The Spirits of Route 66: Book of Delbert

Unstable Rotating Air

Back at the bridge.

Not such a bad place on second thought, somewhat comfy with a decent vibe, and definitely getting familiar.

"I like it here," Otto announced, nipping any questions Delbert might have had right there in the bud, and Delbert decided that if Otto liked it then maybe he should like it too.

Reginald sniffed at nothing but agreed, "it does have its advantages."

Namely, it was out in the countryside and offered a pleasant view and, for the most part, was relatively quiet.

"I been to this very bridge before, back in them old days. Used to camp out right down there near the crick waterline."

"So that's it! That's the reason you insist on dragging me back down here time after time. Should have known... you are still waiting for the old gang to show up, pop open a can of beans and have yourselves a real party. Well thanks for finally sharing."

Delbert felt uncomfortable, a little bashful, getting the feeling that Reginald somehow begrudged him the fact that this revelation had come primarily due to his presence.

"Nope, all them boys are long gone, maybe lurking somewhere around here themselves, but more than likely gone on to their final just deserts in the happily ever-after."

"Oh yes, I'm certain that the members of your filthy brood were welcomed with wide-open glowing arms by the Welcoming Committee of the Penultimate Dimension Rotary Club and gifted front row VIP seats to the big show."

"Well maybe they was," Otto responded with a stern glare, "I damn sure know they deserved a little luck come their way. Good and honest fellas, every a one of 'em."

"I kind of like it here," Delbert concurred a little too sunnily, trying to change the subject, wanting Reginald to just let it go and for Otto to cheer up. "Kinda peaceful, love the foliage and the birds, and a babbling brook is always a good thing."

"You mean the potential for a babbling brook, and as for the birds, they are for the birds, I've had many a run-in with those nasty binocular-toting birders who were so abusive towards my beloved cats, and I... and I..."

Finally, it happened.

Reginald shut up.

He found himself stuck, snagged upon an arbitrary branch of sudden remembrance and grief, the thought of Jingo and Jangle and poor Bernard. The three of them so precious, the three of them so dear, although Jangle was at times too demanding, and the images of their cute faces staring up at him with those vacuous looks absolutely stuck a dagger deep into his proverbial heart. Reginald turned away from his friends and began to quietly weep.

"Oh, boo-hoo," Otto responded, and his natural goodness was apparently starting to wear slick off. "Cat got yer tongue?" he ventured with a sheepish grin and a wink, and Delbert had to admit that his latest attempt at a stealthy diversion had failed miserably. All the same, he couldn't help but wink back and with his own crooked little smile, which seemed to have the effect of urging the ornery Otto onward.

"Is it Bernard, is that the one who's gettin' ya so tied up in yer tangles? Don't you worry, you know them cats, they can fend for themselves, although I reckon it woulda been better if he'd still had some claws on him."

Now the weeping kicked up another octave, the convulsions increased, and it appeared imminent that the floodgates might bust wide open.

All these tears in the afterlife! Who would have really thunk it and dang, let's face it, such a disappointment!