“Yessir, I think I will.” Wings done sprouted from my back and I leapt off the mountaintop. Sunbeams exploded through the silvery clouds, doves and stuff flew around me as I fell gently through the cool air toward the semis. I touched down lightly near the truck of my dreams and just as I made to open the door, I felt my whole body shake as if one of them Californy earth-quakes was happenin’. I tried to steady myself - - -
“Hey Mister! You ok?”
I opened my eyes and saw the little boy who had been shakin’ me awake. I sat up on the park bench, stretched a bit, and said, “Thanks, youngun. I’m fine. Get along now, ol’ Red ain’t got a mind to play no kid games. Git!”
The boy shrugged and ran off. I dusted myself off a bit and lurched to my feet. Them benches were hell on my back.
A few weeks had passed since my adventures with Little Joe and the Chupacabra in Oklahoma. I had heard nothing from Little Joe, other than a few crazy dreams that I figured he sent my way. I felt a bit lost, frankly, like one of them rudderless ships in the olden days of yore, or something like that.
So, I was loiterin’ around old Jackson-town, trying to stay out of the notice of the local lawman on account of being a “no account hobo-type” as I was branded back in Greenville-town. Walkin' around the town square I came across an old feller sellin’ flowers out of a street cart. He was a little guy with a big ol’ grin, and he’d holler out at passers-by to get some of his good flowers, all cheerful-like. But on closer inspection, you could see his sad eyes behind the happy voice and easy smile.
“You a-want to buy a-some of my a-flowers, Mister?” he said to me as I strolled up. “These birds-of-paradise a-come all the way from-a my beautiful-a Sicily, a-special for you this a-day. One a-dollar each, just-a for you.” From his peculiar talk I immediately pegged him as one of the Chinese who have come to our great land of freedom, makin’ a better life for themself and their families. Having already befriended various peoples, from Mexicans to ghostly apparitions to space-aliens, I felt sure I could relate to this sad feller just fine.
“I appreciate what you people have done with the numerous railroads and restaurants spread across this here land of ours. I do enjoy me some egg rolls and sweet-and-sour pork on occasion. Yessir.” I said, smiling my friendliest smile.
He just looked at me kinda blank-like.
“Sir, do you want-a some of my a-flowers? Maybe for your a-sweet a-heart, or something, yes?”
Although it’s hard to believe for a lady-killer like myself, I was currently unattached to a member of the fairer sex. Not wanting to admit that, I said, “You better believe it, Mister! Give me one of them good-good roses, and make it red!”
His smile faded in the blink of an eye, and his whole face drooped worse than a 50-year old stripper’s chest. “No, Sir, I don’t a-sell any a-roses. Never roses. I suggest a-you try my a-cousin, Antonio, across a-the street. He sell-a the roses.” He pointed to a feller over yonder with an identical flower cart. Then he started to push his cart away mumbling something about “… people always a-wanting the damn roses…”
Now, I’ve always held, much like the great thinkers at Piggly Wiggly, that the Ku$tomer is King. So this fella walking away got my dander up a bit.
“Say, why don’t you got any roses?” I said,. “Every flower man sells roses. People love roses and yet you don’t sell ‘em. Why is that? How come!?”
For what seemed like five whole seconds, the flower man held still, peering at me with an eye most peculiar. Then, I saw a tear done well up in his China-man eye until it spilled over onto his China-man face, leaving a trail down his cheek until it clung onto the bottom of his chin, which quivered like a hound dog in a blizzard. After about three more seconds, it finally dropped from his chin and fell for what seemed like ten seconds, and splashed upon the sidewalk like a tiny, crystal crown, and fell back to Earth.
That’s how I saw it, at least.
“Hey, it’s ok about the roses, Bub. I’ll just move on down the street now…” I said as I started to slowly back away from the cart.
His head shot up and he shot me a stare straight into my eyes.
“Ok, Mister, I will a-tell you my a-tale. And you will-a regret-a the day you asked a-me to a-share it with a-you. It is-a my a-curse, my complete a-sadness of-a my soul, which cries out to the heavens for a-justice, but remains a-smothered in the ultimate a-darkness of despair, rotting from a-within like a living a-corpse, unable to a-rest. I will tell you the story of my beloved, my sweet-a heart, my a-wife. I will tell you the story of… Little Rosa.”
Aw geez. Another freak. Just what I need. “Uh, sure, go ahead, tell me” I said, my eyes rolling back in my head a bit.
And, boy, was he ever right about the regrettin’ part.
Little Rosa, Lotsa Trouble -- Part 2
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