Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything … 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs … damned humans.
(originally posted to my Attic Blogspot June, 2019)
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Yes, I know I have re-posted this one a few times since the initial posting but listening to it again, earlier this week, I realized it could be new right now (just minus the “two plus years ago today” opening line) as it’s like we’re living in some god forsaken loop just minus a four year reprieve of hope and light where the everyday Jane and Joe could have a say again.
So much for that building from the “middle out” thing huh?
I mean he recently tried to play baby General for review for his … the Army’s birthday, of HIS troops (minus all his past disparagements) though I don’t think it quite went the way he envisioned and he probably sent a love letter to Kim Jon Un just to say that his spectacle wasn’t quite up to par just yet and that he would do better next time and it’s certainly not like Trump has stopped bein’ the devil incarnate from his first go round, he’s just more adamant and heartless and evil about it now.
Just ask a gleeful Stephen Miller who, every morning, picks his teeth for morsels of the flesh of immigrants from his dreams and models himself in SS uniforms in the bathroom mirror.
So back to June of 2019 then and one of my many versions of a Beatles tune.
Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends
It was two plus years ago today
That baby general came to have his say
In a propagandist fascist style
With his lies he’d go the extra mile
He’d hammer them unto the red
IQ’s regressing in his stead
Baby general’s golden black heart’s band
.
We’re baby general’s golden black heart’s band
We play you all ya need to know
Baby general’s golden black heart’s klan
The torches are only for show
.
Baby general’s cor-rupt
Baby general’s morally
Baby general’s bankrupt black heart’s band
.
There’s nothing to be seen here
Just back room in the know
There’s such important work be done
Now won’t you all just pray with us
We love it when you’re dumb
.
We don’t want you to be in the know
But we make you feel you’re in the show
Keep you happy swimming in the glow
Helps suck you in the undertow
Now let us to present to you
The sad and lonely Orange years
.
Baby general’s golden black heart’s band
.
Trump D’s victim’s tears…
.
What would you say if I sang you a lie
So obvious you can’t deny?
But you take it and then get to singin’ along
Cause re-ality it don’t apply
.
Oh, the sky’s purple when you’ve got blind friends
Mmm it’s any color when the truth gets bent
Mmm the sky’s orange is the new message sent
.
What would you say if I filled you with hate
Gave you an enemy you could detest
Locked them away less than human they’re caged
As you lend deaf ear to mankind’s rage
.
Oh, the sky’s black to go along with blue
Mmm your hu-manity now shares that hue
Mmm your sold souls invent a diff-er-ent view
.
Could you think you need saving?
That will surely come bust
Do you need to get praying?
But only to an orange need’s lust
.
Where will we be when sad histr’y holds true
(do you re-alize that there’s a cost?)
It’s measured in lives deemed be less than they be
A year or so ago an old WVU friend, Rob, posted on Facebook a little minute of him just pluckin’ away on guitar, a quick instrumental, and, on hearing it, I thought “Heck, I could, should, write a few words to this” So I did. Came out kinda nice. It was short, just that minute or so and he approved of my take. It was pretty cool.
Then recently he posted, again, another instrumental, pluck pluck pluck, very bluesy just as with the first one. This one though was 3 minutes and change and I thought well, I could do this again, just with a little more time to work with.
And with it being the bluesy thing that it was I thought “Well, the devil just might be involved as the devil, he’s all about the blues”
So another take then on another Rob thing.
Standin’ At The Edge Of The World (the devil & me)
Found myself standin’ at the edge of the world
The devil at my side asking what I had heard
I said about what are you just asking in jest?
He said no mortal son just checkin’ if you’d kept a-breast
Of what it was that I had goin’ on
Singing off key songs of a world at unrest
.
I said I did but that I didn’t despair
That there was still some hope yet … be found in the air
He said but seeing devil’s work just why would you care
And why do you assume it’s me who leads to despair
I said cause you’re the devil and the devil may care
And seems you do with me at the edge of the world
.
Well, it looks like I’ve more work to be done
To convince you all to just cut and run
Away from hope’s promise and flowery songs
Don’t stack up with reality and what I’ve made wrong
But I said you still ask your questions now
About your own song and the stories you’ve wrung
.
I still find a world where people stand up
To those casting dark days and forcing in darker ways till you empty your half cup
To not give in to singing of a dire world’s long
Gone hoping pay no mind to your evil tongue
You are the devil after all your words may be strong
But there’s still some time … for us … to all get along
.
And fight you real world devils and sing different tomes
And maybe make you realize you’ll be left all alone
And any who’ve abandoned promise of pretty songs
That say we’ll right whatever you’ve done so so wrong
He tripped on a stone before impassable waters, a small one, kicked it in frustration, anger
The stone then grew twice, three, four, no, almost five times its size … but was still a small stone
He picked it up, impressed, apologized, gave it a name and tossed it across the waters ahead and it bounced and bounded and giggled and skipped before settling among many other stones beneath heavy waves where it soon washed up from the bottom to become a shore
Now this is kinda exciting, not really but kinda, like hearing that “winner” sound at the Deli when Sandy runs your lottery ticket and you realize you’ve maybe gained 20 bucks back on the hundreds you’ve spent over the last 3 or 4 months trying to grab a dream (you know it isn’t more than that as Sandy ain’t dancin’ or calling a lawyer) but still kinda exciting ‘cause my new headphones are here! My new headphones are here! while Steve Martin bounces in spirit with a phonebook and I literally just ordered them last night.
5:39 am “delivered” email.
Yay and wow and cheers to you Amazon driver person! I hope at least you can go home early and have something of a Sunday.
And yay and wow and cheers to you Jeff Bezos … for like five seconds. You’ve still got a lot of ‘splainin’ to do for your acquiescing knee bent protection money spending sitting privileged in the back bleachers all proudly for coronation photos and your hatred of unions like some sweat shop boss and holding back WaPo opinions and just general Jeff Bezos questions as you aren’t what you seemed.
Shit, I’m guessing 5:39am driver guy or gal might be thinking a question or two as well, just not out loud.
But you get a temporary mulligan, a one I will rescind though and mark that ”gift” 8 on your card in a heartbeat (you really need to work on your putting game. I would have killed you in mini golf … Oh, I know how to play this windmill … and this creepy generic clown with the hole in it’s nose?)
But it is still a little exciting anyway as the duct tape on my old ones was really starting to scratch my ears more annoyingly than it already did. Duct tape can work for a lot of things, as we all know, back car bumpers, corners of cell phones, gas lines you accidentally dug up without notifying anyone you would be digging, small parts of bridges, even relationships if you are into that sort of thing, but headphones? Not so much.
So 5:39am driver gal or guy? Thank you. Now clock out little early if you can. It’s a Sunday.
It’s also kinda exciting as I don’t really do “purchases” other than trips to the grocery store but that’s just a necessity to keep me and my Bella and my Cricket alive, I just don’t do big things and anything over 75 bucks is a big thing for me so a hundred bucks for these new Sony MDR 7506’s is a big thing (I am only name brand on two things, Hellmans and headphones). But my Mom in her infinite Mom’d wisdom left me and my Sis and my Brother a few dollars, certainly not some huge windfall inheritance that the three of us would fight over like in a Lifetime movie or a cage match but enough to have me feeling a little flush for the first time in … well I couldn’t tell ya as I have never felt flush. I love what I do, have loved what I do for too many years now but it ain’t affording me any Rockefeller status so having a couple of extra bucks is new and welcome.
Now Beck (my Sis and housemate and dearest friend and landlady who only asks for a few dollars and be subject to her and her “circle’s” weird blood letting rituals on Monday nights (I think they speak Welsh in them if only to confuse me and Tuesdays can be a bit of a slog) and to be a backup guy for her Saphira, Arthur & Rikki cats if she is out of town down the state at Buck’s place, tells me, knowing me, that it is alright to treat myself to a few things now especially as that is what Mom would have wanted. Hell, I’ve just been happy enough to not have to worry over grabbing lunch “out” and not brown bag it courtesy of Mom without having to crunch numbers so Beck’s assurances and Mom’s extra Momness has been a small bonus and with it? Well, a necessary new computer (a few months ago) and a new pair of headphones to plug into it.
Also a new computer chair that will be here, I hope, just before my birthday in a couple of weeks which is a big one, no, not the chair (though it does have “executive” in it’s descriptor and will allow me, more comfortably, to fall asleep in it like any old man worth his salt, I mean, that’s what old men do right, fall asleep in chairs?) but a first birthday beyond the milestone of a new zero from a year ago.
You see when you have milestone birthdays, besides being able to exhale a sigh of relief that somehow the universe hasn’t been paying too much attention to the stupid shit that you’ve done for the last ten years, like the blood results for a feared checkup that show Ok counts of what blood does when it’s being counted and not of what you did last Wednesday, but you realize that for whatever this milestone is you could at least say, for a year, that last year I was still in my 20’s or 30’s or 40’s or 50’s.
Why is this a big one coming up? Because I am going to officially be in my 60’s and I can’t get the fuck out now, I’ll have to wait another ten years to say last year I was in my 60’s.
Well, here’s to 5:39 am drivers, duct tape not duct taped to my ear for sound, comfortable eventual chairs and Moms still doing Momness even from the great beyond.
Got a Facebook messenger note from a cousin of mine earlier in the week, a ‘cross the pond one, Libby, one with an English accent, you know, the accent where no matter what they say it just sounds cool and fetching and with those endearing English idioms too, the accent that could tell you to fuck off and die and you would ask how far and how dead with a smile and even grab a friend and ask her to repeat it just so this friend could hear it.
“How are you doing?” Libby said in her Facebook Messenger English accent “I hope you’ve got something productive to do on Saturday! Xx”
(Oh, them snarky Brits) To which I replied “Yeppers, productive something to do indeed!!” in my shitty, bland, boring, non-descript Facebook Messenger American accent (though, at least, in my case, not one with a box of rocks twang) “Gots my jackboots shined, gots my flag a wavin’ on the porch and the lawn and flyin’ in the bed of my truck and I am going to pledge a loyalty oath to Great Leader! What a grand day it promises to be!! Maybe Great Leader will even get his wish and some protesters will be shot somewhere in this big, beautiful land!! Glorious times these are!!”
Ah the big, beautiful parade day, where he appropriates a birthday actually worth celebrating in his own narcissistic and despotic wishing fake medal adorned baby general chest dream drum beat kinda way or No Kings Day, a one of protests to remind of that whole escaping Kings thing that started all of this in the first place, though some of that particular history might just be fading, Marty McFly-like, as we speak, especially if those treasonous Heritage Foundation peoples have anything to say/rewrite about it.
Oh, and don’t be black if those Heritage’s have the pen by the way, it will be like you never even existed.
Now I had thought to do something special for Great Leader, maybe send him a postcard with a rah rah poem and words that rhymed and everything that could be turned into song that J6 patriots could sing outside of jail in their pardons, get him a house plant maybe, welcome and congratulate him on his new dictator digs or even a cake, a red white and blue one, of course, baked by indignant straight folks.
But I figured then to, instead, revisit a couple of parody tunes of mine from a number of years ago, back in the first knuckle drag age that actually had “King” in the title, a couple of love letters from the past if you will.
It is interesting at least to hear where things were and my song endeavors from 4 and 5 years ago and how shit hasn’t really changed, it’s just been updated and become more direct … more extreme.
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(to Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”)
March 7, 2020
You Can Call Me King
A man lies as he breathes He says why would you trust another now Who can you possibly trust Now I’ve shown you what my facts is A fascist truth sledgehammer Nuthin’ else believe-able matters Other than this con in this con man’s swamptown
(and a-oooh ah-oooh)
Lap dogs in orange swamplight Here’s a lie-ball GOP go fetch excuses
Newsman, newsman Get these facts away from me, ya know, No one finds real truth interesting anymore
If you’ll loyalty me blind I can be your despot chum I can call you subject And subject you adore me You can call me Czar
This man original Trumper says There can never be a never me If there’s a never me they’ll never be Happy in a sea of me Where will the answers come from If I don’t truly be-lieve Who will I turn to when The truth slaps me Awake and awake To the harsh realities Of Moscow Mitch’s word marble hypocriteness Hammers and sickles Getting stocked up in the open Along with some of the finest cossack hats
If you’ll loyalty me blind I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring I can call you subject And subject you adore me You can call me King You can call me King
(break)
A man late night he’s tweeting How he’s a victim in this world Maybe it’s a big blue meanie world Where they’re just out to get him And they don’t see his genius Or see how great he his The greatest all narcissists Surrounding himself with nothing more than Clowns clowns Who dance for him like marionettes In a tiny orange circus
He checks the mirror again Sees Messiah staring back at him At least that’s what the hacks say And he so believes them
If you’ll loyalty me blind I can be your despot chum I can call you subject And subject you adore me You can call me Don
Na-na-na-na-na Just call me king-na-na You can kiss my ring na-na Na-na-na-na-na-na-na Loyalties the thing na-na Better never sing na-na I’ll take your everything na-na Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Ummmm ah-ah Ummmm ah-ah Better give up mind now
Ummmm ah-ah Ummmm ah-ah You’ll be just fine now
Ummmm ah-ah Ummmm ah-ah Just a matter of time now
Ummmm ah-ah Ummmm ah-ah Democracy dies now
If you’ll loyalty me blind
I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me King
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(to Green Day’s “Troublemaker”)
November 20, 2021
Kingmaker
Kingmaker
Yeah!
Woo hoo hoo
—
Hey!
Democracy’s under attack
Right in plain sight a lockstep right
Work their authoritarian plight
—
Hey!
They wanna control the states
So next time vote around they’ll mess ‘bove ground
Mold sham results for self-serving tastes
—
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Autocracy’s G-O-P takers
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Great leader’s cult first of new shakers
—
Hey!
We like your lie moxie cool
Obstructive whitewash of what was true
It’s quite impressive in its attempt at coup
—
Hey!
His Rally’s his palace days
He’s sounding loaded, old lie bloated
In his propagandist playbook word salad way
—
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Autocracy’s G-O-P takers
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Great leader’s cult first of new shakers
—
Hey!
Woooh oooh oooh
Woooh oooh oooh
Woooh oooh oooh
Yeah!
—
They saw election pass with result a bad state
So pass suppression laws before it’s too late
Present these measures in a group all for one haste
Integrity’s at stake the big lie is the play that they make
—
Hey!
Democracy’s under attack
Right in plain sight a lockstep right
Work their authoritarian plight
—
Hey!
They do their do
Hey!
A lie’s whose who
Hey!
Who know the screw
Hey!
A fascist stew
Hey!
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And just to let ya know I am still working my tune angle, it’s not just these of old. Not a one of King in title here but a one of what Kings would like.
To “Hit The Road Jack” then.
(March 22, 2025)
Hit the Road Facts
Hit the road facts and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more
Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more
.
Wha’d Zuck say?
.
Hit the road facts, time to show you the door, the door, the door, the door
Hit the road facts we, don’t need ya round here no more
.
Ol’ Zucky, Ol’ Zucky don’t treat facts so mean
You’re a coward t’wards the truth like we’ve never seen
If you say facts must go, we’ll prioritize speech ya know
.
What’s that?
.
Hit the road facts, with a barker in tails magaphone and black magic rabbit hat
Hit the road facts and don’t ya Zuck ‘round no more
.
Wha’d right saaaay?!!
.
Hit the road facts, true lies’ll have a brand new day and say and sway the way
Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more
.
Now baby listen baby this is newest Reich way
Won’t be stifled by the left who hold lies at bay
Don’t care if they do ‘cause we know the real truth
It’s what we decide, don’t need no sleuth
instead in this brand new age, we’ll paint facts just as we say
.
That’s right!
.
Hit the road facts, and now it’s your time to act, to act, to act, to act
Hit the road facts and throw some money in that hat
.
Wha’d you saaaay!!??
.
Hit the road facts, we’ve reached a new judgment day, this day, no other way
Hit the road facts, ya best get new truths all straight
.
Hit the road facts, and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more
Hit the road facts and don’t ya come back no more
.
Now Donnie ol’ Donnie and executive O’s
He’ll decree a new future with his MAGA in throes
He’ll rename Gulf’s of Mexico
With a straight face ain’t that beautiful Oh!
.
Hit the road facts, the truth’ll no longer know where’s it’s at, where it’s at, where it’s at
Hit the road facts and don’t bother tippin’ your cap
.
Hit the road facts, an Autocrat’ll tell ya his truth, his truth, his truth, his truth
Hit the road facts, cause democracy he wants lose
.
Now baby baby baby there’s a billionaire class
Who trip over themselves to lipstick his ass
They even paid for the right to grovel new Reich
Hoping keep good his side not dogs he might strike
‘Cause that’s just the new way
Truth’ll have a forced holiday
.
That’s right!
.
Hit the road facts and got’s keep this all straight, all straight, all straight, all straight
Hit the road facts while he makes liberty quake
.
Hit the road facts and don’t ya check back no more, no more, no more, no more
A Monday prompt at dVerse Poets from Lisa for some prosery, where you use a given line of poetry (or song lyric) to inspire you to here, a 144 word piece of prose (not including the title).
The line of poetry or, in this case, the song lyric? “To hurt is to steal” from Bono and U2’s “Mysterious Ways”.
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The Sapling
He found himself in a forest clearing or was it the middle of a bustling metropolitan street or a majestic city in the clouds sitting at a windingly circular table with a sapling in a simple clay pot at the center.
And he wasn’t alone as there were many for company around this table, countless strangely familiar faces who, when he finally gained some wits about him, all stood in unison, nodding and warmly smiling, smiles he somehow knew, like from lifetimes myriad found reflections.
They all then clapped until he became overwhelmed and began to cry.
“To hurt is to steal, from us pained all” said the comforting face to his left “but to love is to borrow from us more” said the equally comforting face to his right.
Just then the sapling burst leaves and breath and started to grow … again.
Ok, I am going to stretch here just to get to where I want to go, which is to eventually re-visit my version of a Melanie tune from a year ago because it still works and stuff needs be reminded … plus, I got nothin’.
My good buddy Rick, a lifelonger just minus the first 18 years or so (though I’m sure he would have gotten along famously with those first 18 or so) posted this beyond troubling meme to his Facebook page a couple of days ago, a one whose facts we troublingly know too well …
… to which I replied …
Sadly, none of the current Facebook response circle emoji’s really cut it here. I don’t wanna Like it or Love it or Care for it or Laugh at it (as this shit ain’t funny … well it is, but in a tragically sad comic bang my head bloody against the stupid until I am moved to the “soft room” in the wing that people only whisper about or OOOOOH it like “Whoaaa?” this is some sort of surprise, or be Saddened by it as that is just too obvious or Anger at it as that is more obvious still.
No, and I know there are emoji’s that can convey this, but we need an additional circle added here to the Facebook response choices, a “What the Fuck!?” emoji circle, one specifically designed for this current administration or just in general really, one that doesn’t just say “What the Fuck!?” but is understood to say, instead, “What the Fuck U Boxes of Rocks?!” while also implying apologies to Boxes of Rocks everywhere for dragging them into this conversation at all and unfairly associating them here as their “intelligence” far outweighs anything we see on a daily … and they are rocks (sorry, again, no slight intended Rocks … “None taken, we’re rocks, we get it” … cool).
Ok, this all a little too involved, but ya know what, maybe that’s it. A new response emoji circle, not a “What the Fuck!?” but one that is just a confused looking Rock, like a pet one from back in the 70’s that wondered just what the hell you were doing (appreciate the comfy bed of straw an’ all but I’m a rock). Plus, boxes of rocks need be paid their due as they have unknowingly really stepped up their game for the comparisons these days.
… and then there were texts to my sister of pictures of cats and even texts to my nephew Matt of pictures of cats … and that one cool pic of an old ruby red muscle Mustang that I saw at the grocery store on way my home Friday night, stopping for some cat litter and a twelve pack and a dried out dozen wings for dinner, that I missed taking a pic of (though I would at least tell him about it)
… and then I would go on and on and on about what pissed me off on a production guy Friday to either of them or even to cats (there is always something by the way, to piss you off, as a production guy, on a production guy Friday that you can tell Sisters or Nephews or cats about when you get home).
… and then it was to taking pictures of cats while sitting in bathrooms who were wanting for company and marveling at that new clean shower curtain you bought at Dollar General a day earlier, the one that wasn’t trying to become it’s own ecosystem, finally (though the old’s former rainbow of colors were quite pretty).
… and then you would get to that version of that Melanie tune from a year ago and feel like you’d accomplished something even though you had nothin’ other than that old Melanie tune you started with and were stretching this post for to get to, but one that still works.
So “Brand New Trump Key” … a re-visit then it is.
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Brand New Trump Key
I rode my motorcade to your city last night
To spin some lies and give you all such a fright
To harp on victim-like and rail conspiracies
I know you trust me know I’m just what you need
.
Well, I’ve got brand new world in mind here now
Take heart my unhinged screed
I’ll be proven right my ranting now
You just need to wait and see
I know what you need it’s a Donnie me
A fascist change of scene
.
Well, I’ve got a brand new world in mind here now
It just ain’t democracy
.
I ride my plan of year twenty of twenty five
I got my dee-scipes proving be worthy scribes
Of new world order in these United States
If you don’t subscribe you’ll surely be less than great
.
Oh yeah
Hah hah hah hah
Oh you will face my wrath
Hah hah hah hah
Oh yeah yeah yeah you’ll wish you hadn’t said that
Thomas thought of madness quite often or at least what madness would allow. I mean it’s madness after all, he thought, would I, me, he or that beleaguered soul in a muddied street below seen from a high window who could be me even know?
No, he walked the halls leaning, for balance, sliding his left palm on those ancient and smoothed stone walls over words not quite worn, though he knew that would take more time, well beyond his, well beyond his imagined, words he only partially understood (were they of Master Pembroke, of his stories of devout guidance or were they of Saint – he so wished to meet Saint someday) but only the good parts of the words of course, he hoped, assumed, thought, wished through his unrelenting stark dark visions, or dreams, instead, as he was more inclined to call them, simple dreams, yes, that was a bit easier to couch, much more benign but what if he were backwards in thought, a pretzeled logic instead where that what which was are would could seemed stitched together with a thread of hope, assumed good, are actually not that at all, meant only to distract instead and merely to just be the bad, awful wanderings of his head?
Thomas thought hard on this, as hard as he could, as hard as his fractious mind would allow in shoulds and woulds and coulds and maybe’s though, he was sure, as absolutely sure as he could be expected to be in his me’s, I’s, he’s that still existed somewhere in that me, I, he, he knew, primally at the base of the hairs on the back of his neck, the ones on his arms, the ones on his legs even in the shorter ones below that just confused him as they made no curling sense, especially when they gave way to tall, that this wasn’t actually madness after all as right side up becomes wrong side down while sliding his left palm, for balance, along smoothed walls, with words inscribed that he was erasing over time, he just knew … plus I can’t be expected to have madness make sense now can I he thought? I must just treat it, address it in simple maddened minded maddening terms. Maybe even embrace it.
And Thomas waited this madness and walked and leaned for balance, and smoothed those words over time with his left palm of he or a his or a mine and he waited. There would be a time … that was all he knew … there would be a time.
//////////////////////////////////////////
Master Pembroke watched his halting, hiccupping screen, tapping it like that would help “What do you think?” he said to Minor Pembroke “can we proceed?”
“I don’t think so, not just yet sir. He is still smoothing the walls”
“Oh, the walls Minor, it’s always with the walls”
“But he needs to see, or feel that he is rubbing them smooth, alter his perception of time, let him know that this is the only real”
“Ok, I will defer to you then, but when does it just become, you know, cruel?”
“Have you your sash Sir?”
“No, I don’t … have you seen it?
“It’s right under your chin sir”
Fumbling his neck “Oh it is, it is right here, thank you Minor … such a funny thing … it was always right here wasn’t it?”
“You are always welcome Master. Now time to rest”
“Indeed Minor. I am a bit tired”
“How about we let Missive Pembroke here get you to bed?
“That would be nice”
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Thomas had dreamt again, all of his Thomas’s, the he’s and me’s and I’s and even the them’s, the one of the house, no, cottage, yes cottage with painted window flats, is that what they were called, of the one where it got closer, again, though seemingly imperceptible if anyone else were to witness or even join his dreams and go mad with him, all of the him’s, but they knew, he knew, that the grass was just a little taller, he could actually count the spokes on the cart now and the former blur in the window now had eyes and blue, no, brown hair.
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“C’mon Thomas time to wake and take you for your walk”
This Missive Pembroke was different from the others, the ones that beat him and made him make promises he didn’t understand, even signed in blood sometimes on paper they wouldn’t allow him of his own, and she was taller too, tall enough that she wouldn’t need a ladder or even a simple stool in the orchard for an apple. He found himself, all of his selves liking her, though he realized it was most probably that she just didn’t beat him or ask of him things. She just put him to bed and then, lifetimes later, would wake him for his walk.
“Take your time Thomas” she said with genuine patience and an even seeming care, this is where the bruises and even blood would come with the others if he wasn’t spry enough. He didn’t know what he had done, or hadn’t done, to deserve this new Missive Pembroke but it, she, was most welcome.
“Thank you”
“Did you sleep well?”
“You know we did not”
“Sorry Thomas”
“What? What? WHAT?!! Apologies, the others are demanding me to ask if you have name?”
“Yes, it’s Missive Pembroke of course”
“No, What? WHAT!!?? I’m getting to it … sshussh … no, an actual name. You surely had a mother? A one who called you something, even just in the fleeting early moment, something coy and cute, just between she and you?”
“I don’t know what you mean Thomas”
“(Sigh) it’s just that you call us Thomas, and so sweetly, but all I can call you is Missive. It just seems so … we don’t know … so distant, so impersonal”
“But I am not distant Thomas, I am right here, is my name really a matter?”
“No, you’re right Missive Pembroke, you are right here and that’s all that matters and blah, blah, blah (all the while all his selves went to the cottage in search) blah, blah, blah, blah …”
“Wow, you are quite chatty this morning Thomas”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah (then, suddenly, one of his me’s, his him’s, found a two-wheel in the ever talling grass, a one they knew for some reason, a one that had a name scratched name on it’s body, like with a nail or a sharp sprig) Ok … Lilly?”
The Missive stopped short, taken aback, she hackled suddenly “what did you say!?”
Thomas flinched, scrunched “What? I am sorry” and hemmed and hawed while all his Me’s scrambled for unified thought “I just thought we could go into the garden today … to maybe … maybe there are … Roses … yes Roses there, or Lilies, Daffodils maybe too, something to smell in a bit of our suns new third”
The Missive shrunk the hackles “Yes, Thomas, that would be nice and is a fine idea, there are Roses there and Daffodils and even Petunias, so pretty right about now as you say, in this third”.
All of the Thomas’s noted that she didn’t say Lilies.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Sundarbans,The sunderbans, Sundarban Tour, Sundarban Travel Guide, Mangrove Forest, UNESCO World Heritage Site, Royal Bengal Tiger, Tiger Sighting, Wildlife Photography, Bird Watching, Sundarban Safari, Houseboat Tour, Ecotourism, Adventure Travel, West Bengal Tourism, Bangladesh Tourism, People of Sundarbans, Local Culture, Bonbibi, Mowal, Honey Collector, Sundarban Legends, Mangrove Ecosystem, Conservation, Climate Change, Biodiversity, Sundari Tree, Sundarban Itinerary, Travel to Sundarbans, Kolkata to Sundarbans, Sundarban Boat Trip, Wildlife in Sundarbans, Saltwater Crocodile, Spotted Deer, Indian Python, King Cobra, Sundarban National Park, Sundarban Tiger Reserve, Bay of Bengal, River Cruise, Nature Photography, Forest Life.
A personal exploration of autism from a brother’s perspective, including family relationships, philosophy, neuroscience, mental health history and ethics
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