by Jim Meirose.
At the Lent truck stop lunch counter, “Horse” asked the waitress.
Still studying for night school, I see. What kind of course is that book for?
Folklore. lt’s Lots and lots of reading.
Folklore? I think you had a course on that already. You said something—yah one time you said it was easy ‘cause it was all just common sense.
I said that?
I think so.
Oh, yah. That was an introductory course. General, like that. This one is more particular.
What’s that mean?
That one skimmed over a lot of things. To show the general scope of folklore. This is a about totems actually. Mostly, that is. There’s other things but. It’s mainly about totems.
What’s that?
What’s what?
Well—what you just said. Totems.
A totem is an emblem—like—like this.
The waitress pointed to the truck logo for Lent Truck Stop on her blue shirt.
That’s a totem?
Uh yes.
It’s a picture of a truck—oh, eh. A symbol of this place. See? Simple. Everything about folklore’s kind of simple. That’s why for electives I take things like folklore. Pretty easy course if you got a basically average brain. Don’t take a touch of genius. Like math would or like that. Like like. This long conversation chopped to cut-lumps inserting itsselves ‘tween all the below feathered in. “cause I have known for sure straight-line all-arrowing never swerving right on laserlike and like like a laserleft but. In many other parts of the world kings have been expected to regulate the course of nature for the good of their people and have been punished if they failed to do so. I was not made for this. Now how does someone know for sure what they’re made for?
Good question. But back to the totem thing again. Like, a stylized globe of the Earth is a symbol of a once-major old school telephone services vendor. Is that also a totem?
That’s cute. Eh yah, it’s yes I ‘spose. Like. Your hat there is too.
My hat? he said as he pulled down his hat upon the face of which rode a red star—that is the mark of my employer. Star Shine Global Trucking. Ok?
Yes. That is also a totem. If you stretch it.
Stretch it? What?
The word Totem. It sounds odd to call some things totems, but—according to strict definition, the word can be stretched to cover anything standing for something else.
Oh. Like—old Otto back there.
What.
She tilted her eyes to take in Otto, as usual hunched down at his table cross the dining room poring over the mysterious work he’d been poring the weeks over weekends he’d been parked these daily for still unknown reasons. What he wants all including Lent truck stop’s menage-ementeh had spent pondering. Long boards stretched for walking under him sitting. What I want hidden in him. Faces up down apart and together in the fat cold chrome curve-flat bent lit steel waterflushed passages what. Plus now up ‘bove ‘ur footboards there’s a bad goan on. But-t-t what I want what he wants. Dark inside but. Otto I am he am and. The top for walking in hunger sometimes. It’s. Silver glistening polished crystalline diamond-hard steel pinpoint needles. It’s. Cell bars in the swinging doors. It’s. When and if it happens “Horse” comes time over time coming and. It’s cells short narrow. Sometimes it’s satiety. It’s there he is scarcely to be believed.
But; “Horse” snatched back her attention asking, What on Earth can you say Otto’s a symbol of?
Oh, dunno—let me think—ah! Here is it. I got it. It’s perfect!
What?
A symbol for everything nobody can ever know all lump-balled together into something.
Something?
Yah, sure—but your eyes give you up, “Horse”. I know what you are thinking. You’re thinking the way most on the coral island of Niue or Savage Island, in the South Pacific, where formerly reigned a line of kings, tend to think. Hearing this yah you’re probably thinking—leaning back like that all angling out your arms and cigaretting yourself all casual and loose—that I am full of shit. Shit! Yes.
Hey, kid. You know me. I’d never thing such as that about you. But hey. About our Otto. Has he acted up any more like he does, since the last time I laid over here?
No. Things have been quiet. It’s all routine with him now. I—actually I just thought of something funny.
Oh yeah? What?
He is also a totem ‘bout my day to day. Maybe even about everyone’s day to day.
How’s that?
His day in this diner starts with his empty table. Before he arrives there. His empty table merged with his absence is like—the way we all start each day. That being—asleep in our beds.
I don’t get it. His empty table stands for people asleep in beds?
Yah. Sleeping in bed we are—not only sleeping. When sleeping we may as well not be there. Refuge for the hungry built of boards. No you can’t do that there. Tell us first. Floor. Stay in here a day. Stay in here a night. Of boards. Stay in here nights over nights under day mornings above noontimes slide down afternoons to night so again before you may. Floorboards. Before you are able to. Tile. Before we will let you. Floor tile. Before we will allow you. Slip on your good tight plain commercial workwear. Before you will consent to. But after what. “Horse”? There you go there it is. Answer me that?
Oh, sure. Plain as mud.
She winked a wry lip at him.
So what’s the next thing? Being asleep in our beds is just the first slice of a day. How does the rest of a day follow? Especially as pertaining to—Otto as totem?
Hey that’s funny.
Why?
You said that—Otto as Totem—all college-like. Like—it sounds like the name of a course.
Otto as Totem? A course? What kind of course?
Like many other college courses. Between you and I. Many are about practically nothing.
What? How’s that?
Like this—and she straightened up her hunchdown, planted her elbows on the counter, and said from the resultant virtual podium et podiumette she had become, Well, before I answer that, I must make it perfectly clear that though I sound critical of my college, I do not flag in my belief that such wastes of time are created with good intentions. But, well-meaning or not, the kings creating them were also high priests, and were supposed to make the food grow. The people became angry with them in times of scarcity and killed them; till at last, as one after another was killed, no one would be king, and the monarchy came to an end. Think it if you want. But know what I believe? And what I believe is essential in my line of work. Believe based on no wrongs. If your fault or not—beliefs based on wrongs are all lies.
And lies are sinful. You know?
Hey, listen to you now, smiled “Horse”, raising his coffee. Gone all religious now, have we? What kind of people teach at your college? All people of the cloth, are they be?
No, she said, returning back to simple mortality—that conclusion is one I reached as a result of my own reflection.
He leaned back hand up.
Hey, huh. Reflection? Hey me too. I look in the mirror every morning and—sort of like what I see, too. Hey.
“Horse”, you are such a card. Top off your coffee?
Sure eck. I like it hot.
The black liquid ran into the cup and between them pooled nothing out of two such; she being momentarily filled with needing to tilt the pot over correctly so correctly so as to not cause an overslosh, and him being momentarily filled with watching the surface rising to raise an imminent overflow alarm, if that be required. Safety in the pour being a mutual aim. Safety in anything being the mutual aim of all, sure as the floortiles down under cemented down wall to wall. Not a question. In every direction for. After the what’s what we decide. For the hungry of the builder-breed. You have had your way too. Whomever they may be no’s matter. Too often. You have had your way too too often. The hungry for whatever food enter my. What you said. Space. Hordes with one name across all. Play it “Horse”. This. Play it again. My. Okay. Now here’s. My space and this space whatever’s this space it’ll be entered for satiation. Horde upon horde of one—one’s the—and his cup being filled, “Horse” tilted back tasting the heat.
The coffee’s great today.
Hey, I try. But anyway, she said, punctuated by the tap of the pot setting down—you came in sort of early today. Last time too. Your route change any?
No, I just hit the road earlier these days. Don’t like to waste time lolling around when I could be out making money.
Eh “Horse”. Can I ask a personal?
Sure.
You married?
No. I thought you knew. Funny. I been coming here regular a couple years now. Funny that never came up. How ‘bout you?
No, me neither. Almost a couple times though.
Yeah, that’s me, too. I’ll say flat out, thank God I didn’t go through with it. Would have been disastrous. You know.
Hey, yes. Me too probably. But I always wonder.
Yah me too, once in a while at first. But with a decision like that, once it’s made, it’s made. No point looking back. I don’t wonder on it no more.
True—but, hey. We sound like two philosophers. Deliver me, “Horse”! It smells like some kind of college ‘round here now!
He smiled quiet-mouthed and his cup rose again. The warmth flowed down strongly. As God who made trees flowed raw iron into the ground invented fire and made such as you. In the barren regions of Central Australia the tribes are divided into a number of totem clans, each of which is charged with the duty of multiplying their totem for the good of the community by means of magical ceremonies. Your belief is a lie. And so my belief if wrong is a lie. Lying is a sin. So said our God—“Horse”’s head jumped slightly and he—he thought nearly in wow a doze I was right there I was I was nearly in a doze I was. Too much driving probably. When I’m done with this coffee, I’m going to hit the rack a while. Bushed as shit!
Why? What time’d you get started this morning?
Four thirty. That’s, well—shit that’s seven hours driving.
Hey wait. No, no way. I—well, yes. I guess it is. Here it’s two o’clock and you’ve put down a whole day already. Here let me top off your cup.
No, no. I’m going to lay out a while before dinner. You’ll still be on dinner-time, right?
You know my hours by heart now, “Horse”.
Yes, I s’pose. I know that by heart. Some saying that. By heart. Where’s that come from?
What? The saying of knowing something by heart?
Yes.
It’s just a common way to put remembering forever. It’s like—yes it’s like this; keep left at the fork. Simple to know the meaning of that, eh? And—happiness. That’s simple to know what it means, too. Plus, what’s? What’s? Their kind however they may be will come when empty and in need and will spend time. Yes you do know. Know what mostly all ‘round means. But at the start of anything, someone needs to teach you. Tell or we’ll again. To you again. For example you now what; what’s a totem. All right okay—say it. Asking others being and asked being and given giving and. But you didn’t know totem ‘til I happened to teach you. Give right from no straight unbroken way? You—you—you—you think that’s good enough? No. No not yet. You do not look so bad, Kevin the butcher-boy. Here’s another; to stay on I-80 E may seem plain ‘nuff and simple. But the flip of it all’s that ‘til I told you totem you didn’t know you didn’t. Which is a sort of knowing too. Meaning you always know everything. Shit. Yes! Get it now “Horse”?
Yah, yes. I think so.
He tipped back the coffee again until just some spoonfuls remained. Near to the end but not knowing he sighed deeply searching come odd way for something that—told him to say, Hey, you know what we ought?
No. What.
How ‘bout we start a betting pool of the regulars on how long Otto will end up hanging out here?
What?
Just a weird thought. Like here I am. I’m a regular. I think about weird Otto. I wonder how much longer he will camp out here. Before you come in one morning, light up the lights, and all his stuff’s just gone. Won’t that be—a shock?
Yes I ‘spose. But what’s that got to do with a betting pool?
There gambling men here. Bug Swami’s one I know. He’s got to wonder on Otto. And Paulie, Dave. And that whole short haul crew. They all have to have times they’re wondering on Otto. They ever tell you that?
Sure. Once in a while.
Okay. Then rip a sheet out your study-pad there and list down everybody’s name. Then ask them when they come in do they want to throw into a pool of guessing what will be Otto’s last day. Get their money. They’re all the kind’ll blow cash for some fun. Most of the totems are edible animals and plants, and the general result supposed to be accomplished by these ceremonies is that of supplying the tribe with food and other necessaries. You and you and you. And me too, also—but what can be a careless slip of a wrong belief in you will cause immediate collapse of one as me—hey, get it? But, that aside—put the money in some strongbox. Then when he hits his last day see who came closest and that who will get the box of cash. A fun game.
Sounds too complicated. I thought you were sleepy “Horse”.
What’s that mean.
Sleepy people don’t think all complicated like this. But you know what?
What?
That word pool. There you go. There’s a totem.
Huh?
Pool is a totem for the act of betting. That phenomenon. The culture of those attracted to betting.
Okay, but—no I am not sure that fits your definition.
Sure it is, here; a pool is a hole of water to play in. And that connects with the old saying, take a bath—like when someone bets or takes a chance where money’s at risk. They lose the money—some say they took a bath. Funny eh?
Funny? I don’t know.
Oh yes you do funny—how everything’s connected.
Everything? I’m not sure on everything. But anyway—eck what were we on before?
The betting pool. “Horse”, how old are you?
Why?
I thought maybe you have a mind so old as to be beginning to suffer forgetfulness.
Damn you!
Hey, there’s a million those in me.
No, now—back off and listen! No one coming in does not leave the off for the better. Mow! Mow! Ho, so—not to tough now eh say sweet s-s-s-s-weet Christian. But most yet they come for desire and leave filled with what was desired. Huh? Shit! From leave off Extrastate negative eighty east? Very good boy. The boards sheeting drywall nails. You are learning. Massaging life into this baby. And the screws nuts and bolts nor the toil and the trouble. So; now that we’re rolling roll this; follow signs for Interstate 80 E. Think fast! Eh, oh. Off all those lifting hammering cutting measuring and reading—but hey, you know there’s also a totem animal for the betting pool on how long Otto will last.
Totem animal? What’s a totem animal?
The term explains itself, “Horse”, and I’m sure you can easily relate—but to cut straight off to the chase, here it is; Otto’s totem animal is the turtle.
Turtle? Why a turtle?
When I was still living at home I went out the front door and, passing our front walk, in the bush to the side there was a box turtle. That kind, you know. Anyway it just showed up and I thought nothing. I went out for the day and came back and was surprised it was still there.
Oh yeah?
Yeah. It was surprising. Which by the way for complicated and quite personal reasons I can’t share, was the closest thing to emotion in me and mine and those like me which were in rows and ranks in those days displayed. Back then often our childish rites consisted of an imitation of the effect which we desired to produce; in other words, our magic was homoeopathic or imitative. Maybe lose this or that friend or lover’s love even, which by the way is fully foreign to me—magic we did not think it to be. But it was.
Okay. So—back up to Otto. What connects the turtle with him?
The short explanation is, that our turtle remained there day after day for nearly a week. And it did not move; its head pointed the same way and its tail the opposite. As though it had done something like perfectly ignored the lack of signs off whatever the Extrastate negative eighty west in the turtle universe corresponds out to be. Blueprints and plans made before by others. Now faster—spit it out let it come okay nope—not now et partial toll road passing through nope nope whole free narrow blocked route diverting to negative one nowheres to no other not-passing back away nope nope nope-e-e-e not now here’s the big fat score, butcher-boy; Pennsylvania Entering New Jersey be! But, then—just as the frenzy our turtle whipped higher by increments each day had lightened it enough for actual levitation, our turtle was totally gone!
Okay. I—again how’s this hook to Otto?
Our turtle was like part of our yard. Part of our lives. Me and my Mother and Father looked at it daily. It felt good to see it there. Like Otto.
What?
Like it feels good to have Otto over there now.
I don’t think it does anything for me. How does Otto being there—make you feel good?
I don’t know. But it does.
My God! Did you notice my throat caught and nearly gagged me down when I said the words Otto being there make you feel good?
I did notice that. But, you being the card you are, no doubt you did that for effect.
No. That was totally involuntary.
Okay. But let me go on. The reason the turtle’s Otto’s totem animal has only been half explained. To get it further, you got to hear this. And this is where the study of folklore pays off in real life. I learned last semester that among the Warramunga the headman of the white cockatoo totem seeks to multiply white cockatoos by holding an effigy of the bird and mimicking its harsh cry. Up and down and all around, is; duty! Yes, duty! I was created for one thing. And that should not be deviated from. I am incapable of such deviation. With me so far “Horse”?
No. Not at all, he said wistfully.
Well, you will be. Just hold those thoughts, hang in there, and follow me on; you told me whiles back that Otto had told you that he was tasked by his superiors to do something involving maps directions and plans. Oh, what a coincidence because in my study of the Warraminga, the coordinates 40° 4′ 32.7″ S, 105° 35′ 45″ E came up repeatedly; as well as self-invoked cries of, Don’t dig that hole mister Khrushchev, and, Yeh ho nope but we think you get the point now sit in here and rot here eh eh see this sign ack! By even more others who dared to desire. Ack, here’s the freak f-f-f-sign-o. Hot! Danger! Danger! Enter at your own risk! Stay here now while I. Behind these bars while I go—imagine what a terrible thing that’s got to be to hear, “Horse”—when it’s your first day of a lifetime in prison without possibility of parole. But—and here’s the twist—get ready and clear the decks!
Decks? Clear what decks?
Oh, that’s just a bad habit of a saying I picked up in college. I had a teacher who’d say when moving to the next level of a presentation, All right class, now clear the decks! Make way for the next big point I’m about to make! Can you believe that “Horse”? What a pompous ass.
Okay fine—but—how’s about the turtle. And Otto. Where you goan’ eh?
Okay—the bottom line point of this thing’s all that—the first days of the turtle were first days of a pet. But—before it could be a full pet it left gone away that’s that.
Okay. You are twisting my head—hey—something in that coffee of yours you failed to put into mine? This is way out there.
Very funny, I—yes I am rather getting somewhat carried off amen’t I?
Carried off? Amen’t? I think you meant carried away, and then you meant aren’t.
Ho! Now I got you. I have weakened you! I can now move in and thrust this at you!
Eh? What?
Otto has become the mascot and pet of the Lent truck stop!
What?
Can you see it?
Well. Not really.
Well, I can! There.
The waitress’ face, which to a bystander may have looked as it looked all day this day and for every day before, to “Horse” became a new face of a new person who had just ripped away a previous disguise; that being her first step in her ultimate “Horse” snaredown. In his fatigue, from her open face flooded flows of fearsome what’s nexts; and because of some past indiscretions by your kind, she may next say in accusation—why do you not see that among the Arunta the men of the witchetty grub totem perform ceremonies for multiplying the grub which the other members of the tribe use as food, one of which is fake pantomime representing the fully-developed insect in the act of emerging from the chrysalis; and said chrysalis is what “Horse’ feared he had become—all wrapped tight with words to smother and deprive and kick off his transition to a new “Horse” she had more desire to be with than the “Horse” he’d been up ‘til now—she went on with, Then a long narrow structure of branches will be set up to imitate the chrysalis case of this new and fabulous grub. In this structure a number of men will sit and sing of the creature’s various stages—yes a most positive experience you’ll be passing through, “Horse”. And I’ll just sit and sing sit and sing secretly while it’s just still dinerlike in this diner, it’s just still truck stop like all ’cross Lent’s just a truck stop by design. Jes’ like that Merge of the Custard Pies Nation joint half back fat what failed heavy. But we will not suffer this. Because this is not our last aim.
All right. Seems so. But—then what is our last aim?
This! To shuffle-squat from the faux-chrysalis, singing of the insect emerging from the chrysalis. This will multiply the numbers of the actual grubs—or so they believe—but of course it’s just a lie. For you losing, is natural. But for me—lying is deviant so I say it says it is so! Yes the ‘dea of Otto being pet mascot over all of Lent’s intriguing yes so! Do not deny! A gun to my head you put and silently say without words and all hypnotized and unknowing but, will fail to shut me! No it must and will all go down. Do not deny! ‘fter hosening up, we will washen you down. We’ll flush-wash your white crystal hard glistening curves. We’ll Force-gush your tubening tubal pipining fat chrome wipining downdy-dampened innerworks. Work. Ings. Do not deny no do not deny! And all ‘ronivally, by deeper and older and more crazy twists—eh, Gods too! Gods and Devils in one, too! The duality that—torments my kind—and in this pain yes, I hate you. Gas. But—wait.
Wait? Wait for what.
For this—okay—hold it.
As so saying she tore a sheet out her pad, and, pencil-point up, poised to write.
Okay “Horse”. Go on. How’d you say I should set up that betting sheet for your Otto exiting pool again? That was a damned fine idea. I really like it.