Tuesday, November 27, 2007

jack and the magic bean bus

a prologue
by little orphan dave, the orphanage chronicler

Long, long ago, in the days of toe clips and down-tube shifters, there lived a young boy named Jack Piper. He lived in an orphanage run by a kindly old nun named Sister Kim who had always looked after him for as long as Jack could remember.
Jack shared the orphanage with about forty-seven other lost boys and girls, although it was difficult to count them because they kept moving around so much, and exactly seven old Volkswagens, which were easier to count because they didn’t move around so much.After supper Jack liked to listen to the older orphans talk about how they came to live at the orphanage. There were stories of wild golf cart chases, bottle rockets, water balloon launchers, and an evil wagon master. At night, dreams of pancakes, beer tickets, and turkeys would swirl in his head as Jack slept on his little cot under the stairs.
One night, just as Jack was drifting off sleep, he was awakened suddenly by a rough shake of the shoulder and a hand clamped across his mouth. His eyes opened wide and Jack could see the shadowy shape of Sister Kim in the moonlight filtering through the stairs. Sister Kim motioned for Jack to be quiet and follow him up the stairs and through the back door to the yard outside.
“You must listen carefully, Jack,” said sister Kim in a coarse whisper. “Time is short and you are no longer safe here at the orphanage. You must leave tonight and ride your bicycle to get as far away as you can. You won’t need lights on your bike. Go by the light of the moon and don’t let anyone see you. Take these beans with you and search out Kelby in the great mountains to the west.”
Jack stared at the beans Sister Kim had placed in his hand and was silent for a moment, surrounded by quiet Volkswagens resting under tarps like oversized tombstones in the moonlight. Then he said, “That’s cool. I was thinking of taking off and starting a restaurant or something anyway, maybe go to Europe and see Jason, I don’t know.”
Within moments, Jack was on his own, on his bike, pedaling through deserted city streets and through the cool night air, followed only by the gentle clicking of his bike’s chain on its cogs.
[to be continued...]
.....
and don't forget...
seven days until zappadan!!

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh the memories. Who's got the fuckin' winger?!?!?!?

-Rod

the mostly reverend said...

here's a fun game we like to play at the orphanage: can you find the two faces in the magic beans?
if you do, you will get an extra bowl of gruel.

for more information, read this:

http://www.mrbreakfast.com/ask.asp?askid=10

Anonymous said...

found the 2 faces, where's my gruel?

the mostly reverend said...

oh, sure, ANYone can SAY they found them.
[tough love rules supreme at the orphanage, you know.]

Anonymous said...

Hell I can finish that story, Jack was afflicted with raging saddle sores before leaving the city limits of Des Moines and called some trollop or another for evac.

gpickle