Sunday, September 25, 2005

high falutin idea

"A woman whom we need and who makes us suffer elicits from us a whole gamut of feelings far more profound and more vital than does a man of genius who interests us"-proust

Now that is some pretty high falutin language there. Hell, I could have told you that in fewer words.

Around here about two years ago we had a couple who summered over up at Biggy James' old cabin. I heard tell that the man was some sort of important scientist or something who'd done stuff to save the human race or some such nonsense. He was up there with his assistant. She as a looker to say the least. Cute little thing about thirty five years old. Dark hair. One of those bodies that men in bars talk about after having a few too many drinks and looking around to check that no women are listening.

The scientist didn't come down to town much except to send stuff at the post office every couple of weeks. His assistant, she'd come down a lot more frequently. Only woman I've ever seen shopping for groceries at the Piggy Wiggles in high heel shoes and short jeans. She was a ringer for Daisy Duke only better looking and she knew it. Damn right she knew it. When she hit town it was like every man in town knew it as if she was wearing a top secret perfume to stir their souls and then some. Some secret radio signal went out to our brains. We knew she was nearby.

When she'd come in town it was like time stopped. I don't care how faithful a man was to his wife or girlfriend he had lust in his heart that made his head snap around and watch her. She knew that too.

She'd walk up Main Street or across the parking lot and we were watching. Hell, we were staring and droolling. She never once cracked a smile in our direction. To her we were all invisible. Finally, her business concluded she'd go back up to the cabin.

Men folk talked about her. Henry Johnson even suggested that she was a witch and ought to be burned or drowned. Of course, he volunteered to do it. Said the punishment ought to be done to her with no clothes on. I think he had other ideas.

At the end of the summer they drove down from the cabin and went out to the Interstate. That was the last we saw of either of them.

WE still talk about her. We can't remember his name. See just like that there Proust fellow said.