Charles Pendelton
      © 2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 41

               How late is thy morning hour


Stepping into the shower felt a bit awkward, but as the warm water touched my
skin, it was the best feeling in the world! I came downstairs and was seated at the
right-hand of the table. “Eat your eggs,” said John in a glowing tone, as he moved
things that were on the counter to the table, and things that were on the table to
the sink. There I sat, looking down at two sunny side up eggs, crackling in a
brushed white dish. The albugineous color made the eggs appear only slightly
appetizing. The slimy layer which adhered to them made them very unappetizing,
for they now looked like a Bulldog had drooled saliva on them. Eat 'em, what are
you waiting for? He then left to enter another room. They're cold now anyway.



His voice was extracted from the bowels of a windy living room,
as the air conditioner blew the drapes in and out.

I touched the middle of one egg without breaking it and found the center to be
cool. I smiled as my head nodded forward, like a rocking chair gently pushed,
for I now realized that the answer to all of life's problems was solely in my mind. 


It's not the rain that makes a person sad,
but ones own inability to
absorb the light which radiates down from Heaven bringing peace
.



With my fork, I gently managed to scrape as much of that clear mucus coating away from
my eggs as could be expected, before I could think of eating them. Not really interested in
eating the sunny yokes, I cut away as much of the white as I could before eating it. When I
was done, two bright orange eyes stared up at me from that plate. John walks into the room
and sees them. That’s pretty good! He used the top end of a fork to roll one over. How
did you do that without breaking them? “That's a good question cause, I have no idea!
You want one?” Yeah, sure. He opens the drawer to remove a vegetable spoon, and
proceeds to dip it in the fat from the bacon grease that was in a pan on the stove. John
then puts the egg in the spoon as Barbara walks into the kitchen. Watch this, come on!


We follow him into the backyard, where he begins a series of deep breathing exercises.

What are you doing,” asks his mom in a mildly acerbic tone, “auditioning for the Special
Olympics?” “You think I got a shot?” “I seriously doubt it!” *We all laugh* “Okay, here
we go,” shouted John in the direction of his mother! With that spoon he hurls the egg into
the air and magically catches it under his tongue. Like a lizard snatches an insect, without
even trying! It was almost as though it happened in slow motion. “Wow,” I said, totally
impressed, and thoroughly discouraged. I was unable to believe it, for it had to go a good
twelve feet in the air. “That's the one thing my son can do like a pro; eat!” “You got that
right,” said John, delighted! “Your turn.” “You know I can't do that man!” “Come on
Charlie,” said Barbara, “it's the least you could do for waking me up in the middle of the
night like you did!” “Okay,” I said, and John bolted into the house to get the other yoke.
No sooner would he pass through the doorway did he stroll out of the house balancing
the egg on the spoon like he was walking on a sidewalk that was beginning to freeze!


                                                                               Pg 263
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He handed me the spoon with the xanthous yellow globe
and I really wasn't sure what I was about to do with it.


Okay, here we go. . .

I launched that egg yoke perfectly into the morning sky, and it had to go about thirty feet! I
almost lost sight of it, when it started to come down. I then became overly anxious, and so
I misjudged it. Just then, I twisted my ankle on one of those cumbersome stones separating
the garden from the grass, and that egg landed right in my eye. In that brief instant, I saw
swirling stars! Like an uncoordinated clown, I was unable to retain my balance, and so I
charged like a linebacker over several tomato plants and straight through John's parents dry
rotted backyard fence! There were a couple of flimsy metal stand up suitcase tables set up
in his neighbor's backyard, one of which I took with me into Fran Cohen's in-ground pool.

Thank God, I wasn't more to the left! If that happened, I would have careened head
first into the six foot concrete statue of a woman casually drying herself off with a
towel. How appropriate I thought, that this particular statue be placed near a pool.


As I hit the water, after flipping over the table and landing right on my back, the giant
Rottweiler who was abruptly startled tried to kill me! Lucky for the pool or he would
have! As Fran came running out with her hair up in curlers and screaming at the top
of her lungs, I saw her waving what appeared to be a large sheet of paper in one hand!
I was just bobbing up and down peacefully, while trying to keep myself afloat. After
bringing that vicious dog in, she was back outside and screaming louder than ever!



Yes, I was surrounded by a floating section of broken fence, that had probably
punctured the pool's liner. Paper plates and plastic forks rose to the surface where
the water seemed to turn a brownish black, from whatever residue was  released
by the aging fence. And let us not forget, the long backyard table that had gone
down like the Titanic, and was now resting peacefully at the bottom of the pool.


“What the hell are you doing?” Asked Fran Cohen in such a dire tone,
I almost began to care. Looking at her with egg yoke running from my eye,
which had now begun to throb, I said in a childish voice, “I'm sorry; I fell.”
“Fell? You crashed through the fence! Look at my yard!!!” *Waiving her
hands around like she was Italian* I could hear John reveling in the mess
we created, and that laughter of his only seemed to make matters worse.
“I'll fix it.” “Fix it? How are you going to fix it? I'm having a party today!”


As I abruptly pulled myself out of the pool and rose to my feet, I could see John
lying on the grass, and his mother clinging desperately to the old barbecue grill
to keep herself from falling! For no obvious reason at all, and with a straight face,
I found that I had just waved to her. Did you just fuc-king wave to me? Are you
retarded? I don't know, I said trying not to laugh hysterically, I might be! Her
last words were, and I quote, I'm calling the cops on you sick mot-her fuc-kers!

With that, I heard the loud sound of a barbecue grill smashing to the concrete
patio, and all the little rocks had scattered everywhere! Barbara was now down
for the count as well! *And I smiled, wholeheartedly* Wherever Charlie goes,
he leaves a path of destruction and debris in his wake, said John, in tears from
laughing! Like a white tornado, his mom added, also in tears and crying!


                                                                               Pg 264
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A half hour later, Armand returns from the deli with milk, eggs, juice, bread,
and an assortment of bagels. He strolls into the kitchen to find
me sitting in John's
oversized pants with a soaking wet head and a big purple shiner on my forehead.

What the hell is going on here, he asks, while puffing on an unfiltered chesterfield?



“Armand, Do you remember that fence I've been asking you to paint for the past six years now?
The one you've been avoiding, cause you're so busy all the time reading the paper and looking
out the window at birds. That wonderful fence with no paint that makes the house look like shit?
Just take a look at our wonderful fence.” *She points to the backyard and Armand's jaw drops!*

                               His cigarette then falls to the floor!

Gee that's nice, we just lost a fence and now you're gonna burn down the house!!!

He held his head back and we bust out laughing! Even Armand
found himself tickled by the whole patheticalness of the situation!


A short while after this, the cops arrived with their little notepad and John
hastily escorted me into the linen closet. There I stood like Anne Frank in
the darkness, hiding. Listening in fear as they began to interrogate Armand.


Look, I wasn't even here, I don't know what the hell happened!

The officers then began questioning John and his mother. “We weren't here either,
we just got in the house" said John. Well, that's not what Mrs. Cohen just told us.
“Excuse me,” said Barbara, “but that woman is a raving lun-a-tic! I wouldn't be
surprised if that psychopath sent someone over here to destroy our property! Do
you know how many problems that witch has caused us over the years? Plen-ty!
And she acts like anyone who isn't Jewish, has a 6 x 8 foot oven in their house!”

When the voices faded into the backyard,
I made like Houdini in the great escape!



Halfway to the street I heard a female voice scream,
"You  ly-ing  bas-tards!!!"


I smiled smugly as a song began to play in my head.

It was the visit by Keith West, and in my brain it sounded
better than it
did on my Polk Audio system! 
Keith West - The visit\



There is a place in the mind where every thought, every emotion, and every word
ever spoken is kept. A small vault that cannot be accessed with a key. One that is
roughly the size of a humble loft, built on the ruins of a shanty town which was once
a thriving empire for two decadent and underprivileged souls to explore. An empire
which has long since crumbled. Within the quiet room that houses each and every
utterance, a change was taking place. Memories were dissolving. I realized the time
for moving on was now, for all the obstacles that had once cluttered my path were
now lying near the ocean, and were slowly being carried away by the morning tide.




As I entered the dawn of a new day, the sun was shining brightly
in the horizon, expanding out and over this wonderful town of mine.


Halfway down the block, I paused to study a single bee
which had entered a bright yellow tulip, before turning
to smell the fragrant purple flowers of a garden heliotrope.



All the excitement that had come to a head over the past
six hours had now culminated into a feeling a total peace.


As I rounded the corner, I saw a beautiful lady come down her front
steps and get into a jet black sedan. Upon seeing me, she immediately
smiled, and I smiled back. As she sped off onto the main roadway
and dissolved into the fabric of the day, I thought to myself quietly.


"No different are we than the flowers that grace the land.
 We are here for a short time, and then we are no more."

Only a fool can say there is nothing out there, for there
is always something watching someone, or so it seems.




Looking up, I saw a tiny jet in the furthest regions of the stratosphere.

He must be smiling, I thought to myself, as he left a fine white
trail blazoned across the morning sky. If you factor in how fast
he was actually going, and how long it would take him to go from
point A in the heavens, to the end of the sky when I can see him no
more, would probably be like me going from here to the Bahamas,
but who am I to say. I am only an observer of time and space.


As I continued on down the road, I wondered what the plans

of the future held for me. Indeed I thought, this world is mine!


                                                                               Pg 265
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Reviews for chapter 41


Joe Kessler - What a long strange trip it's been


"Worthy of Publishing" reviews for chapter
41



Sylvia H. Mullins - nice... I liked this ALOT!!!! I havent checked your profile
                             yet but I hope you got more books!!! 
*rating = 5 stars*

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PG 263) Quick Fried Psychedelic Breakfast by Walter von Egidy

PG 263) Water droplets
by Chema Madoz - http://tinyurl.com/djcrpq

PG 264) Breakfast on the Lake by Vladimir Kush
- http://vladimirkush.com/

PG 264) The barking of trees by Leah Palmer Preiss -
http://www.leahpalmerpreiss.com/

PG 265) Chesterfield advertisement circa 1949

PG 265) Explore by Jazzberry Blue

PG 265) Sounding silence
by Michael Cheval - http://www.chevalfineart.com/

PG 265) Pieces of a dream
by Raceanu Mihai Adrian - http://tinyurl.com/q94d7jz

PG 265) The life of the bee
from Life Magazine Aug 11, 1952 - http://tinyurl.com/r5v7d

PG 265) Gone out sun
by Victor Safonkin - http://tinyurl.com/khtzwg8