The land of dry tonics


No one bothered the deteriorating skeleton, but the hungry tree it resided in. The passing of time had overshadowed the age before it and its young builders were now old men, dying or dead. The steps going up resembled broken bones that inverted outwards where many of them were missing.
A clear sign that they had fallen off and were left to dissolve on the ground. Water could be heard gently rushing by as we departed from
this historic place, onward to the 4th gathering spot. Up around the bend and away from Eagle's Creek we went, walking gingerly and telling stories of days long since passed.

We soon reached our place of solace, where worries fade. This enclave was surrounded by a dozen oak trees. One in particular had another tree growing out of it. So isolated were we on this straightaway path, that it truly felt like we were lost in a mighty forest! Cut off from the rest of the world, I walked that advantageous trail, as if I were sleep walking in a dream while looking out from the spiritual eyes of my own soul. As I walked dreamily on, I started to think about the Indian tribes who once lived here. How our ancestors as settlers, once they got a foothold, managed to roust the Indians from their own land, leaving them with nothing. God, I thought, we are so terrified of another country coming in and doing that to us, but we seemed to have no problem doing it to other people. Why are we so evil? I then wondered if it was not beyond the realm of fiction to actually find the remains of an old tepee, or better still,
a dome shaped wigwam that we can hang out and party in! Oh my God, how awesome would that be?

As we approached the 4th gathering spot, those thoughts departed and
did not return. Here, by the path's entrance was a cast iron horse head mounted to a red pole. The first year we moved into the new house, the Calloway's put it out for garbage, so I brought it here. I then used a post hole digger, before pouring concrete mix in. Carefully, I drew back, tamping the dirt into place. No need to add water, I just waited for it to rain. With a sinister face, that stallion looked menacing and the steel ring
in its mouth made him come alive! Be careful I said to Peter, he bites!
As we walked in, we saw the magnificent cluster of trees. On this huge American Beech tree was a giant carving that read in swelled up letters, MK L0vEs HT, surrounded by fancy designs. I would have asked the old lady about this, had I known of it then. The lettering was deformed and blotted and below the heart was the date 1919. For it to still be here 63 years later, it had to be carved pretty deep and probably took over a week. What else did one have to do that was so important in 1919? I'm sure that in itself was very. I felt the letters and they were smooth, like words on paper. In another few years sadly, it will be gone forever. Back when I first moved here seven years ago, I took a collection of old bottles from my room and filled this nondescript area with them. 26 bottles in all ranging from 1870 to 1916 still ameliorate the land! All together, it reflected the appearance of a fashioned bottle mine that was truly wonderful to look at and reminisce over.

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"These bottles haven't been touched since you last put them here," said Pete, in an off-key voice! "That is amazing." Pete picked up one of the bottles to better examine it. It was pale green and cloudy in color, but its texture was anything but smooth. Like it was buffed with fine sandpaper. That was an old bottle, I found on the shore while digging. He slowly read the name aloud before running his fingers along the raised embossing that bore its name, H. Rummel. It had a blob top unlike anything sold today and the glass itself was much thicker. Carefully, he put it down before reaching for a much smaller bottle. This one was half the width, brown
and square. It read Dr. J Hostetter's stomach bitters. "It's like a little museum out here," said Peter calmly. "If anybody ever stumbles upon
this place they're either gonna take em or break em." That is why society has no business in our affairs. *I spoke aristocratically*

I then sparked up the doob and we took six hits each! I looked at the tree again, and it appeared to be changing. Was it moving before my very eyes? Young laughter could almost be heard coming from deep inside the very tree itself as if the boys were still somehow here! As I looked up and into the bough of branches, I thought to myself, how verdant and lovely
is this paradise of mine! Faint as a whisper and as rapid as the wings of
a June bug in mid July, did time begin to relax before unwinding into the past. The writing on that tree seemed to be more pronounced only ten minutes ago.

I soon began to dwell on the people living in Egypt, and endless miles
of marijuana growing wild in the desert sand. As I thought of bronze men cultivating and watering, it wasn't long before I fell into a dream. From here, I drifted away like a lost airship! One with no wings. A dirigible!

Through the blue sky, I can see houses falling in Egypt. In their place,
men are building pyramids for they are impervious to the winds of change.
The Great Pyramid Hotel which now stands before me is as majestic as the Pharaohs, who once built it! I can see there is but one entrance hole cut into the aeneous stone, and so I sluggishly pull myself across a sea of shifting sand, blazing in the midday sun. As I finally reach the opening
and walk through it, I am inside. How comfortable it is now! The way
one would feel turning on an air conditioner during a heat wave, with the
humidity soaring. As the room begins to cool down, that conflagrant
inferno dissipates to become once again, a habitable sanctuary of bliss.
To roll the naked body around on those cool bed sheets is actually
more refreshing than an ice cold glass of water!

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It's almost like love in a way, when you can't get enough of your partner. In those moments of heated passion, tell me you wouldn't do anything to please that person you love. As I continued my observation, I found this pyramid to be the size of a metropolis! Its base was wider than the Isle of Staten and the pinnacle of its glory reached higher than anything else that had ever been constructed by man. The entire structure extended upwards to a height of 60,001 ft. As I walked ever forward, my eyes like telescopic lenses descried an image to the far wall that I perceived to be a map, but came up short, for it was merely erosion. In an odd kind of way, it looked like a calico impression of a windstorm emblazoned to the stonewall. Eventually, I found a walkway chiseled into its polygonal structure. Next
to this, inscribed on the wall read, Rest-au-rant, floor 23, in an ancient form of script. You have got to be kidding me! I decided to take the
wind elevator, because I was way too high to trudge up 23 floors,
even in my head.

As I pressed the elevator button, which was, in fact, a rather large circle the size of a human skull, I paused to examine the face within the lighted glass. It was an animated face of that freckled boy in the famous cartoon series from the 1950's, Paloma created by B. Raines. You remember, he was always trying to win her affections, but would fail miserably because he was just a boy, and she was the town damsel. Oops, due to a glitch in time, Jane Ellsworth never met Tom Raines at the checkout counter in France, and so Bobby is never conceived. Damn, now it's President Breckenridge. Please people, stop using the time machine in the main quadrant!!! As the elevator door rolled open the giant slab slid gracefully into the wall without making a sound. Wow I thought, not only is it quiet but efficient as well! Please, said the gentleman inside the elevator, do step in! "What is your name kind sir, if I might ask?" Murray, pleased to meet your acquaintance! "Same here old chap!" *I just love saying old chap!!!* As the door closed, I shook hands with Murray before exiting shortly. A firm handshake meant the man had character; had he extended a fish for me to shake, well then I would have been most displeased.

In a fanciful script above the ingress leading into the rest-aur-ant, read "The Egyptian Sands Restaurant." Why is there only one elevator per floor, I asked myself quietly? Eases the confusion, said the wine steward in a gruff tone. "How wide is this restaurant dining area?" Approximately 30.7 miles from one side. . . (sighs) . . . to the other. "Man-a-schevitz
on ice," I declared loudly, arousing attention from nearby patrons!

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I simply could not get over how enormous it was! I then tried to picture
how hot it must be in that one room box on the 670th floor, and it twisted my brain in a knot! The climb alone would kill you! Do you really wish
to know, asked the wine steward, reading my mind again? "By all means,"
I said! 147 degrees, but it will reach 153 before day's end. If you're
thinking about going there, don't.

As I passed under a long arch leading into the dining room area, I gazed
at my clothes to find I was standing in a salt suit! However, as I came out from under this arch and into the rest-au-rant itself, I was now dressed in
a much better outfit! Off to the side of the dessert tray stands, two dogs were rending my garments to shreds! They fight over it, said a waiter.
It is salty, you know! Loppo the Maître d' assigned to the Egyptian Sands restaurant on the 23rd floor is most kind. "Would you be so sweet as to follow me to your table, madam?" He speaks with a heavy accent as the women in front of him blush. "Oh Loppo!" Soon he is back and greets me with a pleasant, "how are you this fine evening my good sir?" Very pleased to meet your acquaintance, Loppo. Please he says, this way, and I follow in tow. "By the window that is not there?" We all laugh! "If you do not mind, this lovely lady looks very lonely." No, no, I don't mind at all. As I gazed about the room, I saw jet black sheets of mirrored charcoal, which seemed to resemble glass, adorning the ceiling. This, when reflected from above with the lighting created the perfect ambiance. Standing directly across from this exotic woman, I spoke with flair while bowing my head ever so gracefully. Ma-dam, I said with an air of distinction, but dragged the second syllable of the word to sound like a third rate comic! She immediately giggled and patted the seat for me take it.

*Cleverly amused, perhaps!*

As I sank deep into the plush upholstery, I couldn't help but notice that she kept one white glove on her left hand at all times. I wasn't quite sure
if I should mention this to her. What if it was a terrible burn or a scar or something? As she gently caressed the monogrammed table linen with her free hand, she asked "do you like wine?" She spoke as though she were afraid to stain the air. I love wine I said, pretending to be someone else. Then you should try this one. Slowly, she pushed her glass toward me across the gaudy and heavily shellacked stone table. With genteel manners, I took it and brought it to my nose, ever so gently taking in its delicate bouquet. Mildly fragrant with a subtle hint of nuts in the balance. I then took a small sip. This wine is too watery, I said before sliding the glass back to her.

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She looked at me with these sad puppy eyes and suddenly turned
very shy. "Would you have been so honest with me if I were
someone else?" She then touched the wine with her fingertip, and it turned to blood. What is that supposed to mean? "I think you know." Gently, she began rolling her index finger around the rim of the crystal wine glass which acted as a signal for the violinists to start playing. As the classical sound of violas, violins and cellos filled the air, I looked away and that upset her. "I'm over here!" Okay then, why don't we just take a look at our menus, and... "Stop, your ruining everything!" I'm sorry, I replied stunned. So am I, she said flustered and in a tone that could only imply a deep sorrow. With that she began to remove the white glove from her left hand, finger by finger until it was finally off. I noticed a silver ring on her index finger and moved in closer to see what design it bore.

Oh no I thought, as I looked at her, wounded and in shock. I'm so sorry she said, in that oh so familiar voice. When I saw who was looking back
at me, I gasped. "Did you really forget me, baby?" She said in such a sad voice that went on to touch my very spirit and blew my heart into pieces. Just to see those eyes and hear that voice again. A voice that was undeniably her own. Suddenly, the world stopped and everything was sucked back into its shell, which fell to the floor and cracked open.
It was almost as if the earth froze and all life became stock-still. That quiet deadness of complete nothing and then I was back. Quickly, I felt a rush of emotion leave my spirit and flow from my eyes and nose. This startled Pete who noticed something was wrong. "You all right man?" I'm not quite sure what just happened, excuse me. I hastened away to an area where I could be alone. It was there I let myself go. Once it started, it had to run its course. I never thought I would see you today, I said to the wind that rustled gently through the bushes as I wept, unable to break those fettered chains that bound my heart. Removing her image from my mind was like closing a door on the only person you need to exist. It brings intense emotional sorrow, but you feel compelled to embrace it, even though it
will utterly destroy you. "Be there in a minute Pete," I yelled in a deep voice, trying to conceal my anguish by attempting to make it sound normal. Then she was gone as quickly as she had come to visit me.

Briefly, we sojourned at the comfort of this secluded resting spot before continuing our excursion into the depths of the unknown. From there, we made our ascension through uncharted territory in a delusional state from the weed.

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