Patton Lee Beaugus | December 9, 2010 12:45pmAngels Who Get High
The backyard at Rudy’s in winter was mostly a big empty space except for one refugee of summer — a lonely table with a furled Cinzano umbrella giving the world the finger.
There were two levels — with a platform space along the right wall and in the back of the back, but no tables or chairs on the second level at this time of year. Some Charley Brown Christmas lights were strung around, but the decor seemed to lack Christmas cheer. If the great outdoors could smell like a dopers army jacket, this place did. Brick floor. Posters on the fences and walls around it. Like a minimalist garden restaurant without the garden.
(The photo I put at the top of the page is of summer, of course, as the winter look is just too depressing.)
Bar talk legend had it that this place was once an old Indian burial ground for old Indians, I guess. But before that they say there was a giant seqouia here that the Native Americans had carved with deer totems. There was supposed to be Hopi kiva built on a platform high in the tree. If any brave brave from the tribe climbed it like Jack and Beanstalk, they would disappeared into the sky, never to return, which I don't really believe. Or didn't until later that Chrismas Eve, I discovered that there were even more impossible possiblities that were, uh, possible.
When I got back to the back, I heard Molly say as she looked at her strange pda, "We've transitioned again."
"We should check to see who the President is in this improbability."
"I hope it's Sarah Palin instead of Dick Cheney."
"His Blackstoners almost caught us in that last world." said HiTone to me.
"And you had to waste six of them." reminded Vinnie.
"Perqs of the position," smiled HiTone.
"I don't know about any of that, but it looks like we're in a d-range where Clydie can find us and we can make the final jump to the FatMan's world." said Molly. "Assuming the timing works out correctly."
They were grinning and giving each other high-fives.
“We just need an improbable Indian summer.” said Molly.
“I’ll warm you up, Irish,” offered HiTone.
She ignored him.
"And if we can't get one, we'll have to make one."
Vinnie broke into one of his soto voice tunes, "Wintertime, and the freezing is easy."
Then Molly smiled at me. At me! "We'll take care of summer when Clydie gets here."
"So we're on plan?" asked HiTone. "Really, no-shit?"
"On plan and right on schedule. We just need to create a few more improbabilities and we're there." answered Molly.
Something was strange. I mean they were sure strange. Improbable, for sure. They clearly wanted to be exiled back here. And wanted me with them. WTF?
And they looked strange. Stranger. More cartoon-like.
It’s like they were so happy to be back in this big cold place, they couldn’t help singing. The song they molested this time was “Angels We Have Heard On High” which they sang between sips of the brandy they'd carried out. I sipped my beer, which is some kind of metaphor for my life.
What they sang went something like this.
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[Karaoke Singalong] You angels who want to get high Sipping sweetly thru the night Need to find the drink to buy That will give you warm delight Courvoisier in a brandy snifter Courvoisier in a brandy snifter You can sip it in a coke Any way that floats your boat. Any mix you do is cool Straight on ice, or brandy float. Courvoisier in a brandy snifter Courvoisier in a brandy snifter. |
Louie came through Rudy’s back door with a bottle of Courvoisier and started filling up the snifters. He even had one for me. “Too cold for beer.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Or with a free drink I couldn't have afforded even if I sold blood.
