place called Utsunomia, north of Tokyo. I remember lots of nashi orchards and small farms all around.
What’s a nashi, Holiday asked.
It’s a pear that looks like an apple, but tastes like a pear, soft and sweet.
Is that right, Holiday said, smirking, trying to think of something funny to say.
Yes, that’s right, and I met a Japanese guy who went to Israel and lived in a kibbutz for a while. He had a rock band with some friends, and they rehearsed at night inside a big shed that was used to store the farm equipment and building materials.
How old were you when you went there? Sam asked.
After I sold my barber shop I thought about where to go, and decided on Japan. I worked hard there with a guy from America who built log cabins. Unloaded logs that came in shipping containers packed to the top by hand. We had to crawl inside and push the logs out one by one. They were eight or ten inches in diameter, ten feet long, and heavy as hell. By nightfall we were spent, and just sat around grilling, eating, and drinking. After filling up on food and booze we took a long hot bath, then hit the sack, but got up early the next day and did it all again. Those log cabins sure looked great when they were finished. I wanted to build one for myself, but I met a nice lady, and she wanted to live in the US, so we came back.
That’s quite a story, Tom. You know, I’ve been to Japan. What happened to the lady? Sam asked.
She died.
Sorry, Tom, didn’t mean to . . . bring back sad memories.
It’s okay, Tom said, and winked.
Sam wondered why Tom didn’t seem as drunk as he made out to be. Is he’s putting on a sham? Sam thought.
Holiday looked up, and howled at the moon like he was calling an old friend. Hey, Tom, maybe she’s up there. What’s her name?
Her name was Lori, Tom said, and I loved her dearly.
Hey, Lori! Holiday yelled. You up there? then laughed.
The moon’s a mysterious object, Tom said. Some people think it’s hollow, and reptilian creatures live inside that glowing orb. Some of these people also think some of us are actually their offspring.
Now you’re joshing, aren’t you old timer?
It looks like one huge pearl to me, Tom said. A pearl of the universe floating high above, and one of a strand that broke apart when the universe was created.
That’s some strange shit old timer, where are the rest of them pearls, and where’d you come up with that story anyway?
Read about it somewhere, don’t remember where.
Yeah, I read too, but nothing like the shit you’re coming up with, old man.
Well, I’m hitting the sack and dreaming about pearls floating in space, Sam said. You guys can stay up shooting the breeze if you like, but I’m driving, and have to get up early tomorrow. If you’re not ready, I’ll leave both of you here. Sam crawled into his tent listening to crickets and muffled voices. Tom is up to something, he thought. He rolled around in his sleeping bag getting comfortable listening to them both talk on, but it was just noise. Soon it was quiet, and there was only the smell of smoke from the doused fire, hooting owls, and the occasional groan as the forest came alive with sounds of the night.
NEXT MORNING
The morning sunlight stirred Sam from a comfortable sleep, after he felt something at the bottom of his bare feet, like a bug crawling over his toes. He sat up in a frenzy rubbing his eyes. As Sam came to life he saw Holiday crouching at the opening of the tent sporting a huge grin. He had a long weed in his hand, and was using it to tickle the soles of Sam’s feet. One thing about Holiday: he acted like a dumb hick, but he had a perfect set of teeth, and a killer smile that wouldn’t quit. He could charm the devil just like Lonesome Rhodes in the film “A Face In the Crowd”. Sam yawned, groaned, and worked out the stiffness from sleeping on the ground all night.
Morning, Holiday said in a friendly twang. You awake? Hey sleeping beauty . . . I think we been taken to the
What’s a nashi, Holiday asked.
It’s a pear that looks like an apple, but tastes like a pear, soft and sweet.
Is that right, Holiday said, smirking, trying to think of something funny to say.
Yes, that’s right, and I met a Japanese guy who went to Israel and lived in a kibbutz for a while. He had a rock band with some friends, and they rehearsed at night inside a big shed that was used to store the farm equipment and building materials.
How old were you when you went there? Sam asked.
After I sold my barber shop I thought about where to go, and decided on Japan. I worked hard there with a guy from America who built log cabins. Unloaded logs that came in shipping containers packed to the top by hand. We had to crawl inside and push the logs out one by one. They were eight or ten inches in diameter, ten feet long, and heavy as hell. By nightfall we were spent, and just sat around grilling, eating, and drinking. After filling up on food and booze we took a long hot bath, then hit the sack, but got up early the next day and did it all again. Those log cabins sure looked great when they were finished. I wanted to build one for myself, but I met a nice lady, and she wanted to live in the US, so we came back.
That’s quite a story, Tom. You know, I’ve been to Japan. What happened to the lady? Sam asked.
She died.
Sorry, Tom, didn’t mean to . . . bring back sad memories.
It’s okay, Tom said, and winked.
Sam wondered why Tom didn’t seem as drunk as he made out to be. Is he’s putting on a sham? Sam thought.
Holiday looked up, and howled at the moon like he was calling an old friend. Hey, Tom, maybe she’s up there. What’s her name?
Her name was Lori, Tom said, and I loved her dearly.
Hey, Lori! Holiday yelled. You up there? then laughed.
The moon’s a mysterious object, Tom said. Some people think it’s hollow, and reptilian creatures live inside that glowing orb. Some of these people also think some of us are actually their offspring.
Now you’re joshing, aren’t you old timer?
It looks like one huge pearl to me, Tom said. A pearl of the universe floating high above, and one of a strand that broke apart when the universe was created.
That’s some strange shit old timer, where are the rest of them pearls, and where’d you come up with that story anyway?
Read about it somewhere, don’t remember where.
Yeah, I read too, but nothing like the shit you’re coming up with, old man.
Well, I’m hitting the sack and dreaming about pearls floating in space, Sam said. You guys can stay up shooting the breeze if you like, but I’m driving, and have to get up early tomorrow. If you’re not ready, I’ll leave both of you here. Sam crawled into his tent listening to crickets and muffled voices. Tom is up to something, he thought. He rolled around in his sleeping bag getting comfortable listening to them both talk on, but it was just noise. Soon it was quiet, and there was only the smell of smoke from the doused fire, hooting owls, and the occasional groan as the forest came alive with sounds of the night.
NEXT MORNING
The morning sunlight stirred Sam from a comfortable sleep, after he felt something at the bottom of his bare feet, like a bug crawling over his toes. He sat up in a frenzy rubbing his eyes. As Sam came to life he saw Holiday crouching at the opening of the tent sporting a huge grin. He had a long weed in his hand, and was using it to tickle the soles of Sam’s feet. One thing about Holiday: he acted like a dumb hick, but he had a perfect set of teeth, and a killer smile that wouldn’t quit. He could charm the devil just like Lonesome Rhodes in the film “A Face In the Crowd”. Sam yawned, groaned, and worked out the stiffness from sleeping on the ground all night.
Morning, Holiday said in a friendly twang. You awake? Hey sleeping beauty . . . I think we been taken to the
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