Conversation Of Biblical Proportion

Prairie Fires and Faerie Pyres, Part 5

Duke talked with Stanley at the bar, getting our drink orders filled. I continued to watch the hockey game and tried to make the action conform to my imagination. I had cracked Asshole’s teeth earlier. Now, I willed a bench clearing brawl, something savage.

Dee said, “Tom?”

No luck. I had lost my powers. I trusted that if I drank enough, I would turn bulletproof and invisible. I never drank that much.

Dee waited.

“What?” I said.

“Are you going to answer C’s question?” she asked.

I turned to C. “So who’s your imaginary friend?”

“Eli Manning,” C said. “I like the name Eli.”

“It was Tom Brady before the Superbowl.”

“Well, yeah. Either would be good.” C loved football and was an avowed quarterback fan-girl. The only heroic quarterback that she passed on was Kurt Warner, who was too wholesome for her indulgent fantasies.

Indulgent fantasies would naturally be the domain of imaginary friends. Except mine, which were populated by the stern and contemptuous.

Dee said, “At least C would know the name.”

“I have a picture,” I said. “The two of you have a names.”

I was thankful that Duke interrupted with fresh drinks. I wanted to nurse mine, watch the hockey and be ignored.

“A picture of what?” Duke asked.

“Where’s my beer?” Buddy’s question announced his arrival.

I said, “You’re out of luck.”

“Let me have yours.”

“No.”

“How ‘bout yours, Duke?”

“Tom,” Duke said. “What picture?”

If I didn’t speak, Buddy would surely continue to demand beer.

“Do you know the picture of the old man with a pitchfork?”

“He’s almost bald.” Buddy said. “Like you.” He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. I reached for my beer before he could.

C said, “Your still cute when your forehead blushes.”

“Lay off my hair.” I drank my beer, and tried to look unruffled.

“Sure, Dude.” Buddy said.

“Don’t call me Dude.”

“Dude? Hey, Dude? Come on! Give me some beer.”

“What?” I drank more to prove that it was my beer.

“Dude, give me some beer.”

“Here, have some,” Duke said and offered his beer. “Do you know what Tom’s talking about?”

Buddy drank. “The pitchfork thing?”

“Yeah.”

“The house he stands in front of, its architecture is carpenter gothic,” Buddy said. He handed back the beer. “It’s a style for building churches.”

Duke said, “But he has a pitchfork.”

I put down my beer. When Buddy reached for it, I picked it back up. He looked at me then said to Duke, “Church architecture and a pitchfork.”

Duke drank. I drank.

C said, “That’s kind of biblical.”

“Name him after a preacher,” Dee suggested.

Duke said, “Jerry Falwell? Billy Graham? Those are good names.” He handed his beer over to Buddy again.

“Yes,” Dee said. “A televangelist as an imaginary friend.”

I imagined Ernest Angley booming, “Demons be gone!” Duke probably could do a great imitation.

“You all need imaginary friends,” I said. “I think I need some real ones.”

“Merkin,” Buddy said.

… continued

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Prairie Fires and Faerie Pyres

Part 5: Conversation Of Biblical Proportion
Part 4: Hockey Fight
Part 3: Your Blog’s Not A Waste Of Time
Part 2: Put Your Head Somewhere Else
Part 1: Showier Prose