Early morning visit


A white sanitation truck slowed to a whining halt along an adjacent street, creating an ominous sound so distinctly pitched, it instilled fear in small unsuspecting animals. Animals that were usually confined to their own private quarters. As it was coming up the block, Mr. Begaul had decided to take his new dog Pixie for a walk. That was obviously a mistake for
the high strung Chihuahua darted from it in terror! It then released, what sounded to me like a quick burst of compressed air, and that must have been like a dragon shooting fire at the small creature, for it inexplicably took off and almost snapped its own neck in the process. If you take
into account that its brain couldn't have been larger than that of a quarter, maybe then one could understand what kind of torment it must have been suffering. From where I stood in my room, it looked like he had a gigantic spider with six legs there on that leash, moving about at warp speed and upon thinking that, I immediately shuttered. I do think in all honesty,
if it ever got off that leash, it would simply run until it dropped dead somewhere. That's one feisty little bastard, I said aloud in my room to
my own surprise! I pulled the tight screen up with much difficulty and
stuck my head out. Upon doing so, I could see it was going to be a
beautiful day. Pete arrived early for a change and slipped in through
the back door. The time read 8:07 when I heard him surreptitiously
ascending the staircase.

Do my eyes deceive me?
Has the afternoon man arrived before twelve O'clock?
"Ha-ha, you're a barrel of laughs."

Where we came from calling someone an afternoon man was sarcasm
in its purest form. It meant a person who didn't work, who stayed up
all night long and didn't go to bed until the sun peaked. A person who didn't arise until after the stroke of twelve and usually wasn't seen until around three.

I don't think I've ever seen you before twelve O'clock!
"You're a pisser man," he said in an almost jovial tone.

"Take a look at what I have here." He pulls a record out of a folded brown paper bag. It was the new Tull album! "Here, check it out, I picked it up Wednesday in my travels. I like it better than Stormwatch, but not Songs from the wood." Is it really that good? "Once you get used to it, it is."
The broadsword and the beast. What's this a satanic album, because
if it is, it's going out the window. "Don't be an asshole, it's not a sa-tanic
album!" Shaking his head in disgust. After further examination, I came
to the conclusion that it had to go. I then pretended the record was a
Frisbee and Peter screamed! "Don't be stupid, it's the last one in the
store!!!" I then started laughing and said, did you really think I was going
to wing it? "I wouldn't put it past you, if that's what you mean." He
then paused to run his hand through his hair like a comb, and it
appeared to me as though he had gotten so flustered he forgot where
he was in the conversation. Carefully, he picks up my lava lamp from atop the wooden radiator cabinet and with his back turned toward me begins speaking to the inanimate object as if it were a gentle thing that could understand."Anyway, it's not one of those albums that's gonna make you jump up and down. It takes a couple of listens before it starts
to grow on you." In other words, it sucks. (He spins around) "Nah man,
it doesn't fucking suck!" Slamming his fist down upon my dresser like
The Hulk in a heated rage!!! "Now you're just being a prick!"

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You remember when I went to summer school at Farrell? The year the Car's album came out. I was just a sophomore then, but I can remember saying to myself, I must buy that album!!! After I bought it, I started to hear every single song from the album playing on the radio! I'd put it right up there on the shelf with Dark side of the moon, Spare Parts, Rocket to Russia, and the Tommy Roe, Phantasy album! The more I think about it, the happier I am I went that year. Even though I rued going with all my heart and soul. "At least you never got left back. Did it help you at all?"
I don't know if it helped me, but I started smoking pot that year. The pot helped me, I guess. "How so?" It made me less pragmatic. I'm not really sure I knew at the time what the word pragmatic meant, but I had a
pretty good idea and since it was the only word in the entire English
language, I could possibly use to answer Peter's question, I figured
I'd run with it.

Pussy willow, I said, referring to song 7 on the album. What is he singing about here, a tree? Pete looked at me with an expression of mild disdain. "You're joking, right?" (I laugh aloud) I'm screwing with your head man, take it light, already! Where were you yesterday, I questioned? "Yesterday, I was just floundering around. I rode my bike to Tottenville and back. Then I looked for you, but you weren't around, so I hung out with Paul
at his house for awhile. We split a six pack of Kronenbourg and talked for a bit." I bought a six-a-Kronenbourg last week, no that was Löwenbräu, sorry. I then removed from my box, a wonderfully rolled pfleuba as we called it that year and proceeded to light it. "How on earth, did you roll
it that perfectly?" Well, for starters the pot was slightly moist, so I nibbled off what remained of the stems and then, after scrapping next to nothing,
I squeezed rolled the buds, rather than crumble them. Then I kept it in
my drawer for awhile. This is excellent said Peter as he toked away.
We passed it around until there was nothing left but a charcoal stem
and two burned fingertips.

The time was now nearing 8:30. He turned the white plastic knob on my television set and went past each individual station, until he reached channel 13. Mister Rogers' Neighborhood had just come on, and Fred
was talking in television land. Everything seemed to be a-okay, from
that side of the table, where no one ever gets hurt and pain is virtually nonexistent. Without warning, Pete jumps up and does an astounding imitation of Fred Rogers while holding his breath. "Speedy delivery, Mr. McFeeley. . . Speeee-dy delivery!" I couldn't help but bust out laughing! Look at this guy, I proclaimed!!! Pete now had his hand covering both eyes and could in no way stop laughing! What's wrong with you Fred,
was all he could muster in a glassy eyed stupor, so pronounced,
it seemed he could not catch his breath!

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I find it hard to believe that a fully grown man can act like that! Now
if I had to do a children's show. . . Let me rephrase that, I'm going to incorporate you in this too. If we had to do a show like that, we'd be tripping over things, acting like dopes and the kids would love us! "Hello kiddies, today we're going to talk about getting high. You don't want to do any of this stuff, because it isn't good for you." Pete man, you sound like the president of a tobacco company!!! I-cannot-believe I-am watching this, I said in the mechanical voice of R2-D2. When Fred Rogers began singing the song, "It's such a good feeling" neither of us could contain our ourselves! Peter laughed so hard he was in tears! After that, Fred Rogers wave's goodbye to trolley and before long the children's show had ended.

It was cool being a jerk, and who really cared about the things people think about or the thing's people do anyway? "Whatever motivates you" That's my motto. He turned the dial until he found something of interest. The Addams Family came on and Morticia was grooming her hair. Isn't it just lovely darling, she thought to herself? "I don't know why," said Peter, "but
I just can't get into this show, no matter how many times I see it." Yeah,
I muttered. "I think it's because Lurch is way too despondent, and Cousin It, just flutters around without meaning, uttering complete nonsense that no one of a sound mind could understand! Everyone in the show understands her except the people viewing! Wednesday's too whiny and Pugsley, where did they find that kid?" I know, he belongs on a farm somewhere
in Idaho! He's always blowing things up! "What's with that? Here's a new train set Pugsley, now be a good boy and blow it up for me!!!"

Imagine your dad got you this really cool robot,
and you blew its head off with an M-80 in the middle of your bedroom! What should the rational response for doing something like that be?
Do you think your dad would have been really cool like Gomez?

"I think he'd-a-bludgeoned me to death!!!"

"And look at Fester, he's always got that friggin' light bulb in his God damn mouth! Need a light Gomez? Let me just unscrew one from gran- mama's lamp!" Peter then begins doing his unique pantomime routine. First he impersonates his character by unscrewing the light bulb from an imaginary light source. He then pretends to put the bulb in his mouth, as would a jubilant Fester Addams! Then, with eyes rolled up and his mouth in an 0 position, he looks like the alien having a nervous breakdown in Edvard Munch's painting, The Scream!!!

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I am now in stitches and nearly fall to the floor! Soon it is 8:30, and the show has ended. After a seemingly long commercial break, another show airs. On 1313 Mockingbird Lane, we find the Munster's shuffling about in a timely fashion and distilling mirth. All the cobwebs and antiquated furniture nestled away in the arcane dwelling was now a sanctuary of peace for me to reflect upon. A grand escape so to speak. I soon found their homestead to be reminiscent of that of my grandmother's house, and began to think of both houses, as though there were a direct correlation between them. As my being dissolved into lethargy, my mind was transported to that old black and white Victorian mansion. Pete then staggered to his feet to do an imitation of Herman lumbering in after a hard day's work. In a dry but pleasant voice, he utters the following phrase "Le-Lee, I'm home!" I don't quite know how, but he had the science down pat, and with that sullen face of his ever changing, he could impersonate anyone to a tee! The wind was blowing outside that house like a giant twister was coming, while I felt as calm as a zeppelin floating unhindered in an immeasurable sky. In an anomalous way, it was almost breathtaking!

As I transcended deeper into the picture, the story unfolded wonderfully. The pictures in my head, were more along the line of daydream patterns summoning me to participate with them. As I began to dwell on this, my mind whisked me away. I drifted into the house on a cool breeze rustling through the curtains and settled down amongst the dusty furniture. The only currency I needed to take with me had already been smoked. I was now, but a vapor in the mist of time. While the episode continued to play on, my mind manufactured dreams, creating new roles for me to partake in. Most of the time, I didn't have any say in the matter.

Static soon interrupted the picture and a brief adjustment had to be made to the antenna which was drooping to one side. As I wandered, past bedrooms and bathrooms like a midsummer breeze, I became skeptical as to why I was there in the first place. Finding myself atop the old staircase, I was not surprised to find that under this staircase, no dragon was hiding. That was all a great hoax, but aside from that, everything had been masterfully reproduced right down to the finest detail. How charming everything looked in a peaceful and dreamlike atmosphere! As I moved about under the spidery stairs, I now felt as though I were being watched by over a billion eyes! Creeping ever so gently, I made my way down
the ancient withered steps to the lowest region of that house. Here, I discovered a multitude of carefully stored wine bottles preserved in
a dank dark corner of the stone walled cellar!

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Using my hand, I wipe away dust from two of the bottles. One I can tell
is from 1896, but the other is obscured. Wait, I am beginning to see something. No, that's only my reflection. Hold on, there it is. . . 1902! In the earlier part of the twentieth century, the concept of paper labels wasn't even a fathomed thought in the brain of inventors! I then carefully placed the bottle back where I found it. Scurrying about like a mouse through cold torch-lit passageways and into an eerie laboratory, I found everything to be in a neat and precise order. Beakers filled with red and green liquid were contained to their holders. There, a bubbling flask of amber liquid simmers on the burner to await grandpa's return. A plume of smoke suddenly appears before me! Poof!!! "What is it, you ask," spoke the old vampire excitedly? "Why it's grandpa Munster's super growth formula of course! It'll make anybody ten times taller, enabling them to conquer any foe at all. No one will ever bother you again, but if I find out you're trying to swindle me, I'll make you ten times smaller and watch you get eaten by a hungry aphid! Here, let me show you," exclaims grandpa enthusiastically as he pours the two liquids together! "Now, all you have to do is drink it!"

Traveling to the upstairs portion of the house, I can now see an extensive library of voluminous books covered in layer upon layer of undisturbed dust. All first editions, protected from the elements of time and sun. They are here for your reading pleasure or simply for you to gloat upon at your leisure. Each room tells a story where the past and present meet. Tree's sway and bend as the impending storm approaches. Leaves which have pulled away from their branches fly aimlessly in the gusty wind. Suddenly, the air explodes, fulminating in a barrage of pandemonium as the sky crackles and the thunder booms! Follow the orchestral arrangement of tumultuous sounds, as it brings forth a torrent of darkness in its heavy pitter-patter. Outside you may hear the rain falling to the sound of a thousand horses. Where tears of victory come streaming down the fragile panes in stride, unabated. Carefully, they tell their own tale of woe. The years are heavy ladened with sorrow, but not for you. You hear only hollow echoes within the sanctity of the abode.

Am I watching the show?
Am I even here?

Vintage decor that has long since vanished in a time frame
now our own, is perhaps the most beguiling. Can it be done?
Is it possible to create another realm of living within the current realm,
we are all subject to participate in?

I suppose if one has the finances and if one has the time.

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Time, what a cursid thing. It moves by invisible numbers that can
always be traced back, but can never be traced forward. I then
realized that time itself doesn't really change at all. Every season is
more or less the same. It is we that have been changing as new
ideas come forth. As I got higher I began to think more and more
of that house. I couldn't fathom being endowed such a magnificent
dwelling. One with grand arches atop its roof and high ceilings.

A house like that is the equivalent of a town whose population is 1,
and you are the sheriff! The pleasures of getting high, I thought, and
why is it illegal? It gives the hopeless hope while enabling the blind
to see. If but for a fleeting moment, we're a terrytoon in time!

We joked around for awhile before breaking the seal on a bottle of Jeremiah Weed to welcome in I dream of Jeannie. I wasn't into the color scene as much as I was for the black & white shows, so my attention span was limited to about twelve seconds, give or take a few. Together, we downed a shot in unison and Peter gave his opinion while pointing up toward Christ. "Nectar of the Gods!" One more and that's it. "Don't be a killjoy!" This is 100 proof, and I don't want you getting sick in the house. "No way!" Yes-way, see for yourself, it's right here on the bottle. Keep thinking like that, and we're both gonna be throwing up. "Ain't that somethin', I thought it was sixty, seventy proof, tops!" After partaking of this splendid drink, I began to feel somewhat propelled into storytelling and laughter. It was now that I then told Pete an anecdote, of how I bought the bottle. Three weeks ago I felt like taking a little walk, so I left the car in the driveway and began walking not knowing where I'd end up. As fate would have it, I ended up in Greenwich shopping plaza. I entered the liquor store and asked them if they had any weed. They looked at me dumbfounded. I then said Jeremiah Weed, and they all laughed behind the counter! "Why of course!" Pete appreciated the story and laughed.
"Only you would do that!!!"

What did you think of that Honeymooner's episode last night? "I love that episode! I like it when Ralph gets stuck between the pipes! Do somethin' Norton. You gotta help me! Nortin? NORTIN!!!" They're playing your song, Ralph! "I don't care whose song they're playin, I'm not answerin!!!" Sometimes, I almost forget that 328 Chauncey street is a prop! "I know!" It seemed as though everything was going right today, and I,
had not a care in the world.

Suddenly, I thought I heard the telephone ring in the kitchen, and so I go downstairs to answer it. Mom is on the other end, and has called to say
she will be coming home early today. She also tells me no one better be here when she gets home, especially Peter! I tell her no one will. The time now reads 10:57. My parents never liked Pete, due to a condition he acquired called opsablepsia. I believe it started from smoking too much pot, but Peter will deny this. On those rare occasions when he actually seemed to overcome it, he was then way too pauciloquent in his speech.

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After the inevitable phone call, I went back upstairs with two glazed longcookies and gave one to Peter. "Aren't pop tarts supposed to be heated," he asks? That was yesterday, today it's a cookie so eat it.
"Can't I at least have a glass of milk with it?" What are you a cat or somethin', Just eat it! I surprised myself as I unknowingly became Ralph Kramden and hastily blurted the words out! Peter laughed at the way it sounded, and gobbled down the cookie. After this tasty little treat, we listened to some music. After that, I asked Peter a question.

Question, what is the best song on the Too old to Rock 'N' Roll album? "Well, I'm gonna have to go with the title cut on that one. What do you think?" I think the best song on that album is Strip Cartoon! "He get's me on a trick question! That's like asking someone, which member of Pink Floyd sang the song "Have a cigar?" *The answer is no one of course*

We each took a few more hits off the ornate bong as we laughed and talked about nonsense. Soon, the mooring line slowly loosened itself
from around its massive bollard. I then realized, there was no longer anything securing me to my sanity, and so I began to drift away. This
time, abased and dejected for the gloom had set in. Why should I even care about today, if tomorrow I might be struck down? Soon the years
will become days and all whom I know and love will vanish from this
place, leaving only me to face that terror. When at last, my casket is
lowered into the ground, no one will even remember my name. I wasn't
a Beatle, neither a Picasso nor a famous actor. When I started things, I usually never finished them and when I did finish them, they were never done right anyway. Everything that was once so perfect, was now just a big mistake. The smoke had gotten into my brain, and I became morose. Eventually, I managed to sweep aside the wretched thoughts that manifest despair and concentrate on a day which beckoned me to join it.

It's almost eleven thirty, I balked. Wanna go down and raid the fridge? "Won't you get in trouble if we do that, or don't you remember what happened the last time we ate everything in sight?" Yeah I know but I'm hungry, so let's go. The more we stuffed our faces, the hungrier I became and the hungrier I became, the more I found myself eating! I must say, what a voracious appetite we have today! I weighted a hundred and fifty five pounds and could eat practically anything put in front of me! We just kept on going, until finally, the pound of ham and the pound of turkey breast was gone. It's safe to say that when Ramon comes home and looks for his cold cuts, he's going to find nothing but head cheese! Soon it was nearing twelve, so I went back upstairs. There was a certain book I needed to thumb through before we began our excursion.

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