In the land of the blind

This is the next part of the part that went before somewhere a while back...

When the king woke up all his sin was forgiven him and so he was able to go to breakfast a new man and wonder again why his table was so empty of anything that could spare him from his doom.

The curse of doom was very busy in the king’s kingdom and ran around with free reign to plunder all it could and strike up bargains all over the place with all the poor souls living in austerity and who paid such heavy taxes and such for the rich to live in luxury.

The rich complained they were a small hard done by minority and so made up laws to ban the poor from grumbling about their lot and blaming the rich. They also made up lies that were spread everywhere so that the poor didn’t know if they were coming or going most of the time which helped to keep them in their place in fear and working hard.

Depression moved in over the land and struck left right and centre and many fell to this affliction and so were given drugs to cure them but the drugs only made things worse.

All this of course was a small part of the master plan of the not yet convicted felons who were the real rulers of the land and had no regrets and were trying to live forever so that they never died; and so used their wealth to that end.

On the shop floor of all this and outback of any hope that could be, Mandy Marbles was lying in the dust with nothing better to do than scratch her many ant bites and complain that her story was not going the way she wanted it to.

Blue-Jane on the other hand was fighting hard and pushing back the doom of it all and was extremely busy all things considered, so never let it be said there was no balance in the land.

THE GRAVE ROBBERS HOLE

So when the big Mumbly, the basket weaver and the boon-dock wailer got to Cleveland on the 06.40 out of Penn they set up shop in the conversion frequencies to buy time and spread it about with their tongues on fire to all and sundry and hoped that the little bitter was not lurking in the shadows to jinx them again and drive them out of another town.

Driving south in a car made of many late hours and a rusty spanner and spreading the dawn for a change was the audience of all expectation and a free-loader to boot, give or take a shake of the dog’s tail in the back seat that had nothing much better to do than count its chewed bones.

In the grip of going too far and not a moment out of time the big sneeze all the way from Montana was making inroads along the very same highway of inebriation and had a wanton foot that wouldn’t stay still for nothing and wanted only to feel the next breeze coming off of the ocean of freedom where all things merge into one to find the long road home, and hallelujah to that was playing on the radio as the sun of this inspiration came up and down all by itself and never said a bad word to anyone at all, not even to the plastic banana leaf that was so tall and hanging out of the back window and waving to everyone like the ghost of everyone’s favourite uncle who had finally done the impossible and escaped to fly away to that far land that had always beckoned and been ignored or put on the back-burner for a time that would never come but was somehow always longed for.

Contrary to popular opinion and a footloose consciousness chaser with a taste for fried chicken on the wing and spare ribs out the back, the man in the mask who was no two ways about it most of the time and always had spare change took a wrong turn off the freeway of his design and rolled up to where the three from Penn were hammering nails into their day-glow beliefs that didn’t have a hope of reaching nirvana but were enthusiastic about it for all to see and so were gathering a large crowd who all knew about the second coming and so were there to see if anything would happen in between of what wasn’t there and would never be whether the dog shook its tail or not.

Rolling down his precious window of thunder he was just about to get to grips with his mouth full of teeth and call out when the holy ghost of all his old excruciations piped up and said: “Say nothing.”

So with his face lost to the wind of that where the grave robbers were digging holes through his eyes and his teeth showing through his open mouth he frightened everyone into thinking that the old devil was here to take them all into the down below where it was so hard to dig your way out of.

And so with lots of arm waving and not a few screams they all ran off to hide in the back rooms of their lives where the rat-runs were so familiar and comforting.

The three from Penn stood their ground not wanting to be driven off again, but it was all too much and they gave in to their despair that never gave in to them and turned tail and ran off too, never to be seen again this side of a grave robbers hole.

Incidental to this and not overly fond of spreading rumours in the dust where the light gets in to burst out the other side a dollar over easy was sinking fast into the sunset and taking with it what could never be said in this or any other tale full of explanations driving any place to escape that terrible hole in their lives where the grave robbers lived to invite them in so much.

The fire brigade who all lived next door to this and had put out many such fires in the past of their lives had gone on strike and so were not available for comment.

Sweets for Candy and spooked on the sugar rush was coming into town the hard way but was not a one for regrets and so didn’t take it personally any more than along the lines of it was all a bittersweet allusion that under it all lay the treasure that can never be found nor ever be talked about properly and so ten tons of cement would be placed over it all for the duration or until such times could be found to make sense of it.

Anyway, many words were shoe horned in edgeways like to take up the slack and it is around here that we find Blue-Jane on her perch in the tree...

Blue-Jane on her perch in the tree was looking down on it all to the consternation of the big Mumbles who was sitting on another branch over a-ways and hidden from spying eyes, mostly, and who was listening to ragamuffins for breakfast playing the accordion and couldn’t be reached by any other line of sight than a whistle in the dark and step up to blow me down and sneak me away and never go home again.

“Oh Blue-Jane,” said the old crow above her on its branch.

“Shut up,” said Blue-Jane sternly, “I’m trying to listen to what is being said.”

The meow cat said nothing.

This is the end now so you can stop reading; but there will be another part to read soon...

Image from Pixabay

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