Home > Royer's Madcap Experiences > Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Water Lillies

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Water Lillies

January 25, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By The Great President of Hell (formerly Ric Royer)
https://i2.wp.com/farm7.staticflickr.com/6144/6043736385_68a2b72a3c_m.jpg
File photo

I had been sitting around the overheated, unfinished attic all morning before it finally hit me.

“Fuck it,” I said aloud. “I’ll go sit down by the water lillies.”

So, I packed up a jar of pickles, a baking sheet, some sticker albums and a transistor radio and headed down there in the loud, ancient pickup. The dust swirled all around me and the corn swayed listlessly in the heat. I passed only a strange, ragged hitchhiker near a crossroads and a cornfed woman, pitching dung into a rusty roadside barrel. I slammed on the brakes.

“I’m going to sit by the water lillies,” I announced.
She pulled off her straw hat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You better god damn believe it.” I tried to sound assured of my place in the world but inwardly I was crumbling.
She got in. We drove in silence.

We had to walk across a hilly field. “Where are the lillies? she asked.
I started sobbing. I could see it coming.

It was a vast, grey miasma, somehow ghoulish in appearance and it had enveloped the ridge beyond and was lurking slowly and eerily towards us. I screamed and dropped the burden but then reached down and saved the sticker books. I pushed the girl over into a basin and started running.

Hours later, I was safe inside a trailer. The interior was paneled in pleasing ersatz wood tones and the furniture was upholstered in a delightful gingham pattern. The glow of the overhead light was warm and safe. I removed the crumpled sticker books from my bag.

“You gonna work on those?” asked the drunken hayseed that had given me refuge.
“Yes. I want to so bad.”
“Well…I’ve got some TV trays. That might work.”
“Please. It’s so…I want them.”

The hayseed seemed to understand. He stumbled towards a closet and emerged with a battered TV tray. He unfolded the legs and crushed them into the carpet before me.

I set up the books.
“Gonna’ be a hell of a ride,” he said, still looking over me.

I nodded.  Then I removed a sticker from a virgin sheet and turned to the first page.

  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s