It was then that I thought; comments like that are a sign of small and insignifigant genitilia. but I didn't say it out loud, fearing it would be taken the wrong way... anyway, that is neither here or there really, and has nothing to do with the business at hand.
It was midnight on Sunday when my telephone rang. My nerves were raw, and my eyes were swollen from an overdose of pure Ozone, which had blinded me many hours earlier when I tampered with input-jets at the swimming pool.
But the phone kept ringing, and I recognized the singular voice of my friend Curtis, he was calling to tell me it was copacetic that I wrecked the Emerald Green Thunderbird for the insurance money, which by the way, turned out to be substantially less than I had expected...
"It's nothing to worry about" Curtiss told me,
but too late, the rumors had troubled me.
But he was in a cheerful mood,
He chuckled, then inquired about the health of Anita, my life partner, who also swims with me. "Is she the one you put some Buckshot into last summer?" he asked, "When you were shooting at bears?"
"No," I replied. "That was Deborah, my Personal Secretary for 20 years -- she stepped into the line of fire."
He paused for a moment before answering: "Well, ... I've always been confident that you know what you're doing out there -- But it sounds like a dangerous operation."
"It is," I said, "but we like it. We fear nothing."
"Sure," he said. "That's what Charles Manson thought -- and look what happened to him."
I jerked him up short. "You should be more Careful with your jokes, James. What if I told you I know exactly where Edgerrin James is tonight?"
"That's impossible," he said quickly. "Nobody knows where he is. He has dropped out of sight. I called the Police in Miami -- they didn't have a clue."
I laughed. "Don't talk like a fool, Curtis. The Police couldn't find a Whale on Miami Beach at high noon -- much less at three o'clock in the morning. And they're afraid to even drive through Edgerrin James' neighborhood. It's off Limits to cops."
There was no reply for a few seconds. Then I heard him Moan softly. "Please," he whispered. "Don't tell me these things. I have to fly to Alaska tomorrow, and I can't tolerate Fear while I'm on my vacation."
"Yeah," I said. "I know what you mean. Grizzly bears can smell Fear from two miles away. They will hunt you down and eat you like cheap meat."
"O God," he muttered. "That's exactly why I'm going to Alaska -- I've always yearned to see Grizzlies in the wild."
"Hell," I replied. "Grizzlies are nothing, compared to what you'll find in Edgerrin's neighborhood. A Grizzly Bear wouldn't last 10 minutes down there. It's like the Heart of Darkness."
He moaned again, then changed the subject.
"How's John?"
"He's in excellent shape." I replied
"I'm working on a song with him now. It's about Fear."
"What?" he said. "I didn't know you wrote Songs."
"Hell yes," I replied. "I'm a Writer. I know not fear. I can write Anything: Songs, books, Love stories, strange and savage Poems about prostitution in China, wild beasts in Utah ..."
"No!" he said sharply. "Not in Utah! There's nothing Wild in Utah. That's where I'm going for next year."
"Well," I said grimly, "I'm afraid you're in for a shock, Curtis. Things have changed in Utah. The State Police are trying to round up the Bigamists, but the Bigamists are fighting back -- with bombs and heavy machine-guns. It's a Civil war over there. They've gone Crazy! The Bigamists are Violent, and they refuse to be rounded up. They're fighting like wolves."
"God almighty!" he groaned. "That's the worst news I've ever heard in my Life. I hate Bigamists! They are crazy and cruel."
"Not really," I told him, trying to ease his mind. "They won't harm you, unless you provoke them. They are peaceful people -- but they're more dangerous than hungry Hyenas when they get attacked."
There was a muttering noise on the other end, but he said nothing. I thought I could hear him breathing, but finally there was a clicking noise, so I hung up and went back to work. "Maybe he fell asleep," I said to Anita. "These people like to go to bed early."
She nodded. "I know," she replied gently. "They are not like us. We come alive at night, like lizards in the dark. Let's listen to some Bob Dylan and get busy."