Crossing the Road

Why?

I miss my mother. During my younger years I would hope and pray that she would busy herself outside the home so that I could do drugs and masturbate in peace.

It has been years since I have last seen her ... or has it been only a matter of hours? My sense of time distorts while she is away. Before she left she tasked me to deliver one of our chickens across the rocky dirt road to our neighbor’s house as a thank you for the sugar she borrowed. Much to nobodies surprise that task has remained uncompleted. When I say nobody I mean only myself.

The problem is that I need my crutches. At the tender age of 1xx the lower half of my body got diagnosed with ankylosis. My knees have also given out on me. The good one has fibromyalgia filled with osteoporosis while the other has those same maladies coupled with arthritis. While painful I can stand on them but I need my crutches.

Then there’s my liver, my poor liver, it has done the best it could with what I have given it. That too is gone and blasted. Jaundice covers my skin. It is an outward manifestation of my alcoholic malady. Still, I must get that chicken over to my neighbor’s house. Mother informed me it was of the upmost importance. Mother is always correct in matters such as these. Velleities will control me no longer!

The sun is out and covers my room in brights through the dirty partially separated venetian blinds. I see one crutch leaning against those blinds at the far side of the room very much out of my reach. Just thinking about going to grab it radiates my knees with pain. “Molly!” I shout with a voice clothed more in asperity than love, “Molly, you damn dog! bring me my other crutch! I need it to make my way to the other one that’s leaning against the window!” no response. I try again, “MOLLY! YOU DAMN DOG” here a slight coughing fit by me, “MOLLY! BRING ME MY CRUTCH!” She limps in gray haired and gasping for breath and casts her cataract eyes in my direction. “Oh you poor devil” I say beneath my breath, “you’re in a worse state than I am. Here, come.” I say as I pat the side of my bed. Molly wags her self-inflicted chewed up tail and follows the sound of my voice. Drat, there is no way for her to get up to me. The bed is too high off the ground and Molly cannot make the jump like she used to. Waving my crumpled fist into the air I curse God in Heaven for the effects of time.

Looking at her as her tail begins to stop wagging in disappointment I get an idea. I will pick her up and bring her to me. With half my body off my bed I reach towards Molly and slide off. Plump, just like that. And now I lay supine looking at the high crag of which I fell. It is dawn. Without my crutch regaining my bed is impossible. Molly turns her face down towards me. She gives me a lick with her dry gray and black spotted tongue, “stop that” I spleen, she licks again, “stop licking me!” she continues to lick. This goes on for a while until my face is drenched in her saliva. When it becomes noon I fall asleep. I can tell the time by the slanted colors of light that come through the blinds and by the songs the birds decide to sing. This is useful memory much unlike my memories of my first kiss or the first time I lay with a woman. This does not make me lachrymal in the slightest. Although, knowing that it is noon is also useless information. When next I wake it is nighttime. I do not know if it is the same night or some other night - there is no way to tell other than I am more hungry. Molly is nowhere to be seen. “Molly!” I yell, “Molly you damn dog where are you!? You better ...” as I was yelling this she limps in with my other crutch in her mouth. She is dragging it to me. She is a chihuahua. This is a feat of unimaginable strength. “Molly! what a feat of strength! I shall dub you Hercules!” Hercules gets the crutch to the threshold of the door and pisses on it then limps away huffing with all her might for the little air she can draw in. “Molly!”

Finally, the two crutches are within my grasp. I crawl over to the one leaning against the blinds. Once obtained I use it to hook onto the other one that is chewed up and covered in urine. Properly legged I suffer immensely to stand myself up. I trod around the room searching for my hat until dawn arrives. Ah, there it is. Patting the inside of the cap with my good hand I then place it on my head and begin my way towards the backyard.

I pass the kitchen on the way. There is a bottle of brandy. Fuel for the adventure! Taking a few shots I am now ready to take the few shots I need to start my journey. After those shots are taken I take a few more until I feel confident in my ability to complete my task. Just a few more shots to know that all will be okay. One more shot to numb the pain in my legs. And one more shot for the road ... and one more shot for the road ... and the bottle is empty.

Opening the door to the backyard hurts my eyes as they adjust to the brightness of the day, I squint as I slowly make my way down the porch steps swaying this way and that until I am in front of the chicken coop. “Chicken!” I scream in front of the dilapidated coop, “Chicken! it is time for you to vacate your humble abode and make new lodgings at our neighbor’s.” Unlike loyal Molly the chicken stays silent and unresponsive. Not even a sough emanates. “Molly! Molly you damned dog get out here!” slowly, Molly limps her way into the coop and manages to draw the chicken out. “Good Molly. That’s a good girl.” I praise as I grab the chicken by the neck. Still awfully drunk I make my way through my house and exit the other side. There is a dirt road that separates our house and the neighbor’s. As I begin to cross the road my crutches collide with a rather rugged medium sized rock and I topple over. Sleep overtakes me again.

When I wake up I am still laying on my side of the dirt road with a piece of paper attached to my throbbing head. It is nighttime and I am unable to read the letter. I slowly get up and crutch my way in defeat back into my room since neither the chicken or Molly are anywhere to be found. Now that I am standing I am able to fall upon my bed. To prevent future problems I place my crutches within reach of my bed. When morning comes I am able to read the letter

Dearest Neighbor,

My husband and I were in the backyard mending the garden when our youngest child runs up to us and asks, “Momma, Poppa, why did the chicken cross the road?” Thinking this was a joke we were about to respond when we noticed that the chicken your mother promised us was indeed crossing the dirt road.

We prepared the chicken and placed the leg that was promised into your right trouser pocket. We uphold our promise no matter how much time has passed. My husband and I tried to wake you but to no avail.

Your Loving Neighbors,

Mr. and Mrs. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Searching my pockets I found the leg mentioned. It is a good sized chicken leg! “Molly! Molly you damn dog come here! I’ve got us some chicken!” With a youthful zest that only appears when food is present Molly hobbled as fast as she could into my room following her nose that was pointed at the meat. I flung half the leg into the air and Molly caught it on the way down with a jump so tiny it was almost imperceptible. I looked at her and I assume that she was looking at me as she chewed furiously. Another task completed.

The front door opened, “I’m home my darlings!”