Oscar and Someplace You Don't Want To Go

Oscar smoked too many cigarettes and regularly said things that were somewhat disturbing, like "Walruses often die by their own hand" or "It really can hurt to get your nipples pierced underwater, especially if the water is hot." He was plagued by Reverse Eidetic memory; meaning, he had exceptionally detailed awareness of certain things before they happened, but once they had occurred he had virtually no recollection of them at all. One of the things he had the worst time remembering was the meaning of the word "Eidetic".

I was walking down Main Street headed for the Rexall Drug Store. My goal was prescription drugs but my thoughts were elsewhere. Suddenly Oscar was beside me. I smelled his filthy cigarette smoke, then looked up and there he was, seemingly inches to my left.

"Hi Oscar", I said, involuntarily moving about a foot away and hoping the wind was blowing in the other direction. "Hello," he said, somewhat distractedly. "Run me up the Flagpole of Love, would you?"

I tried my best to ignore this. "What are you up to today?"

"My knockwurst jumped out of the fridge and landed on the floor. Now the arrogant little bastard is filthy. I'm on my way to get something to clean it with."

"What?" I asked, trying not to sound alarmed. When you conversed with Oscar you frequently ended up somehow on the defensive end of the conversation.

"What?"

"I mean, what did you just say?" I was sounding more alarmed now, I was sure.

"I didn't say anything. You said something about your refrigerator."

"No", I corrected without conviction, trying to sound patient but not in a condescending way - or for that matter, frightened, which was something I was now becoming aware of in my own sensibilities. "You said your knockwurst was dirty."

"No I said your hair looks kind of thirsty. When was the last time you caught on fire?" This was his response.

I noticed we were near the entrance to the drug store. "I - uh, I'm going in here I'll see you later," I stammered, veering hard to the right and pushing on the old, weathered door. There was just a second of panic when it stuck stubbornly in the door frame. He walked on without breaking stride. "If you need me, I'll be drinking beer" he called back as I went through the door.

Years back, Oscar had been engaged to marry my little sister. Now Easther is a little "off the beaten path" but she really isn't crazy, so at that time I didn't know where this was going to lead and I was a bit concerned. Oscar wasn't as bad in those days. But he did have some pretty goofy conversations with my sister. I mostly seemed to be hearing it one-sided, being in the room with Easther when she was talking to him on the phone.

"I got a new unicorn," she told him once when I was walking through. "I'm going to name him Lollipop and give him a back scratch every time I hear a bell ring."

Eventually Easther got on some new meds, she stopped talking to Oscar, and the whole business kind of drifted away into the past. Since Oscar frequently couldn't remember things that had already happened to him, he soon forgot about my sister. I was hoping to keep him "forgotten" to her too. Hence my trip to the drug store on this occasion, in fact - I wanted her prescription filled before she ran out. Just to be safe.

The pharmacist was looking at me kind of funny, I thought, when I picked up the medicine. I had no idea why and figured it was probably just my imagination; I figured I was maybe still a little bit unnerved by my recent run-in on the sidewalk.

Momentarily I was back outside the drug store and was continuing down the street - I remembered a couple things I needed to purchase, grocerywise, at Olsen's Self Service (true, it's a weird name for a grocery store, but it was kind of a weird store). Olsen's was operated by Ben Olsen, a notorious skinflint who talked old ladies into buying all the black bananas and who had an aura of transparent, insincere sincerity about him when he talked to you - like he was really concerned about your welfare but at the same time, was there any way he might be able to work an angle on you. I will have to tell you more about old Ben another time I think.

With my cans of Walla Walla boiled asparagus and Campbell's Bean with Bacon soup secured, I headed back towards home. I didn't get far before I met Wayne. Wayne was a guy who had sort of a "way" with animals; or, for that matter, almost any living creature so long as it wasn't actually a human. He was walking along just a bit haltingly, and holding onto something with his hand. His arm was outstretched from his body, bent at the elbow.

As he got closer I saw that he had a piece of monofilament fishing line wrapped around his hand. Somehow it was extending upwards into the air - when I followed it with my line of sight, I was somewhat surprised to discover that it was functioning as a sort of leash. On the other end of it, flying a few feet above Wayne's head, was a large wasp or hornet of some kind. I could hear the faint buzzing of its wings as I got close.

Around where I live when you see things like this, it's usually better to not ask, so I looked back down at Wayne. As we met I nodded a greeting (I didn't really know him that well - hard to believe, I'm sure). He was looking at me rather quizzically.

"What's with the head?" he said as we passed.

"Uh?" I managed to grunt. I had no idea what he was talking about. True, I was hatless on this particular occasion - it was a very warm day with the sun shining brightly so I had not put my hat on my head when I left the house. I could feel the warm sun on the top of my head, and it felt good. Perhaps a little too warm now though, I thought. Maybe I should have put on the hat after all, I thought as I passed by Wayne and his pet.

After that things get a little foggy. I'm home now, sitting on my sofa - I've changed my clothes and had a shower, and I'm trying hard to just relax, but sorting it all out is not easy and it just makes me more agitated the more I think about it.

The next thing I remember, honestly, is that I was a couple doors down from where I had met Wayne and I was approaching the doorway into the Vet's Club Bar and Cafe. Something flashed. That's how it seemed to me. I couldn't tell where or why, but there was a flash of some sort. I sort of stumbled, I remember that. I caught my balance and then I realized that my head was just really, really hot. Then there was pain. Lots of pain, out of nowhere and very sudden. I started wanting to run, or fall down and roll over, or smash the hat I wasn't wearing down on the top of my head. Instead I took another couple floundering steps forward, and then stopped in my tracks.

Ahead of me the door to the Vet's Club flew open. I watched this and it was almost as if it was in slow motion. I remember a dim notion that I was watching a TV show at that point. Something like that. It's funny the things that can go through your mind.

Out of the bar came Oscar, obviously on the fly but still (to my sensibilities) in some strange kind of slow motion. As he cleared the doorway, which now seemed just inches in front of me, I saw the sunlight glisten off of something. Something glass and golden, that's what was in my mind; glass and golden. Another funny thing I reckon.

At that point it was like time just sped up to normal again. He was swinging his arm in a wide arc towards me. My God Damned head was tingling and there were shooting pains and a strange numbness and things were flashing all around me and I was dizzy and maybe feeling a little bit sick to my stomach. The Walla Walla asparagus was bouncing off the sidewalk at my feet.

All this, and now Oscar's arm came around and the golden glassy thing was a pitcher full of beer and he just dumped the whole son of a bitch over my head, all in one motion like he had been practicing this move over and over. I remember thinking it was like the guy with the broom who skates backwards on one of those curling teams in the Olympics, sweeping in front of the iron or whatever you call it, as it is sliding down the ice. This made no sense at all and maybe it was just that the shock of the ice cold beer made me think of ice. Or falling through the ice. Anyway, there was some hissing and kind of a searing at the scalp that I felt, and some weird smell mixed with the odor of the beer. This searing feeling was replaced quickly by the cool, then shockingly cold, sensation of being dowsed in frigid, sticky, smelly beer.

While I was thinking something like, "I thought Oscar always drank Great Falls Select from a can", time and space kind of seemed to realign themselves again for me. I was now strangely aware of some sort of deja vu type feeling, at the same time thinking, "for Christ's sake, my head was on fire and Oscar put it out with a pitcher of beer!"

Some of the beer was dripping off my nose and onto my lip, and I let it into my mouth. It tasted kind of good actually. It tasted kind of satisfying like freedom and rejuvenation, and I guess just pure gold.

Oscar was looking at me with sort of a smile I guess. His cigarette was kind of bouncing around on his lips as he chuckled a bit and as he breathed in and out through his mouth; and there were little sparks coming off of the cigarette and drifting about in the air near his head. What the hell were these things he smoked, I wondered. And for some reason I thought of the hairspray I always put on my head after I showered; usually right before I put my hat on.

"Don't you have a sister? How's your sister these days?" Oscar asked.