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Group Home Outing
Group Home Outing
Our headmistress detects vibes of unrest among our population. So she gets us a comfort dog to pet and play with and has the women who babysit us take us to the Comite River to picnic and swim. One fine summer day we sunbathe at the river and enjoy the fragrance of the magnolia petal-strewn forest. We walk barefoot on the fallen blossoms with the traffic overhead on the bridge.
To my surprise Yogi our Labrador retriever, plunges into the river and swims by the pilings of the bridge. But to our shock, he begins swirling in the current while struggling to stay above water. I dive into the river and swim to Yogi where I hold him against my chest only to find myself suctioned by the whirlpool. Abruptly I feel Rowena grab my arm. My God, she has followed me in a futile attempt to save me. Then the three of us are spinning like tops until I feel the water surround and embrace me in Stygian darkness.
Then I rise from the water but there is no river or dog. They are replaced by the strumming of a ukulele with hula dancers to greet me with a smile and a bounce. One of the hula girls garlands me with a lei while another hands me a Mai Tai. And there is Rowena in a grass skirt shaking her stuff. A young man hands her a blue Hawaii cocktail. She tells him, “You’re so good to me. Am I wearing you out?”
He replies, “It is a tradition in Hawaii to keep the drinks coming.”
I ask the Rowena, “What is the occasion?”
The bartender interjects, “We don’t need an excuse to throw a luau here in the islands of aloha.”
Rowena wrings her hands. “We’re celebrating our two thousandth anniversary, dingbat.” Rowena tells me that our Yogi, formerly of the canine species, has joined the human family as the bartender.
We share a bed and breakfast room alongside other transients on the karmic cycle of rebirth. One spring day I hear a knock on the door. The concierge tells us that our reservation of the room is over and another guest has booked the room for the rest of the season.
Rowena says, “But we’re not decent.”
The concierge says, “Wear your birthday suits proudly because you two have birthdays coming up.”
No more room service for us because our next stop is earth.
Our headmistress detects vibes of unrest among our population. So she gets us a comfort dog to pet and play with and has the women who babysit us take us to the Comite River to picnic and swim. One fine summer day we sunbathe at the river and enjoy the fragrance of the magnolia petal-strewn forest. We walk barefoot on the fallen blossoms with the traffic overhead on the bridge.
To my surprise Yogi our Labrador retriever, plunges into the river and swims by the pilings of the bridge. But to our shock, he begins swirling in the current while struggling to stay above water. I dive into the river and swim to Yogi where I hold him against my chest only to find myself suctioned by the whirlpool. Abruptly I feel Rowena grab my arm. My God, she has followed me in a futile attempt to save me. Then the three of us are spinning like tops until I feel the water surround and embrace me in Stygian darkness.
Then I rise from the water but there is no river or dog. They are replaced by the strumming of a ukulele with hula dancers to greet me with a smile and a bounce. One of the hula girls garlands me with a lei while another hands me a Mai Tai. And there is Rowena in a grass skirt shaking her stuff. A young man hands her a blue Hawaii cocktail. She tells him, “You’re so good to me. Am I wearing you out?”
He replies, “It is a tradition in Hawaii to keep the drinks coming.”
I ask the Rowena, “What is the occasion?”
The bartender interjects, “We don’t need an excuse to throw a luau here in the islands of aloha.”
Rowena wrings her hands. “We’re celebrating our two thousandth anniversary, dingbat.” Rowena tells me that our Yogi, formerly of the canine species, has joined the human family as the bartender.
We share a bed and breakfast room alongside other transients on the karmic cycle of rebirth. One spring day I hear a knock on the door. The concierge tells us that our reservation of the room is over and another guest has booked the room for the rest of the season.
Rowena says, “But we’re not decent.”
The concierge says, “Wear your birthday suits proudly because you two have birthdays coming up.”
No more room service for us because our next stop is earth.
Published 2nd Nov 2019
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