FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #5

     A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks.

     “Where are you going with that parrot?”

     “Who said that?” the boy replied.

     An old hobo crawled out from under a shelter. He had a long, white beard and walked with a cane. He held a guitar in his other hand.

     “What’s your name, boy?” the hobo asked.

     “Thomas, sir. And I’m not taking this parrot any particular place.”

     “You find him somewhere?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “By the way, name’s Larry,” the hobo said, smiling and exposing a mouth of yellowish-brown teeth. He began picking his guitar, humming a song, searching for the words. “Been livin’ out here for a long time. Can’t say that I’ve seen you around, either.”

     Boat drinks...boys in the band ordered boat drinks.....he began. “I love this song. You know it, boy?”

     “No, sir, but you have a pretty good voice.”

     “Thank you, boy.”

     “And I haven’t been around,” Thomas said. “Family just moved up from Alabama.”

     “Yea? Why’d you leave heaven, boy?”

     “What do you mean?”

      “Why’d you leave Alabama?” And what could your dad possibly do around here. There’s nothing in these parts.” Then he remembered. “Oh, yea, must be a doctor or somethin, am I right? I say so ‘cause the one we had before run off with the preacher’s wife. Go figure; a preacher’s wife. Who’d a thought? Devil goin to catch up with him sure.”

     “I don’t believe in the devil,” Thomas admitted.

     “Don’t believe.”

     “No, sir.”

     “Well, that reminds me of another song. I sing it when the devil tries to get uppity with me. He does that sometimes; thinks he’s better ‘n me or something. Goes somethin’ like this: Jack moves his figures across the strings with the ease of a professional: He ain’t nothin’ but a dickhead. He’s been one all his life...God knows how hard he tries. He’ll he a fuckin’ dickhead until the day he dies.

     “What about God, then?” the Jack asked.

     “Do I believe in Him? No, sir.”

     “Him? Don’t you know, boy? God’s an Indian woman.”

     “An Indian?”

     “An Indian woman.”

     “How do you know that?”

     “Seen her with my own eyes.”

     Larry pointed at the parrot. “That’s God’s bird. Where did you say you found it?”

     “I didn’t say.”

     “Where, then?”

     Thomas pointed in the direction he had come. “In the forest, about a mile back that way.”   

     Jack motioned Thomas to come with him. “Why don’t you come and sit a spell before you return that bird. Have something to eat.”

     “No thank you, sir. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be on my way.”

     Jack smiled. “But you’re going the wrong way. God don’t live that way.”

     “Then where?”

     “Here.”

     Thomas, not wanting to argue, followed Jack inside the tent. It was large, the biggest tent Jack had ever seen, and full of strange looking ornaments, furs, and sculptures of parrots, parrot shirts, and parrot hats. The fire burning in the center of the tent danced with the shadows as Jack passed a plate of beans, a cheese burger, and a cup of tea to Thomas.

     Thomas looked up, watched the smoke escape out from the hole in the top like a group of wandering ghosts. He took a sip of the tea.

     “You’re not eating?”

     “No, boy. Done ate. I’m going to sit here and fiddle with my guitar awhile, think up some more songs. What about this one: Tried to amend my carnivorous habits...cheeseburger in paradise...   

     Thomas took a bite of cheese burger. “Where do you get these songs? You make them up yourself?”

     “No way, boy. You mean you come from Alabama and you haven’t heard these songs before?”

     “No, sir. More into classical music.”

     “You mean like Beethoven and Mozart?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Well, you need to expand your horizons. These are classic songs.”

     “Who wrote them?”

     “Name slips my mind, but I think he’s still livin’, somewhere down in Florida, I think.

     Thomas takes another bite of cheeseburger. “So how long have you lived here?”

     “A long time.”

     “I know. You already said that. But for how many years?”

     “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

     “Why wouldn’t I believe you? Just tell me how many years.”

     “For eternity.”

     Thomas looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

     “Just what I said, boy. Forever.”

     “That’s impossible.”

     “See, told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

     Jack handed Thomas a bag of seeds. “Here, give these to the parrot.” Jack shook out a few in his hand and held it out. The parrot ate them, so Thomas placed the rest on the ground.

     Thomas ate his last bite of beans and cheeseburger, handed the empty plate to Jack. “Thank you. It was delicious.”

     “Welcome.”

     Thomas looked around the room some more. “Where did you get all this stuff?” he said.

     “Picked it up here and there,” Jack said. “Lots of places.”

     “Where?”

     “All over the world.”

     “How? You don’t have any money.”

     “And how do you know that?”

     “You live on the railroad tracks and in a tent. Your clothes are rags.”

     “And I smell bad.”

     Thomas blushed. “Well, now that you mention it, yes, sir.”

     “I can travel without money,” Jack said.

     “That’s impossible.”

     “All things are possible.”

     “I don’t understand.”

     “I’m God,” Jack said. Just like that, it was out of the old man’s mouth, patient and calm.

     Thomas stood up, realized he had enough nonsense for one day. “You said God was an Indian woman.”

      “I am. Please, sit back down. I know what this must look like to you.”

     “You don’t look like an Indian woman. And your voice isn’t a woman’s voice,” Thomas pointed out.

     “I changed it,” Jack said. This came out with a woman’s voice. “I also said my name was Larry.”

     “So, it’s not, then?”

     “I had to give you something.”

     “Why not God?”

     “If I had said that right away, you might have run off.”

     “And I won’t now?”

     “No. You’re interested now. You’re beginning to believe.”

     “I guess I am,” Thomas admitted. “So how about another song?”

back to Contest #5