The Occasions: Chapter Six

The Occasions Chapter Six: Strange Investigations

Gus woke up, feeling odd. He chose to forget the last hours. He was distancing himself for the purpose of ex-communication. However, his transmission medium indicated a different environment. The bed was in a room reminiscent of happy pink spiders churning out tunes on atonal harpsichords. The walls almost reached out and grabbed him. He had a yearning to read a Swiss translation of last year’s stock report. He was not where he saw himself. Someone drew a caricature of him and planted it in a horror digest magazine, then borrowed his soul for experimental purposes. He made himself breathe faster. Meditation was best with rhythms. Isolated villagers used cell phones. A signal might be recreated when transmitted over long distances. He picked up his hand and then realized it was not a telephone. Then, he noticed the other hand gripping his wrist. Uh oh. Evelyn was not joking. She wanted to be a part of him. Of course, she would have to endure Thursday nights spent cleaning a backpack before dirtying the sink. His family would take pictures of her and gossip for weeks. His estranged friends would smoke cigars and eat oysters dipped in soy sauce and raspberry jam. Something had to be done. Her grip was as tight as ever. Her sleeves were still pushed up in that arrogant actress style. Such pretense bothered him. Yet, her shirt was still tucked in and he figured that could be changed. He would give her a classroom demonstration of surprise. The loose shirt would shock her into letting him go. She would eventually merge with other networks of etiquette. He reached, with his free hand, and grabbed a hank of her shirt by the waistline. She woke up and slapped his hand away.
She said, “It cannot be done.”
He asked, “Why not?”
“You’ll be trying to separate yourself from yourself. I now understand who you are. Your energy is magnificent. The first time I saw you, I felt a strong pull. Now that we are as one, my decision is complete. I have won over Sally and Suzie. They can share us if they want but the part of you that is who I am won’t give up the goose. My optical fibers are providing cheaper communications.”
Gus shook his head. “There has to be a separate electrical connection that works in reverse. You can correct a handful of mistakes in the resulting message but that will lead to incomprehensible output and a breakdown of the transmission.”
Evelyn sighed. “Look here, you little fool. You have a situation to take care of and that includes the changing of situations like coins. You have ten dimes and I am the dollar bill. I will interpret the phenomena happening to you and cause you to be normal.”
Gus shook his head. “I have eaten all my pumpkin seeds. There can be no nutrition in your assemblage. Let me hurl myself at a painting and cause a museum hoax.”
Evelyn got out of bed and pulled Gus with her as she walked in the front room. “This is a matter of taking you around town. We look like grownups. We blend in. You can sing that love song you’ve wanted to learn. I can pretend to be a pink bunny. I can bring you to the coffee shop and you can meet the coolest guy in the world. You’re the hottest guy and he’s the coolest. You can try out regular sentences on him. He would probably recognize you.”
Gus made a fist with his free hand. “I have been away from my novels and sponges and papers and tapes long enough. I have some cans and cups I need to dance with and you do not look like them. How can I possibly walk in town with you when everyone knows I am someone else?”
Evelyn walked outside. Gus had no choice but to follow. She said, “Soon, you will face it. The things are coming.”
They walked towards town. Fog turned into a slight cloud of cigarette smoke from several pedestrians. However, foot traffic was thin. The moment was clearer. Gus was unsure why. He noticed the slight look of puzzlement on Evelyn’s face as she skipped childishly as if rehearsing for a television program. She was probably waiting for a solid mixture. Her stance must have been based on an investigation of puzzles with no answers other than through interpretation only. Her attitude must have been a garden with a variety of fun colors meant for inclusion in a game. She might not have enjoyed playing the role of leader and preferred equal friendship except for memories as a security guard. Her hold on his wrist felt like he really was under arrest. He wanted freedom but understood the significance of her actions. Yet, his idea of equality included an approximate fifty-percent of legalities. He was tempted to do as he threatened by pulling her shirt loose but noticed suddenly how it shifted when she sighed. The material stretched like gum without leaving its place. She glanced occasionally at him as he noticed as such. Her facial expression was a combination of mischievous grin, naïve nonchalance and coquettish denial. She seemed prepared for his moves. He decided not to try. Something about their game indicated they both liked what was going on. She must have figured he would not appreciate an un-tucked top. The other possibility was not desirable to face. Her image could have been an alternative towards his lack of fashion etiquette. His dirty cut-off sweatshirt and jogging pants would have to do. However, that could not be the final answer. She suddenly liked him and needed comments. He figured on a compromise and said, “It would look more romantic if you hold my hand instead of my wrist.”
She said, “I’m trying something different.”
He said, “You could try it again. You changed your shirt, correct?”
“But there is more to that than you think. I might need your help later.”
“You won’t get it. I am always the riddle and never the student. You can at least not embarrass me in front of the very few people walking by.”
Evelyn nodded. “Let me think for a moment.” She might concede, depending on various shapes and patterns giving clues towards the next few minutes. The sidewalk was decorated with squares of grout and painted gray, pink and light charcoal. There had to be more than one person designing the downtown area, especially considering the location of the plaza and the fountain where children threw pennies. She settled finally on a resolution. If Gus was with her, he became her inadvertent advisor by default. His sense of comfort was important. Suddenly, her hand gripped his hand with an adamant sense of firmness. He felt more complete in an indirect way. Both sides of his conflict were dancing. The wind sounded more musical. They were getting closer to what Gus called the statistic equilibrium. According to him, stomach juices called out during any internal eating when food visits purely from motivation. Each rung of a ladder came closer to an ultimate theory, but with occasional setbacks caused by wetness. His perspiration was more mental than physical and dripped through his interior gadgetry. His urge to run was held in check by Evelyn’s seductive chastisement. However, she could hold on just so long before needing to set him free. Action itself was a pastime and did not mean much outside of the subjective sphere. As to whether she was actually holding on or Gus was satirically playing the prisoner, he chose not to find out. If he really wanted Evelyn to go away, he could close his eyes and let the issue be done. Yet, he was intrigued about how she would react once they drank coffee or ate food. Two could play. He ought to embarrass her silly.
She dragged him in a café, squeezing tight enough for an ordinary person to groan in pain but Gus felt merely a little more warmth than during a few seconds ago. He felt as though others would envy him, if they were in his position, whether or not they shared his love of rulers dipped in drain cleaner. He would say whatever he wanted to say, making his word order a fashion statement in the realm of linguistics. Evelyn figured he had a plan so she chose a cashier wearing a lemon-yellow jumpsuit and skin painted green. The cashier was a man and almost as pretty as Gus. Evelyn figured the two men would get along. She said, “I would like to order a double mocha.”
The cashier smiled. “Fine. What will you have, sir?”
Gus said, “I will have an indication, baked extra crispy.”
The cashier frowned. “I don’t understand. Please repeat your order.”
Gus shrugged. “You heard correctly except most places don’t carry a side order of guacamole to accompany Republican rigmarole basted with licorice real estate.”
The cashier sighed. “I have enough people making fun of me after work. I’m trying to make a living so please order something on the menu and quit acting as shoddy as your outfit indicates. I’m sure there’s a little spark of intelligence waiting to get out.”
Gus held up the hand Evelyn was holding. He said, “This is the plug attached to my intelligence. We are now as one, as she so facetiously would put it. I am not against the place as much as you’d think but I feel confined by regulations, whether they relate to the board of health or the bored of spirit. Even a rich man has his limits. She is pecking me like a worm eating corn.”
The cashier winked. “I got it now. Yours is both a cry for help and a hope I will come home with you tonight. On both accounts, I am flattered except my cowardice prevents me from calling the police and giving her the exact treatment she deserves.”
Gus shook his head. “Not exactly. I am giving you no hints. Think of her as a wart that talks. I am the significant one. The wart ordered coffee. I ordered gibberish.”
The cashier shook his head. “I can’t deal with this. You might as well get out of here and wait around the corner until I give you my phone number.”
Gus smiled. “Gladly. I am the tugboat on the Formica.” He attempted to walk away while Evelyn kept holding on to him.
The cashier laughed. “Okay, now. I understand. You work in the mental hospital and you’re keeping him from becoming dangerous. That’s my politically correct assumption this week and you’re both welcomed in this establishment. The coffee is on the house.” He handed Evelyn her cup.
She said, “Thank you.”
As they walked to their table, Gus prepared another approach. Some aspects of the mystery ought to be solved. He would try the style of Citrus George. Clarity was the momentary shenanigan. He said, “I have to ask some questions and you will give some answers. If you really are becoming me, you will oblige.”
She smiled. “I see us in an English mansion. We will be exploring many rooms. By the way, I ought to call you Panda to counterbalance when I called you Monkey.”
Gus was irritated with her words but stimulated by her touch. He asked, “Why do you tuck in your shirts and why are your sleeves pushed up?”
She said, “I mostly do it by accident. Sometimes I like to tuck them in and sometimes I don’t but, on the days when I don’t tuck them in, I notice they already are. It’s inconvenient when I wear sweaters because, when I first notice they are worn like that, I have to keep them that way the whole time.”
“Why do you say you have to keep them that way?”
“Well, when I tuck them in, I must be acting on some subliminal impulses so I would be a hypocrite if I acted against my secret desires.”
“Are you wearing this shirt tucked in on purpose or subliminally?”
“I’m wearing it like this strictly because it goes good with holding on to you. It’s like I’m your wife.”
“Why are your sleeves pushed up?”
“Suzie insisted. She said she wanted to be the one holding you so I might as well be her imitation.”
“Are you saying you really want to hold on to me or are you doing this because you’re pretending to be Suzie?”
“My answers are not really true. What matters is strictly what I’m doing and not why I’m doing so.”
“Are you saying you can let go if you choose?”
“No. Well, of course I could if I chose to do so but that one choice would be conditioned by another of my choices concerning how I never let myself become guided by my choices. Some of my choices are also yours because we share a sense of irony. You think it’s strange that we’re holding on and I think it’s strange you want us to be apart.”
“Why are you squeezing so tight?”
“It’s not on purpose. That’s just how it is.”
“So, technically, if I pulled hard enough, I could free myself.”
“Perhaps if you pulled hard enough but you’d have to be extremely and overly strong and I would increase pressure in the process.”
“What would happen if I did let go?”
“You’re asking that in the wrong time frame. You had your answer when you first got away and you should have asked then what would have happened if we never separated. However, I’m giving my answer to that question right now.”
Gus tried pulling loose again, increasing strength with each tug, while Evelyn did likewise. They both groaned, partly from strain and partly from pleasure, for five minutes before stopping. Evelyn was still holding on but her grip was less tight. She figured Gus worked all his anxiousness out of him. He asked, “Are you attractive?”
She answered, “Maybe I am.”
He said, “Now, I have to assess whether your attractiveness is because of my understanding or a false similarity of attractiveness that permeates the air and makes everybody crazy. If one particular circumstance is correct, I ought to be able to cash it in and let the buyer smell its fumes. I’ve been living in this town too long and I don’t know anybody.”
Evelyn moved her hand around on his. She said, “You do know people. You’ve met me and you’ve met other people you know. It is called surprise. You’re not exactly sure, yet, how wonderful this is. We could buy sodas. There’s an Italian bakery up the street.”
Gus sighed. “Perhaps you should tell me how you need my help.”
Evelyn nodded. “Okay. There is a slight possibility I’ll let you go if you can help me take off my shirt.”
“I thought you wanted it tucked in.”
“I did but it turned weird on me. Sally helped in that department. She made the shirt from scratch and fixed my outfit on me. The material she used prevented me from pulling it out. It now just stretches like gum. My sleeves are also stuck like Suzie’s.. I try to straighten them and they just spring back into their pushed-up status. It’s like gravity. It’s like a little kid who won’t leave his room to go to school. The shirt is stubborn.”
Gus figured Evelyn was tricking him. Evidence pointed to whatever.. Suspicious details were everywhere. In Budapest, a man was cleaning his carpet with a comb. In Switzerland, a woman was listening to a backward recording of dictated grocery lists. Outside the coffeehouse, ants were looking for electric guitars. Pieces of dandruff were soon to appear on ballots as political candidates. Nothing was certain. Each word reflected a certain mood. Sentence combinations formed lifestyles. He needed to create more variety. He said, “Note the following on a donkey in a recent investigation concerned by a member of the Haiti regime and other U.S. human officers.”
Evelyn said, “Well, if you don’t believe I’m telling you the truth, we can figure out what truth you prefer.”
“I am scheduled for May to reverberate across workers who will shut the coast for the day.”
“Maybe we can go see a movie. I know a theater that sells peppermint-flavored popcorn during holiday seasons. The owner has a whole box of peppermint flavoring in the storage room and I’m sure he’ll make us a special batch for a stiff price.”
Gus moved his hand around in Evelyn’s, hoping to find a way out. “The exposures for community quantify this agency for diplomats in the realm.”
“Well, there’s a free concert up the street in a few hours. We could stand there and listen to them but I don’t like the band.”
Gus wiggled fiercely, getting more nervous each second. “Someone rises in food costs and the lives of six have also been agents of food riots in the current crisis.”
“We could go to a junkyard and steal some moth-infested rolls of wallpaper. I wouldn’t ordinarily be interested in doing that but I’m running out of ideas.”
The floor was feeling hot. Gus got up and moved his feet almost as a tap dance. Evelyn apparently could not contain her energy but had to leak it all over the damned room where everybody was probably feeling it would have been sopped up with a napkin except he could not get away from her to reach the dispenser. However, he knew how to meditate according to Amazon rituals. Soon, he would obtain results and layer them with blue feathers and beef stew. Then, a paper bag and a scoop of organic Oolong tea would work in his favor. He was confident in his potential role as a collector of diaries. Coupons were welcomed in his proposed itinerary. He said, “So now your intrepid way has no police violence at the place where you were provoked much in overtime for this display.”
Evelyn smiled. “Did you go to Body Movement class? You look so cute thrashing around like you’re drowning in a realm of clouds.”
“If you’re looking for that which lies in the war, you don’t need an attack on bugs.”
“You might not object to reading the want-ads and seeing if there’s a job listing for two people who will never let go of hands.”
“As usual, the East People have it out for Ignacio in an unturned deal. Let’s have the urban core of coffee.”
“I keep forgetting you’re more into casual walks. We could do something involving ducks.”
“Why don’t you kiss with fun in bed right now and be jolly? Mist is with you and that is what can be great when things are above it and stars are in the sky.”
“I keep trying to come up with great ideas but you seem to be less interested in them.”
Gus laughed. He gave up. “Maybe Heffler, whoever he is, can help us.”
Evelyn winked. “What about Tulip Louie?”
Gus was confused. “How did you find out about Tulip Louie? I never mentioned him before but that is because I just thought of him today and he’s obviously more real than Heffler even though I think I’ve seen Heffler. Yet, even though I think I’ve seen Heffler, I don’t really consider my observations to be my strong point, especially in this cool weather which is hotter than I like. Of course, in a sense I prefer hot weather, because I can think clearer, but that is only what I feel when the weather is hot. The weather, right now, is cold so I think I feel better and think better from the cold weather even though it is hotter than I’d like it to be but at least it’s not even hotter than that. Anyway, judgment or not, I never mentioned Tulip Louie before. Well, I mentioned him before to myself but, even though you claim to be a part of me, you’re not me exactly so I don’t think I mentioned him to you. Anyway, how did you find out about him?”
Evelyn shrugged. “I whispered his name in your sleep.”
“How the hell did you find the place where I sleep?”
“I didn’t but I would like to think I almost found out where you sleep.”
A voice sounded from under the table. “Now you know what it’s like to be a cranberry turkey, you fool.”
Gus sighed. “Heffler, I thought you were Tulip Louie for a moment but I guess my imaginary friend only exists within the confines of my contemplation. You belong to Toby and he spurts himself wherever he chooses. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a wad of gum or something more obscene, right now.”
Heffler yelled. “You can look under the table if you really want to see me but I have a plastic fork and I can work magic and make the worms crawl through your ears and make a donkey kick you in the fingernail! Everyone says I am who you might not say I am but Toby says better and he might be with me if I made him. You’re not quite the motorcycle farmer I paid for when I went to law school and ordered a French bakery. You’ve got a lovely little information hen with you and she’s liable to dance around any old meat treat she chooses if you don’t wise up and take her away from Suzie. Suzie belongs to Toby. Well, actually Toby belongs to Suzie because both of them got together and talked. Maybe Sally was who talked with Toby instead of Suzie and whether or not I’m talking about a conversation with Suzie or Sally or whether or not they talked to themselves, I cannot make clear because I want to hurt you in a mediocre way. You keep asking for mental money by knocking on my pelvic door and making me think I’m in love with you and if you dare come down and see me, you’ll know what it’s all about. Herb told me about it, too. Ginger Timothy likes you and wants to lick your face again. Everyone hates you. You have to like hammocks.”
Gus said, “You can’t fool me. You’re just as much a librarian as I have been in the past. I’ve read ‘The Sculptured Courtesan’ by Ben Field, published by Dorrance and Company in Philadelphia, back in Nineteen Thirty Five. How about ‘Adjectives and Shadows’ by Bryce Sheldon, published by Pageant Press in New York, in Nineteen Sixty Four? Now I’ve got you. There’s ‘Across the Plains and Over the Seas’ by Mrs. Al. Merritt, published by Press of Bennett and Morehouse in Oakland , California , in Nineteen Twenty. I can also mention ‘The Holocaust and Other Poems’ by Lincoln Sonntag, published by Sherman, French and Company, in Boston, back in Nineteen Fourteen. I also have to include ‘Along Old Trails’ by William Haskell Simpson, published by Houghton Mifflin Company in Boston and New York and The Riverside Press in Cambridge , in Nineteen Twenty Nine.”
Heffler screamed louder. “Listen up, you wart! You are nothing more than the voice that got out of my belly button and became a foot tumor! You can avoid jelly all you want but I will look at a record groove for eight hours and enjoy it without you telling me how to speak German. There are lessons to be learned in any language but I have something else in the way of a toy and it can become your worst nightmare if you pull on it like a coat and drive it through the mouse hole by the water end of the Styrofoam cup. You and Evelyn will leave soon unless you want to hear me telling you everything you have thought of yourself but never thought your cold plate of sausages could conjure up for you in a liquid version of smoke. I am the master of your topography. You can use any straw you want and still be a failure.”
“Well, you honestly did not think I would mention ‘Joy’ by Lillian E. Craner. She published the book herself and she was from Oakland and the book came out in Nineteen Fifteen. There was also ‘Heart Melody’ by Carrie Judd Montgomery. The printer was the Press of R. S. Kitchener but it was published by Office of Triumphs of Faith in Oakland, in Nineteen Twenty Two. Then, there was “A City of Caprice’ by Neill Compton Wilson, published by The Overland Publishing Company in San Francisco, back in Nineteen Twenty. Also, a good book was ‘Sonnets to Craig’ by George Sterling, published by Albert and Charles Boni in New York, back in Nineteen Twenty Eight. Another good book was ‘Guinea-Fowl and Other Poultry’ by Leonard Bacon, published by Harper and Brothers in New York and London, in Nineteen Twenty Seven. You might as well read them.”
Heffler screamed so loud that other customers ran outside. “You will never want to know what I am not really like because you have caused me to be surgery itself!! It can make a bullet hole turn into a teddy bear with a sort of thing attached to it!! I will chastise you by singing one of the loveliest songs on Mars!! You know I originally came from a turkey pan and I performed like a mummy!! It can count to a million things like many pounds!!”
Gus said, “I might as well go under the table and deal with you.”
Heffler said, “I guess that’s fine.”
Gus bent down and crawled under the table, limited by Evelyn’s continued hold. He said, “Woman, you are ridiculous. I need my hand free to fight!”
Evelyn frowned. “Who is underneath the table?”
Gus yelled, “I am! I’m going to fight the goof so stop the crap!”
Heffler laughed. “That’s right, Evelyn. He can’t fight me. Hold him well.”
Evelyn said, “He sounds like you.”
Heffler said, “Yes, he does sound like you.”
Evelyn asked, “Who are you talking about?”
Gus yelled, “Let me go, now! This is crazy!”
Heffler said, “No, I won’t let go of you.”
Gus said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Heffler said, “You were talking to yourself.”
Gus pulled as hard as possible. “Lady – and I use the word only as an approximation – quit gripping my damn hand!”
Heffler laughed. “You talk of yourself as an approximation of a lady. If you don’t want to let go of your own damned hand, you don’t have to but you should shut up or let go of it.”
Gus said, “I’m bringing you out from under the table.” He pulled Heffler out for public view. Heffler grabbed Gus in a bear hug.
Evelyn looked concerned. She said, “Don’t rough him up too much. I still have to hold him.” She sensed amplitude modulation stirring within the room. A low-powered direct current flowed amidst the two men. Heffler looked indistinct like a negative frequency becoming static. Evelyn would have provided side bands and a narrow component in between them if such were possible. Heffler was covered from head to toe in various colors of electrical tape and looked intriguing. Perhaps Gus was entertained. However, there was a difference between traditional radio transmissions and anger modulation. They were involved in multi path propagation. Anything could be conveyed. Theirs was a complex problem subject to many outcomes. They chose to emit impassive noise. Heffler was representing sincerity while Gus tried merely a variety of squeaks and growls for demonstration purposes. His main concern was getting away from Evelyn.
Gus said, “One of you needs to let me go.” Heffler stopped hugging him.
Gus felt strange. A bunch of unknown gears or procedures were infiltrating his style. He had merely things to keep him company if he believed what he figured was correct but he never let his understanding get the better of him. Others were who had strangeness in their personalities while he was the closest to the meaning of “specific” he had yet encountered. Evelyn’s shirt looked tighter each minute like a continuous reaffirmation of a philosophy concerning her view of him. The ripples from where it was tucked in looked like flower stems sprouting from inside her waistline. A water-like effect was apparent too as if the shirt was a fish swimming in the tank. Her hold on his hand seemed like an indication of her giving him a cookie. She seemed to need his dependence.
Heffler noticed the way Gus looked at Evelyn. He needed to distract the fool. He moved his body in a dance encapsulating the appearance of atmospheric water. He reached the surface of the floor, walls and ceiling before mimicking the falling through dry air. His was a hydrologic cycle, contributing to the moisture in the vibes of the clientele. Gus classified Heffler’s motions according to a certain amount of precipitation. He was determining things by minutes and hours. Heffler was more and more shaped like a parachute. He was approximately spherical. Evelyn was amused, thinking the charade was appropriate depending on the country of its origin. She would only tip him if he brought about results. Heffler just wanted Gus for himself so he flailed uncontrollably in moves of massive numbers. He wanted to cause disease and harmful fungus. Cultural attitudes towards his dance differed across the world. However, the traditionally accepted notion of it was negative. No one liked his fashion style. No one would buy him in the southwestern trade. They preferred when he slept in locations like the temperate rain forest of southeast Alaska. However, he often referred to himself as all of Seattle. He figured his body contained three hundred and sixty three metropolitan areas. He made archaeological excavations of his nose. He called his finger a “scout for the Denny Party.” His hair was known as an economic specialization. He tried to successfully rebuild infrastructures inside of his socks. When he cried, he referred to his tears as frequent rainfalls. His enormous grunting spells lasted merely more than a few days. Finally, he screamed, “I have had enough of you two together! Evelyn, if you don’t let go of this cackling geezer’s wrist, I will refer to myself under my new long-forgotten name of Telephone Chipotle.. I will play a mean erotic tune on the turkey banjo. I shall strum the feathers of the golden goose until the notes shine and sweat like a butcher’s outhouse. You might know something about hardware and how it keeps escalating into a pair of pants. I had something in November that resembled a belief in Canadian banquettes and a dreaming pigeon to boot! You know what I mean. I shall do it.” He reached and grabbed Evelyn’s wrist, pulling with all his strength while she screamed.
Evelyn said, “You know you’re not real so go away!’
Heffler said, “You only refer to my make believe status because you saw the driver’s disc inside of the plumber’s mouth and it made you throw up a whole lexicography of words surrounded by salami made from beaver's dams. You cannot freak out my fun.” Heffler let go of Evelyn’s wrist and ran out the door.
Evelyn asked, “Gus, would you like to find out who Heffler really is? I think the answer to the riddle would solve our problems.”
Gus shrugged. “I don’t think anything can solve any of our problems. Believe it or not, looking for anyone will add to the problems. That’s because you don’t exist, either. If you stop acting like you are acting, maybe you will exist.”
Evelyn sighed. “Come on!” She walked outside, pulling Gus with her.