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benchilada “Gentlemen,
this is not what I signed on for.”
“Sir Reginald, please understand, we haven’t had rain in two and a half months. All of our crops are dying…this is our last hope,” said Geoff, as he pulled on his red moccasins.
“When I said I could offer my services in an advisory capacity, I had no idea that you were going to be undertaking such a dangerous endeavor,” he grimaced, puffing great clouds of blue-grey smoke from his pipe. “I assumed that you would be trying a Mao-Shan Taoist ceremony, or a Lovedu celebration, or even a Thai cat-procession rainmaking ritual.”
“What’s wrong with this?” asked Henry, as he picked up the massive red, blue, and brown Kachina mask the two had spent so much time on. He waited for his brother to rinse the peyote out of his mouth before lowering the headdress, careful not to crush any of the feathers that stuck out of the top.
“Well, to begin with, we’re all white. In addition, we’re not in the Southwest, we’re inIllinois
“I told you,” said Geoff, his voice muffled by the combination of wood and papier-mâché that his headdress was made of, “we’re out of options.”
“Even silver iodide?” asked Reginald, daubing sweat from his brow with a cotton handkerchief.
“Yes,” answered Henry, tightening the red sash around his brother’s waist. “Even cloud-seeding.”
Nobody spoke for a few minutes, as Henry fixed smudged paint on his brother’s stomach and handed him his willow sticks. All three of them left the small barn and walked straight into the dried soybean plants that grew in the field next to it.
Sir Reginald checked his pockets…revolver, corn meal, fresh meat, shiny beads, porn; it was all there. Everything a clever man needed to bribe a visiting god. He refilled his pipe and watched as Geoff began to dance.
Henry participated by sprinkling corn and water in a circle around his brother, who seemed to be dancing to a beat that came from deep within his soul. Indeed, as the rhythm continued, Sir Reginald kicked off his Oxfords and felt a rumbling deep within the dusty soil.
“Masters Hutchcraft, I would like you to stop now,” he asked quietly, but neither of his companions answered. Henry began to circle his brother faster and faster, his eyes going bloodshot, his hands trembling.
“Psychic passage of the psychotropic effects of the peyote…” Sir Reginald whispered to himself, nervously gripping the copy of Cheri in his jacket pocket, “Bugger me, this isn’t going to end well.”
There came a thunderous boom and a wall of air knocked him to the ground. The same had happened to Henry…but that there was only a cloud of topsoil where Geoff had been standing. When it cleared, he saw that something...new...was in his place.
The mask, which had been hastily made, was now neither wood nor paper nor flesh, but rather a vaguely glistening soft material that seemed to rise and fall, as though it were breathing. Geoff’s skin had taken on rather a darker tone and his muscles were more defined and pronounced. Most notably was that where once the mask had met the boy’s neck…now the boundary was a seamless blending of flesh and notflesh.
“WHITE MEN!” shouted the figure that stood before them, pointing one willow branch at the young man who lay in front of him and one at the portly British man sitting on his ass.
“REGINALD!” screamed Henry. “OH MY GOD, HE’S GOING TO KILL ME! HELP ME!”
“I did try to warn you…when you personify a Kachina, they occasionally make a personal appearance.”
“WHITE BOY! I, TANGRIK’CHINA, AM HERE TO PUNISH YOU FOR YOUR FOOLISHNESS! YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME THIS LONG DISTANCE WITH NO OFFERINGS BUT WATER AND CORN FROM…FROM A… SOOOPERRRMARRRRKETT!!!”
The figure raised his hands above his head, the fingers crackling with arcs of blue electricity.
“A CLOUD GUARD YOU HAVE SUMMONED, AND A STORM YOU SHALL REAP!”
By this time, Henry could scarcely be seen, having made the mad dash from his supine position to his Dodge Ram in only a few seconds. As the tires spun in the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust, the god turned to Sir Reginald.
“AND AS FOR YOU, ROTUND MAN, FOR ASSISTING THIS JUVENILE IN…IN…Reg? Is that you?”
“It’s about time you recognized me, Tangy.”
“I don’t believe it! It’s been years!”
“Indeed it has. Oh, that reminds me, I brought gifts,” he grinned, making a small mound of his presents between a few of the broken soybean plants.
“Oooh, is that pornography?”
“Indeed, and some beads to give to one of those blue faced little Hano Mana tarts so you can get under her maiden shawl.”
Tangrik’china took a few steps back, dropped his willow branches, and put his finger to his mouth.
“Shhh! Not so loud!”
“Why? Isn't...wait! Don’t tell me that Hahai-I Wuhti finally got you to settle down!” Sir Reginald laughed, nearly dropping his pipe.
“Still your forked tongue, white man. She may be the mother of monsters, but she’s one herself under the blankets.”
“Right, that’s too much information. Were you really going to use lightning on that boy?”
“Oh, good lord, no. I’m just a Cloud Guard, not an actual storm deity. If I’d touched him with one of my hands while I was all charged up, it would have felt like he’d licked a 9-volt…at best.”
“It’s good to see that the years have softened your disposition a bit…”
“Well, I really just like to save the frightening of the hard-hearted and inconsiderate to my darling wife, you know? It’s kinda her thing. Don’t suppose you have any fire-water on you?”
Sir Reginald grudgingly handed over his flask—only this morning having been filled with Johnny Walker Blue—to the towering figure.
“Look,” said Tangrik’china, after a few swallows, “I’m going to drop this body I’m inhabiting into the center of the nearest town, naked. Can I offer you a ride as I do so?”
“No, no thank you. I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’m going to wander down the road until I can find a nice Amish family that I can convince to feed me some home-cooked food.”
“It was good seeing you again Reginald. Do you think you could, umm…”
“Yes, Tangy. I’ll hold onto the porn for you.”
“Thanks. Hahai-i isn't very fond of it. Hey, don't give me that look! I promise you, most of the time she's...”
“Don’t…”
“…a real doll.”
“Sir Reginald, please understand, we haven’t had rain in two and a half months. All of our crops are dying…this is our last hope,” said Geoff, as he pulled on his red moccasins.
“When I said I could offer my services in an advisory capacity, I had no idea that you were going to be undertaking such a dangerous endeavor,” he grimaced, puffing great clouds of blue-grey smoke from his pipe. “I assumed that you would be trying a Mao-Shan Taoist ceremony, or a Lovedu celebration, or even a Thai cat-procession rainmaking ritual.”
“What’s wrong with this?” asked Henry, as he picked up the massive red, blue, and brown Kachina mask the two had spent so much time on. He waited for his brother to rinse the peyote out of his mouth before lowering the headdress, careful not to crush any of the feathers that stuck out of the top.
“Well, to begin with, we’re all white. In addition, we’re not in the Southwest, we’re in
“I told you,” said Geoff, his voice muffled by the combination of wood and papier-mâché that his headdress was made of, “we’re out of options.”
“Even silver iodide?” asked Reginald, daubing sweat from his brow with a cotton handkerchief.
“Yes,” answered Henry, tightening the red sash around his brother’s waist. “Even cloud-seeding.”
Nobody spoke for a few minutes, as Henry fixed smudged paint on his brother’s stomach and handed him his willow sticks. All three of them left the small barn and walked straight into the dried soybean plants that grew in the field next to it.
Sir Reginald checked his pockets…revolver, corn meal, fresh meat, shiny beads, porn; it was all there. Everything a clever man needed to bribe a visiting god. He refilled his pipe and watched as Geoff began to dance.
Henry participated by sprinkling corn and water in a circle around his brother, who seemed to be dancing to a beat that came from deep within his soul. Indeed, as the rhythm continued, Sir Reginald kicked off his Oxfords and felt a rumbling deep within the dusty soil.
“Masters Hutchcraft, I would like you to stop now,” he asked quietly, but neither of his companions answered. Henry began to circle his brother faster and faster, his eyes going bloodshot, his hands trembling.
“Psychic passage of the psychotropic effects of the peyote…” Sir Reginald whispered to himself, nervously gripping the copy of Cheri in his jacket pocket, “Bugger me, this isn’t going to end well.”
There came a thunderous boom and a wall of air knocked him to the ground. The same had happened to Henry…but that there was only a cloud of topsoil where Geoff had been standing. When it cleared, he saw that something...new...was in his place.
The mask, which had been hastily made, was now neither wood nor paper nor flesh, but rather a vaguely glistening soft material that seemed to rise and fall, as though it were breathing. Geoff’s skin had taken on rather a darker tone and his muscles were more defined and pronounced. Most notably was that where once the mask had met the boy’s neck…now the boundary was a seamless blending of flesh and notflesh.
“WHITE MEN!” shouted the figure that stood before them, pointing one willow branch at the young man who lay in front of him and one at the portly British man sitting on his ass.
“REGINALD!” screamed Henry. “OH MY GOD, HE’S GOING TO KILL ME! HELP ME!”
“I did try to warn you…when you personify a Kachina, they occasionally make a personal appearance.”
“WHITE BOY! I, TANGRIK’CHINA, AM HERE TO PUNISH YOU FOR YOUR FOOLISHNESS! YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME THIS LONG DISTANCE WITH NO OFFERINGS BUT WATER AND CORN FROM…FROM A… SOOOPERRRMARRRRKETT!!!”
The figure raised his hands above his head, the fingers crackling with arcs of blue electricity.
“A CLOUD GUARD YOU HAVE SUMMONED, AND A STORM YOU SHALL REAP!”
By this time, Henry could scarcely be seen, having made the mad dash from his supine position to his Dodge Ram in only a few seconds. As the tires spun in the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust, the god turned to Sir Reginald.
“AND AS FOR YOU, ROTUND MAN, FOR ASSISTING THIS JUVENILE IN…IN…Reg? Is that you?”
“It’s about time you recognized me, Tangy.”
“I don’t believe it! It’s been years!”
“Indeed it has. Oh, that reminds me, I brought gifts,” he grinned, making a small mound of his presents between a few of the broken soybean plants.
“Oooh, is that pornography?”
“Indeed, and some beads to give to one of those blue faced little Hano Mana tarts so you can get under her maiden shawl.”
Tangrik’china took a few steps back, dropped his willow branches, and put his finger to his mouth.
“Shhh! Not so loud!”
“Why? Isn't...wait! Don’t tell me that Hahai-I Wuhti finally got you to settle down!” Sir Reginald laughed, nearly dropping his pipe.
“Still your forked tongue, white man. She may be the mother of monsters, but she’s one herself under the blankets.”
“Right, that’s too much information. Were you really going to use lightning on that boy?”
“Oh, good lord, no. I’m just a Cloud Guard, not an actual storm deity. If I’d touched him with one of my hands while I was all charged up, it would have felt like he’d licked a 9-volt…at best.”
“It’s good to see that the years have softened your disposition a bit…”
“Well, I really just like to save the frightening of the hard-hearted and inconsiderate to my darling wife, you know? It’s kinda her thing. Don’t suppose you have any fire-water on you?”
Sir Reginald grudgingly handed over his flask—only this morning having been filled with Johnny Walker Blue—to the towering figure.
“Look,” said Tangrik’china, after a few swallows, “I’m going to drop this body I’m inhabiting into the center of the nearest town, naked. Can I offer you a ride as I do so?”
“No, no thank you. I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’m going to wander down the road until I can find a nice Amish family that I can convince to feed me some home-cooked food.”
“It was good seeing you again Reginald. Do you think you could, umm…”
“Yes, Tangy. I’ll hold onto the porn for you.”
“Thanks. Hahai-i isn't very fond of it. Hey, don't give me that look! I promise you, most of the time she's...”
“Don’t…”
“…a real doll.”
benjamin sTone
Current Music: “Get Real Paid,” - Beck
Last Book I Read a Page of: Epileptic - David B.
Last Movie: One Night
in Mongkok (2004,
Not funny yet?
c.f. This Thing Here
