Welcome to the second part of my story. There are links to the audio presentation below,
and the text follows that.
and the text follows that.
Episode Two: the Goose Invents Day Drinking
The Witch lived in a cluttered apartment in a brownstone near Rittenhouse Square.
It was a little bit moved in, a little bit lived in. A gaylord box did double duty as a table. It was disguised by a lamp and an antimacassar which had been stolen from the arm of one of the two couches that were partially visible.The stolen antimacassar was from the far end of a green sofa against one windowless wall. The green couch had one vacant seat, with a deep greasy groove. Next to this space was an enormous sewing box with countless drawers and compartments full of all sorts of things.
The rest was heaped with laundry. Plastic baskets peeped through the multicolored clothing.The Goose had taken up residence on the other couch, which was vicious shades of
brown and orange found only on furniture from the nineteen seventies.
places, with pools of “especially so”.
beyond the sawtooth rooftops at the lonely, distant sky.
of nails, so that they would hold fast with one blow of the hammer,every time, yet let go of the wall entirely when the correct word was spoken.
comment here or a clever observation there. The Goose would laugh too loud.
Ravens did raven things, some as silhouettes, some as shadows.
for the forest floor.
as if by an injury. He was preoccupied, carrying his treasure from place to place.
have it close, like his teeth and claws.
They were slower than the usual Squirrel fear. Heavy beat of black feathered wings and rasping, croaking voices built new fears in his head.
security. His tiny hand wanted to feel the metal become warm, to learn
to trust the paw sized, gold plated human hand that stuck out a couple of inches in front of the hoop of the handle.
Jumps became longer, parts of flowing chains of motion that ended with the Witch’s
broken scissors sticking out of a protrusion of the tree bark. Within the twitching of the increasingly brittle leaves, the rhythm of the branches and everything else moved. The bright point of the scissors became a fixed place around which all things shifted.
He didn’t know it, but he had discovered something that few animals that lived in the wild did. The difference between instinct and training. The practice and development of technique with a tool, an extension of oneself. The feeling of extending into an instrument. The feeling of increasing the effect of one’s will.
The Goose sat at the bar at McGlinchey's, gloomy over a glass of beer. His broad
shoulders took up two places at the bar, as he was repeatedly reminded when it was
crowded in the evenings.
provided by the barstool.
Worn plastic surfaces wrote their story in chipped corners and cigarette burns. Light filtered in through the unworldly colors of the leaded glass windows onto thirteenth street.
home in his threadbare canadian tuxedo.