‘Uh, yeah. Me and her just drove over for a couple days. What you mean a holy place?’
‘Oh, man, this is Corinth, right?’
‘Corinth, yeah. Corinth, North Carolina.’
‘Well, you know this the place all the big-time changes gonna come down, anytime soon. You stick around to see ’em, man. Happen soon, really soon.’
‘Didn’t hear nothin’ about nothin’ ’bout to happen here.’
‘This is the place Pablo the Apostle wrote about, man, you know. Where all the evil shit was goin’ down. The wickedest place on earth. He wrote a letter to the Romans about it.’
‘How you know this?’
‘Shit, man, it’s in the Bible. This is where wise men became fools and practiced vile affections and deviate sexual shit.’ Pepe closed his bleary eyes. ‘Being filled with all unrighteousness,’ he said, ‘fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers, back-biters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things.’
Pepe opened his eyes, which seemed clearer now. ‘This is the spot, hombre, believe it. “Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them.” God gonna give these sinners El Gran Beso, the Big Kiss, pretty quick. You and me, amigo, we’re lucky, we get to witness.’
‘The Big Kiss?’
‘Yeah. Kiss can change the world. Could cause a earthquake, firestorm, tidal wave. Who knows? Hey, I can meet her?’
‘Meet who?’
‘Su esposa. Your wife.’
‘I guess. Right now, though, we’re kinda busy. Just stopped over to see about the noises.’
‘Oh, okay, man.’
Pepe Pescuezo squinted at the lowering sun.
‘Coolin’ down now,’ he said. ‘Maybe later we take some cervezas together, okay? Tell your wife I meet her soon, man. I go back to sleep, pull the bed away from the wall firs’ so I no kick it.’
‘Hey, thanks.’
‘No hay problema,’ Pepe said, and closed his door.
Sailor walked back to room six and went inside.
‘What’s goin’ on, Sail?’ Lula asked.
‘Man waitin’ on the Big Kiss, is all.’
Lula smiled and threw her arms around Sailor’s neck.
‘All you boys is alike,’ she said.
EVERY SECRET THING
‘any you folks heard about them twenty naked people piled out of a car after it hit a tree in some small town in Louisiana?’ Daylight DuRapeau asked the captive passengers as the bus started up 191 toward Tight Fit.
‘No? Well, this was a bunch of Pentecostals from Murgatroyd, Texas. Claimed the Lord told ’em to get rid of their worldly belongin’s and depart from the Panhandle. Police discovered ’em wanderin’ around dazed and nude—men, women, and children. Was on the TV news yesterday. What I’d like to know is how they managed to fit twenty people into one little old car!’
‘Dis wiped-out crazy,’ Baby whispered to Sugargirl. ‘No way dis happen, no way. Ain’ fo’ real.’
‘Hush, chil’,’ said Sugar. ‘The Lord find us a way out this mess, we be patient.’
Daylight prattled on but Baby tuned her out. She was frightened and missed Jimbo badly. The thought of him coming home from a tough night’s work in the refinery and finding her farewell note made her cry. Baby left her tears unwiped.
‘You ladies scared?’
Both Baby and Sugargirl looked behind them and saw a young, good-looking Asian man leaning his head forward over the back of their seat.
‘We uneasy,’ said Sugargirl.
The man smiled. ‘Me, too,’ he said. ‘My name is Crispus Attucks Chew. I’m an engineering student at Georgia Tech. Got on at Atlanta.’
This here’s Baby, an’ I’m Sugargirl. We comin’ from New Orleans. What kinda name is that you got?’
‘My father, who’s from Shanghai, named me after the first person to die during the American Revolution: Crispus Attucks, a black man. He wanted me to be a real American, since I was born here, in New York City. Everybody calls me Cris.’
‘Where your daddy at now, Cris?’
‘Jersey City, New Jersey. That’s where I’m headed. My folks own a restaurant there.’
‘You know any kind karate?’ asked Baby. ‘Be like Bruce Lee an’ get us out dis fix?’
Cris Chew grinned and said, ‘No, sorry, I don’t. I was thinking that when we get to wherever it is she’s taking us, we’ll have a chance to escape. If we try anything now, plenty of people could get hurt.’
‘Best we wait, then,’ said Sugar.
‘Hope she don’t start shootin’,’ said Baby.
‘Peoples use guns now easy as they used to spit. Other day was a gal go into a twenty-four-hour diner in California two in the A.M. had four of her own children with her, ages six months to six years. No sooner they settled down, the woman, who’s only twenty-two years old, lights up a cigarette. Some womens at a table nearby reques’ she put it out, bein’ they in a no smokin’ section. The woman who’s smokin’ tell ’em mind they own business, but they get the manager who tells her she want to stay, she got to move or stop smokin’.
‘Woman got nasty, then, an’ begin yellin’ insults at the person ask her to stop smokin’ in the firs’ place. Then she take her kids an’ leave the place. She drive home, which is close by, get a gun, go back—the children still with her—an’ shoot an’ kill one the women, wound another.’
‘Jesus!’ said Crispus Attucks Chew.
‘Jesus won’t want no part of it,’ said Sugar. ‘“Wisdom is better than weapons,” Ecclesiastes say. “One sinner destroyeth much good.”’
‘Don’t take nothin’ fo’ granted no more,’ said Baby. ‘Whole world be up in da air.’
Sugargirl leaned back heavily in her seat and closed her eyes.
‘For God shall bring every work into judgment,’ she said, ‘with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.’
‘Wow!’ Cris said.
‘Somethin’ for you to chew on,’ said Sugar.
NO BARGAIN TO BEGIN WITH
‘see that?’
‘What?’ asked Sailor.
‘Message painted on the tailgate of that pickup ahead,’ said Pepe Pescuezo.
Sailor and Lula read the words beleeve on jesus + bee save written in bright red letters on the back of an old beige Dodge being driven slowly in front of Sailor’s Buick Limited.
‘Yeah, so?’ said Lula. ‘Never no shortage of religious persuasion goin’ on.’
‘Bet who’s drivin’, that hombre, he relax in his esoul.’
‘Not esoul,’ Lula corrected Pepe Pescuezo, ‘just soul. There ain’t no letter E in it.’
Lula shook a Camel from the pack on the dash, stuck it between her lips, and lit it. She took a couple of drags, then passed it to Sailor.
‘So why’s this Tight Fit so special?’ she asked.
‘Is the Holy Spot,’ said Pepe. ‘The place on the road to Corinth that Pablo the Apostle stopped at and had his epiphany.’
‘He was a gagger?’ Sailor said.
‘What you mean, a gagger?’ asked Pepe.
‘Had fits where you roll on the ground frothin’ at the mouth and could bite off your tongue.’
‘Sail, honey, no,’ said Lula. ‘That’s epilepsy. Havin’ a epileptic fit from some type trouble with the brain.’
‘Epilepsia, si!’ said Pepe.
‘An epiphany,’ Lula continued, ‘is kinda like a vision, I think. A revelation.’
‘Si, si, una revelación! Tight Fit, it’s where Pablo slept the night before he arrive in Corinth, where he had his sueño grandioso, the dream of the Most Wicked City. Pablo believe he could save the peoples of Corinth through his ministry.’
‘Did he?’ asked Sailor.
Pepe Pescuezo laughed. ‘No way, man. This place was worse even than Bagdad.’
‘
You mean in Arabia?’ said Lula.
‘Naw, in Mexico, near Matamoros. Also was call Boca del Rio. It’s where all the smugglers were durin’ the time of your Civil War. Tejános, Mexicanos, French, Germans, British was all there, dealin’ in el mercado negro. Was the puerto from where the southern cotton was eship to Europe. An’ the padrones was fightin’ aroun’ there, too — las banderas Amarillas y las Banderas Rojas—also los Apaches and Kickapoos, who was terrorizin’ along the border. The whole city was fill by gamblers, army deserters, espies, putas.’
‘Never heard of no Bagdad, Mexico,’ said Sailor.
‘It ain’t there no more. Soon after the Civil War end, a huracán come an’ blow it all away.’
‘A hurricane?’ said Lula.
‘Si. La ciudad del Diablo, was call. El Infierno.’
Sailor zipped the Buick around the Dodge pickup. An old couple, a man and a woman, were riding in it, both wearing wide-brimmed straw hats and blue-lensed sunglasses. Neither of them turned to look at the Buick as Sailor, Lula, and Pepe sped by. When Sailor saw a sign that said Tight Fit Pop. 280, he slowed the car down.
‘Know where we’re goin’, exactly, Pepe?’
‘Suppose to be on a hill lookin’ over the town. Maybe bes’ we estop at a bodega and ask.’
Sailor drove on a bit farther, until Lula shouted, ‘Look up there!’
Sailor pulled the Buick over on the road shoulder and applied the brake. Lula pointed to a gray-black cliffside and read aloud the words that had been painted on it in huge white block letters:
‘“is any among you afflicted? let him
pray. —james 5:13.”’
Pepe Pescuezo crossed himself with his right hand, kissed his fingertips, and said, ‘Madre de Dios, this is what my poor brother, Zopo, say always. Mus’ be we close to the Holy Spot.’
‘What’s the matter with him?’ asked Lula.
‘Mi hermano was born jorobado, a hunchback. His real name was Martín, but everyone call him Zopo, deformed. He was murdered in his bed by two drogadictos who broke into our mother’s house to steal things. They tortured Zopo, mi pobrecito. Stabbed him in his hump with their daggers. Zopo was only eighteen years old, a gentle boy.’
‘Shit, Pepe, that’s terrible!’ said Sailor. ‘Well, guess we ought just head on into the town center, if there is one.’ He steered the Buick back onto the highway.
‘Sure didn’t bargain on there bein’ so much ugliness in life,’ Lula said.
‘Grandpap Ripley used always to say life weren’t no bargain to begin with,’ said Sailor. ‘Guess there’s no good reason the end ought to be any different.’
‘Least we can say a prayer for Zopo, we get to the Holy Spot,’ said Lula.
‘Gracias,’ said Pepe. ‘I know his esoul be save.’
SATAN’S SPACESHIP
‘strange, you know,’ said Cris Chew, ‘I read about a kidnapping just before I got on this bus.’
‘Dis ain’ no bus,’ said Baby, ‘dis be Satan’s spaceship.’
‘Kidnappin’ prob’ly the oldes’ crime they is,’ Sugargirl said. ‘We all be prisoners of some kind, anyhow.’
‘This was an Aborigine mummy that was found in a funeral home in Cleveland. Apparently, the Aborigine was kidnapped in Australia over a century before by a freak-show agent for the Barnum & Bailey Circus and taken to America.’
‘Shit,’ said Baby, ‘same as slaves.’
‘Yeah,’ Cris said. ‘The Aborigine was named Tambo Tambo and made to throw boomerangs. The freak trader listed his profession as an Australian Cannibal Manager.’
‘How’d it get in Cleveland?’ Baby asked.
‘Guess Tambo Tambo died there in a hotel, when the circus was passing through, and just got left behind. The article said the corpse had been embalmed twice. It was found in the basement of a mortuary that was about to be torn down.’
‘What gone happen to it?’
‘The Australian government said they were prepared to bring Tambo Tambo back once his descendants decide what to do with the remains.’
‘Lord knows what gone remain of us,’ said Baby, ‘dis crazy woman finish.’
The bus slowed and turned down a winding road off the highway. Daylight directed the driver along a circuitous, tree-lined stretch until they arrived at a dead-end clearing, whereupon she instructed him to stop.
‘This be the spot,’ she announced to the passengers. ‘“Behold, a whirlwind of the Lord is gone forth in fury . . . it shall fall grievously upon the head of the wicked.” Open the door, driver. Ever’body out now, an’ y’all watch yo’ step.’
In the middle of the clearing stood a tiny Asian woman wearing a black motorcycle jacket and dark glasses. Seated in a semicircle around her were eighteen women ranging in age from fifteen to fifty-five. All of the women seated on the ground were dressed in diaphanous yellow costumes that featured wings and antennae.
‘What the hell!?’ exclaimed Baby Cat-Face, when she saw them.
‘Chil’,’ Sugargirl Crooks said, ‘don’t take this for gospel, but I think we done landed on the planet of the bugs.’
LA PUNAISE
daylight durapeau herded the bus passengers, including the driver, together and ordered them to be seated on the ground in the clearing in front of the small Asian woman.
‘Welcome,’ said the woman, without removing her dark glasses. ‘My name is Imelda Go, and I am the artistic director and cofounder of the H. D. Stanton Institute. These girls and women before you are residents of the institute, which is dedicated to the belief that true art can be created only by those persons society considers radically challenged by so-called consensus reality. We at the institute decided to choose at random a group of outsiders—yourselves, as it has turned out—to witness a performance of our new ballet, La Punaise. That is, of course, the French title, the language in which the master composer, François Noyade, conceived it. In English, it is The Bug. The choreography, c’est moi.’
‘Oh my, my, my,’ Sugargirl said to nobody in particular. ‘What be happenin’ here?’
‘No talkin’!’ commanded Daylight DuRapeau. ‘Y’all give Miz Go her respec’!’
Two of the costumed women picked up cornets, put these to their lips, and played a few notes.
‘Ah!’ exclaimed Imelda Go. ‘The bugles of the bugs!’
The players rose and assembled themselves, wings akimbo, in appropriate positions behind her. As Ms Go narrated, the women danced.
‘Two teenagers, a girl and a boy, are on their way home from school. They are playing hide-and-seek along a path by a river. The girl, Lita, shouts to the boy, “You’re it!” She runs ahead and steps behind a tree as Philip, the boy, runs by. She waits and then sits down, her back against a rock next to an enormous, old, half-dead tree.
‘Lita takes off her backpack and pulls out a large red textbook, The Secret Life of Insects. The title is written in large gold letters on the cover. She begins to read from the book while nibbling on a sandwich that she has pulled from her pack. Soon she notices a trail of small insects carrying the crumbs from her repast toward an opening in the old tree. Fascinated, she crouches down to take a closer look. Lying down, propped on one elbow, the young girl becomes totally engrossed in the industrious insects. Reality fades into a blur and the tree begins to grow. Or is she shrinking? Lita reclines into a deep sleep.
‘She awakens, finding herself in a labyrinth deep inside the earth. As her eyes become accustomed to the strange new light, she finds that she is among many forms of insect life. Lita is at once frightened and amazed by what she sees. Iridescent beetles, delicate ants, and spotted ladybugs twirl and flutter, their transparent wings trailing. They perform dances of play, flirtation, and love. The bugs do not seem to notice Lita observing them, so absorbed are they in their own activities. Two ants draw her attention as their courting dance becomes more sensual. The two creatures bump and writhe, rubbing their armored bodies together. They reach an erotic climax as the walls burst apart. Termite
warriors enter the chamber in full battle gear. A melee ensues. The energy level changes from erotic to martial but remains strangely sensual. The insects clash in individual combat. Lita takes cover behind debris from the caved-in wall.
‘At the height of the battle, a magnificent Bug Prince—the teenage boy, Philip rides into the fray atop a stunning green beetle. Brandishing a glowing scepter, he routs the head termite, whose troops follow him in retreat back through the openings in the chamber walls.
‘The victorious insects rejoice. Lita, overwhelmed by what she has witnessed, bolts upright from behind the debris an faints at the same moment she is spotted by the Bug Prince. He dismounts the green beetle, sweeps her up with his appendages, and remounts. He carefully observes her; then, to the amazement of all the insects, he rides with her out of the chamber.
‘Lita regains consciousness in the Bug Prince’s private throne room. She is lying on a couch of fresh mulberry leaves. The Bug Prince is seated on his throne in deep thought, one hand holding a jewel-encrusted goblet. To his right is a lectern upon which lies a large red book. The gold letters on the cover read: The Secret Life of Insects.
‘Lita gasps and jumps up to flee. The Bug Prince snaps out of his reverie and quickly crosses the room to her side. Lita raises her hands in fright. The Bug Prince, through pantomime, pleads with her to stay, promising she will not be harmed. Lita is touched by his gestures and she decides that he is sincere. She is now drawn to him, and they dance together.
‘He tells Lita of his lifelong desire to become human and dwell in The Land Above the Bugs. Lita explains that this is not a good idea, because in the Land Above the Bugs he will no longer be a prince. Lita comforts him, and they assume the grace of impossible lovers, knowing and acknowledging that in their present states they cannot really be together.
‘Lita stays with the Bug Prince, however, and begins to read from the big red book, The Secret Life of Insects. She turns the large pages, searching for an answer to their dilemma. Suddenly, she comes upon a passage in the book that she believes offers a solution. The book contains a spell that once cast cannot be reversed. It provides for one irrevocable passage to the Land Above the Bugs. Lita reads aloud the spell, and with the use of the magic scepter, brings forth a dense mist that enshrouds both her and the Bug Prince.
Southern Nights Page 24