True. Story. So. Help. Me. Hannah. I have mentioned before, yeah, we got some interesting folks who cut though our street to access downtown, where there is always something happening.
Being just a tad high-strung myself, I try to suss them out at a distance and figure a change of direction so as to avoid them because I am so sensitive to frequencies other than a calm Zen State. Momma does not like it when I get anxious and over react so she tries to correct me…and sorry, that makes me spin more out of control.
It reminded me of when all the cats would accompany Momma and I on our walks. It was a disaster with my head going in three directions, like the Exorcist, trying to make sure everyone was safe.
One hot summer day, a normal enough looking man, came to our door. I sensed no frantic energy level. He stood there with a big pink box in his hand, all bedecked in ribbon, very pretty. However, something from inside his pink box was dripping, all over our front porch, all over his nice white shots, even on to his toes sticking out of his leather sandals. Now we had never seen this man before (to our knowledge). What ever did he want?
Fr: Morguefile
File # 0002081437875 By: earl53
It seemed our visitor wanted us to take the dripping box, which contained an ice cream cake, and put it in our freezer. Then the minute we saw the folks across the street come in, we were to take the pink box over to them to welcome them to our street. Very peculiar, since it just so happened our new neighbors had kept their heads down when they moved in, kept their heads down when they came and went so they weren’t really the join in the fun in the neighbor hood type. Oh, and as is usual when you encounter these Martian like individuals, one morning, we woke up and they were…you got it…Gone, Baby, Gone.
Momma tried to explain she did not know them, had no idea about their schedule and did not have room in our freezer for such a big pink box. Our visitor – from that point forward known as the Ice Cream Cake Man, left with his dripping box, but he was not happy at Momma’s poor attitude. He was the one who had put out the cash, why couldn’t we do our share? Momma, well, you know…she is Quite Contrary.
Yes, the Martian neighbors are long gone but not the Ice Cream Cake Man. We see him often walking along, always neat and tidy, well dressed, carrying a black back pack, like a mature student. Momma and I always used to try to take an alternate route when we saw him coming. It got tricky because he had become a friend with Scooter Man, who really gave me a good scratch behind the ears every time we met so I did not want to miss out on that. As usual, I like Scooter Man better than I like his little grey black terrier dog. And, as time went on, I came to even like the Ice Cream Cake Man.
Yet, you know the truth… ‘There are strange things done in the Midnight Sun…the Urban trails have secret tales…that would make great stories told. (paraphrase R. Service). The Ice Cream Cake Man, always so debonair, had history. I did not understand its relevance, Momma did not believe it but t gave you cause to pause. Apparently, like the Four Footed, the Two Footed are not always the package presented. According to the Ice Cream Cake Man, he said, he did, that he was first cousin, once removed to a musical genius.
There is more to come…it is just that Momma is pondering the possibility. This is the same Momma that channels dogs, cats, squirrels, birds, bees, and even trees. What can I say? We’ll. Be. Back.
