December 21, 2009
‘Jack Carter’ by Ray Cates (Adolphus)
It was always a mystery to me how women can get screwed and seem to like it. Now I’m glad they enjoy it, but having something rammed inside you and twisted and jerked as we men do it, proving and enforcing our superiority, doesn’t seem like a win-win situation for the ‘weaker sex’.
I’ve never been a woman, as far as I can remember. Mostly I’ve been a male something. If it ever happened I would be happy to remember for understandings sake.
My most recent parents were demons. I think they would be classified as human, in a sort of classification, way they looked sense (their horns were hidden in a quantity of hair. As a child horns were one of my fears — I was afraid I would take after them, and grow some — but it never happened, not even little nubs. As a child I didn’t get to know my parents well, they were in and out of prison Actually most of their offenses were a violation of our right to freedom of religion under the U.S. Constitution.
They were never convicted of killing the rest of their children, well the others just disappeared. I know they ate them, but that’s just a knowledge I have. They always joked that the reason I kept living was that I would taste bad. We moved all around the country from Florida to Texas to California. Texas was the spot we kept going to. People like to be around their own kind, and our kind (demon types) were mostly concentrated in Texas. Lyndon Johnson was even President of the United States hundreds of years ago, demons liked to claim him as one of theirs.
No one could prove that my parents did anything but steal some of the offerings from a variety of churches. No one could really give positive evidence about anything against my parents, they had some clouding abilities on people’s minds. Also between the stomach and garbage disposals, there was exactly no evidence left of my brothers and sisters. None of them were buried somewhere.
Most of us, people with talents similar to me, became magicians, or fortune tellers. I see no reason to get people to pay me to see the future because what I know of it I can cash in myself.
Kimberely Vesco was one of my earliest recruits. I was a freshman at St. Petersburg College in Florida. When your poor and raised in foster homes they have ways you can go to school free. That was my ticket to college.
Kim was a college senior majoring in journalism. She was one of those very rich cheerleader types that populated high school. You have lots of free time, between classes, in college classes — I spent my first few weeks following Kim around. The crime would be called stalking, if she had noticed me.
I had this thing about real blonds, and Kim was one of them. She was not really a match for me, we were about opposite. She was tall, I was short. I wore glasses, she didn’t have even contacts. I made only the best grades, and she made just as much as needed to stay in school. I know how to get student records off of my computer. Really computers were not much of a trick.
I knew she had a boyfriend, she was all dressed up, waiting for Larry. He was this big quarterback in high school, and in college he sat on the bench waiting for the other guys legs to be broken. I knew Larry was not coming, and I watched her wait. She was atuned to clothing, and there in Beverley’s Bistro she was decked out in a dress that must have cost more than my tuition for a semester.
I let her stew for 20 minutes about Larry, and then I went over and sat down with her at their table.
I said, “Glad to meet you Kim Vesco, I’m Jack Carter, student and spiritualist.”
“You have your nerve, and I did see you over there looking at me.”
“I find it hard to look anywhere else.”
“Well my boyfriend is on his way here, and as a polite suggestion, you better not be here when he arrives. He’s jealous.”
“If I wish to take my chances, do you care if I sit here with you?”
“No, stay as long as you like I just wanted to warn you.”
“Would you like to see something unusual?”
“Do you do tricks, what do you mean unusual?”
“Look at this.” Her table was in a corner where I could put my cupped hand down below the table and fire burst up in my palm. Only she could see it, and I let the few small flame burn awhile. It doesn’t hurt my hand. She watched it closely. It was the very first thing I knew I could do from age five.
She finally said, “How are you doing it?”
“It’s not a trick.” I said. “Take hold of the back of my hand.” I knew that was cool.
“Does it hurt?” She said, and clasped the back of my hand.
I saw the waiter coming our way, and I closed my fingers over the flame extinguishing it, and quickly began holding her hand. She didn’t pull away.
The waitress said, “Are you two ready to order?”
I said, “Yes, I’ll have a rare steak and one uncooked, but well washed potato.”
“A large salad, with eggs and no meat.” she said.
“How is it done?” she said.
“I like rare not done.” I replied.
She laughed and said, “The fire in your hand silly. I’ve never seen anything like that. The back of you hand was cool, and I can see that your hand is not burned. She felt my hand extensively (to myself I said, ‘Good progress Jack’) She said, “Your hands are not even hot.”
“I know”, I said.
The waiter brought water with ice in it, large glasses and also left a pitcher of ice water.. She kept holding my hand and took a sip of the ice water with her other hand.
“How’s the ice water.” I said.
“Just ice water, nothing more or less.”
I said, “Take another drink and make sure.”
She picked up her glass, and let go of my hand. She took a large drink this time.
“I was thirsty, and it’s water.”
I said, “Would you like wine?”
“Sure, but it’s too expensive. I don’t drink enough to make it worth while.”
“I didn’t mean we would pay for wine. Taste that water again.” She did and looked at me either startled, scared or both.
“It’s like wine. You never touched it, or even touched the table but it became wine.”
“I don’t go around doing things like this for just anybody.”
“Who are you?”
“Jack Carter.”
“They’re just tricks. Probably anyone would have seen them on late night TV, but are they some sort of new lazer tricks?”
“Would you believe in me if you came up with what you wanted me to do, and I did it, if it came out of your head and not mine?”
“You can do anything?”
“I can do most anything of what you could think up.”
She began looking around the restaurant, there were probably 60 tables full of people in the main room, and then outside there were more tables some filled, some not. It was a nice place with low lights and upper class people. There was one man in a wheel chair. She became focused on him over all the rest. I knew what she would say before she said it.
“If you could make that man get up and walk out of here i would absolutely believe in you.”
If I could make him walk out of here would you believe in me so much you would let me take you home and screw you?”
“Jack you are strange, or something, but yes, I’m crazy. Yes I would fuck someone who could do that.”
I said, “To do this I will have to touch this man. I do not want publicity, so I will need to talk to him. Come with me.”
This was a man who had not walked in a long time. His wheel chair was not a temporary one. The people who were at his table with him were older. I think he was their son or stepson.
When I got to their table I was sure of their names, and where they were born, but if I greeted them by name Kim would think that I had set up another trick, so I said, “Hi, I’m Jack and this is my girlfriend Kim.” I paused for a moment because i realized that one man at the table was a Methodist Bishop and the other was a doctor (and the father of the cripple) who had spent his whole life trying to help people to walk. His own son was beyond his help. I continued, “My girlfriend, knowing about my talents, wanted me to come over before my supper and make your friend here walk again”.
The Methodist said, “Your some kind of faith healer?”
“No, it has nothing to do with his faith or mine.”
“What do you have to do?” the doctor said.
“Just touch him.” I said.
The cripple said, “I don’t want no one touching my legs!”
“If you don’t want to walk then.” I said.
“No,” the doctor said, “touch him anywhere you like.”
“If he doesn’t want to walk, then he can just sit in peace in his chair.” the Methodist Bishop said.
“All my talent allows is that willing he can get up and walk out of here.”
Kim said, “Show them something else so they will believe.”
“This is all a bunch of hooey,” the Methodist said, “Aren’t you one of the group that hangs out at airports and asks for donations for books?” the Methodist said.
“You preacher are a good reason why faith healing often doesn’t work, but this has nothing to do with faith.”
The medical doctor said, “Touch him! It won’t misprove the Methodist faith if my son walks.”
The cripple said, “Don’t touch me.” He said it without conviction. Sorta of like when a girl is lifting her dress and pulling down her panties saying, “Don’t do anything to me Harry.”
The father stood up at the table when I put my hand on the man’s shoulder. I made a flash of light come out of my finger tips. I did the light just to scare the disabled guy out of his seat. It didn’t work good, because his legs were weak and running out of the place he knocked over several chairs and tables. the whole restaurant was in a uprore. Women were screaming, and men were wiping gravy off their suits.
Few people knew anything about what was going on, they only saw the deranged man running for the door, knocking dishes on the floor. The father shook my hand and crying ran after his son. The Methodist and mother rolled the wheelchair toward the door. I wondered what they thought it was still necessary?
I noticed that Kim was also crying. It’s good when girls cry. We went back to our table and began drinking the wine. She quit crying and said, “No one has seen anything like that since things happened in the Bible. That was a miracle!” She poured another glass of wine out of the water pitcher.
That night we were naked in her bed, but the night-light was on and I could see her sitting up with those wonderful pointed breasts of hers pointing my way. She finally said, “Jack I’ve figured it out now.”
“What?”
“You have Biblical knowledge of me as woman.”
“Yes we screwed twice, that qualifies. The name is Jack Carter.”
“Jesus Christ,” she said.
“Don’t swear.”
“It’s not a swear. That’s who you are Jesus Christ!”
“And your Mary?”
“Don’t be silly, Mary was his mother.”
“And don’t you think you will be whoever I say you are?”
“You have all the power.” she said.
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To contact the writer the address is: rcates2@cox.net
His fax number is: 1-352-629-1573
Links to other stories in the same series: http://amosani.wordpress.com
http://youngdevil.wordpress.com
http://devilsanddemons.wordpress.com
Links to other stories are at the end of ‘Teeth’ http://unsightlyteeth.wordpress.com
