Brother
Skunk returned to the car, moving in his peculiar semi-abled clum over the
uneven ground.
Skunk:
There’s still pornography here.
deleted
name (tilting his head to the open window): What’s that?
Skunk:
I found some pornography, there’s still, even even, there’s just the, a couple
of ehm, uprights, burned, and the roofs lying there, so there’s no actual hut,
but there’s still pornography around.
deleted
name: Well, maybe the hut was built to accommodate that, rather than...
Skunk
jabbed the end of his walking stick over and over into the soft earth at his
feet.
Skunk:
She lives near here, doesn-
a
gesture with his hand
Skunk:
She did, didn’t she, this is
deleted
name: Yuh, mmhm.
Skunk:
Can we go there? Just now?
but
to this, the inside of the car gave nothing.
Opening
the door, Skunk negotiated the long stick awkwardly between the seats into the
back, and followed it with the long waxed coat, the smell of which still
induced in him a mild nausea.
Skunk
(easing himself into the passenger seat): Why don’t we just go there now and
tell them?
Nothing.
Skunk
(quietly, and touching deleted name’s arm as he starts the car): Hey, hey
and
his voice at this volume broken on its own memory of the cremation.
Skunk:
She’s dead now, so... I would imagine, I, I mean, they don’t know
if she’s alive or dead, shouldn’t you... Don’t you feel any sort
of, of, responsibility about
The
car reversed out onto the single track road, paused on its backswing arc.
deleted
name: Skunk I can drive you by the house, but
He
put both elbows up on the steering wheel, dragging his nails across the
salt-and-pepper stubble, continued
deleted
name: In, when these things happen, and they do happen, sometimes the...
The
existence of long and silent moments, and Brother Skunk frowning hard throughout.
deleted
name: There is no way that I can tell you this without sounding
like I’m being patronising or whatever, but
sighs.
Skunk:
What?
deleted
name: Sometimes the obvious answer just isn’t the right one, you know?
And in this case... In this case they know, and you’ll, that’s just
something you’re going to have to take my word on. Some people don’t have to be
told, sometimes they just know, and these people know, and that’s it. That’s
it. End of story
the
syllables each flat-palmed onto the steering wheel
deleted
name: That’s. All. Folks.
Skunk:
“Said Elvis.”
Laughter,
and then deleted name’s hand slipped an accidental fraction and the horn issued
its weird klaxon fart.
deleted
name: Oh Lord
and
both of them sat laughing, and not uncomfortably.
Skunk
(mimicing ache1): “Ladies and gentlemen permit me if you will a
short lecture on the eventual and inevitable demise of Mr Elvis Aron Presley.”
deleted
name (laughing, picking up): “Now, either we accept that the gospel that
Elvis was stroke is the Son of God and is alive now and forever, or we must
come to terms with the notion that he is stroke was mortal just like us
and and”
Skunk:
“This in acceptance of his not having passed on that fateful August, but
that he did indeed live and he will indeed, eventually and inevitably, die.”
deleted
name: “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Skunk:
“Said Elvis.”
deleted
name: Lord
and
straightening the wheel, drove them off along the parallel ruts worn into the
narrow track.
They
sat in silence until reaching the junction with the main road, its noise and
passing traffic.
Skunk:
There isn’t a single thing about her that I won’t miss,
his
palm flat to his forehead
Skunk:
that I don’t miss already.
deleted
name (looking out the window): God saw that she needed some rest, and called
her home to be with him.
Skunk:
Hmm?
deleted
name shook his head and not just once, then seeing an opening in the flow,
pulled them back out into the movement of other people.
