Monday, September 24, 2018

Clinch Eye And The Thunder


     One day this Red Ford Lobo screeches to a stop in the hotel like a scene from Smokey and The Bandit. I was upstairs in the corridor cleaning cobwebs feeling like my father on a saturday many years ago. I turned, leaving the webs for a second and I could see a terrified girl crouched down on the passenger side floor,her face contorted and pleading. This short round faced guy with a beard exits who looks like Harvey Weinstein. 





    One of his eyes was fluttering, flicking open then clinching shut. He had spittal emanating from the corners of his mouth. He spoke, snorting his words breathing noisily through his nose. He wanted to know where the owner was. Stupidly I said I was the owner. I should have said that I worked here 15 hours a day for food and a toilet,,,closer to the truth. This mexican tweedle dum was really whacked, god knows on what cocktail. He had that kind of head that if you kept hitting it repeatedly there would be no decernable effect,,,just the ever clinching eye. He started screaming accusations at me then he would jump back into the truck, quickly exit again, eye working open and closed spitting out things like remember this face,,,,pointing to his face. Fucking Spanish,,he grunted, probobly thinking I was Spanish. A group of clients near me dove for their rooms locking the door behind them. 
     On one of his several dramatic entrances and exits from the truck he stayed inside and  seemed to be searching for something on the floor. For a second I thought he may be armed,,,,it all seemed so bizarre. When he exited once again hands empty I asked him to leave and finally he kind of complied screeching out of the hotel, the petrified girl still crouched on the floor. I only hoped nobody was on the sidewalk who could have been hit. Meanwhile one of the maids took his license plate number.
     No one knew him nor recalled him being in the hotel before. After thinking about the incident I developed a theory about why this unknown maniac came here in such a tizzy. I betted that he had been refused by another hotel...for similar boorish behavior and was tendering his  insult on the route to the next place run by what he perceived as Spanish owners. He must have chosen an establishment where the owners look a little too white to be Mexicans. In fact a few days after the incident I spoke wih my wife's cousin, a hotel manager, he said there was a wild drunk with a young girl in their posada who he refused habitation. I bet my kidney it was clinch eye.
     My wife took the search for the identity of clinch eye to heart and found out he is a worthless drunken coke head supported by his brother, the doctor. He spends his days finding and fucking stupid girls who are impressed by large new red truck.


     Above our bed is a line of four square skylights. The moonlight at times enters like sharpened blades. Other times we can watch the bandicoots play after they have spent a night filling up on fruits, nuts, and insects. They pass the skylights jumping and running looking like monkeys. Two nights ago a thunder storm rolled in near midnight. I was floating in the netherworld between sleep and awake,,, almost making it to the island of my dreams where the temperature is always perfect and no one is ever hungry. I saw a light through my eyelids like a bomb had gone off, the orange light expanding from a single point into a large circle that filled my eyelid. That was the lightning. Perhaps 4 seconds passed when the thunder shook the night and rattled the house It seemed to be the loudest thunder boom I had ever heard. It took 4 seconds to reveal itself so it wasn't directly over our house. I wondered over whose house it actually was. The rumble trailed off tumbling into the night but it seemed to continue for an unnatural amount of time like a rogue wave that crashes onto the shoreline and just keeps coming right up over the seawall. 

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