It Ain’t Over Till The Fat Lady Sings

An old Cherokee told his grandson

about a battle that goes on inside people.

*

He said, “My son, the battle is between

two ‘wolves’ inside us all.

*

One is Evil.

It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

*

The other is Good.

It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”

*

The grandson thought about it for a minute

and then asked his grandfather:

“Which wolf wins?”

*

The old Cherokee simply replied,

“The one you feed.”

Cherokee Metaphor

*

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. It was my father's room in my family's home, where I had placed her after we were married, cos I couldn't do anything else with her.

She was fat and ugly, the folds of her body stretching across the windowsill like a cow being led to slaughter. It was just a body, nothing more. It consisted of a cow's head constantly wheezing poisonous fumes, another smaller head sprouting from the tip of the tail, which was the head of a snail with one eye, all attached to the body of a bull.

Looking at her, you might think of Chimera or similar monstrous siblings like Cerberus or Hydra, but she was neither of those. A descendant of man, no doubt, but what a preposterous thing!

Her three-piece head peered out of the window frame every day. Like a dog waiting for a treat, never giving up on its expectations. I had to provide for her as she couldn't move anyway.

Her bulky body barricaded herself once in a doorway when, in a fit of good will, me and my buddies tried to take her out into the fresh air. Fat chance! It jammed into the doorframe like an old couch, and only the firemen had much to do with it after that. More than any removal, I assure you!

Our house was shaking. You know, like in one of those movies, but ours seemed to have a firmer footing. The old doors and windows had been installed many years ago, and the half-seasoned wood had shrunk, letting in plenty of light and wind through the gaps between the frames. The more the house shook, the more I drank and the more bottles ended up in the bin. I just couldn't help it!

I promised my father before he died that I would do everything to keep it going. But I've never had a decent girl around me in my entire life. Of course, there were hookers in the bars, one prettier than the other, but none of them stayed with me for more than one-night stand.

So, one sunny day I drove to the nearest town, which I knew pretty well, but not from the day side, if you know what I mean. I often went there at night with my buddies, when they happened to be short of alcohol in our poorly stocked pubs.

So, there she was. She was peeping out the window of her room on the second floor. It wasn't a hotel or anything, but something told me she needed help. And I wasn't wrong at all.

She spent her whole life in this room of hers. Home-schooled, never had to go out. After that, her family supported her, so she didn't worry about anything, not even a job. So, she got fat. Just like that.

I took pity on her. And I urgently needed a wife, mind that! In my circle, wives are rare. Wives leave when hubbies drink or abuse them. Not as I intended, don't get me wrong, as I decided in advance that I would be good to my woman.

When I first saw her, my heart was happy. A wave of auburn hair fell over her chest and shoulders, ready in an instant to be picked up like a ripe fruit and taken home. So that's what I did.

Those tiny butterfly wings from my belly couldn't leave me alone as I descended the creaky stairs. I asked her dad if I could marry her. He didn't object or anything. He had only one condition. I had to take her with me right after the wedding, which luckily was in line with my original intentions.

My dad died shortly after we got hitched. She was a good wife with a docile dowry. She was able to peel potatoes for dinner if I put a bowl in front of her in his room. She wasn't the moaning type at all, oh no! On the contrary. I hadn’t much time or energy to climb on top of her from time to time to fulfil my marital duties, but even that didn't bother her.

She used to say her hubby is a juicer, which is why she gained weight, but she was like that before I met her, so I forgave her for that Freudian slip a long time ago.

And one day they came. Military troops. There were thousands of them, more or less. Echelons of tanks, weapons, fire grenades, machine guns. I've never seen anything like this in my life. Don't get me wrong, I've seen soldiers, of course, I don't live in America for nothing, but not like this one, oh no! It was like a multiplied army marching forward with no intention of stopping even though it stopped right in front of me and took me but not her. At least not to the same place.

I left my fat filly out there, in the family house, behind the last window to the outside world. Is she still there or did they take her? But they couldn't take her cos she wouldn't be able to get through the door! She still could when I put her there in his room the first time, but not after that.

I just want to see her once when this is all over, but will I get out of this alive? When they drove me here to this shallow, makeshift prison, all the buildings around me seemed levelled to the ground. Does that mean the whole world has disappeared? I can't test it in any way cos I'm locked up here as a prisoner for sins I don't know.

It smells syrupy in here. It's a heavy, clogged smell, as if someone broke a bottle of women's perfume. This nuisance seems to be assisted by a charred smell of bourbon or whiskey that I can't seem to observe. It is blocked from my sight and buffeted by the countless walls of this maze around me. The walls closest to me are soaked in some sticky substance. I think it's mud, but one confined can never be sure. I wasn't handcuffed or anything, just locked in this fetid cell among the others, but each of us separately. How could I ever fondle the thought of drinking so close to my heart, the devil only knows.

Against all odds, for the first time in my life, I feel like Silenus, the closest companion and tutor of Dionysus, the Greek god of wine, and not the stinking, scruffy sponge my rib always took me for. I can confidently return to the once-soaked scene in all the glory of a sober man. I truly and honestly deserved it! The fact that I couldn't touch a single glass of liquor was kinda achievement of my life. How long though? It's hard to tell without the numbers on a watch or calendar, harder to guess from the outward signs, cos there's nothing, nothing at all, just a bleak and blurred reality that looks like a curse hanging in the heavy air of eternity night.

One night, however, she came to me completely unexpectedly like a storm. She opened the eye of the darkest and downy cloud and her voice sang to me the most heavenly melody a mortal could ever distinguish. And then she was gone within a minute, but I was sure it was her. Only she could send me hope in a puff of white cloud, only she could enter through these gates where I could never be invited. It could only be her, no one else.

Duck shooting has never been my least interest. But it ain’t over till the fat lady sings.

– THE END –

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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