Playing Fair and Being Kind

A previous entry here did not sit well with some of my friends. Herewith is a revised, and possible kinder version of what I took down last week. Peace. GMG

During a recent men’s group held in front of a fire pit at Saul’s house in Megunticook, thoughts of a magical nature arrived unintended, but welcome. We were attending to each one’s struggles with social injustices. Probably the least comfortable topic on any old white man’s agenda. Reggie and Jake had been sharing ideas about what forms the tension in our society were taking regarding women and men. Snuffy was quiet, scrunched down in one of those canvas folding chairs. His own thoughts held him captive and mute. Saul was deeply, angrily mulling thoughts of artistic invention for glass pieces to craft. Because of the evening chill cooling his backside, Lefty was hoping for a moment of spontaneous human combustion, SHC, to end the meeting. SHC failed to materialize.

It seemed possible, though. The fire was a few hours old. The bed of coals was very hot. Saul had dragged several antique pieces of furniture from his house to burn. He was busy pulling them apart and feeding the legs, aprons, panels, and French polished tops to the flames. The heat was tremendous. Lacquered furniture burns bright and hot. Lefty had pulled his woolen blanket tightly around his body to fend the radiant heat. His head was lowered, chin to chest, to utilize the brim of his hat for added protection. He was wondering if he was heading for spontaneous combustion. That’s what gave him the idea.

Saul continued to pull the antiques apart with powerful, angry effort. The glass art designs weren’t coming together as he’d hoped. Fuck this shit, he muttered. Only Snuffy heard him. What did you say? Snuffy asked. Aw, nothin’, Saul growled. Oh, Snuffy said. Snuffy returned to his private ideas of getting another pet to keep his miniature poodle company. A cat. Maine coons were nice. Big enough to handle a poodle if necessary. Maybe a coon cat. Yeah. He could train the cat to shit in the toilet too. He’d seen a video on how to do that. That would be a great project. Snuffy tried to tune into the conversation but Jake and Reggie were now discussing the positive attributes of various snow-blowers. Back to cats and poodles for Snuffy. To hell with snow-blowers.

I like the two-stage Toro, said Jake. Reggie searched Jake’s face. He knew nothing of snow blowers. Reggie lived off the grid and enjoyed shoveling his way out of heavy snow. His driveway was three miles long. Reggie could have it clear in less than two days. As a result, Reggie was built like a football linebacker. His arms and shoulders were enormous. Shoveling is what he lived for. Well, that and his wife too, of course. Normalina was the light of his life. The conversation regarding social justice was his idea due to the subtle messages Normalina sent. He knew she was silently disapproving of him and he guessed it was the way he liked to tease and joke about things in their life. He was trying to use the men’s group for a sounding board for exploring the problems of men with women, and vice versa. His frustration was fed by the ease at which the other guys in this group would slip back into discussion of, well, snow blowers and pole dancers and other external issues. Reggie was anxious to talk about feelings and relationships.

Snuffy slipped further into his cat and dog reverie. The heat from the fire was putting him to sleep. Saul was now sitting in front of the fire. There were two lovely burning antique sideboards crumbling to ash in the fire pit. An inlaid mahogany Hepplewhite piece joined by a carved walnut continental renaissance revival with stunning inlay and marquetry. His face reflected his satisfaction. It didn’t last long as he, once again, allowed the thought of the stained-glass piece to return. Fuck me dead, he growled into his chest. Saul heaved himself up out of his plastic lawn chair and shuffled toward the house to find that Chippendale carved mahogany settee he’d found last week.

Snuffy dozed off. Just before he did he heard Lefty reciting Hamlet under his blanket and hat. Lefty’s voice was muffled but Snuffy recognized the “…and yet to me what is this quintessence of dust...”. Lefty was a different breed of cat, thought Snuffy.

Lefty stirred under his blanket and raised his head to see what was going on. It was quiet except for Reggie describing the joy of throwing snow thirty feet in all directions. Jake was studying his boot tops thinking of ways to interrupt Reggie. Saul was admiring the burning lacquered Hepplewhite and the Chippendale. Snuffy had disappeared. Only a small piece of burning canvass lay where Snuffy had been sitting. I knew it! said Lefty. He pulled his head back into his blanket and smiled the smile of discoverers. Snuffy had burst into flames because his thoughts were purer. Snuffy was gone; escaped, to be more accurate. Lefty wondered who would be next, and when. He felt warmer.

G. M. Goodwin
2 October 2018