{"id":4831,"date":"2016-03-08T16:22:32","date_gmt":"2016-03-08T16:22:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.nielskunze.com\/?p=4831"},"modified":"2016-03-08T16:46:21","modified_gmt":"2016-03-08T16:46:21","slug":"from-the-blood-of-conifers-chapter-2-gram","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.nielskunze.com\/?p=4831","title":{"rendered":"From the Blood of Conifers – Chapter 2: Gram"},"content":{"rendered":"

From the Blood of Conifers
\nDe-Solving the Matrix; Dissolving the Veil<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Previous Chapters:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Chapter 1: The Fog of War<\/a><\/p>\n

\"Barred\"<\/a>

Barred<\/p><\/div>\n

Chapter 2: Gram<\/strong><\/p>\n

Patrick checked his blood sugar in the car, and insisted that they stop at the drive-through on the way. \u201cIf we don\u2019t, I\u2019ll drop dead for sure,\u201d he added to pre-empt any threat of argument.<\/p>\n

He had met Jeffrey at the clinic, years ago. Both had been recently diagnosed with type-1 diabetes. Patrick had been just fresh out of a minor coma when the slightly-more-seasoned Jeffrey had agreed to take him under his wing, teaching him about blood sugar levels and injecting yourself with insulin… and such. Jeffrey had been more of a regular guy back then, not quite so damned cheery… as he\u2019d now become.<\/p>\n

They had been carpooling for at least the last couple of years. Let\u2019s see.. the station was in its third year of operation, and they were both there from damn near the beginning, so yeah, they\u2019d been doing the environmentally-friendly thing for a little more than two years. You couldn\u2019t claim an environmental conscience– hell, you couldn\u2019t work for the station at all if you weren\u2019t willing to at least carpool.<\/p>\n

Patrick had only met Gram once before, years ago. It had been only a month or two after he\u2019d met Jeffrey. It was strange, really; they had visited with Jeffrey\u2019s grandma for a good few hours, but Patrick\u2019s recollection of the ordeal was mostly sketchy. He knew that he\u2019d spoken with the old lady at length, but all he could really remember was that she\u2019d convinced him to start drinking distilled water.<\/p>\n

Patrick had been well aware of the controversy with distilled water.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhadya think the darn squirrels is drinkin\u2019!\u201d Gram had so eloquently explained. \u201cYou think they giddup and haul ass to the river every time they gets thirsty… and then walks two miles back home… until they gets thirsty again? And what you s\u2019posin\u2019 the elk and the deer be havin\u2019 all winter long? They eatin\u2019 snow, that\u2019s what. Now that shit\u2019s distilled. The squirrels be lickin\u2019 the dew off the leaves before the sun properly rise. Distilled water: it don\u2019t dissolve the livin\u2019, but it\u2019ll wash away your dead. Just ask damn near any plant how much they loves the rain! Distilled water is the one pure solvent.\u201d She had nodded her hundred-year-old head emphatically, as though there was no space for argument. And dammit, Patrick had found it compelling. He\u2019d been drinking mostly distilled water ever since. He\u2019d accepted it on the basis of its solvent properties, but honestly, on its own, it hadn\u2019t really solved anything. Still, he could easily imagine that his life might be irrevocably worse if not for these last few years of cleansing and purging. The old woman had convinced him. And other than that brief recollection, Patrick had hardly ever thought about Gram at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe one pure solvent,\u201d he said aloud, as the car turned down the fog-encrusted lane toward Gram\u2019s remote hideaway.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes!\u201d beamed Jeffrey. \u201cAnd do you remember too what she said after that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick was used to having Jeffrey seemingly listen in to his thoughts. Every time Patrick would blurt something out related solely to his own internal dialogue, Jeffrey somehow always knew the context, and responded appropriately– which was so inappropriate in Patrick\u2019s initial assessment; but now that he was used to it, he didn\u2019t really care so much anymore.<\/p>\n

As for Jeffrey\u2019s question… No, he hadn\u2019t remembered a single thing more right up until the moment Jeffrey had asked the question. And then it came blurting out in typical Patrick fashion… just as he now recalled it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d he nodded. \u201cYeah, there was something about… about… the other one…\u201d<\/p>\n

If Jeffrey\u2019s smile had been one whit wider, his cheeks would have exploded. He was all teeth, and the glitter of exuberance… and rainbows, lots of rainbows.<\/p>\n

Conversely, Gram\u2019s place was a ramshackle thing… even more than any worn-out cliche. Patrick supposed that at a hundred-and-six Gram wasn\u2019t climbing too many ladders or swinging any hammers. It looked like it had been many years since anyone might\u2019ve attempted any such maintenance. There seemed to be a real threat of collapse as they carelessly slammed the car doors getting out. And still, they ventured inside…<\/p>\n

As soon as Patrick crossed the threshold, he remembered something else. Before he\u2019d met Gram, that one time, years ago… he had been quite sure that there were only two black people in the whole valley. And Gram, then, was the third. You remember a thing like that. Patrick usually forgot altogether that Jeffrey was black; it just wasn\u2019t something he regularly noticed. But when you\u2019re suddenly outnumbered two to one– and it\u2019s got nothing whatsoever to do with racism– you notice that kinda shit. Like… oh yeah… these people are black.<\/p>\n

Was \u2018black\u2019 even right? Well, \u2018African-Canadians\u2019 just sounded stupid. \u2018Negro\u2019 might make a comeback… but the other \u2018n-word\u2019… that was forever taboo. Patrick thought that the whole politically-correct circus was fucking retarded. Such was the gist of Patrick\u2019s thoughts as he was introduced– again– to Gram.<\/p>\n

\u201cPolitical correctness is for fags!\u201d<\/p>\n

That was one hell of an opening line for a hundred-and-six-year-old black woman to dish up… not to mention that, she too, could similarly read his mind. Patrick wasn\u2019t sure what to say to that, so he just laughed… and that seemed to go over well enough. When the general laughter died down, he said \u201cUm, excuse me, but could I use your washroom?\u201d The second poop was still determined to have its morning lap in the pool.<\/p>\n

Gram pointed the way, and Patrick hurried to follow the crook of that merciful finger.<\/p>\n

As he found the light switch, he was surprised on two accounts. First, he was astonished that Gram had electricity at all. But that was absurd! Everyone has friggin\u2019 electricity– even folks in ramshackle heritage shanties. Secondly, he was surprised by the general condition of Gram\u2019s bathroom.<\/p>\n

Sure enough, it was perfectly neat and tidy, everything put away and such, but there was a thin layer of dust on everything… and a couple of cobwebs here and there. Gram\u2019s bathroom looked abandoned, deserted… like it hadn\u2019t been used in months or maybe even years. Patrick thought perhaps this was just the guest bathroom… but then the thought of there being a second bathroom in such a tiny hovel seemed more absurd than any of the other possibilities– so that couldn\u2019t be it.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later, he returned to the kitchen where Jeffrey was seated with Gram at the table. His intent was to ask about the apparent disuse of the bathroom, as he scooted around the table to politely take the seat being offered, but the items on the table between Gram and Jeffrey lured his attention instead. Just beyond Jeffrey\u2019s clasped hands there rested a small glass bottle– maybe four ounces or so– with a clear green liquid inside. Gram had a similar bottle in front of her, except that the liquid was perfectly clear. There was a handwritten label on it… which Patrick was attempting to discern. Additionally, Gram was pouring sugar from a carton onto a tablespoon set on the table immediately before her. When she picked up the glass bottle with the clear liquid inside… to measure a capful, Patrick was able to finally read the label. It said turpentine.<\/p>\n

Turpentine! Patrick could even smell it now, unmistakeable… turpentine. Gram poured the measured capful of turpentine over the mound of sugar on the spoon. With one hand she replaced the cap to the bottle and with the other she scooped up the spoon and plunged it into her one-hundred-and-six-year-old mouth… all before Patrick could heroically lunge across the table to prevent the obvious tragedy… which is to say, that he made the attempt, but was fractionally too late.<\/p>\n

Gram took the time to dissolve the full concoction in her mouth, seemingly deriving pleasure from it, before she swallowed with emphatic satisfaction, all the while holding Patrick\u2019s agonized gaze with a right steady stare. Then she wasted no time interrogating Patrick for his absurd behaviour. \u201cWhat in blazes has got into you! Are you meaning to murder me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her breath smelled of turpentine, and Patrick couldn\u2019t help but notice that it actually was rather pleasant– unlike the breath of old people in general, as had been his prior experience. \u201cYou can\u2019t drink turpentine,\u201d he said weakly, stating the obvious lie, as he retreated again to his own chair across the table. <\/p>\n

\u201cI agree,\u201d said Gram with robust good cheer– it must run in the damn family! \u201cThat\u2019s why I always pours it over sugar. Chugging it like whisky might actually be about as dangerous as chugging whisky.\u201d She laughed at that.<\/p>\n

Patrick didn\u2019t understand. He just said very quietly \u201cBut it\u2019s turpentine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup. Distilled it myself,\u201d said Gram with an obvious measure of pride, \u201cfrom the blood of pines.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patrick found himself awash in a conversation that, frankly, civilized people just don\u2019t have– ever. He was at a bit of a loss, and so looked to smiling Jeffrey for help. Jeffrey pointed at the labelled bottle and said \u201cTHAT\u2019S the other one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe other what?\u201d asked Patrick perplexed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe other perfect solvent.\u201d Patrick still wasn\u2019t quite getting it. \u201cRemember?\u201d prodded Jeffrey, \u201cdistilled water was the one perfect solvent… and this is the other. Gram told you there was another one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome to Phase 2,\u201d said Gram cordially. \u201cYou\u2019re gonna like Phase 2.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was no time to talk about Phase 2; Patrick and Jeffrey had to get to the station. It was nearly the beginning of another broadcast day.<\/p>\n

On the way out the door, Jeffrey asked Gram why they\u2019d had to come now, before work. Gram smiled and said \u201cBecause there was an opening.\u201d<\/p>\n

The two men were equally perplexed by that. Obviously, Gram didn\u2019t have a super busy schedule, so they asked \u201cAn opening in what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gram stared at Patrick, still smiling, and answered. \u201cIn him.\u201d
\n______________________________________________________________<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From the Blood of Conifers De-Solving the Matrix; Dissolving the Veil Previous Chapters: Chapter 1: The Fog of War Chapter 2: Gram Patrick checked his blood sugar in the car, and insisted that they stop at the drive-through on the (…)<\/p>\n

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