Spinners In The Alps Soup

This is it, my last excerpt from the “New Hiking Trail” story here. You may grab a copy of the book and read to your fill. Stories as told from a Carib-Jamericanian perspective. In richly blended language mix of; poetry, nonsense talk, sensational spelling, double entendre, and Jamaican Patois. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day around here.

Beahon and Angel would have met up halfway down the road or up the road depending on whose point of view you are looking at it from and through. Angie’s moving on up to the top. Well, not quite that far up to the top. Just as far up to where Beahon had stopped to meet her on the way down the back. Beahon doesn’t seem to like it that much up there as home and has opted to take a leg or two with him on the way back down.

You do know that he could have lost both though. Don’t you? Just like how some folks might have lost their hearts in some Frisco, to you. I mean, in some frisky part of town. Or two. Or he could have fared even worse. He could have been forced to divorce his headship of the house. Like some of the other house-mouses, perhaps.

Well, of course, and get to step down below his neck while watching them as they mess around “What the heck.” Messing with the wreck on his head near the bed up there, as said. Nothing to spare — mi bred; I swear.

But he really seems to have found some favor with the Kingsley bunch. Sorry, I meant to say, with King Liam. Okay? Yes. He really loved that man. Must have been something that they had fixed him up with and placed it right there in his lunch kit to Nyam.

He dug in and ate up all of it. So, when he was given the choice, he would have opted to take the boys, and then the plunge. To go on down into a more homely setting down-home, to eat his lunch. Said he felt a lot more comfortable among lowly people. Sorry Mister King, I meant no evil. I meant to say, your Royal Highness, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that they are “lowly” at all, they’re not. They’re Cekko people after all, on the lot.

So now Angie and Beahon are there, settling in nicely on a chair in the upper echelon of Cekko societal air. You all know that Beahon was just a boy then. Just a little more than a baby hen. No, not a chick, get with it. Go, run goh dung-a bredda Joe goh get the “likkle” money feh flow and come back quickly, quick. So, maybe, maybe when he was brainwashed. Like. When they’d brainwashed him. Sorry, I meant to say trained him, like. If they had trained him. They would have squeezed him into the A-chamber, and out again. Do you remember?

“No?”

Well, listen up, what the hell! Maybe like you, he’d never managed to learn a thing, nor two. Not much about the real Cekko thing, or the how-to. Like how to do things, how to behave and act in the presence of kings, “I will never be comfortable with those types of things.” So said he to the king’s men and, yes, them. So, back down low he’d much rather go than to waste yet more years there trying to know.

Trying to learn their kinds of things and to show them. Yeah! So that he could show them that he doesn’t need to know, not that much so. “I’m going to go down low before I get older,” so said the little rock band from Beahon to the bolder. I have my coat now over my shoulder. Angie baby, Angie baby here I come. You’re a pretty little woman babe and I want to give you some.

You know, like, something nice and very well done. You know that the Cekko people never die though, right? Well, at least some of them on some nights. So, tell me… what the hell’s up with this bright light? Are you coming in to get me tonight? Go away!

Anyway, they need to bargain this out really tight. Bargaining with heads screwed on the right. Though some lips could have been chopped off. Chopped more or less like liver. And given over to whoever. They’d still have to bargain, though, and with clever, yes, like, cleverness, like so. To decide which half would get custody of the eye and sight.

“Seen.”

“No, that’s Jamaican ‘yardman sin ting,’ or something, aggen,” …and keep it hidden. See what I mean? The lower parts got the better half after all. So now she’s the bigger boss and he, yes, him? He can look back over it all, and see, and grin. See what’s happening to you and me? And-and… Stop! Hey! Did you hear that? Listen up fast, listen. There it is again, that roaring, wailing sound blowing in the wind. It’s becoming a regular thing of late.

It’s usually followed up closely by a tornado or a hurricane in its wake. Guess Smokey is at it again. Sitting up late and wiping his slate clean. Or at least, he’s trying to be mean. Smokey has been hanging there all these many centuries, decades, and years too. Spinning away on things as well as spinning his wares and tears, on you. In some ways, he’s spinning around on that long string, for days.

That same string the king was to have graciously given to him, one day. While he was on the way out to look for and find his spouse and queen. Among all other such royal things. If only he had remembered to grab his kit when he had to run for it, and Cekkonians would have awakened to find him quit, and gone. No, don’t yawn. Step it up -man, and gwaan, galang. Sorry, I meant to say, carry on. Otherwise, go away. Can’t stop now, we’re almost home to go pasture the cow, and to stay, but not in lockdown as it is now known, in our day.

Meanwhile, Bauctnumboulei is out there having a blast. Going about performing many tasks, not caring about one iota of such sorts. Surely, not caring about how long it may last, or may not last. They’ve got the watch he knows. His time, though, will last, that’s for sure. He still trots the globe doing his tasks. Tasks such as these since you’d asked.

Like gardening, planting seeds, and weeding. Everywhere and fast came the crossbreeding. A daughter here, sons over there. And fits them well into the strategic square. Some are hiding in sperm E-banks and specializing in medical care. Caring for the facilities, and for his several abilities. Some such as these. What is it now, what do you see? Did you hear that, coming from him?

“Who?”

“Him. That one from over there in Cekkoland, or was it two?” Listen, listen to him, coming through on the line-in. …and wait, he will wait there, long. Yes, he will. He most certainly will.

“…Yes, you must wait, even if it’s “till thy kingdom come,” and it will -SON. It shall be done.”

That’s it for this excerpt and the New Hiking Trail story. Be sure to join us again tomorrow or any time thereafter, for more, as we continue with a new story. Well, new here but it’s already in your bookstore. Don’t forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you’d subscribe and follow us somewhere too, thank you.

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Just an excerpt from my book called “New Hiking Trail Cast Shadow on the Tattooed.” A Novel: Real Inky Trails Series.

By writingelk, All Rights Reserved.