Days of Uncle Ernest - Chesapeake City and the World – José, Chapter 3

Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – José, Chapter 3

I started to get bored, sitting there, watching the ants on the move, so I was glad to see a smiling Uncle Ernest return with his freshly-filled glass. “So what happened next, Unk? Did you and José wipe out those priests?”

“Aw no, Moose. A couple of days later we club members (José, Pete, Andy, Jim, Jack, Zeb, Phil, Bart, Tom, Matt, Jimmy, Jude, Jud, and yours truly), along with Maggie, Mamie (José’s Mom) and a lot of other people assembled at the top of a mountain to listen to José’s speech. He was such a great speaker, and I was glad to hear him use the techniques I had taught him. He was a fast learner for sure. But about five minutes into his speech, Maggie and I messed up big time.

“She was sitting next to me, naturally, and I was feeling kind of lovey so I pulled her up on my lap. She sighed, ‘Oh Ernie … now cut it out …oh my’ when I hugged her tight and nuzzled her all over. I blew little puffs of air into her ear, making her giggle and toss her head back and forth, which made that gorgeous red hair fairly dance, shimmer, and sparkle in the sunlight.

“Then, when I settled her down a bit, I started nibbling gently on her ear lobe, whispering ‘You’re my beauty, Maggie.’ This made her go limp, and she buried her head in my chest and snuggled her face up under my neck, tickling the daylights out of me. I laughed despite myself and blew a stream of air down the back of her head, parting somewhat that luscious stream of red.

“And then, Moose, she sat up, straddled and faced me, grabbed my head with both hands, and began a series of slow kisses starting at my forehead and continuing down my face (lingering delightfully twice as long at my mouth) till they reached below my chin. Her prisoner, I lay limp as my body tingled with supreme relaxation. I've never had such satisfaction before or since."

"Crap on it, Unk! 100% junk!

“Now, it was about this time when I noticed that everything was dead quiet, for José had stopped speaking and was watching Maggie and me. Not only that, but the whole crowd of people were watching us intently as if we were two zoo animals. Well, Maggie’s face matched her hair in redness as she dismounted, slid into her chair, and slouched down.

“I just lowered my head but kept my eyes looking up at José, who shook his head and said to the crowd: ‘Folks, Brother Ernie is really a handful. Brother, come up here please,’ giving me the curled-finger, come-here sign. He shook his head and said, ‘You’re impossible, Ern.’ ”

Uncle Ernest had his eyes closed, Nina, and was quiet for a time while I fidgeted. Finally, he continued: “So then, Moose, when I sauntered on up and stood next to him, he told the audience to remember all that he had spoken to them that day and to pay attention to the poem that he was about to recite—dedicated to me. José then recited the poem, dismissed the crowd, and gave me the parchment to keep.”

Then Uncle Ernest recited the poem, as I listened intently. I mean to tell you, Nina, as I sat there that summer evening listening to his voice, time stood still for those magic minutes. I couldn’t believe he had done so many nifty things. How could one Uncle have been so smart, so dumb, and so ornery all at the same time?

He then gave the parchment to me, and, for what it's worth, here's the poem that José dedicated to Uncle Ernest and told the crowd to remember to recite when they were depressed and needed to realize that there was somebody in the world worse off than they were:

               Our Brother, who dwells in Daveston,

                   Hollow be your name.

                   Your stories spin,

                   Your jibes dig in,

                   On us as we live in Daveston.

                  

                   Give us your say,

                   Our faces red,

                   And forgive us our moaners

                   As we forgive your groaners.

                  Lead us not into elation,

                   But deliver us from detestation.

                   For you, Ern, are the gooniest,

                   And your tales are the looniest

                   That we’ll ever hear for a long, long time.

                   So long, Brother!

               

“Hey, Unk, I’ll tell you what! That would sure lift my spirits all right,” I said, grinning my head off.

“Right, Moose, but my visit was swiftly coming to an end at that point, I’m sorry to say. The very next day, José called us together for what I call the Doomsday Dinner. It was cooked exclusively for the Josana Club, or the "Dirty Baker’s Dozen" as we sometimes called ourselves.” [To be continued Friday, 10/19/2012]