SOS Gab & Eti 1.22

I went to see Gab & Eti last week to check up on how they have been
doing since returning from a jaunt to New Jersey where they visited an
antiques flea market in hopes of scrounging American outhouse
memorabilia. Other than a few shaving mugs, some tortoise-shell mirrors,
and a half-dozen tarnished silver souvenir spoons from Albuquerque --
the pickings appropriate for SOS were slim to nothing.

The whole enterprise erupted when Gab made out the words of a letter
requesting him to Paxton to look at some broken chimney pots. Eti
thought this was a fine inspiration and would be a complement to her
kitchen, at least, up to the point they arrived at the universe and she
came to the realization, and it was an arduous coming both in time and
distance as the pilgrimage took twelve hours in the truck, not counting
any lost hours in black helicopters, and Eti had to mentally block out
Gab with his endlessly mumbling about colonial American hand-wrought
nails, when she realized the subject pots were not of the cooking
variation. Unflipped, Eti stayed behind with her needlepoint, WELCOME TO
BULLAMANKA AND HAVE A NICE DAY, in the Chevy in the parking lot while
Gab took off on the small commuter bus to visit the campus architect.

After slopping through various depths of puddle on the roof to espy the
chimney caps, the architect realized that Gab had no idea of what he was
looking at. Thinking he was an expert in other areas, an architectural
Lothario, she asked if he would like to take a look inside her attic.
Gab, not wanting to appear inconsiderate, but hoping the ordeal of
climbing up and down stairs would soon be over with, agreed. So the two
of them an unlikely pairing went then and rumbled around in her attic.
Suddenly in the dim light Gab realized there was a noticeable quantity
of efflorescence on the schist rubble walls. Another new experience for
our favorite Bullamanka boy!

Gab was surpassed in that he had to use a flashlight to accomplish the
onerous deed, one of those heavy black ones you can double as a
defensive implement after you blind the beast with a bright emission. He
had been thinking this efflorency stuff should glow in the dark with
such an elegant cognomen. Then he almost fell through the ceiling as a
result of not looking below, worried to bash his head while rising on a
beam, almost groping past a rafter, but instead slipped, landed on his
side and shook the building only slightly. Then the bells went off and
he had to plug his ears they were sounding next right to his head it
prayed him made he should have with the potato plugging staid rather
than visit this esteemed abode of higher yearning now all fuddled
between his pounding walnut and the architect’s attic. The architect had
the good sense to cover herself from the crashing din.

Eti got bored after the first forty-five minutes and fussed with the
radio in the Chevy. I always wonder what happens to those happy souls
who are left behind to burn away the candles and bonfires of their lives
while hopelessly pining for the architectural tourist to quickly return
and take them away from this stupid place, “Can’t we go somewhere
exciting for a change?” She could not find her favorite psychic program
“Give Us a Hearty PSI”, and shortly gave up on the radio it being mostly
noise and very meaningful signals to sneezing gulls. The context was
inexplicable and I could not blame her for being abysmally bored all
alone sitting in the truck with her needlepoint. Later I told Eti at
difficult times like this it could have been a John Cage composition if
she only had the patience. Eti offered another bowl of coffee and let
wind. I was chimed into a polite silence as is expected in the presence
of our irascible elders.

After the next sixteen minutes Eti was most effectively very very bored
and having spotted a few plump gray squirrels in the hedgerow south of
the parking lot she decided to do a bit of culinary acquisition and took
off across the gravel lot with her Ithaca 22 with it in mind to bag a
few brains. Paxton University does not seem to take too kindly to hip
ladies hunting tree rodents nearby to the campus and Eti, not being all
that great a shot, was only able to bag and gut about two-dozen before
the campus security were able to chase her into the brown river where
she swam east and hid in a McDonalds bathroom on Route One where she
completed skinning her squirrels. I admit that for most of us shooting a
gray lump of fur off the trunk of a maple tree while running through the
woods evading a security force would be an accomplishment, these were in
fact pretty fat lumps and made really good targets.
--
"Two seconds of honest laughter is an eternity of freedom." Gabriel
Orgrease
SOS Gab & Eti, Copyright © Ken Follett 1998, [log in to unmask]
Visit Gab & Eti at Bullamanka, NY
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/5836