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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Crazy Mama Jones

Paws in the dishwater
Swirling soapy strains of a water melody
With a note here
And a note there

Mama Jones reaches up and wipes her brown furry forehead
Her head warm with the exertion of an hour's worth of cleaning already
And a full day of the same to come

One paw gripped a pan still caked with last night's supper leavings
The other holding a small scraper
Supplying a steady scuffing sound to go with the water sloshing song

A light pin pointed on the horizon she could see through her kitchen window
Catching her big black eyes
Causing her hands to slow their repetitious work
Until they stopped entirely
Her attention fully captured by the sun slowly rising in the East

Along with it came a symphony of sound
Invading her ears gradually
Causing them to perk and swivel slightly
As if trying to find the source of the music
Though her staring eyes knew from whence it came

From the soft tentative sounds of one or two instruments
The song grew to include the entire orchestra
Thrumming her body with light and sound
As the sun finally detached itself from the dark horizon
Becoming a blazing disk of blinding

Mama Jones couldn't contain herself
And her mouth opened in song
One of a sustained note
Supporting the complex piece being played all around her

As she did so
The other notes and rhythms converged upon her
Massaging her skin and fur
Enclosing her in a living cocoon of touch

And it never seemed to cease
All the sensations only increasing with the height of the sun before her

Her voice raised itself to the heavens in ecstasy

At nine o'clock
The postman came around
Digging envelopes out of his pack absentmindedly
Before showing them into the Jones' mail slot
Located halfway up the kitchen door

Almost missing it
He became aware of someone softly singing

Looking up and through the door's window
He saw Mama Jones laying spread out on the floor
Her puffy tail twitching to some unheard beat
Her mouth open
Singing one long note after another
Eyes glazed over
Surrounded by the sunlight angling in through the paned window over the sink

Shaking his head he came inside and made his way over to the telephone
His paw spinning the crank
Then punching the number for the doctor

"Hello?
Yeah, this is Phil
I've got Gail Jones over here at her house"
He gave Mama another look over
"She looks like she forgot to take her medicine again"

Phil's ear rotated unconsciously as the doctor spoke to him
"Sure, sure
I'll stay until you get here
No problem"

Phil set the earpiece down again
And took off his mail bag
Dropping it onto a chair by the table

He thought of sitting down
But thought better of it as his stomach rumbled slightly
Reminding him that breakfast was several hours ago

"Might be time for an early lunch I think"
He said to himself
As he opened the cupboard to grab a frying pan
With hopes of finding some eggs in the icebox

Behind him
Mama Jones broke into a fresh melody
Inspired by the sun starting to creep every higher in the sky
And the shadow of the window sill just tickling her toes
Beginning a slow march up her body
As the corresponding square of sunlight moved across her and the floor of the kitchen

It occurred to Phil that he'd heard the melody before maybe
And he stopped scrambling his eggs momentarily
Before dismissing the idea

After all
He was hungry