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

Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – Babs, Chapter 3

With one of his goofy grins, Uncle Ernest continued his story: “I was a very lucky man, and I knew it, so I got the baboons to marry us and throw us a reception. The baboons were sort of like preachers there, Moose, so they knew how to perform the ceremony. Since Bud was nearly a man, he had to be best man. Babs chose Lucy, an engaging orangutan, to be her bridesmaid.

“And so, when that monkey preacher asked, ‘And who giveth this woman to this man?’ a loud, booming voice came from nowhere—out of the sky, I guess—and declared, ‘I do!’ We sure had a memorable wedding, and we had a terrific married life, too, without a single problem, in that bountiful land. We had fourteen kids (four sets of twins) in ten years. But, as always, I’m sorry to say, all hail broke loose again.”

“Yep!” I shouted. “Your luck ran out again, Unk; it always does.”

“That’s right, Moose. Crazy Bud got the island’s owner teed off by conspiring with a snake to dig up all the apple trees and trade them to the jackals for five bundles of pot. Boy, did everything go sour in a hurry. The weather got too hot or too cold, the rain and sleet pelted our bodies (causing us to go into caves), the bobcats ate the birds, mosquitoes bit the crap out of us (causing us to wear clothes), and the whole island started getting larger because of the receding ocean.

“So many bad things happened that it would take me till Christmas to tell you about all of them. Bud overdosed on pot and citrus, my two favorite sons—my first-born and second-born—got into a vicious fight that left the younger one dead, and worst of all, Babs lost interest in me, started wearing heavy makeup, and began flirting with a huge, mean-tempered gorilla.

“Naturally, Moose, I had to get out of there, so I found my balloon, ascended into the night, and, after a long sleep, found myself beside that same huge pile of oak leaves in my park in Wilmington. I hid the vehicle in the pile again, walked on down Union Street, bellied up to my favorite bar, and belted down a few drafties to drown my sorrows.”

So then, Nina, Uncle Ernest rose and left again for the house, leaving me there to watch the last bit of the sun descend and disappear to the right of the great oak tree across the road. I started feeling that sort of nagging disappointment that I always felt when I was alone on the farm after the sun went down.

When I looked north, towards town, at old man Scriver’s line of trees, I noticed that the sun’s light was still halfway down the trees. It was such a magical sight: the sun had set yet still asserted its power on the land. As time passed, the shadowy bottom part rose imperceptibly, gradually squeezing the light skyward, greedily dominating until it controlled the area entirely. It was an eerie feeling, Nina, for sure.

[To be continued Tuesday, 11/20/2012]