Chiffon #14

Another thing that I heard. Well, well, well, what do you know? Mister D has been reported as saying there was no intelligence that could have predicted the drama that unfolded in the Solomons. What is wrong with him and did anybody apart from me not see what the rest of the country would have seen on the television when the Today Show was beamed from the new AFP facility in Weston? And why would mister D say that these viewers, especially myself, were not and are not intelligent? Just have a look at the vision.

However, it too may have been misplaced.

My light globe has blown (lucky thing). Anyway it is four-thirty in the morning and I wish to tell you I had a phone call from a friend last night. A certain thing (her guest) must be troubling her. Anyway I told her to get some of her friends and have a ritual, a black sort of thing with a cauldron, or tie her up and practice some bondage.

Then we got to talking about wormholes and that led me to doorways and then it took me to Jim Morrison and I did this big leap into names other than The Doors, but which served as sign posts and then I wondered: Words that were names, such as blue, red, what did it mean?

Pharmaceutically speaking they must have had pills around that were blue and red and I have never met a Val who wasn”t a mess or a Decks who wasn”t a walking computer and then all of this took me to a ditty ole aunty A.B.C. used to put on for the kiddies: Captain Pugwash, and Master Bates, and lots of seamen. It had what I consider sickness behind it, but it was fucking funny.

Do you remember The Magic Roundabout? And I wondered how many, like in Raskalnikovs dream (Crime and Punishment), have flogged the horses to death in Petrie Plaza and what of Doogle? Why don”t I google, Google, about Doogle? That sounds like a giggle. Don”t go there! I also loved a number of other gems on the TV. I used to enjoy watching Bob Santa Maria on Sunday morning. If you did as I did and turned the sound down. What a hoot. And The Banana Splits. Why did they grow old?

What were Bill and Ben (the flower pot men) really doing out the back, mumbling incessantly to everything and interrupted every now and then by the only audible word in that garden, weed! Oh to be that young again and know what I know now but I forget I was.

Seriously. Are not words like food on the plate, not just for consuming, but also playing with? I love the way some things describe something about something. Nicknames are the most obvious, names such as red or blue or tiny or carrot.

*

It was dusk. The surface of the water looked to be still, a bit too still. Slowly and deliberately, I allowed myself to submerge till only my head from the nostrils up was exposed. I scanned the surface methodically with my eyes, from left to right, watching for any tell-tale ripples or movements but it remained terribly still.

The water was surprisingly warm but it had been a warm day, I thought, as I became aware of things that could float and scrape up against you. My mind was already playing tricks. I peered into the failing sunlight searching for the minutest of clues. I had heard that this body of water was a cocktail of industrial style detergents and worse and I immediately was curious as to what was coming off my body.

Again I recognized my mind becoming confused. I knew, or more accurately, according to the latest information, I was not in harm’s way. I could spend up to a half hour in my position, well, that was debatable! I had no watch. I could hear the distant cry of birds signaling their return, after a day spent doing the things birds are known to do and I speculated over their dry, down-lined nests. It had only been a few minutes since I entered the water and I detected a movement out of the corner of my eye. Instantly my body tensed. I held my breath. I waited watching.

I waited much longer than it actually was. Nothing had moved. I slowly exhaled and resumed my shallow breathing, amazed at the skill of the opponent that was tormenting me.

To remain undetected is difficult. A single bead of sweat had formed on my forehead and was slowly making its downward run. I was not even aware of its evolution till it started menacingly accumulating over my eyebrow. I watched hoping that when it dropped it was not going to drop into my eye. My eyes were the only unprotected and therefore vulnerable part of my body and I needed to be able to see.

The concentration needed to remain where I was and, keeping still, very still, was suddenly being compromised by a water droplet. On top of that, the water temperature had dropped quite dramatically since the sun went down, I thought, as I did my best to refocus on the job at hand. I resumed looking and waiting. The light, having faded, gave a gloomy pall to the surface, and my eyes straining into it created movements where there was no movement. But then a flicker and my eyes darted to the place and was rewarded with small ripples radiating over the surface. Now we were getting somewhere, I was sure.

I could see something suspended just beneath the surface not four feet from me. What it was I could not be sure, but there was something there, there had to be, so I continued with my task: Watching.

I was not sure next what happened. Suddenly I was aware that I was falling asleep and then I was wide awake as if some telepathic force had woken me. I could hear voices, albeit some distance away. My senses were on edge and again I saw tell-tale ripples on the water.

The voices were louder now as I stretched forward ever so slightly to glimpse the cause of the rippling. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, I moved forward. I could hear the voices growing louder still. I paused, staring. I could just discern the object in the eerie light. I froze as the voices grew louder and louder and then I gasped as I realized I was gazing on a human limb. My first reaction was to scream but I was interrupted by a bright light illuminating the entire area and a voice asked ‘aren”t you out of that bath yet?’

Luff Chiffon xxx

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