Norman Allan
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Art and Fiction

 
Chapter Thirty Three


It was raining when they returned to Shekina's cottage. It rains when called in Roaratuni. It was twilight, and it was raining. Zak grunted and sat down beside the door.

"You'll get wet," sung Hallelu..

"0m," sang Zak in reply.

"He's not just a bull, you know," said Chris. "He is the Zak Guru."

"Well come inside," hummed Shekina. But Zak sat like a beatitude.


Dinner in Roaratuni. The meal commenced with tartar steak. Chris had never eaten raw meat before. He was an occasional vegetarian, and with his friend, Zak, "Om"ing outside the door in the rain he felt a little embarrassed. "In the out world," said Chris, "there is a general feeling amongst those who pursue "spiritual growth" that eating meat is both bad chemistry and karma. The macrobots say that it is very "Yang," and that it makes you horny."

"But what's wrong with frumming," slang Sok-it-to-me. "It's a holiness."


Concerning the sexuality of the Joju: how often did they? and, what did they? and, did they form dyads, romantic pair bonds, soul-mate-like, or were they promiscuous? Answers: often, and a lot, and yes and no, which is to say, they followed the dictates of the dance, which was sometimes long time, and sometimes quick quick slow.

"We are not jealous," sang Sokittoimmee.

"It is not in our nurture," sang Shekina.

Shekina kneeled by a kettle on a crane over her fire and prepared a herbal brew of Nirvana (infusion of Nirvana is cure-all in Tuni, like tea in England). "I think," Chris observed, "that Zak would appreciate it if we took him out a cup." (Zak was still OM-ing outside the cottage door.)

When the tea readied, Shek picked up a cup to take it out to Zak.

"I'll take it out to him," said Ishtar. "I would like the air."

"It's raining," licked Shek.

"I like water too," sang Ishtar balancing one cup on another and both cups on her head leaving both arms free for her crutches, she glid to the door and closed it behind her.

Sokittoommee picked up a harp and strummed. Butterflies twined, and everything became extraordinary. Soon Chris found himself dancing with Shekinah, and this was fit and exciting. Their thoughts started linking, and this was warm, soft and challenging. And soon their minds fused. And when they arrived like embracing waves on the ultimate shore, he, or was it she, felt like a cornucopia overflowing. And it was fine. They lay back in thalassic splendour, which is to say "the sea ran through them".

After a while Chris brought his attention back into the room. Sokitoomee had been playing all this while, had joined his music to their (psychic) coupling, and now played softer "furniture music" in the bachground. Chris ran over and kissed him, then danced about the room and played a wooden whistle and in the lilting music the butterfly dust wound flowing patterns as Shek and Sok now entwined. Later all three sang and played together, finishing in a contented tangle, they drifted into sleep.


The morning after Chris went out to the pool to freshen. Before him the lawn stretched wide to the boa-tree. The mountains rose beyond. The sky was clear with, high, a hint of cirrus wisps. Zakeri sat contentedly on the lawn chewing cud. Ishtar sat on the bank of the pool combing her hair with her fingers. Ishtar no longer wore long flowing gowns and saris to cover her fluke, or anything. She was pretty mermazing sitting there. Botticelli.

"I’m sorry about last night," said Chris.

"I’m sorry you’re sorry," said ‘Shtar.

"I thought you were jealous of my frumming with the others. But I guess not, coming from the fin."

"No. I wanted to be outside in the air and water, my elements. I spent the night with Zak."

"Don’t tell me you…"

"In the water," said Ishtar, "and nicely."

Chris was shocked.


Sok and Ishtar and Zak went off to swim in the crater lake, and Christopher was jealous. Brooding and jealous. He wandered off disconsolate into the tree to meditate. "Bitch!" he thought, and said. "Whore!"

Cross swampy ground Chris trod the lily pads, but the leaves gave way and,he found himself being swallowed by a hippopotamus.


please send illustrations to normanallandr@.yahoo.ca


Chapter Thirty Four