Porcupines by Ginger
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Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em… never did… never will… will never earn a penny… no infringement intended… please don’t sue me… life is complicated enough these days.
Porcupines
By Ginger
I am reminded of a joke told to me years ago, not long after my escape, by a kind elderly gentleman. I met him in a cemetery where I was following an early lead on my family which, like so many others, ultimately turned out to be a dead end. Still, it was nice to pass the time with a warm, compassionate stranger. Little did I know at the time that these encounters would become a mainstay of my existence, that I would learn to depend on them to keep me going as weeks of both searching for my family and eluding capture turned into months and months turned into years.
The old man was tending to his wife’s grave which, if I recall correctly, was his Friday ritual, one he kept faithfully and intended to do so until the time came for him to join her there. “You see,” he explained with a smile, “we first met on a Friday.” She had been the one true love of his life and he of hers. Theirs had been a passionate relationship but also, he admitted, a rather tempestuous one. Nobody had ever been able to make him as miserable, or as blissfully happy, as she had. The wacky and wonderful world of interpersonal relations was new to me at the time so I was intrigued by his words. “Ah, the paradox,” he nodded as he spoke, “it is compelling isn’t it? Because, my dear boy, to have avoided the misery I would also have denied myself the happiness.”
He went on to describe his love and I could see him summoning an image of her. I could tell when he had it because his smile deepened and because of the look in his eye, something beyond description. “God, she was beautiful, but what a handful. Smart as a whip with a tongue sharp as a knife. Said whatever came into that gorgeous head of hers. And if you made her angry, forget it…” He considered his words for a moment adding, “But then, the same was often said of me. I guess we were just so much alike – two of a kind. That’s what made it so difficult sometimes… like that old joke about the porcupines,” which in response to my inquiring look he shared with me.
“I can’t even imagine experiencing something like that. I’ve been alone virtually all my life,” I confided.
“You mean, there’s been no one, ever?” he asked, incredulous.
“There was someone once, a long time ago when we were children but we… well, it’s complicated.”
“It usually is,” he nodded, adding “And, this lost love of your youth, have you seen her since?”
“Actually, I’ve been seeing her quite a bit lately. Much more than I’d like
to!”
At that the old man smiled, “Porcupines, my boy… porcupines.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so, sir, not in this case. You have no idea how complicated it is.”
He shrugged and, gathering up his garden implements, sighed, “Well, maybe you’re right. I must have been mistaken.”
“Mistaken?”
“The look in your eyes when you mentioned her. I thought I saw… ah, well… Would you look at the time – I really should be on my way. Nice talking to you, son, I hope you find everything you are looking for and, perhaps, maybe even something you’re not.”
Something I’m not? I remember puzzling at his words as I watched the old man stroll away. Hmmm… porcupines…
“What about them?”
*Someone’s awake…*
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”
“You didn’t wake me. What are you thinking about?”
“Someone I met a long time ago, a very wise old man, and a joke he told me. Something like ‘How do porcupines mate?’”
“Very… carefully.”
*Uh-oh, I know that tone. God, I hope I have the strength. I suspect she may be trying to kill me. Oh well, we’ve all got to go sometime… rest in peace, Jarod.*
“Very carefully indeed, Parker…”
# # # #
Porcupines
By Ginger
I am reminded of a joke told to me years ago, not long after my escape, by a kind elderly gentleman. I met him in a cemetery where I was following an early lead on my family which, like so many others, ultimately turned out to be a dead end. Still, it was nice to pass the time with a warm, compassionate stranger. Little did I know at the time that these encounters would become a mainstay of my existence, that I would learn to depend on them to keep me going as weeks of both searching for my family and eluding capture turned into months and months turned into years.
The old man was tending to his wife’s grave which, if I recall correctly, was his Friday ritual, one he kept faithfully and intended to do so until the time came for him to join her there. “You see,” he explained with a smile, “we first met on a Friday.” She had been the one true love of his life and he of hers. Theirs had been a passionate relationship but also, he admitted, a rather tempestuous one. Nobody had ever been able to make him as miserable, or as blissfully happy, as she had. The wacky and wonderful world of interpersonal relations was new to me at the time so I was intrigued by his words. “Ah, the paradox,” he nodded as he spoke, “it is compelling isn’t it? Because, my dear boy, to have avoided the misery I would also have denied myself the happiness.”
He went on to describe his love and I could see him summoning an image of her. I could tell when he had it because his smile deepened and because of the look in his eye, something beyond description. “God, she was beautiful, but what a handful. Smart as a whip with a tongue sharp as a knife. Said whatever came into that gorgeous head of hers. And if you made her angry, forget it…” He considered his words for a moment adding, “But then, the same was often said of me. I guess we were just so much alike – two of a kind. That’s what made it so difficult sometimes… like that old joke about the porcupines,” which in response to my inquiring look he shared with me.
“I can’t even imagine experiencing something like that. I’ve been alone virtually all my life,” I confided.
“You mean, there’s been no one, ever?” he asked, incredulous.
“There was someone once, a long time ago when we were children but we… well, it’s complicated.”
“It usually is,” he nodded, adding “And, this lost love of your youth, have you seen her since?”
“Actually, I’ve been seeing her quite a bit lately. Much more than I’d like
to!”
At that the old man smiled, “Porcupines, my boy… porcupines.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so, sir, not in this case. You have no idea how complicated it is.”
He shrugged and, gathering up his garden implements, sighed, “Well, maybe you’re right. I must have been mistaken.”
“Mistaken?”
“The look in your eyes when you mentioned her. I thought I saw… ah, well… Would you look at the time – I really should be on my way. Nice talking to you, son, I hope you find everything you are looking for and, perhaps, maybe even something you’re not.”
Something I’m not? I remember puzzling at his words as I watched the old man stroll away. Hmmm… porcupines…
“What about them?”
*Someone’s awake…*
“Sorry, did I wake you?” I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”
“You didn’t wake me. What are you thinking about?”
“Someone I met a long time ago, a very wise old man, and a joke he told me. Something like ‘How do porcupines mate?’”
“Very… carefully.”
*Uh-oh, I know that tone. God, I hope I have the strength. I suspect she may be trying to kill me. Oh well, we’ve all got to go sometime… rest in peace, Jarod.*
“Very carefully indeed, Parker…”
# # # #
