Tin Soldiers and Nixon Coming

We were milling around
the common room at the college
when a kid with binoculars
came running in.  He located
a round little man in black
and whispered in his ear.

The round little man
stepped into the center of the room.
We got quiet.

“Well, I didn’t think they would come,
but they are.  They were invited,
so this probably isn’t an invasion,
even though five of the ten are bearing arms.
I’m sure most of you are armed in some way,
so nobody should move suddenly.
Let’s treat this as just any get-together
in People’s Park, a discussion among friends.
Is that all right?”

Everyone nodded.

The little man wore black,
but not Angel black—
no leather, I mean.  The fabric,
whatever it was, was light absorbing.
On the front of his t-shirt was a red
hourglass, and on the back,
in red letters, was written



“That’s Dr.  Whatiff,” whispered Asshole Bob.

“Like the drug?” I asked.

“He invented it.  He’s the head Spider here.
Invents all kindsa stuff.  Smart as all fuck.”

Five men wearing Nixon masks
came through the door
followed by five teeners with auto-rifles.

“Making a statement,” I whispered to Bob.
Nixon masks had pretty much replaced
devils and Frankensteins at Halloween.  

“Come on, Manny!”  yelled Bob.
“Take off the rubber!  I’d recognize
those bowlegs anywhere!”
People laughed, even some of the Nixons.

“You too, Chon!” said Bob.
“And Lalo, Harvey, and Jackson!
We know who you are!”

Sheepishly, they took off the masks
and wiped the sweat off their faces.
Chon was Chon Manzano from Hurley.
Lalo was Eduardo Delgado from Santa Clara.
Harvey Hill, the only black Nixon,
“represents the Trailer trash in town,”
said Bob, and Jackson McShane,
who wore a Stetson over his mask,
was “the head cow puncher.”

They wanted what all rulers want:
our total obedience and anything
we had of value.  We wanted
what all subjects want:  reasonable
city services, and otherwise
to be left the fuck alone.





   

All the characters are of interest, Rick, and all the writing is sharp, but I still wonder if one central intra- or inter-personal drama/conflict been defined & stressed strongly enough to power the reading. The ins and outs of the conflict between the factions is a great backdrop. Tom

I think I know what you mean, Tom.  Any suggestions?

Rick, I'm sure there are other routes beyond the traditional, but some of the traditional options are internal conflict between deeply held values of the narrator Bear arising from his role in the factional strife - personal ethics v. group loyalty, for example - and conflicts between his political roles and roles/desires as husband or father? I'd want to see the man in agony over something/s at this point. Tom

Thanks, Tom.  Something to think about.  Maybe I need to follow the plot all the way through and then go back and seee what's hiding below the surface.

Yeah. He seems like a deep and complicated guy. Something will pop up!

For the Benefit of Mister Kite

Manny and the boys
were having real trouble
getting the power on.
The town had no generators
except for backup for the hospital,
and even that was getting iffy
as gas ran low.  We would soon lose
water pressure as the wells
sucked up the rest of the go juice.

"To be fair to our new overlords,"
said Dr. Whatiff to the group,
"the problem lies with El Paso and Tucson,
who normally feed us the volts.
They, it seems, are either
incapacitated or simply incommunicado,
and we're too far away."

"Sixty miles off the fuckin highway,"
somebody muttered.

"And a hundred eighty miles
over mountains,"
somebody muttered back.

"You gotta give us your power,"
said Chon.  "We know you Clans got solar."

Everybody started yelling at once.
I was getting a headache.
Dr. Whatiff raised his hands.
"Bears have solar," he said.
"Ants have solar and so do the plant clans.
They're not producing anything to spare.
If they rerouted their power,
the best you could do
is have lights in City Hall,
and now the clans -- who have
been providing for themselves and not
draining the town's resources --
would be begging for power
like most of your own."

It was agreed that the Flower Clan
would start putting windmills
on the ridges near town,
and everybody else would help
cut and haul wood for cooking and heat.
Meanwhile, somebody would go to El Paso
and Tucson with some copper ingots
to trade for power.

After the Nixons left, Dr. Whatiff
came and introduced himself.
"Well, I think everyone behaved quite
discretely, considering the circumstances,"
he said.

"Discretely?" I said.

"Oh you don't know?
We have a reactor under College Hill,
It could light up the county
and power everybody's amplifiers
for the next fifty years.  We Spiders
use it for experiments in radiochemistry
and similar disciplines.
The Ants maintain it for us.
We might tell the Grunts
if they behave themselves.
Right now, they're learning why
uneasy lies the head that wears etc."

I couldn't help myself.
"You little shit!" I laughed.

He smiled and bowed.
"At your service," he said.

rick really enjoying this entire journal and this dialogue was a pleasant find tonight.  the entire interaction here is funny and well constructed.  there were just two spots that i tripped a touch, the "we had a beer togethert" not sure if that "t" is a typo, but if not the slang doesn't ring my ear right.  the other is "winter-woke bear" which i really like, but i want to read "A winter-woke bear", for me just a bit closer to tone.  keep em coming with a gas can Rick.  lawrence

Thanks, Lawrence.  My fingers don't see too well.  Togethert is a typo.  Folks I know sometimes drop the article, but if it buzzes, there's no need to keep it.

Rick

Behind Blue Eyes

“Where we going, Lilac?”

“Bear country.”

“Upstairs?  I thought you guys
didn’t let strangers see Den Mother.”

“You’re not a stranger.
I stole one of your shirts
and brought it to her.
She wove in into her nest.
She’s been thinking of you
off and on for days.”

“How do you know
her thoughts are pleasant?”

“She’d have torn the shirt up
and kicked it around.
Some shirts she even pisses on.”

“Why did you go to all the trouble?
I’m just passing through.”

“We need a bear talk.
Those are best done in bear country.
Here we are, Den Mother!
Hold out your hand, Ching Monkey.
Let her sniff it.”

“She’s like a big dog.”

“Dogs and bears are cousins.
Bears aren’t as social, though.”

“She likes her ears rubbed.”

“You can scratch the base of her tail, too.
Dogs and bears – they can’t
get that  spot very easy.”

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“You.  You’re different than a lotta folks.
A lotta Bears, even.  I talked to Sneezeweed.
We’re in a war and you haven’t
raised your hand or even made a threat.
Most of the Clans, even the Ants,
have had to hold their people back.”

“Didn’t see the point yet.”

“I’m not buying it.  Den Mother
isn’t either.  See how she twitched
when you said that?  Smells wrong to her.
There’s getalong Bears,
folks who just roll away from trouble,
but you aren’t one.  You were kicking ass
and blowing up stuff before I was born.
I had your trading card,
Heroes of the Revolution, Series Two.
You dusted the Terrminal Tower
and set that river on fire.”

“Somebody else burned the river.
They must have been at the bottom of the barrel
to put me on a trading card.”

“I liked Series Two better than Series One.
The folks in Series One were too perfect.
You guys are quirkier.”

“What’s that have to do with me
being a phony?”

“I didn’t say you were a phony.
I said something’s not right.
In fact, I’m pretty sure
what it is.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“When’s the last time
you were really mad?
I mean like crazy mad?”

“Never.  I start to get mad,
but then I get calm.”

“Do you see red?”

“No, but everything gets
a little greenish.  And slows down.
It slows way down.
Kind of pleasant, really.”

“When’s the first time it happened?”

“I was sixteen.
My mom slapped me in the face.
She liked hitting us boys,
and then she’d say,
‘Now everyone will laugh at you
because your mother
made your mouth bleed.’
So she gave us split lips
black eyes, and twice
she broke my nose.
I was the oldest,
so I got it worst.
She thought we’d be humiliated,
but the neighborhood kids
thought we were tough.
But by then I was sixteen
and too old for that shit.
When the slap landed,
I didn’t say anything or hit her back.
I had a newspaper in my hand
and when I set it on the dining room table,
a cut-glass candy dish
sort of jumped off and committed suicide.
Weird.  Like something out of Disney.
I was picking up the glass
when I noticed Mom.
She was just standing there
like she’d been a machine and somebody
pulled her plug.  Blank.  No expression.
So I thought about it
and later when she was making supper,
I walked into the kitchen
and said if she hit  us again,
I’d bust one piece of furniture
for every slap.  I thought maybe
she’d come after me with
the spoon she had in her hand,
but she got that flat blank look again.
My brothers called me a hero.
They would have done anything
for me after that.  My first crew.”

The bear burped gently.
It smelled like hash oil.

Said Lilac.
“You got the rage.  You’re a berserker.”

“Naw.  I’ve seen people go berserk.
They thrash around for about fifteen minutes
and then they stop and get that stupid stare,
surprised they had it in them.
I’ve never lost my head like that.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say.
The Bear Sarkers were Vikings who wore
bearskin robes.  They were elite.
Not because they killed in a blind rage
but because it was the opposite.
They were efficient.  Fast, and strong,
but focused.  Now and then, they’d
kill one of their own, but what
could you expect when everybody
was all mixed together sword to shield?”

“You’re saying I’m some kind of
white-guy samurai?  Have you been
sampling Den Mother’s hash oil?”

“I’m saying you got the gene.
I got it too.  Found out
at a county fair when two teenagers
started picking on my little boy.
One I grabbed by the arm
and swung into a wall, and the other
I threw over a car.  He landed
on his neck and died.  The leary
laughed and said something
about not messing with Mama Bear,
But a Bear Clan member saw it
and started training me on the spot.
That was what was supposed
to happen to you up at Taquamenon
after Mad Marie inducted you,
but the next morning you were gone.”

“I just felt penned in and wanted to roam.”

“You were getting too close
to the thing you been hiding from yourself.
that's what happened.”

“Yeah.  Like I’m some big hairy
scary motherfucker.”

“You are a hairy scary motherfucker.
You blew up a whole damn town.”

“I just took out four city blocks
when the tower went down.  
I leaned it sideways for the best effect.”

“And then there was the Polka Night Massacre.”

“Well, yeah, I pulled a trigger on that one,
but lotsa folks were doing it.”

“I’ll prove it to you.
After the building and the massacre,
didn’t you go off and sleep?”

“Well, yeah.  But you gotta sleep sometime.”

“You slept at least twelve hours, didn’t you?”

“Fifteen, thereabouts.”

“You woke up hungry both times.”

“Hungry as a bear, but. . . .”

“And I never see you down at the weight room.
Most Bears love to work out.
You don’t.  You find yourself getting mad
when you have to do any kind of reps.
You find yourself wanting to work
harder and faster to get the damn thing
over with, don’t you? You start wanting
to break something, smash something,
kick out a wall, don't you?”

“Well, yeah, but. . . .”

“That’s the rage starting up.
And when it starts, you back off.
Who do you think it’s been
that’s been chasing you all this time?
Yourself!  You been running from who you are.
No wonder you can’t get away.
And no wonder you’re calm now.
Cause you gotta be who you are
just to make it through,
and right here in the middle of the shit
is your place, man!  It’s where you belong.”

“I don’t wanna belong,
least of all here.”

“Why you think you been on the road
all this time?  You been looking for
the home you had in the Rev.”

“Maybe, but some folks
have tried to kill me.  Like that trucker
in Tulsa, and that bridge operator in Indiana.”

“You’re a Cool.  You travel enough,
you’re going to find Grunts and Straights
who will take the easy shot.
That happens to all of us.”

“So what do I do now?”

“You need some training.”

“And you’re gonna do it?”

“Like they trained me.”

"Where's Den Mother going?"

"Back to her nest.
She can smell what's coming.
Now think green, Ching Monkey.
Think slow and green."
 

Moon Dance

Lilac was short and round,
with firzzy blonde hair
that stuck out of either side of her head.
They called her Lilac because of her eyes.
Her mouth was a little rosebud
that was saying mumma mumma mumma
because I stopped hearing her.
She was trying to insult me and
I wasn't going to pay attention.

Then she slepped me
and drove a lip against a tooth.
I could taste blood.

The bitch is fuckin crazy
came the thought.

No,
came another thought,
she wants you to lose your temper.
Then the advantage goes toher.

I turned and headed for the door.
Something hit me in the small of the back
and I landed on hands and knees.
Something else--a boot--
hit me in the ass
and my face crunched against the floor.
Broken nose.

Third time's the charm,
said the little green voice,
the one I hated and tried to ignore.

I was on my feet
and she was dancing all around
throwing out fists and feet,
slow enough that I could dodge them
but too fast to catch.

Don't catch,
said the little green voice,
Hit.

So I did.  I'd hit or kick
her foot or fist and
she would spin like a top.

I was working her
to a corner
so I could put her out,
when she almost
connected foot to crotch.
I turned isdeways
and she spun away.

I looked in her eyes for fear
but saw composure and a little grin.
I realized I was amused too.

An interesting problem.
How to get out of the room
without killing her or getting killed.

Killing is out either way,
I told the little green voice.
No massacres today.

All right,
said the little green voice.
And then it showed me a way.

Around the room we went,
me driving her to the wall,
she slipping right or left,
and once between my legs.

Every now and then
a punch of mine would come close--
Boom against the wall.

She couldn't be allowed to know what I was doing,
so I looked angrier than I was, pressed hard,
and started swearing.
Meanwhile, the little green mind
behind the little green voice
made sure that some of my punches
landed in the same place.

Finally I was ready
and spun her halfway across the room
with a mule kick to the gut.
Right after that, I reached
into the hole in the wall my fists had been making,
opened the door from the outside
--I knew it would be locked; no point in testing--
 stepped out and slammed it shut.

I heard laughter, and the door
bucked a couple of times,
but it was steel and it held.

Then I was laughing too
and we were in each other's arms.

I guess I had connected with her nose,
because blood ran down her round little face
like the shadow of a weird sun dial.

"Lesson one concluded,"
she said when she had enough breath.

Behind Blue Eyes, Part II

The pain was so intense
I pissed myself.
“What the hell did you do?”
I said to the doctor when
I’d caught my breath.

“Battlefield septoplasty,”
she said through her mask.
“I assume you still want
to breathe through that nose.”

“I liked you better on the chow line,”
I said, referring to breakfast
where she ladled out grits.

“A girl’s gotta do something
between meals,” she said.
“Nurse!  Pack this man’s schnozzola.”

The nurse, a guy I’d seen in the woodshop,
came over and rammed in some cotton.
“And I liked you better among the shavings,”
I told him.

“Sorry,” he said.  “We had to do this raw.
Can’t use anesthetic on people
who are still in the green. 
You never can tell what’ll happen.”

At that point I heard a shriek.
“Sounds like Lilac,” I said.

“A nose for a nose,” he said.

“When are you gonna let me up?”
I said, straining at the wide
leather bands that held me to the gurney.

“Not till you’re out of the green,” he said.
“How are you feeling now?”

“Tired and hungry.”

“More tired than hungry,
or more hungry than tired?”

“More hungry than tired.”

“Hungry for anything in particular?”

“Macaroni and cheese.”

He shook his head.
“That’s your body,
looking for carbs for round two.
Just relax as much as you can.
Deep breaths, all that.
If you had a guru, use your mantra.
You’ll fall asleep
and then you can eat.”

“How long were we fighting?” I asked.

“How long do you think?” he asked.

“Felt like half an  hour.”

He smiled. “Four and a half minutes.
We timed it from outside.”

“We?”

“All the greenies.  All the berserkers.
We were told ahead of time.”

I was starting to drift.
“How many?” I said.

“With you, this lodge has twelve.”

“Jesus!”

“You can see why we haven’t been
too upset by the little Grunties.
I’ll introduce you when we let you loose.”

Things were turning grey.
“Is she a real doctor?”

“Fordham University.
Found out she was green
when some psycho on angel dust
grabbed a scalpel in her ER. 
She tore his arm off.”

He said more
but I didn’t pay attention.

Behind Blue Eyes, Part III

I woke up looking in the face of a doll.
A Viking doll, about a foot high.
Horned helmet, yellow braids, the whole bit.

“Well, look who’s alive!” said the doll,
waggling from side to side,
the way they do when they talk.

The little girl who was piloting the doll
was a blondie, too, sitting beside my gurney
with two other dolls on her lap.

“I’m Brunhilda,” she said,
waggling the Viking doll, who
was replaced in my face by a doll
in classical Greek armor.
“I’m Amazon,” said the new doll,
who was then replaced by a doll
out of the comic books.

I spoke first.  “Wonder Woman,
I presume?”  The doll gave a stately bow.
“And I,” said the little girl, “am Goldilocks.”

“Of course you are,” I said.  “And I. . . .”

‘You’re Ching Monkey Sleepswithbear.
I know.  I’ve been set to watch you
in case you stroked out or something.
Old folks going green for the first time
risk all kinds of problems.”

“How am I doing?”

“You seem fine.”

“Isn’t this a job for a grownup?”

“You don’t know about Bears.
The Book says you ran away before the training. 
We go by size, just like real bears do.
Any job that needs to be done
goes to the biggest, and if they
don’t want it, it goes down the size chain
until it gets to the smallest,
who has to do it because
there’s nobody to pass it to.

“I feel honored,” I said.

“It’s not like that,” she said. 
“It’s all just sitting unless
your brain or heart blew out,
and then all I’d have to do
is run and get somebody.
I have my dollies, so I wasn’t bored.”

“Can I get up now?”
I said, rattling my straps a little.

“The doc, who’s also my mom,
said if you asked that to make
you lay there half an hour more.
In the meantime, do you want me
to tell you a story? 
I’ll tell about the first time I went green.
I was only six years old,
the youngest on record.
Billy Puddlin from up the street
took my dolly and wouldn’t
give her back, so I killed his bike.”

“You killed his bike?”

“Hit it with a hammer till it fell apart.
It was fun knowing all at once
how a hit here and a hit there
could make it so easy.
Of course, I was really strong then,
but the whole thing seemed
more like playing with a puzzle
than “destroying property.”
That’s what scared Billy most.
He doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

I looked over at her—
as much as the straps would allow.
“Forgive me if I can’t quite
stretch my mind around this.
You’re a greenie—I mean a
full-on berserker with a hammer—
and you’re ten and play with dolls?”

“It makes me a perfect spy.
Nobody outside the Clan
really knows about the green state,
and Billy’s too scared to say anything.
I made sure of that.
I’m just a little girly with her little dollies.”

She said the last in a singsong
that sent a shiver through me.
“You said the doctor is your mother?”
I asked to change the subject.

“Her name is Calendula, like the plant.
It’s good for your skin and stuff.
Folks call her Calligula.
I don’t know what that means.
Sito is my dad.  He’s the nurse.
I wanna be a doc like Mom,
but she says I’m too good
to waste on healing.
I don’t know what that means, either.”

She went on.  “My dolls are functional.
Brunhilda’s a radio,
Wonder Woman’s a a throwing knife,
and Amazon’s a bomb.
I can use Brunhilda to set her off.
Pow!  She can take out a tank.”

She pulled off Wonder Woman’s head
and a short, stout blade came with it.
“Here,” she said, placing it into
my right hand.  “Nice balance, huh?
Oh, sorry.  You can’t feel the balance
with your hand tied down. 
I’ll let you toss it when I let you up.
Asshole Bob says my blades all have eyes.”

“I don’t think I want to get up yet,”
I said. 

“That’s when it’s time to let you up,”
she said, unbuckling the straps.

I tried to sit up and couldn't.
The little girl ran off.
Hands were grabbing me
by the shoulders, lifting.
My head flopped forward.
I couldn't hold it up.

A large metal cup
was shoved at my mouth,
in it a greenish black ooze.
It smelled like a swamp with
overtones of throw-up.

"Drink it," someone said
and tipped it so I had to
drown or drown in it.

"All of it, even the chunks and slime"
 the voice said.  Caligula.  Had to be.

I gagged. 

""You throw it up," she said,
"You'll just have to drink it again."
 I got the last of it down.
It flipped at my lips
like the tail of something live,
and I almost barfed big and for real.

But I didn't.

"What. . . ." I said,
now able to lift my head.

She was grinning.
"Electrolytes,
neurotransmitters,
amino acids,
pro-biotics,
the full spectrum of vitamins,
all in a base of brewer's yeast,
spirulina plankton,
and bear's milk."

"How. . . "

". . . did we get the bear's milk?
Carefully and not often.
We keep it frozen like plasma.
Hard to find a lactating female
big enough to be worth the risk.
The best stuff comes from Kodiaks."

"Why. . . ."

"Because you were completely depleted.
Used yourself up in the fight."

"But. . . ."

"I know.  Only four and a half minutes.
And berserkers are supposed to be able
to fight all day.  That's when
they fight ordinaries.  But green-green fights
are different.  You pulled each other
into higher and higher speeds
to get the advantage.  By the end,
even the cameras couldn't keep up.

"Cameras?"

"We film all berserker-berserker fights
and share them with other lodges
for study and discussion."

"How's. . . ."

"Lilac's in the same shape you are.
I thought she'd be
an easier recovery because
you are more, um, mature,
and newer at this than she was.
But it looks like you've
been in the green plenty before this,
you just didn't know it.  And
you amped each other hard.
Isn't every fifty-year-old man
can keep up with a twenty-five-
year old woman."  She grinned.

"Ask Sneezeweed," I said.
"She'll have a different story."

"About that," the doctor said.
"we have to talk.
First, though, it's dinner time.
Go and eat as much of whatever you want,
no matter how weird it seems --
anchovy paste on artichokes, whatever.
The food crew knows you're coming.
You'll find Lilac there, too."

"It flipped at my lips
like the tail of something live" -

now, that's  vivid!
Tom