Poem 5: Two People

This is a story of two people rising above
A story of love without a church steeple
Neither of the two needed each other
Yet they both wanted for no other

Both were happy when they were alone
Content with themselves they did not moan
When they joined their happiness they did share
And for each other they both did care

There was no weak person leeching off a stronger person
This was love, not the story book version
They were both whole people and needed no other
Yet these two whole people they wanted each other

They cared not for the consent of the church
Or the media babble of scientific research
They were just two people living free
Both sharing happiness in synergy

Searching for happiness in another person
Means your sorrows will only worsen
Leeching happiness leads to resentment
So look to yourself for contentment

This is a story of two people rising above
A story of love without a church steeple
They were both whole people and needed no other
Yet these two whole people they wanted each other
They were just two people living free
And one day I hope the same for you and me

Chapter 5: Hell’s Harbinger of Chaos, Destruction, and Death

The next morning I found a note I had written for myself in my hand.

Peradventure we would find out.
He was wrong.
I had already met the deity that fell from the sky.

I could not remember writing the note but it was definitely my handwriting; any semblance of meaning had been obfuscated by my large consumption of alcohol… And the deity… why would I mention him in a note?
It was the quacking of the duck that aroused me from my slumber. My head ached and I felt horrible. I dislike the hangover that alcohol always induces; unfortunately it is the most socially acceptable drug.
“Quack down duck!” Michael John murmured while rolling in his bed.
The duck stopped quacking. Michael John was now covering his face with a pillow in a futile attempt to escape from the sun’s rays. There was no escape from the morning sun that penetrated through the shutters. And so the morning yellow light compelled me to get up. As I sat up on my bed I realised that Gan was missing…
“Where is Gan?” I asked Michael John.
Michael John grunted and then mumbled “I do not know.”

What had happened last night?
I thought it over step by step. We were in the saloon drinking. We had a brief encounter with Sheriff Putin. Sheriff Putin told Michael John to go back to the hotel and change out of the dress into something more masculine. Sheriff Putin left and eventually Michael John returned wearing his flamboyant red waistcoat over a white puffy frilly shirt, and some dark trousers. He was still wearing his dark cowboy hat and his black fancy riding boots that had the fancy red dragon design; they were a gift from someone special…
But more importantly Michael John had returned with his guitar. Within no time Gan had dusted off the piano in the corner of the saloon. Michael John played his guitar and Gan played the piano; they played into the night. The red tempered drunkard Bill and his less than amicable friend Mark left when they saw that everyone else was enjoying the music coming from Michael John and Gan. Everyone in the saloon sang and drank the night away. There was dancing, there was joy, and there was merriment. By the end of the night all the people who had originally shown us eyes of mistrust had become the faces of friendly acquaintances. Last night I had been expecting a brawl but instead we had a dance hall. And Gan… Where did Gan go?
Michael John groaned as he got up out of his bed.
“I remember now…” he said “Gan went off with that girl called Meryl.”
Michael John’s comment restored part of my fragmented memory. I talked briefly to Meryl before leaving (about what? I cannot remember). Gan told me not to wait up. I was not paying much attention at this point. I needed to piss and decided to walk out of town into the wilderness of the night. Peeing in the dark under the stars is a treat I try to enjoy as often as possible. I did not walk too far out of town to piss, but far enough so I was sure that I was alone to enjoy the stars. After this I returned to the hotel. I had a brief conversation that I cannot remember with the hotel owner Olaf. After that I went up to the room. The duck was sleeping on its bed, and I passed out onto mine. I still had no memory of writing myself the note.
Michael John was now getting dressed.
“Get ready Whiskey! Olaf mentioned breakfast!”
I inspected myself. I was still dressed from last night.
“I am ready” I relayed to Michael John.

We went downstairs to the small dining room. The duck followed. Olaf welcomed us.
“Gooden mornen! I have prepared a hangover breakfast cure. Will your other friend be joining you two?”
I shrugged my shoulders. I felt too horrible and fatigued to talk.
Michael John answered “I have never known Gan to miss breakfast.”
“I am glad to hear that because I have prepared quite the hangover cure!” Olaf said with a big smile.
We sat down and Olaf brought us out bowls of food. There were eggs, sausages, a soup stew, biscuits, and coffee; everything we would need to revitalise our poisoned bodies.
“Quack!” quacked the duck.
“Do not think I forgot about you little one!” Olaf said playfully.
He gave the duck a plate of corn.
“Quack!” thanked the duck.
Michael John, the duck, and I began to eat. Just as we started we heard Olaf welcoming Gan back to the hotel. Gan entered the small dining room wearing a solid glowing smile and joined us at the table.
“I take it you had a good night!” Michael John teased.
Gan cheekily responded “I expanded her horizons.”
“I bet you did” Michael John said as he slurped some coffee.
“So what happened to you Whiskey?” Gan asked.
I was not yet in the mood for talking. The food and coffee had yet to revitalise me to that point, but it is rude to not respond.
“I went out into the desert night for a piss, then came back and passed out. I am never going to drink again…” I muttered.
“You say that every time” Gan replied.
Michael John added “You really need to cut down and try to drink more sociably.”
“It is hard to when I have a name to live up to” I jested.
We laughed. My body was beginning to feel alive again.
“What do you make of Sheriff Putin?” I asked.
“Very cute” Michael John answered.
“And handsome” Gan added.
“You think he will be a problem?” I rephrased.
“It is hard to say Whiskey. I guess he either will or he will not” Gan vaguely stated.
“I get the feeling that there is more to him than what we saw last night” I mused.
“I would like to have a closer look at him. Perhaps with his top off the matter would be more elucidated” Michael John joked.
“You really do like your tall strong and handsome men?” Gan remarked.
“You know me. I like to see a part of myself in them and a part of them in me” Michael John quipped.
I spat out a part of my coffee almost choking.
“Are you alright Whiskey?” Michael John asked with a devious smile.
“Yeah… I am just not ready for this level of palaver, especially when eating” I confessed.
I continued to eat my breakfast listening to Michael John and Gan talk about Meryl. It was quite strange that she went from being enamoured with Gan, to berating Gan, to being enamoured with Gan once more. I remembered how Gan smiled watching her shout and scream that she had been tricked by not realising Gan was a Native American. I knew why Gan was amused; Gan knew how ridiculous Meryl sounded. Meryl did not understand how ridiculous she sounded because she perceives the world with biases. We all do; some more than others. The reason we have these biases is because our brains cannot know all the information around us to form an accurate view of the world, and so the brain attempts to fill in the blanks. An example is with stereotypes. We stereotype people placing them into groups as this makes the world more digestible. It allows us to hate or love a group without having to make an informed decision, or instead by basing it on someone else's views with little actual self-thought. But unfortunately the brain is often wrong when it fills in the blanks. We can use logic to correct these erroneous false perceptions… but it takes time. Gan smiled amused at her outburst because Gan knows that when you attack someone's world view it causes them to become defensive and grip tighter to the false perceptions that they believe to be true. You have to ease people towards the truth. We are all human, and we are all intrinsically biased, but by realising these biases we can surpass them, because at the end of the day none of us are groups. We are all individuals, and that is a truth that we cannot hide from.
“So she was not surprised to find out that you are a woman?” Michael John questioned with intrigue.
Gan laughed “Strangely no. She actually seemed pleased and delighted.”
“Ha ha! I can imagine!” Michael John said with a cheeky raised eyebrow.
I interrupted their conversation by asking Gan to pass me the eggs. After which we all became engrossed with eating the delicious breakfast that Olaf had cooked. Eggs are an excellent cure for hangovers so I made sure to gobble them up. They were slightly salted eggs cooked to perfection. There is nothing better than eating a delicious meal; I made a mental note to thank and praise Olaf after eating breakfast.
“This breakfast is absolutely delicious!” I declared out loud.
“The duck must be enjoying hers. I have not heard any quacking in a while” Michael John said.
I looked around. The ducks plate of corn was now just a plate, and the duck… was gone.
“What is the matter?” Gan asked as I jumped out of my chair and began to look around the small dining room in a most frantic fashion.
“The duck is gone!”
“Uh-oh!” Gan uttered knowing full well the consequences that the duck could have on this town.
Michael John and Gan both sprang out of their chairs.
“Calm down! She cannot have gone far” Michael John reassured.
We searched desperately around the small dining room and then out into the main entrance of the hotel clinging to the hope that she was nearby.
“Is everything okay?” Olaf asked.
“Have you seen the duck?” Gan questioned.
“No, but no need to look so worried. I am sure your duck is fine.”
“We are not worried about the duck” Gan confessed.
Hell’s harbinger of chaos, destruction, and death was on the loose. We had to find her before it was too late. It had been a long time since she last ran out on us. I thought that she had changed, but perhaps she had been playing us the whole time. Her appearance as a duck had perchance betrayed our judgement of her. We are designed to judge on appearance, but with living entities correct judgement can be difficult. A rock is always a rock, but a duck is not always a duck.

BANG! BANG!
There were two shots from outside. It sounded like it was coming from the back of B. B. and Blair’s Law Firm.
“We are too late!” Gan uncharacteristically said with a yelp.
We ran outside. As we dashed out of the building I heard the sound of water splashing, quacking, four more shots in quick succession, and then more quacking. The gunshots all came from the same revolver; it was a six shooter. It could not have been Sheriff Putin; the shots sounded awkward like a child trying a gun for the first time. The shooter was a neophyte. I did not know what to expect when we turned the corner, but we never made it that far. As soon as we made it out onto the street the duck flew out from B. B. and Blair’s Law Firm’s front door quacking and cursing to the high heavens.
“Oh duck! What have you done now?!” Michael John said half-jokingly attempting to cut the tension.
But it was too late for half-jokes. The duck furiously flew over our heads quacking a thousand years of hatred. I knew one thing. The duck would be enjoying cold revenge on whoever the shooter was.
The shooter ran out screaming girlishly waving his six-shooter at the duck. He had big ears that came out of the side of his head like a deer; a small buck. It was most likely Little Boy Blair; we knew his description and not many men would go for a small buck. The duck took refuge behind us. A fat looking official trotted out of the law firm and joined Little Boy Blair who now stood face to face with Michael John, Gan, and I.
It was time for us to get to know Little Boy Blair. People are always at their most transparent when fuelled with emotions. Little Boy Blair’s mask had fallen off during the rage and underneath I could see his monster. He had kept it well fed. The monster had overcome the man. I knew the man Little Boy Blair was. All of his logic was warped around the gravity from the size of the monster. He probably believed he had done the town a favour by siphoning the water supply for his own private pond in his own private garden. It was a reward he had given himself for all the good work he had done in the town; a reward from all the money he had made for his friends, like the fat official who stood beside him. Living a life of luxury with his fat cat friends kept him out of touch with the common people. He did not know the damage he was causing… or more so it was that he simply just did not care as long as he was getting his. His would be dealt to him soon enough.
“If I see that duck near my pond again I will kill it!” Little Boy Blair blasted vehemently.
“You can try but from the sounds of your shooting I doubt you will be able to hit the duck” I snapped back attempting to vex him further.
“Do you own that duck?!” he shouted while pointing his finger at me.
I could tell from how he held himself that the pointing of his finger would normally make the receiver of the point cower in fear. I kept steady eye contact as I slowly yawned taking my sweet time not to respond. The fat official looked like a yes man. Sweat rolled down his fat face, and his eyes burned furiously at us. I do not enjoy being looked down at.
I stared back at the fat official as I replied “the duck is our travelling companion. Who are you?”
The fat official opened his mouth to speak but Little Boy Blair cut him off. I made sure to let the fat official know that I had seen him open his mouth and vocalise a syllable. I wanted him to feel the embarrassment and shame that comes with living the life of a yes man. He was a leech living off another leech. They were all parasites sucking the life out of the town.
“Who am I? You must be new to this town! I am Blair from B. B. and Blair’s” he said confidently and smugly.
His voice was calming down and his mask was back on. Little Boy Blair introduced himself but left the fat official to stand beside him in his place, sheepishly.
“I am the one who maintains law and order in this land. A lot of people may mistakenly believe that it is the sheriffs who maintain order, but someone had to write the laws of the land and adapt them when needed. That is why we have the gallows outside of the law firm, to remind people that the law is absolute. It also saves me on having to watch the hangings from outside in the heat” Little Boy Blair said baring his teeth.
“Well we three are just passing through town. We are stopping here for a few more days to rest before continuing our journey. We are sorry about the duck” I apologised.
It was too early to make enemies yet.
“Shame you are not going to stay in town for longer. Voting for mayor is next week. I am running and I expect to win” Little Boy Blair said smiling.
“Who are the other candidates?” Michael John questioned.
“Other candidates? Ha ha ha! This is democracy in action! I am the only candidate” Little Boy Blair said now laughing.
“Sir! We still have to finish off those land papers!” the fat official finally spoke.
Little Boy Blair shooed the fat official with his hand gesturing him to return inside.
“Have a great time in my town boys! And try not to get into too much trouble!” Little Boy Blair said laughing as he returned to his law firm.
“I hate that guy!” Gan proclaimed.
I agreed and Michael John concurred.
“It is a shame that Little Boy Blair will not live long enough to be ‘elected’ mayor” Gan stated.
“A real shame” Michael John muttered.
Little Boy Blair was more irksome than we could have imagined. He was a disgusting maleficent human being draining the life out of the town, but he would be getting his. Our big bounty was linked to the three B’s: B. B. and Blair. We had just met Little Boy Blair, and we knew the Banker would inevitably be found in the Bank. We were now just waiting for the final B to arrive…

“Now that we have met enough of the locals I think it is about time to meet the natives” I suggested.
“I hope they have sweat lodges” Michael John said.
“Me too… I really need to sweat this alcohol out of me” I confessed.
Gan laughed.

…

After making sure the duck had calmed down we left her with Olaf for the day.
“Do not worry friends I will take good care of her” Olaf promised.
We then headed to the stables and took the three beasts off Jojo’s hands. Jojo told us we would reach the native’s settlement before noon.
“They sure are mighty fine beasts” Jojo said admiring our horses before continuing “but I cannot fathom why you would want to visit the Indians. We keep to ourselves and they keep to themselves. That is just how it has always been.”
“They are just people, like me and you” Michael John said as he climbed up onto his leviathan of a beast.
I climbed up onto my beast, and Gan climbed up onto her small red and white beast.

We rode north. It was after we left town that I realised I had forgotten to express gratitude to Olaf for making such a delectable breakfast.
“Damn…”
He did not need the thanks. I am sure he already knew of our gratitude. Some things do not need to be said for them to be known. My mind could rest easy on knowing I did not thank Olaf, but what Jojo said stuck in my mind.
“That is just how it has always been” he had said.
He was wrong, yet he believed it to be true. But a truth today can be a lie tomorrow. The ever changing ebb and flow will eventually liberate all minds. It is merely a matter of time; a blink of the celestial clock.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Previously...

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover

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