey hair. Same smile.

Mother’s scream. Tommy Phone! Gun still loaded. It was her. I knew it.

Antique shotguns without a safety. Gotta love ‘em. Brand new 1913 Remington. I had sweated my summer days. Walnut stock. Sanded. Re-varnished. Nickel plated barrel. Sanded and Blued. We drilled a hole with glue. A BB makes a good sight for a point-and-shoot. My daddy was a concise teacher. Listen up close and watch. A brand new firing pin.

Seven-foot higher in the trees. Squirrel’s nest much closer. I could just shoot the nest. Short wait warrants a more fair chance. I am armed. He has nuts. Little brothers sit in awe. I smell the wood stove smoke. Gona be a chilly night. We wait. The killing waits. Shell still in chamber. Boys do not build good ladders. The seconds float in a mirage. Tonya was waiting. Mom was waiting. So were the three of us and the squirrel.

No safety. Remington’s trigger was ever-so-slight. Finesse. Brand-new antique. Glistening. Squeeze don’t pull. Never climb loaded. Break the chamber open. That was on the way up. Down’s different. On the ground shooting the old couch. Up there on the second floor. Too cold to build walls. Cushions blasted. Boards splintering. Little kids. Hands over ears. Completely excited. Safely. Six-feet back and to the left.

Like ebullient emus. Tommy, can we go up to see?

Last one on the ladder. If that’s what you’d call it. Sturdy and awkward. Not quite tall enough. A four-foot, floor hole was the quest. All shells in pockets. Single-shot chamber with hammer. Broke at a forty-five. Like a satchel. Resting in the cusp of my elbow. One hand for the ascent. I could just see the destruction. Wait til my brother sees his couch.

Andy and Henry Ooooing and Aggghhing. They love the twisted, demon springs. Poking and clawing. Sharp, dangerous talons. Firefly sparks on a December afternoon. Never forget the ricochet. Whew. Shot paths were clear. Clear as a twister’s wake. Scattered blasts at fifteen-feet. Eighteen-inch incisions. Long, scary splinters. Wool and cloth like clumpy snow. You can have my gun when you pry my cold-dead fingers. Almost ready to wait. Two-hands gripping walnut firmly.

Brothers begged. Shooting too close from here. Talons beckoning for more sparks. That call. Sitting. Waiting. Uneasy, appreciated tension. Safety first. This gun is too old. No safety. Down is different. Today is an interesting day to reflect. Squirrel’s day to shine. Bad luck had mine.

Never call shotgun. Time to leave. I’ll ride in the back. That word. The most dangerous place to sit in a vehicle. Waiting for a t-bone. I will not call it. You ride up there. Feels important with a driver anyways. Like I earned it. Wind in my face. Ashes in my eye. That kind of pain kills. Everyone needs a CB handle. Even the Bandit. Shotgun was deemed suitable. Applied peer pressure at its finest. Breaker, breaker Shotgun. Got your ears on? For a few more eternal seconds.

I do.

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If Tonya knew, would she still have called? Not a question. More like a statement. Dare I say, nay. She had to have liked me. A little. Maybe break up later. No pain today. Such an important chat. Waiting. The rolling L’s. Blue, blue eyes. 657-feet lies a party line. Neighbors and siblings finally let her through. My heart already had. Anxious tension. Simple abandon. Sometimes love just isn’t enough. Sometimes.

Quarterbacks are active. Sax players agile. Early teens? Yeah, that was fun. Ya know, back in the fun years. Before the ringing started. I know the high voltage is going out. I can hear it. So can the dog. Good boy Buster. Tell ‘em how it hurts. Say it kinda loud. You know me and my hearing. Or do you? Sometimes I wonder myself. Knowing this about me is not easy. Maybe you’re the lucky one. Can ya give two-thumbs up? Then yes. Never tickle a mans palm during the shake. Can we just do knucks? Maybe left? I really didn’t mean to insinuate. I can’t help it. My bad.

Renaissance. Latin for rebirth. Or more New birth. That happens ya know. A chance to live another time. A few more days to play. To run. To climb. To see. Definitely used up one of the nine. A feline’s lottery. Yeah, I’m okay with that. Jaquin says “I’m Still Here.” Me to Mr. Phoenix. Me too.

Ever seen RoboCop? Romancing the Stone? It was like that. Same splintered fragments. Same pumping crimson. Fingers tickling the forearm of the same arm. Excuse me? Don’t remember that before. It looks new. No pain yet. Just shock. Where’s the hole in the floor? What is that incestuous ringing? Face is numb. Spider man shoots web. It was like that. Only red. Bloody strands to get me there quick. Like a Marvel. Lightning like speed. In a super hero instant life changes. Quickly trying to take her call.

Twenty-five years and my life is still. Trying to get up that big hill of hope. A destination I have achieved. Only a fourth of a century. We can all live longer playing the feline lottery. 41 on Black. It’s all a gamble. The sooner you realize it; the sooner you try not to care. It’ll all work out. That’s what my mom says. She oughta know. She was there. Always. Only through drugged dreams she wasn’t. Those mares scared the hell out of me. Reality: Mom never swayed. My rock. My serenity. My heart. My life. I seen all of my pain in her eyes. Taking one more of my feline’s lives.

Helicopters are kewl. Magnum meets Airwolf. Sometimes they suck. Cute little EMT. I never heard a word she said. Super freakin’ loud. But not in the movies. How are their ears not bleeding like mine? 90-seconds equals 25-miles. Fast ride to hell. One that is a great big hill. Hope? Yeah, I got some. The world’s largest commodity. Just hanging there for us to aspire for. Without it, we die. Not a lottery like we thought. Simply death. Not the coward’s way. Never my intent. I accidently stepped on a crack. Never breaking my mother’s back.

Sometimes we die. Not figuratively. Flat lined. Causes interesting daydreams. If ya recover. Cliché like memories. Floating above me. Doctor, doctor. Save me! No one hears me. Can’t you see me? Feel me. Fix me. I guess I can hear me. Floating down I know they care. Tunneled light filtering a change. Not today. Just knocked out. Not dead. Now. Yet. Mom says I’ll live another day. She’s kewl like that.

Some people are saviors. Some are just lazy. From the heart. Doc Harvey saved me. Mom says he’s an angel. I may have to agree. Like sewing up swiss cheese he says. He liked Red Skeleton. Laughed out loud quoting him. 36-years of school. My boy’s wicked smart. That elusive Blue Cross. Never paying their share. Doc was okay with that. Fourteen-percent was all he got. Consider it a Christmas gift. Harold D. Harvey was a savior. He sure saved my mind. My Soul. My family.

Nurses are great. They are saviors too. Love Mom and Dad the card read. Her voice so melodic. She put a small tree in my window. Red and Green lights reflecting on the glass. Prescribed every four. Begged every one-and-a-half. Saving me every 2 1/2. That helpful little button they controlled. But they let me push it. A lot. Enough clicks and I would fade. Memories of a different day ensue. Ready. Down. Set hut. Hut. Hut. Jazz band egging me on.

Rumors and optic fibers. They’re the same. News travels fast. Like that kids game. I Got a Secret. Is it ever right? Scared me. My good friends thought that? There were No trees involved! Brother Jim is a master tradesman. Clubhouse fortresses drawing envy for miles. Daniel burned down Nature Lovers Lodge. The best clubhouse ever. A blasted story starts in the new one. No walls on top. Just targets. And dreams. And a call. And a squirrel. Then—the three of us.

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They all say they didn’t notice. Is it a burn? One guy asked. Weird elevator ride. I notice. Stupid Napoleon complex. No pockets. Everyone knows. Especially me. Give me winter and black leather gloves. Then no one knows. Sweet. I’m blending in. Always gets cold way easy. T-shirt and one glove. Who does that? Please don’t say that Jackson fellar. Heard that enough already. Just a dude with bad circulation. What about your thinning hair? Nice guys finish last. We know. The ones that didn’t care finished first. Two brown jerseys for a buck. I only needed one.

329.5326. Still know it. After all these years. Elkland number. Everyone’s a 329. I coulda called her back. Damn party lines. Scared me. Miss the chance for a melody. Sing your L’s in my ear. I’ll listen. I will always listen Miss Labbee. Sending telepathic messages through time. Tonya can ya hear me? It’s Tommy. Or should I say Mrs. Lumley? Still no known receipt of my message. My heart will keep calling. For a lifetime.

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