Gabe was walking in the cold stream again. Yeah, the “cold as balls” stream his grandfather wrote about in his journal back in 1953. The Fin family had lived on that property for 4 generations and none of the Fins had any inclination to leave the family farm… except Gabe. While every other Fin was content on raising kids, husking corn, drinking under the stars and waking up with roosters at the ass crack of dawn, Gabe had other plans… big plans.
Gabe saw clouds and recognized unique patterns within them. Sometimes folks glance up and see a bird cloud, one shaped like an angel, a frog, a dog, a fairy or a boat. Gabe, like his grandfather, kept a journal, a cloud journal. After his first five years he noticed a cloud that looked familiar. It was a cat playing with a ball of yarn. Right next to the cat was a row of cloud burritos, all perfectly rolled and ready to be eaten. Gabe remembered this unique combination.
Picking up a journal from 4 years earlier, Gabe turned to April 8th and looked at his entry: cat playing with yarn and yummy burritos. In parentheses he had written “pass the cilantro pig fucker. LOL” Gabe had what could most accurately be described as writers Tourettes. While an angel seemed to choreograph his discussions with adults and teachers, his writing often came inspired, but with a hint of sewage.
Gabe laughed at his entry and was blown away by repeat clouds, his first ever. His wheels were turning on what to name this phenomena. “Cloudpeat, recloud, cloud mirrors, kangaroo shit ass fucker fuck”, were just a few of the first to work through his busy mind. He would sleep on it. The days were the same but the exact times were off by 7 hours. Out of curiosity Gabe glanced at the following day from 4 years ago.
Elephant cloud with bags of rice clouds were the highlighted clouds for the day. There was plowed farm field clouds at sunset and wise man face cloud around 3 pm. When Gabe explained his findings at the dinner table, everyone was astonished, until Gretta showed her marble painting from nursery school. Great grandma praised Gretta’s pure talent and mapped out the young child’s future, all the way up to marrying a prince from another land and crushing the glass ceiling with her art. Great Grandma then blew a huge fart, which the family Fin had been taught to pretend never happened. If anyone laughed, they were doing dishes.
Gabe was not upset. With a large family you were lucky to get recognized at all at the supper table, period. As he excused himself from the table, his father, Shane, shook hands with Gabe and said “Heck of a find young man! Competition with a marble painting is tough, but I know you’ll be the first Fin to forge a new frontier. I Love you son.” Shane knew that a handshake meant a lot to Gabe, especially in matters of profound findings and accolades. But at bedtime that young scientist is getting a walrus hug, yeah, the Shane Fin patented walrus hug. There was an abundance of Love in the Fin Family, for all generations.
Gabe woke up and went straight to the tower him and his dad had built 5 years ago. It stood 14 feet high and had a set of binoculars for every direction. As Gabe searched the sky, he truly only wanted to see one set of clouds, the elephant cloud with rice bags. He dozed off somewhere between his second glass of cold tea and 5pm. When he woke up he went to the East side of the tower and had no need for his binoculars. The elephant cloud was huge and the rice bags were right there with it. Gabe’s jaw hit the floor.
Gabe screamed for his father, who ran straight to him. “What is it young man? Are you alright?” His dad never knew Gabe to cry wolf or to be boisterous… or even compelled to raise his voice.
“It’s the elephant cloud dad, and the sacks of rice clouds.” Gabe said half in disbelief of himself. He then pointed to the writing from 4 years ago. His dad was astonished and pretended not to see the vulgarity the accompanied the entry in his son’s journal. He did chuckle to himself though, elephant big nuts and sack of shit rice was… unique?
As the two of them hugged a strong wind came through, knocking them both down, and taking the journal to new heights. They watched as a tiny twister sucked that journal right up to elephant cloud. Now both their jaws were on the floor. Gabe was always buying neon colored journals because they were awesome and made him feel like his work was credible. This particular journal is neon green, and they could both see it in elephant cloud! It was just floating there. Total silence.
As the Fin father and son stood there, neither could speak. Elephant cloud had now morphed into tree cloud, and it was incredible as the setting sun caused the tree cloud to turn red and orange. The journal was now by the roots of tree cloud. When the sun set and darkness covered the land, the men slowly went back to the house. Both were confused, amazed and bewildered. Mama Fin had dinner waiting for them, but everyone else had already eaten and had excused themselves.
Not one of them had spoken a word other than “Thanks” to mama Fin for the food. Mama Fin brings a letter to the table, a most official looking letter with no stamp on it, just a postmark from Bhutan. The envelope seemed to be vibrating visually, but was still when held in the hand. Mama Fin apologized and told Gabe that the letter had come last week but she had forgotten to give it to him.
Gabe opened the letter inside, it was two pages. Shane was all eyes as the two of them read it together:
Dear Gabrial Lewiston Fin:
We most humbly accept your request to meet with us. Your father will also be allowed to accompany you, but he is the only one. If you tell anyone, the meeting will never happen. We know all. In your world, next Wednesday, you and your father will go back to the tower at 3:33 pm and be wearing clothing of great warmth. While it is not required and will hold no influence on the meeting, it has been requested that you bring peanut butter.
For now, drink lots of water and be well rested. Your father’s role is more important than he thinks and your roll is unfathomable, so show up.
Cilantro pig fucker
The Fin men figured to leave their collective jaws on the floor. Father Fin then says the first words either of them has spoken in three hours, other than thanks. “What’s the second page?” knowing that there is no way anything could stun the numb bodies they were inhabiting. Gabe turns it over. It’s the elephant cloud entry from 4 years ago. For reasons beyond their comprehension, both of them started clapping.
Mama Fin asks what the letter was about. In unison the Fin men say “Nothing”…
To be Continued