{ excerpt } |
Balled lightning could destroy the world. Clouds of dust and fire could rain down, the oceans evaporate. Whole cities might just sink into the void, all of our ashes sifting together in the great final order. Whatever the cataclysm, my brother Billy warned me, the animals will certainly run the other way. He was the one that always told me to look out for these signs, so when the caddy’s golf shack caught fire, anything seemed possible.
My new buddy Martin liked to play golf on Thursday mornings because there was no open play. It was less crowded, and by the time you were done, the special at the Club was a Reuben. They make a damn fine one. All of this Martin explained by phone the night before. I told him what I’d just seen on the news, about a lightning phenomenon expected to coincide with a haboob. Thursday morning. “Nonsense. They never get that right. And say sandstorm. My god, you say haboob and you sound like a tool. Besides, if it’s real bad, the Club won’t let us tee up in the first place. We’ll just watch the world end from the dining room. That sound alright?” “Sure, Martin,” I said, agreeing to meet at his Club. In my ear he was chewing something hard, perhaps the ice cubes he liked to plop in his champagne. Thursday morning, the sky was indeed bleak. Purple-green sky in one direction, a coppery red haze in the other. The light was out at Magnolia and 25th and there was a crossing guard blowing her whistle in the middle of the intersection. Although the dust was not as thick as it would get later, she had sand goggles on, big as snorkeling gear, a handkerchief covering her nose and mouth, and a bright orange vest. Reflective straps buzzed about her like fireflies and when I passed her, her long braid bobbed behind her, snapping like a snake. The Club parking lot was empty except for Martin’s black Mercedes by the entrance, the handicapped spot. When I arrived, I saw him placing the blue placard on the dash. He needed no help getting out, his knee surgery long since healed. His sunglasses wrapped completely around his face, a giant futuristic mirror on his head that reflected my white shorts and hairy legs, the aquamarine polo Gary got me for Christmas, my pronounced belly. And behind me, the brown undulating sky, the slanted wall of dust that may or may not be headed our way. --- This excerpt from "Go Time" is Copyright (c) 2014 by Stacy Brewster : : All Rights Reserved If you would like to read more, please contact me. |