The Legend of Brigaard

by Horace Armstrong

  ‘Concussed? Stalker?’ I finally had my kooky mom’s attention. It had always been like that ever since I was born 20 long years ago; sometimes I wondered who the parent was, I seemed to have infinitely more common sense, and that was not saying much judging by my career choices and how many knocks on the head I was getting. I gave her a blow by blow account.

  She listened carefully. ‘You want me to bring your gun?’

  That surprised me. Mum hated leaving her little craft shop, she hated guns even more and had tried to get me to get rid of it several times.

  ‘No. I’ll come to get it in a few weeks. We’ll manage until then.’

  ‘I’m worried Jake.’ I arched an eyebrow. My mom was the most carefree, laid back person ever. I had never known her to worry. ‘Don’t worry Mom. I make sure I always see Sally to her car every night, and her work has been notified. They take it in turns to see her at the end of her shift.’ ‘If you say so,’ she said. ‘But if I can get Charlie to watch the cats and shop I think I’ll come anyway. We haven’t caught up in a while.’ Charlie was Mom’s 65-year-old next door neighbor, and not so secret admirer. They shared a love for felines, craft, and other assorted eccentricities.

  ‘What does this stalker….man, look like?’ She asked.

  ‘He’s in his 60’s; tall, thin with gray washed up eyes. He has a scar across his face and long silvery hair. He’s very pale, almost - what’s the word Sally used - translucent.’

  She was quiet for a moment. ‘Just be careful,’ she said finally.

  We talked about this, and that then said goodbye. As I entered the kitchen of Mo’s pizzeria, Jude, who worked alongside me with 4 others smiled.

  ‘Just in time. Orders are coming in.’

  We were busy for the next 3 hours, it was non-stop work until closing time. At 9 pm we signed off and got into my Ford F-150 and headed home. Jude Cahill was being even more taciturn than ever, but I was used to it. We had met in 8 grade in high-school and had become fast friends. He was a Californian who had moved to Orlando to live with his grandmother. I knew nothing about his Californian life. He never talked about his parents nor siblings or any family. His life seemed to revolve around Grandma Irene and wrestling.

  He wasn't the greatest conversationalist in the world, but tonight he stunned me. ‘Look, Jake,’ he said, ‘I apologize for what I did to Pretty Eddie. I know what wrestling means to you.’ Anytime Jude spoke more than a couple of words I took note; he was sigma as fuck.

  He was right, wrestling was very important to me. Ever since I was a little boy, I had idolized the likes of Edge and Jericho, and it was my over-riding ambition to get to the very top of professional wrestling. Jude as my best friend had caught the bug, but he was nowhere as passionate as I was, though, when I was being totally honest with myself I had to admit that he was way more likely to get to the top before me. Things just seemed to come easy to him, plus he was huge and athletic and good looking, in a sturdy hulking sort of way anyway.

  ‘Sally’s got a stalker you know,’ I informed him. ‘Yeah?’ He said in a bored tone.

  I told him about the stalker, and he listened impassively. ‘That dude? I saw him.’ We had reached his apartment, and I steered the car to the curb and switched off the engine, peering at him in astonishment.

  If you had slapped me across the face, I couldn’t have been more startled. ‘Dude comes to our matches. Skinny white dude. Very white. Whitest motherfucker I ever have seen.’

  ‘Hold-up, hold-up, hold up!’ I was stunned. ‘You mean you’ve seen Sally’s stalker, and you never thought to tell me?’

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘How was I to know he was a stalker? All sorts of weirdos come to our shows.’ He had a point there. There were the Eddies for instance.

  I gripped at the steering wheels until my knuckles went white and the realization hit me like a bolt from the blue. Sally wasn’t the one being stalked; I was being stalked! ‘But how can you be sure?’

  ‘How many goofy looking old white men with long white hair and a scar that run from his head to his chin are there?’ Jude said blandly.

  I just sat stunned. ‘Listen, dude,’ he continued, ‘gotta go. Don’t sweat it. This city is full of weirdos.’ With that, he left.

  I stayed in my car letting it all sink for a while then looked furtively up and down the dimly lit street and seeing nobody, I started my car and drove away.

  I was in the ring with Pretty Eddie. It was to be a two-hour practice session, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. He had been sheepish when we met outside of the gym. ‘Hey, Jakey boy.’ I hated it when people called me that. I turned and saw him coming down the footpath with a tall stunning blond with a body that belonged on the set of Baywatch on his arm.

  ‘Jakey boy,’ he thrust a large hand at me showing his gleaming big white teeth in a wolfish grin. The blond girl was staring adoringly at her Adonis, they both chewed noisily on gum.

  ‘No hard feelings Jake. I know I have a tendency to lose it sometimes.’ He stared at me with his startling blue eyes. It struck me that for all his good looks, his voice was high pitched and nasal, I took some joy in his bad luck.

  ‘None taken. How’s the arm?’ He grabbed the offending shoulder and test-ran it by swivelling it in its socket. ‘Still a bit sore but I’ll live,’ he said. Blondie leaned in and kissed him.

  ‘Well,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Jeff says, I need some lessons, and you are the best technical wrestler we have so,’ he gave me a friendly punch on my shoulder that almost knocked me over, ‘see you in there.’ They walked past me, Ken and Barbie. I rubbed my shoulder and said to myself, ‘This should be fun.’

  Surprisingly, our session wasn’t that bad. I showed Eddie, some moves and tried to instil in his thick skull that a good wrestler was responsible for the well-being of everyone in the ring. That we were skilled athletes but performers first and foremost. We went through a repertoire of moves, from elbows to the dreaded pile driver; Eddie was doing okay, for a numb-skull. His problem wasn’t that he was that unskilled, he just seemed to be one of those irritating characters with too much enthusiasm, energy and very little common sense. If he actually tone it down, he could be a decent wrestler.

  Blondie irritated me to no end with her cheers and “You go babe” chants and so did Jay ‘pocket rocket’ Cipriano. He had joined us later and sat beside blondie, trying to chat her up.

  By the time we were done, I was feeling a bit better about Hard Core gore 4. It was to us what Wrestlemania was to WWE.

  Eddie vaulted the ring and smooched blondie while Jay watched with unbridled lust. Eddie called out a greeting to me and left with blondie on his arm.

  ‘Some guys have all the luck. What I wouldn’t give to-’

  ‘Don’t want to know Jay.’ I held out a hand. Jay Cipriano was one dirty pervert as far as I was concerned, and I didn’t have time for his fetishes today.

  ‘What’s up, guys?’ Jude Cahill strode into the gym. He was in a black tank top and track bottoms. He laid down his duffel bag, walked to the ring and climbed in.

  ‘You are late,’ I said.

  ‘Was working out.’

  I stared at his muscles. He wasn’t entirely as ripped as Eddie, but he was close…plus way bigger.

  We went at it for an hour, and as usual, I was awed by Jude’s athleticism. At 6’6 he was 6 inches taller than I was, but he was lightning quick and moved with more fluidity. He never ceased to amaze me with his physical prowess, just last week I had found out he could do a back flip. I asked why he never did it in matches, and he just shrugged as if it was nothing.

  After the training, we huddled in the corner of the gym, gulping energy drinks. I told Jay about my stalker. ‘You mean the weird looking old white dude?’ I stared at him pointedly. It seemed that I was the only one that had not noticed him. ‘You have seen him?’ ‘Who hasn’t?’ Jay said wiping his mouth with his small hands. ‘Dude obviously has the hots for you. He comes
to most of your matches and just watches you like he wants to have you for dinner,’ he said chuckling.

  ‘Well,’ I shouted, my voice rising a notch, ‘why has no one thought to warn me. He comes to my damned house!’

  Jay sat up, the smile disappearing from his face.

  ‘He does? Wow, that’s on another level. You called the cops?’

  ‘They can’t do much for now.’

  ‘Gotta gun?’

  ‘Yeah but it’s in Miami.’

  He reached into his kiddie duffel bag that he carried with him and emerged with an automatic.

  ‘Woaaah,’ I said. Jude gasped and backed away.

  ‘You’ll be needing this…here, have it…I’ve got three at home.’

  I took the gun.

  ‘You licensed aren’t you?’ he asked. I nodded.

  ‘So keep it until you get yours.’ He got up and dusted himself down. ‘Gotta go.’

  Jude and I watched him disappear in amazement. ‘That little man’s wrong,’ Jude said shaking his head. ‘Real wrong.’

  We were getting ready for a night out. Sally was doing the night shift in St Mary’s Hospital, and I was just waiting for her to get home before we headed out. Jude and Jay were on my sofa drinking beers. Jay was talking a dime a dozen, and Jude, as usual, was just nodding and saying “yup,” “huhum” “sure” and other monosyllabic answers just to move the conversation along. I had just come from my room and was trying smooth my ever annoying brown curls.

  ‘You need to cut that hair,’ Jay advised, wrinkling his nose at me. He wasn’t a fan of my unruly curly hair.

  ‘A wrestler with that much hair,’ he said in-between sips, ‘is just asking for trouble.’ He was right. I winced as I remembered a harrowing moment when Pretty Eddie had dragged me by my hair across the ring.

  ‘I’ll get to it soon,’ I said sadly. I loved my hair, even though it was a pain.

  ‘Hand me a beer.’

  I sat on a chair and flicked through the cable channels. Jude got up. ‘Gotta use the bathroom,’ he said. Halfway across the room, a painting, hanging on the wall caught his eyes. He went up close and stared.

  ‘I know,’ I said with a sigh. ‘It’s weird isn’t it?’ It was one of my mom’s ugly creations. Well, technically it wasn’t ugly as my mom had some skills, it was just that she chose the weirdest things to paint.

  This particular beauty was of a medieval battlefield: Knights in amour, dead and dying - blood and guts spewing from their broken bodies, filled a plain. In the background, the moon was blood red, and there were several black ugly birds with yellow eyes perching on gnarled trees waiting for a feast. The star of the horrible show was an old man: tall and slim who mommy dearest reliably told me was a sorcerer.

  His hands were outstretched. His left hand pointed to the east, while he held a glowing orb in his right. On his right, a grieving woman, dressed in rich garb and festooned with emeralds, cradled a soldier who had like a gazillion arrows sticking out from his torso. That, my friends, was my 12th birthday present (I remember I wanted a turtle).

  I got up and stood beside Jude who was transfixed by the picture. It had an uncanny ability to make me unhappy. It was dark, spooky and weird. No doubt she was unable to sell it and decided to give it to her son instead. I had hidden it under my bed, but as Mom was coming over to visit, I hung it. She was touchy about her paintings and would undoubtedly guess I hated it if it wasn’t in full view.

  Jude turned to me a curious look on his face. ‘Your mom painted this?’

  ‘Don’t hold it against her,’ I replied with a wry smile.

  He peered at me so intently I blurted out, ‘She’s a bit screwy I know.’

  Jude’s forehead furrowed. ‘Dude. That’s your stalker,’ he said and pointed to the slim, white-haired pale-faced sorcerer with the spindly fingers and a glowing orb.

  I stared at the picture and laughed nervously. ‘Don’t talk crazy.’

  He beckoned Jay. ‘Lil man. Come here!’ Jay hopped down from the Sofa and joined us. Jude removed the painting from the wall and handed it to Jay who winced. ‘Your Mom painted this beauty?’ He asked. I nodded. ‘Recognize the old dude in the brown gown with the shiny thingy coming from his hand?’ Jude said.

  Jay stared at the painting harder. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. It is your stalker.’

  I grabbed the painting and stared at the druid. ‘You guys are going crazy. My mom painted this. I’ve had it for 8 years.’

  ‘Telling you dawg, that’s the stalker. Same long slim face with the wrinkles. Same long silver hair. Same jagged scar, same washed-out gray eyes, same pale face - the palest damned face I ever seen.’

  This was the longest sentence Jude had made in a few weeks, and as if the effort tired him out, he returned to the sofa.

  ‘Come on Jay. You guys must be making a mistake.’

  Jay shrugged. ‘Well, it sure looks like him. I’ve seen him a few times. What the hell kinda painting is this anyway? Gives me the creeps.’

  ‘What do you know about art?’ I blurted returning the painting. At this point, a key rattled in the lock and Sally came in.

  ‘Hi, Jude…Hey Jay.’ She came to me and gave me a kiss. ‘I’m sure beat.’ The painting caught her eye. ‘Wow, I haven't seen this in years. Thought we said we should hang it only when your mom’s coming?’ Something about the way I looked alarmed her. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I glanced furtively at Jude and Jay.

  ‘Baby,’ I said, turning her to the painting. ‘What do you see when you look at that?’ ‘Garbage,’ she said, scrunching her face.

  ‘What about the old man in the brown robe?’ She peered at the picture intently. She came in holding a grocery bag and a can of coke, they fell to the ground, and her face turned white.

  ‘My God Jake. It’s him…it’s the stalker!’

  Chapter 3

  It was touch and go whether she fainted. The shock of having a painting of a man who had stalked us on and off for three months on her living room wall was a bit much. Added to this that the art was done by her Boyfriend’s mom, almost a decade ago and you can understand her reaction. She swooned, and I rushed to catch her. I helped her to the sofa, and Jude handed her a glass of water. Fifteen minutes later, the color returned to her cheeks.

  ‘Are you guys sure?’ I asked. Jude nodded. Jay just gave me a weird smile and Sally said, ‘100%.’

  ‘Not saying it’s him but sure looks like him,’ Jay said.

  ‘But how’s that possible?’ I asked. I was now pacing up and down my tiny living room.

  ‘Maybe, your mom’s psychic. Maybe 10 years ago she knew you were going to be stalked by some weird looking old man.’ Sally was smart 99% of the time, this was the 1% time when she wasn’t.

  ‘She’s not psychic.’

  I continued pacing. Jude seemed unaffected, he had flicked to a football game on cable and blocked us out.

  ‘Could it be -’ Jay started. I stopped pacing and glowered at him. ‘Could it be what?’ I demanded.

  ‘Well,’ he said, a sheepish look on his long face. ‘Could it be it’s your dad?’

  For a minute you could have heard a pin drop. Sally covered her face, and even Jude looked uncomfortable.

  My dad was a very sore topic for me. He had left when I was very young, and I had no memories of him.

  ‘That weird fuck,’ I said through clenched teeth, pointing at the picture, ‘cannot be my Dad you douche!’

  Jay held out two small hands in resignation. ‘Hey, just trying to help you solve the mystery of the stalker-who-appears-on-a-10year old-painting-done - by- your - mom.’ He moved out of arm's length as my face turned red.

  ‘You guys are just sick. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for…for-’

  ‘Why your Mom painted a picture 10 years ago of a dude, who looks like the grim reaper and belongs in the Old Testament and just happens to be stalking you now?’ Jay was on fire. Now he was
out of reach from me he was emboldened.

  ‘Dude…that’s your dad! She might not even know she’s consciously doing, it might just be some sort of sub-conscious retrogressive shit, I’ve seen stuff like that on TV.’

  I glared at Sally, who held out her hands and gave me a well-it-is-plausible look. I turned to Jude who suddenly found a spot on the floor that was interesting.

  ‘So…so you guys think that ugly weird fuck is my father?’

  Silence. A sick pain suddenly developed in the pit of my belly.

  They DID believe he was my dad.

  ‘Okay. Say she wanted to paint my dad. Why this weird medieval shit? Why not weird modern shit?’

  Jay answered, ‘Well you have said more than once that your mom’s a bit-’ He cleared his throat, raised a stubby finger to his temple and rolled it a few times counter-clockwise. I opened and shut my mouth and counted to 10. I wanted to hurt Jay so bad for saying all this shit.

  Sally, sensing my discomfort, got up and walked to me. ‘It kinda makes sense to me. Maybe he wants to make contact and doesn’t know how. Maybe your Mom painted him and gave it to you as a present for some reason. I don’t know why she made the painting so weird baby, but we both know she’s nuts - in a lovable way of course.’ She held my hand and continued, ‘There’s only one way to find out pumpkin,’ she said. ‘Call her.’

  I stared at my cell phone and then my friends who all peered back at me expectantly. With a sigh, I called Mom.

  ‘Hello, sweetie.’ Her high-pitched shrill voice greeted me.

  ‘Hi mom,’ I said rubbing the back of my neck, something I always did when I was nervous. I made small talk for a few minutes then got to it. ‘Say, mom, you know that painting you gave me years ago for my birthday?’

  ‘You mean the one with the dead regiment of dismembered soldiers and ravens pecking at their skulls with the bright red moon in the background?’ She said as if she was discussing the weather. I sighed and said yes.

  ‘Yeah, what of it?’