[Time fled years ago. Wind is blowing. That’s all you need to know]
Diane runs along the coast searching for cracked seashells. She gets tired and lies down in a puddle.
Leopold is blind but runs well enough. No one realizes he is a cat until it is too late.
John on the other hand is a strong name and therefore is real enough to be more than a marshmallow, but less than a giant. He is just short of 5’11 and strange; more so than gelatin.
John: This breeze is awfully pretentious.
Diane: {In an English accent (she’s from West Virginia), but sensitively serious} Indeed. Very much so.
John: {Surprised agony} Sorry, I was talking to the ocean.
Diane: {Equally surprised} Why would you talk to the ocean? That sure is dumb. What are ya? A dumby?
John: John is perturbed that this blond chestnut called his mother dumb.
Diane: What now? {Thinking that she has the ability to speak below a whisper} THIS FELLA HAS A SCREW LOOSE I RECKON. {The English accent returns after conceding that he will be sun burned regardless} My vernacular is quite strange. I find it almost comical. {She giggles, causing her nose to wiggle. She snorts unintentionally, resorting to more giggles.}
John continues to stare at the waves. I don’t know why, but the sun does the man good. His hair captures the UV rays like a pool, adding a shiny reflection of gold with a tint of copper. He may be a red head.
John takes Diane’s hand, while nodding his head.
John: Yes, this must be how the world ends. (He kisses her tenderly and melancholically. The English accent is touched.)
Diane: What in the world? (Of course, they are kissing, she as much so as he is, but still, the girl can dream). girgle girgle girgle.
John’s eyes open mid-kiss in search of plankton. His nose wants to smell his new catch. His skin is confused as to why John merely applied fish oil instead of SPF. His Ray-Bans are on the beach depressed and finding little hope in the ethical treatment of dolphins. John’s toes though, are warm enough in the sand, wiggling in bliss like hermit crabs.
“Oh” (or “Oww”) escapes miraculously from somewhere other than the girl’s mouth.
After what novelists would call, “The Kiss Grande” (which was a little much if I have to be honest. It was like watching a goldfish preparing to sneeze, and the other one looking like they were choking on a fork) plus ten years later, John and Diane are found by no one in particular rummaging in the Amazon. John now has a full-length beard (alas revealing that he is in fact a red-head). Diane after coming out of the local river, naked (locals consider the river holy, and therefore a sacrilege to swim in. They will declare war. John will win.) looks, and in fact is not a day older then when I first met her.
John: (Inhales deeply preparing for his lines. Diane does not realize that this is all just one giant joke) What a pretentious shade of green. (The beard falls off his face. He is again reinstated as beautiful.)
Diane: (Still naked) My dear, shut the hell up. We’re in a jungle.
John: I miss mother.
Diane: Oh Jésus Christo, not this again. (She expects John to chastise her like her mother used to after overhearing her speak Spanish).
John: John is silent and hungry (It is clear that John loves to speak in the third person. He goes off in search of caramel gardens and primate exotic dancers. He only finds a vegan meal consisting of horseradish and poi.) John is satisfied but not so thankful for this feast. (With annoying vigor)Blah blah blah CSPAN corpus erectus maximus blah rust textured sunsets, Yoko Ono, rose ripened lips, nape necked blouse, wet dewy navel, heavy breathing, heaving snot, moon-laced sun kisses, rainbow universes, spectral epiphanies, salmon skinned brush strokes, bird shit Sundays, bag pipe solos, ah-choo, amen to you, Tarturus, tarter sauce, tainted kiddy pools, wading in vomit, untampered beauty, you you you, and Diana! (Suddenly the horseradish sprouts into a fragrant grove of garlic, mana, and underarm sweat. The poi, sadly remains poi. After deeming his work, and the poi imperfect, John swings on a vine but does not have the upper body strength of Goliath or other Scriptures. He resorts to walking on water.)
Diane follows John undetected, fully knowing that he is off in search of the infamous chimp skin-bar. She starts to purr like a lawnmower. She finds it attractive. She finds her flame-haired lover, crosses herself like every good Christian girl should, and pounces on her prey.
John: {Quite sensibly and trapped} I love you.
Diane instantly orgasms. John does too but for other reasons. They both consider it a beautiful moment. John reconsiders “The Big Beautiful Joke” and begins to repent his chimpish ways. Diane draws a salivated cross on John’s forehead like a mother cleaning her child’s face. It is a touching moment.
Diane: In the name of the father; that’s God, the child; that’s Baby Jesus, and the Holy Ghost, we are now married.
John: I see.
Diane: Seeing is believing. Or is it ‘Believing is seeing?’
John: No matter, I’m pretty sure my father is the Devil. (John’s saliva cross begins to boil on his forehead. He seems to enjoy the burning.)
Diane: (The English accent takes off his cucumber slices from his eyes after tanning and comes to the rescue) It appears I’m in a little bit of a pickle.
John: (Strikes an intimidating pose, bears his fangs, and bites Diane’s neck. She seems to relish the pain. The ghostly “Oh” (or “Oww”) reappears, but this time escaping from her mouth.) (Singing (but not well)):
I wish for a son to bear my crest,
and a blond lass with a hefty chest.
Her skin, as white as a peach tree flower,
and to kiss me softly upon the hour.
A fire that burns behind her eyes,
and heat of passion between her thighs.
Silk that wraps around her skin,
and hips and arms that remain thin.
An agelessness that never tires,
a pout that forever lights my pyre.
If ever I find a lass as fine as this,
I shall seal her heart with a vampire’s kiss.
Now with a belly full of blood, John forgives his father for being Lucifer. There is a bright flash! I begin to paraphrase…
John wakes up 86 years old in a downtown flat in central London. His face is old. His hair stubbornly remains red. His figure has diminished. He is no longer beautiful. Diane wakes up, looking at her elderly lover with a smile. I don’t know what she sees in him. She picks up a Wedding candle and drives it through John’s mortal heart. He dies agonizingly…
John wakes up from his post-coitus nap terrified. The sun is up so he is naturally sparkling like a red red ruby. His hair is still stubbornly red. He wraps his strong, tanned arms around his would-be killer out of fear with a hint of affection. It is a tender moment. I begin to suspect that this is how love remains timeless.
