Highs and Lows
The first time I got high was outside of a bar called Taproot. A collection of bearded musicians and a wooden dance floor that seemed to attract older men like my date, trying to impress impressionable young women, like I used to be. There were many pairs of us, but somehow I felt elite, sitting next to my brooding companion. We were by far the handsomest, of that I was smugly certain.
It was winter, but the hipster-local-who-cares-cocktails I had consumed kept me warm when we went outside - snowing though it was. A jacket would cover the appeal of my outfit - my trap for his eyes. His eyes never needed much ensnaring, they flittered around recklessly even then.
His Chevrolet truck - with the covered back where he kept the dogs he walked for a living - was open at the driver’s side. I was soon against the door - swooning under whiskey lips and feeling heady from the thrill of being desired. He pulled back - lids heavy, and produced a joint from his flannel breast pocket. I was delighted by every cliché. I fell for his jungle colors, his peacock spread.
I was a novice then, and so his taste for my lips and my lack of knowledge lead to an exchange. He blew the smoke within me - again and again - watched me expel it into the night air. The fiddle that played in the background of our embraces called my attention now - as did the gaze of the door guard. A full figured man - he peered at our exchange, and I supposed he had watched many couples in this manner - too drunk to notice his leer. Fresh from the country, every detail of this shoddy part of town enthralled me - made me feel like a bold city girl.
My date noticed the fat man’s observation, and pulled me to him again. It was a performance - I couldn’t recognize then that this display was more for the guard’s benefit than mine. It was this night that I went home with him, the night of my surrender - exchange of flesh. A step more severe for me than for him, of that I was aware.
We were woken the next morning by a knock - followed without much pause by an open door - for which his roommate seemed embarrassed. I covered myself, blushing. My lips were swollen from kissing, I felt them with my fingertips as my date cursed his roommate. The roommate, a shy boy - was just short of writhing in his discomfort.
“I’m sorry man, she just came in.”
From behind him, a woman stepped forth, closer to my date’s age than mine. I stared back defiantly from his bed on the floor, though my date began to sputter and collect himself. I’m embarrassed for that stare now. She said nothing, but my boxer-clad companion followed her out the door.
In my naivety I allowed him to embrace me again when he returned, no questions asked or answered. Foolish men thrive on foolish girls.
Foolish girls let foolish men tell them to ignore their intuition, ignore their observations.
I did not stop being a foolish girl until I found myself at his door, peering in at him and a face that didn’t belong to me - who stared back at me with a familiar rosy defiance.
Who is the Devil?
“Cross God one time, and you will be depicted forever as a bloodied goat man - but I’m the evil one.”
She crossed and uncrossed her legs.
Indeed, the young woman across from me was not unpleasant to look at. She was plain looking, mousy even.
If I had been told that the devil were a woman, my mind would have filled with a vision of a Delilah temptress, forked tongue slipping in my ear while I quivered with waning resistance.
Alas - no swirling smoke, no hopping henchmen. Dressed in crimson satin, a woman devil of my imagination would convince me to do vile things with whimsy.
The woman across from me was buttoned down, no cleavage or flitting eyelashes. She looks like a mom. I try to keep my suspicion, any fool could guess that this was naught but a trick. Blue blouse and khakis did not an innocent make.
“Oh, this isn’t my normal form, this is a rental especially for you.”
A wink, there it was - the trickster was out to play. Ignoring that Lucifer was reading my unexpressed thoughts - I was filled with disgust. This woman possessed, to be used and discarded like some puppet.
“Don’t you recognize me?”
Staccato laughter burst from her, drawing the attention of the tables around us. It was that laugh that began the chill, which poured over my skin like oil.
“This is my fault, I tend to indulge in theatrics.”
She began to change. Sallow shrinking greying meat - half of her face ripped up with a violence, showing bloodless flesh - she laughed again, the laughter strange sounding from behind flapping skin. It was then that I saw the tire marks, which crawled up across her chest before me.
“Remember me now?”
I had tried to forget. Spread on pavement in the dark - I hadn’t gotten a good look. Besides, I had been very drunk.
Have faith!
Gandalf: So my dear friend. I see you've decided to dwell among the forest critters.
Radagast: I have gotten to know them and understand their way of life dear friend.
Gandalf: Their way of life? Do tell me more. My journey to see Bilbo and his pals can wait.
Radagast: These creatures do not worry or fear for their future. I have become their guardian. They need more protectors you know. We can't keep destroying their homes and not replacing them. We're lucky they don't have evil dark thoughts or intentions.
Gandalf: I see. You're right. Glad they're not seeking out vengeance on us. Look at how adorable your rabbits look. Imagine having to end up fighting them. That would be so horrible. They are such beautiful creatures. They've got good souls. They couldn't even harm a fly/bug.
Radagast: They make look harmless. But they're other critters that are used for mass destruction\havoc & chaos. They've been raised to destroy and cause harm to life that's weaker than them.
Gandalf: That's a shame. Those hearts can't be changed. It maybe also just be in their nature to be bad or evil.
Radagast: They dark souls are in constant battle with their good light souls. In each scenario or case, they always fall prey to their evil dark side.
Gandalf: All This talk about good and evil is making me really worn out.
Radagast: Hahahah! You tired? That's a first. You always seem ready for battle.
Gandalf: Oh No. No,no-no. My war glory days are over. Now I must look to find peace and harmony with my soul.
Radagast: You could find a place to call home. Or maybe a group of beings who share your passion and dream of freedom.
Gandalf: Hmmm, that does seem like an absolutely wonderful idea.
Radagast: I'm glad that that sounds great.
Gandalf: It's been a while since I used bunny transportation.
Radagast: No worries. I can assist you with that. Tell me where you would like to go and we'll soon be on our way.
Gandalf: Let's head on to the Bag End a smial situated at the end of Bagshot Row in Hobbinton. I can't wait to see what adventures shall come along the way there & later.
Radagast: Only time will tell.(whistles to Rhosgrobel rabbits and commands them on is Westron).
"Not all those who wander are lost"(John Ronald Reuel Tolkien).
