Faith Healin

The Food and Fun was crowded as usual, a kind of food Disneyland. Though I ain’t never been to Disneyland, just guessin. Food because it has food in every isle, fun because it had a bunch of ride on toys for a quarter in a little kiddie corral. You know, horses, cars, fire trucks. I stood in line at checkout stand number 9. A lady with 2 kids had 3 gallons of ice cream in her cart. Also 3 packages of Ho Hos, bread, and frozen chicken fingers.  I always wondered where the chickens kept their fingers.  Don’t know. The kids didn’t seem happy about anything, not as happy as they should with all of that ice cream, and were screaming and pulling each other’s hair.  I tried to look straight ahead, ignoring the wild kids and the grocery cart. It was hard.  You just want to look.  Can’t help it. Then I heard a yelp from outside, like a dog being struck by a car or kicked by a local curmudgeon. Just as I started to unload my cart onto the little moving table the checker asked “What was that?”

            “Don’t know,” said the bagger.  “Sounded like a dog, but it coulda been a kid.”

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Jaque Mate

Don Miguel and Don Paulo played chess at a small table under the mango tree every day at 10 am.  The mango tree was in the town square of El Pueblo in the low, coastal mountains of Baja California Sur. El Pueblo was their town. They were the Jefe Dons. The Jefes usually played for 1 hour, then the rest of the day could unfold as it might.

The Priest Diego de Santo was always in attendance.  Padre Diego or Padre Hippy, as he was often called by his varied flock. He brought from the seminary long hair and the game of chess.  He was the coach.  He watched as Don Paulo struggled with his opening, looking this way and that, cracking his knuckles, sighing.  Don Paulo looked at Padre Diego, Padre Diego looked at Don Paulo and uttered a simple opening, “King Knight to f3.” Don Paulo made the move.

Don Miguel knows this opening.  Everyone knew this opening.  But he couldn’t remember the classic answer exactly.  He looked at Padre Diego, then up at the sky.  At that moment a twin engine aircraft flew over the town of El Pueblo.  There was no sound of motors.  The engines were not running.  There was only the sound of the wind through the propellers as they spun slowly and the hum of the wind as it passed over the gliding airframe.  The aircraft went over a ridge north of El Pueblo.  Padre Diego, Don Miguel, Don Paulo, and Cha Cha, the keeper of the Cantina Los Angeles, watched the Avion disappear. Then they all heard a loud thump.  A cloud of dust ascended from the back of the ridge and billowed into the town square on the breeze.

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Goin to Church

 “You are going to church, I don’t care what you say,” my ma said.  She looked a little bit like she was going to hit me.  But I didn’t care.

“I ain’t going to church.  I hate it.  You can’t make me.”   I love to talk back to my ma and now I was going to get my chance.  She wanted me to go to church.  But I would rather eat dirt.

“Well,  I think they got real good doughnuts today.” She was trying to sucker me.

“I don’t care, that church hall smells so bad of rotten  perfume and old lady’s face powder that I couldn’t eat a doughnut anyway. I’d throw up.”  But then I got to thinkin. Bad Kathy, with the big old huzongas, would be there.  She always went to 11 o’clock mass, lookin so good and trying to be holy at the same time. Even though I was only 12, I still noticed her all the time.  I didn’t get it.  With those huzongas she would have to be sinnin all the time.  So why did she go to church? Maybe she felt bad for sinnin? Or maybe she just wanted to show them off.  It didn’t make any difference.  She was 14.  She never looked at me.  But I looked at her.  “What kind of doughnuts you think they got, ma?”

“Good ones. Plus, if you don’t go, I’ll have your pa beat you.” Continue reading “Goin to Church”

Xmas Story

Christmas time was busy as usual is the south of market area of The City.  The jukebox hotel jutted up above the rich and the poor like it has since the year of the last big quake.  Apparently it barely shimmered, survived without a scratch unlike the Marina District, and has been host to several Christmas’s since.  And like most days of the holiday season there were people of every type everywhere.  Except today was a special day, the last day, Christmas Eve.

The covered parking lot was full of Jaguars and BMWs. Parking valets rushed to help the glittering crowd.  Christmas: busy, exciting, everyone in a good mood surveying the lobby decorations, inhaling the breakfast buffet, setting aside work and calendars for the day of  expectation. Jesus’ Birthday. Continue reading “Xmas Story”