The moss was lime green, waves crashed over the rocks, and five sea turtles swam beneath us. On the next point over a quiet hippie man sat strumming his guitar. I wanted to be hanging out with him. But I have noticed lately that young long-haired hippie man on a bluff in the tropics with a guitar is my mirage. In desert lands when I’m very thirsty, there he is. But he always disintegrates in some way or another when I approach.
So I focused on Ronnie and the toothless man.
I control the world if in any town I enter I can find the homebums and a free six-pack. The toothless man scooted next to me batting his eyelashes, leering, and talking big—all at once. It was like watching the twisted mating dance of some jungle bird. I loved it and his free beer and the view, so I just smiled and let him carry on.
Did I know that he was a bona fide badass who could sell anything door to door and escape a Mexican prison? No, I didn’t, tell me more…
Ronnie sat thoughtfully on a rock. He was going to be a fireman. He was supposed to start training the week before, but he got stabbed in the leg. He’d been on Maui his whole life, except once when he hitchhiked through Northern California to Oregon.
One night, near Humboldt, Ronnie failed to get a ride. He decided he had to sleep in the forest. But as he walked to its edge, some Native American boys who had been eyeing him approached.
“What are you doing, brother?”
Ronnie told them he was going to sleep.
“Oh, no, no, no.”
The locals informed him that the forest was full of black bears and he would die! It was dire news. Fortunately for clueless Ronnie, he was still a Maui boy, and as such permanently blessed with the bear-repelling Maui Magic. As he stood pondering his options, pit hardening in stomach, a car pulled up.
Beep beep!
“Are you from Maui?” the driver asked.
Ron was stunned.
“I think I’ve seen you around.”
The man bought him dinner and a hotel, and the two reminisced about Maui all night long.
~~
The toothless man, haven been given time to think, followed Ronnie’s story up with a devious scheme: Ronnie should take his money and go get us all more beer. And take his sweet time getting back.
The toothless man salivated over this plan and repeated it several times to Ronnie. It took time and pressure, but eventually Ronnie was convinced. He finished his drink and walked away.
It was horrifying but I was fatalistic. This was the price I would have to pay for abusing a poor man’s libido for free drinks. I knew it wouldn’t get too terrible, it wasn’t that kind of day.
But the toothless man lost no time. He sidled right up as Ronnie rounded the corner. His eyelashes batted again. “You suuuure are pretty.” he informed me. “Could I have a kiss?”
Instantly he was in my face, his hand positioned on my knee! Quick thinking was required! Math degree go!
My brain reeled to compromise grosstrocity with placation, until, finally, it landed on a brilliant scheme of my own:
“I have an idea.”
(He was all ears.)
“How about I kiss you once and then we just sit here and get to know each other?”
In hindsight, I will never propose that plan again.
He nodded in agreement and attacked me with his tongue. (He was only missing two teeth.) I let him go on for an obligatory split second, then moved away. “Alright! That was that then!” I was hoping that if I enacted my ‘plan’ with enough enthusiasm he would have to follow along. However, the larger truth turns out to be: if you give a mouse a cookie, they will ask for some motherfuckin’ milk.
He begged me for one more kiss. I declined. He begged and begged, literally on his knees, but finally he realized I would not yield. So, logically, he asked if he could see my titties.
Just a peek? A flash? It wouldn’t hurt anybody, nobody else would see.
Of course not. But the more I declined, the more eloquent his begging became.
Just a moment? Just my eyes? No daring means no surprise.
Don’t be holdin’ holdin’ holdin’. You KNOW you like to show ‘em.
Take a chance. Sweet Romance. Once with meeeee.
Finally he realized I would not yield. So, logically, he asked if he could suck on my titties. By this time, he was a genius:
There is only the now, the present moment. We confabulate everything else. And here, in this sunshine, above the sea turtles, the bright moss, sucking on titties sure would be wonderful. Everybody would love it—the sucker, the suckee, the turtles, the hippie man with the guitar. And, ya know, love is a glorious thing. It should be spread at every instant. The instant is the only opening through which we can spread love! Here and now is the only reality.
Eventually that here and now will reach the evening and THEN, my chickadee, you will regret not letting me suck on those young titties of yours. You will think about it all night long. Do you want to live like that? In regret?
One day those won’t even be young titties any longer! How will you feel then about the loss of this moment? This opportunity? A lost chance…can never be recovered.
He was an inspiration to toothless men everywhere! But the answer remained no.
(go to Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)
Wednesday March 19th 2008, 12:34 am
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