From The Recordings Html
Margret reminisces about family and upsets some cats.
Everyone said she left him but he did not believe that and searched nine days took one day for drinking then looked three more before he found her in a bunch of trees behind the Imperial 400.
And he knew it was her by the Boluva bought Sweetist Day last. And there were animals. All kinds of animals feasting on her with absolutely no fear and outrage and rage runs right through him and he assails those animals with a kangaroo madness and those he can catch he kills and those that escape he kills eventually.
And he knows it’s them because before they die they confess they were hungry and she was good.
And for final retribution of their carrion ways he arrives after dark with a stolen Department of Transportation truck and shrouds the copse of loblolly pine in an ankle deep casket of salt.
And there are no animals allowed in the house ever.
And those that do gain access are dealt with harshly.
And one evening on my basement bed through the open hopper window creeps a kitten and I know better I do but it is so cute and I play with it wiggling my finger and I hear him on the stairs and I panic shove the tabby in my lunchbox but it yowls real loud.
And he hears it.
And he takes it away.
And he takes it upstairs.
And he tells me to follow.
And as punishment I drown it in the kitchen sink with my bare hands and there are still little red scars on my wrist and I set the little cat on a table outside with a sign that says,
“This one is for the eyes of the other cats to come.”
And it is not a thing I like doing.
And I cannot stay here any more. And soon sneak out the window to the Super Giant parking lot where Jimmy Dawson’s Country Circus is heading out and I am so happy doing whatever they ask and I take tickets and I pour drinks and one night near Whitcomb an invasion of immigration envoys clamber under the tent blowing whistles and shining lights and for a moment vaudeville is reborn and clowns are running around and driving their little cars and nobody can catch them and the trapezes are dropping popcorn making the air a buttery sleet and the audience is laughing and the fire eater aspirates flames and for a time this multinational coalition of roustabouts holds fast.
That is until the dogs are released and then the laughter subsides and after that there were plenty of personnel openings at the big top.
And good lord look at me now sparkles and satin shelling out swords for Sasha to swallow
And later on we are going to dinner.
And oh my we do a lot more than that over the next three months.
And so many times I said, “This is the first time I have ever kissed, wore a bracelet, went to St. Paul, made love, ate oysters, hugged, hoped, trusted.”
But an errant epee exsanguniated his lower esophagus and I did not see Sasha again until he arrived at my door years later.
And he was so different then. So changed. So mean.
But I was hooked and with him I did many more firsts that I can never ever tell.
And back at the circus in a grease covered vest I now sell Camel Dogs which are nothing but corn dogs with olives and I tell some kid there’s ground up camel hump in the batter and his psychotic mother crams fingers and rings down his throat shredding his tongue bloody and Jimmy does not think it’s funny and fires me.
And I have nowhere to go but Darcy says I can stay in her trailer for the night.
And in a sleeping bag in twilight sleep I hazy notice many crates with eyes from across the room.
And a tuxedo cat leaves his cage and wriggles inside my bag and sleeps against my thigh.
And early morning on my walk to the bus station my sides seize and I lurch to the sidewalk heaving and dry heaving and heaving again.
And then there is nothing.
And when I wake in the recovery room there is a card, “To Margret from Sassy,” and inside an x-ray of ovaries with savage scratches scratched through and sentiment that says,
“This one is for your eyes, Margret. Maybe I’ll be your baby one day.”