Summer, 1949

9 0 0

by --EMMM--

by --EMMM--

One wakes up in her huge house. The music coming off of the hole on the floor is Burl Ives' 'On Springfield Mountain', from the 1949 four 10-inch 78-rpm disc release by Columbia Records, 'The Return of the Wayfaring Stranger'.

Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new

One lays in bed, face up, legs splayed, arms resting at either side, staring unblinking at one of the white wooden beams holding up the pitched roof above. Every square inch of One's skin is in direct contact with either, a) air, or b) the quilt of the nicely done bed beneath her. The music plays on. One's house consists of a bedroom, the bureau, and a kitchen. A corridor connects the bedroom and the kitchen. There is a porch outside the wall parallel to the corridor. The bureau is located between the bedroom and the kitchen. Daylight and breeze fill the entire house thanks to One's huge open windows.

Tu-rudy-nay, tu-rudy-new, tu-rudy-nay-tu-rudy-new

One slowly sits up and sees the door of the bureau right in front, beyond the end of the bed, maybe 6 paces away. The paint on it is the same off-white as that on the rest of the wooden interior and exterior walls of the house. One gazes to the right at the portion of the bureau wall at the right of the door, which meets the exterior wall of the house that is to the right. One stares at it. Then, sits on the edge of the bed for roughly two minutes. One stands and walks on the creaky, aged, grey wooden floor, two paces and a half to the open window. One looks outside, out to the vast expanse of grassy field outside the house. The field's color is pure summer light green. The pure summer light green field extends from the house to the faraway mountains in the distance. They look purple from One's house. One turns, just the head, to the left, and sees the mountains in the distance. Then turns it again, this time slowly back, and follows the purple mountains and their angular snow-capped peaks all the way to the right, to the purple, snow-capped mountains in the distance. One looks up at the sky. The sky's color is pure summer light blue. The outside world is blue and green, with a purple waistband. One extends an arm, the right one, out the window and holds out a finger – index – and, almost immediately, two chirping blue birds perch on it cheerfully. Their blue is the same as the sky's. Their heads are large and round, with large black eyes and small yellow beaks. They chirp cheerflully and they look at One. One looks at them. They chirp at One. One of them suddenly flies away, the other follows. One retracts the extended finger and brings the extended arm back in and turns to walk. One walks over to the bureau.

Th farmer was plowin' his field one day / Rightful-rightful-tilley-fi-day

Th farmer was plowin' his field one day / Th Devil came up to him he did say

With a rightful-la, tilley-fi-day / Rightful-rightful-tilley-fi-day

A new song is playing now. One stops at the bureau's door, and stares at it for a moment. Hands down. Expressionless. One walks then to the left past the hole on the floor to the corridor leading to the kitchen. One walks across the corridor to the kitchen. In the kitchen, then walks to the window beside the front door. And looks through it and past the porch outside to the vast expanse of pure summer light green field outside the house, which extends to the faraway mountains in the distance. The faraway mountains are snow-capped, and look purple from One's house. One turns, just the head, to the left, and sees the mountains in the distance though the length of the empty porch. Then, turns it again, this time to the right, to the purple, snow-capped mountains in the distance. The mountains are visible past the end of the porch to the right. The sky above the mountains is pure summer light blue. The outside world is blue and green, with a purple waistband.

The music keeps playing, the birds keep chirping outside, the sun keeps bathing the whole house with natural light, and the breeze keeps blowing pleasantly about the house.

With a rightful-la-tilley-fi-day / Rightful-rightful-tilley-fi-day

Then, go back to the bureau. One walks back through the corridor and past the hole on the floor to the bureau. One goes into the bureau to brush some teeth. One then washes some face. Then stands on the shower and urinates, grabs the chrome lever shower handle and pulls. Artificial rain! Then sits on the bidet and evacuates. One stands up and regards her making. Caninish. But pachydermically scaled. Clay! Yellow specks, roughly an eight of an inch in size, sporadically dot the material along its curled length. Gold? One presses down on the material. Picks some up. Holds it. Squeezes a rather thick section. Harder section. Material excretes out furiously from between five contracted fingers. One opens the hand. One looks at the palm. Clay! One brings the hand to the face and applies material to it. Picks up some more. Grab. Apply. Repeat. One then washes some face. One then looks in the full body mirror. One stares back at the figure reflected on the full-body mirror for roughly six minutes. Hands down. Expressionless. One opens the otherwise empty medicine cabinet and takes out One's toonified multicolor plastic comb and pretends to comb some hair. One puts the comb down. One turns the chrome cold water sink handle counterclockwise. Cold water comes out.

One turns around and walks out of the bureau.

So, th Devil he hoisted 'er up on his hump / Rightful-rightful-tilley-fi-day

Th Devil he hoisted 'er up on his hump / N' back to earth with her he did jump

With a rightful-la, tilley-fi-day / Rightful-rightful-tilley-fi-day

One walks to the front door and stands in front of it. Hands down. Expressionless. The outside world is blue and green, with a purple waistband. One stands in front of the front door looking straight at it, as the music keeps playing, the birds keep chirping outside, the sun keeps bathing the whole house with natural light, and the breeze keeps blowing pleasantly about the house.

One then turns to go back to the bedroom. One walks across the corridor to the bed. One sits on the bed, brings both feet up. Slides over to the center of the bed. Settles back, with splayed legs in front, head on the bed, and arms to the sides. And closes her eyes.

The music keeps playing, the birds keep chirping outside, the sun keeps bathing the whole house with natural light, and the breeze keeps blowing pleasantly about the house.

With a rightful-la, tilley-fi-day/ Rightful-rightful-tilley-fi-day