Joey Cloudy online

Isaiah Jones vs the Sea

Key West a trip to the Vets

“Dogo Argentino.” said the veterinarian”, a middle-aged white man whose dark curly hair was beginning to grey as he peeked with light grey eyes over the rim of his glasses at his patient, Starbuck. Doc Brown stood at 5 foot 10 inches and weighed 237 pounds, the same size he was when he rotated out of the US Navy over two decades ago.

“They misidentified the breed of your dog.” Doctor Jonathan Cornelius Brown looked up from the white dog with a black spot circling her left eye into the large emerald eyes of the dog’s owner.

The young black man’s face sported a light scruff; his skin was dark, as dark as his wife’s, and his long ebony ringlets were worn in neat cornrows that hung just past his shoulders. Black, Arab, or Māori, you had no idea exactly what his race was until he started talking, and you heard that distinctive East Texas twang. Doc Brown listened as Isaiah explained how he had noticed the pup began limping around the dock after he secured his ship while he was busy preparing to take on more water and diesel fuel, before heading inland to purchase bread, fruits, vegetables, and other perishable provisions.

He was worried about the puppy and had no idea how she had injured herself. The X-ray showed there were no hairline fractures or broken bones. After learning he had found the dog on the side of the road outside of Austin on his way from his home in Dallas to Galveston last summer Doc finished bandaging the pup’s sprained paw, updated her vaccines, and drops for flea’s as well as update all the animal’s paperwork pro bono as they talked.

“The shelter in Austin was going to put her down, they said she was an undesirable breed, a pit-bull,” Isaiah said, a bit confused.

“It’s an understandable error, Doc said nodding knowingly, especially since you don’t see her breed here in the states very often. She is in the line of Mastiffs; genetically, she is more similar to Great Danes, Rottweilers, and English Mastiffs. The white fur, the black lips, heavy musculature with no excessive fat or jowls, she will be nearly 100 lbs. by the time she’s full-grown; illegal in a half a dozen countries, as well as several states, and cities in the US. The average Pit bull generates about 238 psi in a bite. Dogo Argentina here more than doubles that with a 500-pound psi bite.”

“Woah, I had no idea. Isaiah exclaimed. I knew she was strong, but I’ve never heard of the breed before.”

“She is the national breed of Argentina, breed to hunt big game, specifically wild boars and puma by a Dr. Antonio Nores Martinez in the 1920s.”

“Thanks Doc Isaiah said I had no idea.”

“No problem, kid, I’m a dog person myself, got an Akita and a Lab at home, so it’s a pleasure to get to see such a beautiful specimen as your Starbuck. How did you get here?”

“The Uber picked us up at the Key West Bight Marina,” Isaiah replied, rubbing the puppies’ belly as they talked.

“Well, Doc Brown said, finishing with the bandage. I’m done here for the day; you need a lift?” The veterinarian asked as he tucked the stethoscope into his large pocket before removing his white lab coat, as he walked to the front and flipped the open sign to closed.

“Sure, and thanks, Doc.”

“No problem, the red Hawaiian parrot shirt, khaki pant wearing gentleman said with a grin. us old salts gotta’ look out for each other; that’s the law of the sea.” he said with a smile as they exited the clinic and climbed into the cab of his decade old midnight blue Ford pickup. As Isaiah settled into the passenger seat with the puppy, Doc opened the driver’s side door but stopped, seeming lost in thought for a moment, but he didn’t get in the truck.

“I forgot to set the alarm, be right back.” He headed back into the clinic while Isaiah waited outside in the truck with Starbuck curled up on his lap. A few minutes later, the veterinarian returned with a small dolly loaded with several cases of canned dog food and a 100 lb. bag of dry puppy chow that he loaded into the bed of the truck.

Doc was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that the kid was sailing alone. Jesus, he was the same age as his oldest boy. He couldn’t imagine any of his 3 children attempting such a thing, not even as crew, let alone solo. The kid was headed out to sea on a tiny boat alone; the boy’s got a pair a stones on ‘em the size of beachballs. Doc Brown was a Navy veteran who never liked the war. He came from a poor family and only enlisted after graduating from high school to qualify for money for college using the GI Bill. He served during Desert Storm and the second Gulf War operation, Iraqi Freedom. What a load of jingoistic bullshit. More like ‘Operation Free Iraqi oil’ is more like it. He thought as he loaded the dog food into the bed, then closed the tailgate before he climbed into the cab and strapped himself into the driver’s seat with a wide grin on his face beneath his salt-and-peppered beard.

“Have you had supper yet, son?” He asked the young sailor.

“Nah, we’ll eat when we get back to the Exodus,” Isaiah replied.

“Do you like hamburgers?”

“Does the Pope wear a pointy hat?” Isaiah asked, quoting one of his recovering catholic mom’s favorite lines.

Doc laughed. “Great, I’m starving too; I say we stop at ‘Frita’s Cuban Burgers’. It’s on the way, and no worries; dinner is on me, kid. Getting a little stir crazy cooped up in the house with the wife and kids too long.”

Thanks in part to the season, as well as the pandemic, the café was not too crowded. After they placed their orders, the two sat at the brightly painted wooden tables and benches on the patio of the burger shack, basking in the glow of the neon colors that decorated the building, whose walls were covered with primitive, stylized murals of Frieda Kahlo. They talked about the navy, Doc reminisced about the good ole days as a corpsman, and the drunken antics of his old friends in port cities around the world. Isaiah listened and laughed as the old man talked about his glory days and the good times he had on his Med cruise.

Isaiah sighed, “I miss it sometimes, that’s where my mom first took me sailing with my twin sister Emily. My parents were stationed at Sigonella, the naval Air station in Sicily, that’s where we were born. I loved living there. They didn’t move to Dallas until I was six. My mom’s family is in Texas, but we never see them except on Holidays, weddings, or funerals. Mom has a complicated relationship with Granny Culpepper. They’re both in and outta’ rehab as long as I can remember. They love each other, but they hate being around each other. If they are in proximity for any extended period, it isn’t a question of if they’re gonna fight, it’s when, and it never takes long.”

Doc laughed. “I got that same dynamic with me and Faith, the wife’s mother.”

Isaiah sipped from the glass bottle of Coca-Cola as he glanced around the patio, keeping a watchful eye on Starbuck as the puppy explored the area around the cafe’s patio. The two teenage Cuban girls who had taken their orders and served them their food returned from the back of the café to stare at him while he ate. Isaiah waved, and the two girls waved back, both giggling as the shorter, paler, thick-set one with large, thick square glasses took a picture of him with her cell phone camera. Then the two girls stood looking at the image with the taller, darker girl next to her, both giggling and whispering conspiratorially before they disappeared back into the cavernous confines of the tiny café’s interior.

The old man chuckled, “I think they like ya’ kid.”

Isaiah looked at the girls in their bright white work uniforms, white shorts, tank tops, and sneakers, then at Doc before he spoke. “I think girls that look like that are outta my league,” he said, believing he was being honest.

Doc sighed, offering a world-weary, forlorn smile as he spoke, “First off, kid, you are an objectively attractive human being, maybe you got issues in your head, but that’s where it all is, in your head, so relax. Second, those two girls over there checking you out are local dock dolls.”

“What is a dock doll?” Isaiah asked, “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“That’s because you are young and naïve about much of what is going on in the world. I can assure you, my young friend, you have seen their kind many times in every port you have ever sailed. Pretty young girls who are size queens for guys with big boats. Yachties, Harbor Honie’s, Boat Girls. They just want you to take them cruising around the islands or just hang out in the bay, but what really gets them off is hooking-up on a boat. Even dry-docked get them wet. And those two lovely young ladies who’ve been ogling you since we got here are that type.”

“Now, I am a happily married man, but I have heard from reliable sources that if you have the right kind of ship and invite them aboard, they will guarantee your stay here tonight is…he paused for effect turned his gaze towards the two girls then back to Isaiah before he finished the sentence…enjoyable. Now, march on over there, chat them up, and don’t forget to casually mention your boats nearby.”

Isaiah smiled at the girls again, having returned to their place at the service window to smile at him as they talked amongst themselves out of earshot. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then got up and walked over to the window to introduce himself.

“Hi, my name is Isaiah Leonardo Jones.”

“Hey acere, ¿qué pasa?” Beatrix said, looking him up and down with an approving smile spreading across her face.

“Real talk, I’m not from around here, and I was wondering if ya’ll wanna hang out later? Here’s the address to Key West Bight Marina where my boats docked. Drop by after work if y’all wanna chill later.” Isaiah handed the caramel colored 5’ 11” girl one of the marina’s business cards.

The tall, slender Afro-Cuban girl looked him up and down once more, then smiled. “How big is your boat, Papi?”

“48 feet,” Isaiah replied.

“Ieeha, that’s a lotta boat for one man to handle all by himself,” Beatrix said seductively.

“What kinda’ boat you got?” asked the short, thickset pale pale-skinned girl with glasses, Mara, without looking up from her iPhone.

“48 feet,” he repeated. Noticing they both spoke with the same softened Cuban accent.

“No, the thick pale girl said, peeking over the frames of her glasses to stare into the bright green eyes of the gangly black boy. I mean motorized powered luxury cruiser, speedboat, fishing boat?” Mara asked.

“It’s a 48-foot monohull not a catamaran, solent rigged sloop, dual rudder, integrated keel, roller furling’s none of that hank-on crap,” Isaiah said finally understanding her question.

“So, you got a boat worth…what, about 50 thousand dollars sitting in the dock, and it belongs to you?” Mara asked, adjusting her Velma glasses beneath her bangs.

“No, she’s worth a lot more than that. He laughed. She’s not used, she’s a brand new titanium-hulled prototype.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Oh really. What then $250,000 to 350,000?” Beatrix inquired.

“I think ya’ll missing a few zeroes,” he said with a wide grin.

“THREE POINT FIVE MILLION DOLLARS!” Mara exclaimed, “You bull shitten’ me?”

“No, he said seriously, She’s a prototype. Marine grade titanium hull, keel, and rotating keel stepped mast.”

“How old are you, Papi Chulo?” Beatrix asked.

“I’m sixteen in a half.”

“Why you wearing those green contact lenses?” Mara asked suspiciously.

“I’m not wearing contacts, these are my mother’s eyes.” He replied, correcting her.

Beatrix reached over and gave his bicep an exploratory squeeze. “Did a scout give it to you to get you to play ball for his college?” Beatrix asked coyly.

“No, he stammered, I was home-schooled, I went to school on an academic scholarship. I never played ball for anybody’s team. I graduated last summer with a double major in physics and engineering, and now I work part-time remotely as a consultant for an engineering company based in Houston, well, Galveston actually, we design next-generation spacesuits and dry suits for hostile environments. Ours make the big, clunky suits they wear today obsolete; our hazardous environment exoskeletons are modular and sleek, they fit more like Iron Man’s armor.”

“You are so fulla’ shit, your eyes are brown you know it,” Mara said, her hazel eyes never leaving the phone’s screen, her thumbs always tapping away on the flatscreen as they spoke.

“You have the address, Isaiah said with a confident grin, drop by the marina tonight and I’ll show you what I’ve been working on lately, on my laptop.” It’s actually pretty cool. I’ve got a fridge full of fresh yellow tail tuna marinating in lime juice, ready for the grill. But if you want anything stronger than fruit juice to drink, you need to B.Y.O.B., Isaiah said, pausing to take a sip from the bottle of Coca-Cola. I’m a minor, so there’s no booze stored on my boat.” He said with a shrug.

“So, Mara asked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and looking up from her phone’s screen for a moment, Who is the old white man?”

“That’s Doc Brown, He’s a vet, my puppy hurt herself on the dock earlier today. So, I took her to his office to get her examined.”

“Aww, Beatrix cooed, genuinely concerned, is she ok?”

“Yeah, no broken bones, just a sprained paw under that bandage. Doc was nice enough to give us a ride back to the marina after he treated her, and we stopped here to grab a bite to eat on the way.”

“I see him here before with his Negra wife and kids, Beatrix said, a little girl and two boys, the oldest one is about our age, sorta’ looks like you but not as tall and lighter skinned, and he wears his hair in an afro like his momma. That woman’s hair is fire. Beatrix said. I didn’t know he was a vet, that’s sweet.”

“Is he trying to fuck you?” Mara asked, not bothering to look up from her phone’s screen, her thumbs a perpetual blur as she messages friends constantly navigating the web, updating social media posts. A non-stop stream of memes, GIFs, likes, and shares.

“No! Isaiah replied, laughing. He’s just a nice old man who likes to talk about the good old days when he was in the Navy, he sort’a reminds me of my granddad.”

“Me gusta ese chico”, said Beatrix. “No se queda mirándome las nalgas por mucho tiempo cuando lo atiendo, y deja buenas propinas.” Isaiah smiled, staring into her eyes as she, with an extended index finger, traced invisible images of the lotus flower on his forearm as they talked. “We close at 11:00, so give us till 11:30 to get changed and grab something to drink. OK.”

“Your boat,” Mara interjected, “what kind is it?”

“It’s a sailboat, like I said, a 48-foot sloop,” Isaiah repeated.

“No, no, no, Mara interrupted, growing visibly irritated with not getting the correct answer to her question. His autism came off to her as aloofness, I mean like is it made by Nautor’s Swan, Oyster Yachts, Hallberg-Rassy, X-Yachts, Hanse Yachts, Beneteau, Jeanneau?” She said each name with the practiced cultured inflection of a wine snob. She was a connoisseur of fine yachts and their manufacturers.

“No, Isaiah replied, more than a little impressed that she knew the names of virtually every luxury high-end yacht manufacturer. It’s a Monarch Ti-48, a prototype design. With a marine grade titanium hull and integrated keel and rotating keel stepped mast.”

Isaiah and Beatrix continued flirting while they chatted, as Mara googled the company on her phone.

“¡No me digas!” Mara exclaimed, “These things are designed to sail around the world through any weather, across the roughest seas.” And OMG carbon fiber keel stepped rotating mast …! They make the Hummers of sailboats! Look at this, “Mira Beatrix, Ven Acá!”

“Let me see, Beatrix said, looking at the company’s site on the screen on Mara’s iPhone. Your boat, she look like this?”

Isaiah smiled. “Better. She’s all black with gold stripes, even the sails are black carbon-fiber,” he grinned.

“Really?” Beatrix asked, genuinely intrigued.

“I spent the last 6 months getting her ready to cross the Atlantic.”

“This is as big as a boat can get and be single-handed,” Beatrix said as she read.

“Where you from, Papi Chulo?” Beatrix asked, returning Maras’ phone.

“Dallas, Isaiah said with a slightly exaggerated twang, but we set sail outta Port of Galveston 13 days (almost 2 weeks) ago.”

“Ok. So, this is her shakedown cruise?” she asked excitedly.

“Yeah, Isaiah said with a self-satisfied smirk, this is the first time we’ve pulled into port and disembarked.”

“Congratulations are in order. This is a night to celebrate! Hmmm… Beatrix said, thinking aloud. A 48-foot boat can hold anywhere from 6 to 14 people. We gonna call some friends and welcome you to Key West in style tonight.” Beatrix handed Isaiah a neatly folded napkin with her number printed on it with a Sharpie in an elegant, italicized script. Her handwriting was beautiful. “Here’s my digits,” she said with a knowing smile, Put it in your phone. Mara and I will be there before midnight.”

“Kool, I’ll see ya’ll later,” Isaiah said, still somewhat surprised that they were actually coming.

“By the way, she said with a knowing smile, my name is Beatrix.”

Isaiah returned to the table and sat across from the old man.

“What time are they coming over?” Doc asked, grinning.

“Eleven-thirty. I’m gonna ask you a favor, Doc, I need you to break the law and purchase alcoholic beverages for my guest for the evening.”

Doc laughed, “There’s a Fausto’s Food Palace near the dock.”

“Thanks again, Doc, but how did you know they liked boats?”

“It’s a small town Doc chuckled. people talk.”

“They do like to do that, don’t they?” Isaiah said in agreement.

“They do indeed.” They both laughed.

The young black boy and the old white man sat together sipping bottles of Coca-Cola as they both stared west out towards the sea. Starbuck alternated between begging for a bite of Isaiah’s burger and exploring the area occasionally following the pet rooster, chickens, and chicks that lived there, never going too far from Isaiah. The two men finished their burgers, papas fritas, and glass bottles of Coca-Cola imported from Cuba that tasted better than the American coke because it was made with real sugar cane. They say that the stuff they make here in the states with high fructose corn syrup taste the same but that is a lie.

“What are your plans from here, kid?” Doc asked as they stared to the west out at the sun setting over the sea.

Isaiah sipped his soda as he talked. “Well, I plotted us a course northeast, from here we’ll sail for the Bahamas next. I’ll hit several of the islands in the Bahamian archipelago between here and Barbados. The two places I will need to avoid at all costs are Cuba and, of course, Haiti. Then I’ll resupply, get provisions, and rest up in Barbados before crossing the Atlantic. 3952 miles (about the width of the United States) to Accra beach in Ghana.” Doc looked at the kid and shook his head in amazement as he contemplated the audacity of the undertaking as well as his motivation.

After they finished their food and drinks, they both waved goodbye to the two girls then headed to the Fausto’s Food Palace, Doc grabbed a half a dozen cases of MGD (Miller Genuine Draft) beer in cans and several boxes of Chardonnay as Isaiah meandered up and down the isles picking out an assortment of fresh fruits in the produce section, smoked meats and deli trays, snacks, chips, and dips and several bottles of Prosecco at Docs suggestion.

“You’ll want to start with bubbles, girls love it.” After they finished shopping, they loaded the supplies onto the Exodus as the puppy hobbled around, exploring the dock.

After they finished, Doc handed Isaiah two brown plastic bottles filled with antibiotics with instructions to store them in his med kit onboard the Exodus for an emergency for either one of them out there. “I was a corpsman in the Navy. My phone number is on the bottles. Put it in your phone and call me if you have any medical questions about the pup or yourself. While the two men shook hands, Doc noticed the kid’s hands the way he noticed a puppy’s paws, the kids mits were huge and covered with thick calluses of a veteran sailor who had spent years handling the ships ropes and lines the kids’ hands dwarfed his own hands Jezuus he thought to himself the kid’s only 16 years old, six two and still growing. After they finished loading the party supplies and dog food onboard, standing on the pier grinning, Doc Jonathan Cornelius Brown snapped to attention and saluted the young sailor.

“Godspeed, Captain Jones,” he said in all earnestness before Isaiah returned the salute with a grin.

“Thank you, sir.” Isaiah replied before he whistled, calling out into the darkness for the dog, “Starbuck! Here, girl!” His dad’s favorite character on the rebooted Battlestar Galactica, Doc, laughed to himself as he walked down the dock to his truck. Katee Sackhoff would be honored. As the kid shouted, calling the puppy “Here, girl!” The dog came running back to him on her bandaged paw, obviously on the mend as she was hardly limping at all now.

Doc Brown looked back towards the pier at the boy and his dog one last time and waved at the young man as he watched him board the SS Exodus, with Starbuck in tow. Doc laughed to himself as he turned back toward the parking lot and walked to his pick-up truck. The kid had no idea what he was so happy about.

Doc thought to himself, “This, this has to mean something.” He wondered if the kid ever even read Melville; he chuckled to himself as he climbed into the cab of the truck, fastened his seat belt then turned on the radio to the local news station; more protest and riots in the wake of police murdering unarmed black civilians, Nazis in high office now called themselves Republicans as a madman, a failed TV personality, was at the helm of a cult of personality more dangerous than Jim Jones and was now leading the nation into the abyss, his followers gleefully drinking the toxic red, white, and blue Kool Aid.

Maybe the kid had the right idea. This seemed a perfect time to say goodbye to America. His thoughts meandered while switching the radio to the oldies station as he pulled out of the parking lot of the marina, into the light Key West traffic on the darkening street. It was a classic by Mystikal/ Shake Ya Ass

“Attention all y’all players and pimps

Right now in the place to be (shake ya ass)

I thought I told y’all niggas before

Y’all niggas can’t fuck with me (watch yourself)

Now this ain’t for no small booties

No, sir, ’cause that won’t pass (show me what you workin’ with)

But if you feel you got the biggest one

Then mama come shake ya ass

Shake ya ass, but watch yourself

Shake ya ass, show me what you workin’ with

Shake ya ass, but watch yourself

Shake ya ass, show me what you workin’ with

Shake ya ass, but watch yourself

Shake ya ass, show me what you workin’ with

Shake ya ass, but watch yourself

Shake ya ass, show me what you workin’ with”

He sang along with the radio as he drove into the darkness. That night as he slept visions of skinny black boys on sailboats glided across the azure seas of his dreamscape.

Chapter 5 pt. 2 The Sirens Song in Key West

At 11:31 pm a convoy composed of late model cars, pick-up trucks, a VW Bus, motorcycles, scooters, and a beachcomber bicycle pulled into the parking lot next to the pier where the Exodus was docked, Beatrix arrived with her entourage comprised of seven girls and two guys with a half dozen others on their way. They were all already high when they arrived. When she saw Isaiah standing on the deck waiting, she and Mara both waved, “Acere, que bola?” “Permission to come aboard sir!” Beatrix shouted gleefully.

Permission Granted! Welcome aboard. Isaiah replied formally with a wide grin.

Everyone cheered as they followed Beatrix over the gangplank onto the deck of the ship, each greeting the young captain as they came aboard. No one showed up empty-handed. Each person was carrying a bag of party favors or a cooler full of drinks. Isaiah had already set out charcuterie kits and artisanal cheeses from Fausto’s Food Palace, as well as hors d’veures out on the table that folded like origami down flush into the deck when not needed.

He laid out a variety of appetizers for his guests to nosh on, everything from tortilla chips and salsa. to bagels and creamed cheese. Even Corn Chips and bean dip, several loaves of garlic bread, falafel a jar of Palestinian hummus, assorted crackers, and Port wine cheese. Mini-tarts, petite fours mini cheesecake assortments, chocolate-covered strawberries, and finally there was a bowl full of Jolly Ranchers hard candy he grabbed on impulse. The only thing he served from the ship’s stores was the fresh yellow tail tuna steaks now resting next to the barbeque grill.

Beatrix threw her arms around his waist and hugged him, and it felt familiar like they were already old friends. Normally, he didn’t like people, especially strangers, touching him, but it was ok with her. Looking over the ship then looking up she smiled. You didn’t have to get all fancy for us she laughed Papi out here ‘Dressing ship’, dang boy. She nodded her approval. Isaiah of course impressed that she knew such obscure minutia about sailing. He had met several navy veterans who didn’t know the name for when a ship has all of her number and letter flags displayed in this manner in harbor.

“Let me look at you She said as she took a step back and smiled, “Ese hombre es tremendo mangon!” “You changed out of those old blue jeans, I like the all-white linen, you look like you about to shoot a hip-hop video. Where did you get your ensemble?”

“I ordered this outfit after seeing Kendrick Lamar wearing something like it in one of his old videos.”

“Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe!” she shouted, and they both laughed.

But ‘’Humble is peak Kendrick he said solemnly as both she and Mara nodded their heads simultaneously in agreement.

“It’s one of the suits you see Muslim cats sporting in Saudi Arabia. Ordered it from Arabic Djellaba Homme Jubba Thobe Pakistan Muslim Djellaba Men Islamic Clothing Men Caftan Arab Clothing Men Dishdasha Dubai New.” He said with a grin.

“Are you a Black Muslim?” Mara asked from behind her.

“I am not affiliated with the nation of Islam although my favorite play cousin Adira is, I am a godless heathen. The brothers make clothes with a cut tailored to look good on me.”

“Guess I’ll hafta share the pork skins after all.” Beatrix sighed.

“I got my own cracklings and Louisiana hot sauce right over there,” Isaiah said pointing to the table of snacks. They both laughed again, and she hugged him again.

“You know you looking good tonight Papi.”

“Thanks, he said awkwardly. You look like a flower, a water lily. Have you ever seen a Monet painting?” He liked her immediately she had a bohemian-chic style. Her personality reminded him of Aeon’s, Beatrix was a lot of things but shy was not one of them and he liked that about her. She and Mara had changed out of their work clothes. Tonight, she wore a flowy ivory cotton blend dress with floral prints that matched her sea green eyes, she wore her thick wavy hair in a bouffant with sun-kissed highlights. Her caramel-colored skin was beautiful, she looked dazzling in the starlight. She wore an assortment of delicate silver jewelry, layered necklaces, anklets, with a pair of large sterling silver hoop earrings. He admired the small lotus flower tattoo barely visible beneath the ankle strap of her sandals. Now understanding for the first time why some people suck on their lovers’ toes.

Isaiah turned to the group gathered onboard the Exodus and spoke loudly so all onboard could hear. “There’s drinks and snacks in those coolers aft. The heads are below deck just past the galley portside. I have weird taste in music so if the soundtrack to ‘A Clockwork Orange’ is not to your liking, you can tap into the marina’s Wi-Fi and use the ship’s built-in sound system and play whatever you have through your phone. The password is SURFSUP69”

Electra immediately put on her playlist titled dance suckaz. The first song was Bella Poarch – Build a Bitch

“This ain’t build a bitch (a bitch)

You don’t get to pick and choose

Different ass and bigger boobs

If my eyes are brown or blue

This ain’t build a bitch (a bitch)

I’m filled with flaws and attitude

So if you need perfect, I’m not built for you (yeah)”

The leggy 5-foot 11inch black Cuban American introduced everyone as they boarded.

This my crew, mi Key West Compees, me and mi Mara both go to Summerset along with Perci and Lori, everyone else goes to Coral Shores except for Carlos he graduated from Marathon 2 years ago everybody calls him (Calypso)

Beatrix told him more about her friends as Mara, acting as the evening’s unofficial ships steward, went about the ship handing everyone a plastic champagne flute and filling everyone’s glass with Bottega Gold the laminated gold bottle shimmering in the starlight, ‘Cheers!’ she shouted with each pour of the sparkling wine. Salute! He took a ceremonial sip as the two of them having meandered across the main deck now stood near the bow looking out over the sea, Beatrix turned and looked at her friends lounging around on the boat in various states of repose, drinking sweet sparkling wine, smoking blunts, tripping balls, some were below deck enjoying the air-conditioned cabins and a few others arrived late, now there were a dozen strangers onboard the Exodus and it wasn’t even crowded.

There were small groups of people dancing near the stern and another group sitting in a circle surrounding a hookah on the main deck where Carlo sat on the deck cross-legged forward of the mast playing ‘No Woman No Cry’, her favorite genre, on his acoustic guitar. Carlo had a California surfer vibe, but he was as Cuban as the rest of them born and raised in Florida. He wore khaki board shorts, a pale lime and strawberry-colored tank top, and teal flip-flops his sun-bleached, messy hair he wore tied in a loose bun. He was slightly sunburned from spending countless hours in the water surfing. He wore a leather bracelet on his left wrist with a small lotus flower charm. He only had one tattoo it was a tribalized wave that wrapped around his left calf. Carlo drives that old Volkswagen van there she said pointing to the parking lot. You’re a cliché surfer boy! She shouted at him as he sang, obviously trying to impress the girls sitting with him.

You loved it once Mami. He shouted laughing.

“Ese tipo no sirve!” Beatrix shouted with laughter. It was just weird and gross like sleeping with your brother and you’re not into incest. Just the yuckiest. Ok so his lame shtick worked its magic on me once. ONCE. I love reggae and I confess I was curious. Don’t judge me.

I didn’t say a word. Isaiah said smiling like a Cheshire cat.

You were I saw it in your crazy green eyes, you’re judgy. And don’t let that innocent look fool you, that lovely fellow makes most of his money dealing powder to these old sailors. These old white people love to snort that shit. With enough prep time, Carlo can get you anything, he’s the Batman of dope dealers. They both laughed. The Molly, Xanax, Adderall, and all that other shit earn only a fraction of what he makes selling the powder. Old people love that shit. These wrinkly old retirees be having massive orgies on their super yachts. They all used to be Fortune 500 CEO types and investment bankers and all that kinda’ shit. Now, they all have mountains of cash, ridiculous tans, and plastic surgery stretched faces over turkey necks, melanoma, and liver spots. They all think teenage spunk is the fountain of youth.

Sirena is the quiet one over there dancing with Mara.

Is she the Betty Page looking girl with one arm covered in nautical tattoos, and short pixie-cut hair dyed purple? He asked.

Yeah, what about her?

The other motorcycle, the red Ducati Superleggera V4 crotch rocket over there is hers. She and Electra used to be a couple but right now they won’t even talk to each other. I give it a week and they’ll be back together again. They are both high-functioning alcoholics who were abused by their father and stepfather, in that respect sadly they are practically clichés.

Arista the blonde female body builder She’s the one wearing the Dolphins jersey, with Veridian green leggings, and orange sneakers. Keeps her hair perpetually French-braided. She rides that longboard skateboard, decorated with beachy designs everywhere. The buff bunny over there wolfing down tuna steaks is a jock who ironically is not a lesbian, she’s all about that BBC.

I love the BBC too. My parents listen to their news every morning. He said smiling.

You really are a nerd, aren’t you? The other BBC, the kind you put your Magnums on. Beatrix laughed as she eyed his crotch and arched an eyebrow. Our girl there broke the record for female powerlifters in her age and weight class last year. The rival’s trainer accused her of being on steroids loser, and of being a boy by another loser coach. They made her take all of these humiliating DNA and hormone test and examinations by doctors to prove that she was just a badass bitch all natural. The entire ordeal really pissed her off, so she started taking MMA to relieve stress and now she’s winning tournaments in less than a year.

I have a huge crush on Rhonda Rousey. Isaiah confessed.

Then you two have something else in common. Beatrix said with a laugh. And the tall black girl with the box braids that rode in on the scarlet Harley that is Electra. What is there to tell you about her? You know who she dates or used to date Sirena, and you see what she looks like, that all there is to her. I don’t know her family or friends other than the one she dates here. She never gives up any personal information about herself when she talks. Personally, as the queen of Bembelequera (gossipy girls), I find it offensive. Isaiah began to laugh, and she joined him.

The redheaded girl sitting next to Dion on the left, the one in the wide-brimmed sun hat is Persi (Persephone): She’s the prettiest and most popular girl in our school and she hasn’t even transitioned yet. She’s on pace to be our school’s first transgender prom queen and valedictorian. That Nazi right-wing governor is going to lose his shit when she gets crowned next year. She sealed her name as a legend to all freshman year one night at a party at Kelly Wilshire’s it was freakishly cold out, so everyone was inside.

She was wearing a white sundress dress and doc martins, the hormones had kicked in and her body was banging she knew it and she wanted everybody else to know it so she walks outside to the heated swimming pool dives in and swims to the other side as she climbs the steps out of the pool the steam rose up off of her body in the back yards spotlight and everyone was recording it and taking pictures she looked like a fucking movie star. The wet white dress left nothing to the imagination and every guy and most of the girls at that party thought about her whenever they orgasmed for the next month. She’s a ginger so the big hats are for protection as well as style. She rides that retro sky-blue Vespa.

Lori-Lorelei is the preppy Dark Academia one next to her wearing the cardigan, Oxford shirt and pleated skirt is her best friend, they been BFFs since they were little kids and Perci was still Gregory, I don’t have to tell you not to use her dead name. thank God she didn’t bring her ukulele. She drives that vintage 1965 Mustang convertible.

You mean she’s the one who did that to that car?! Sea Green?! Who paints a Mustang sea green?! “Get thee to a nunnery!”

Beatrix laughed, “Is that Shakespeare? did you just nerd completely the fuck out on me and quote Hamlet she said giggling? They both fell into each other laughing.

You can’t call me a nerd since you knew which play it was from. Isaiah said smiling.

I can, I did, I will, and it’s HAMLET, Act 3 Scene 1, NERD! She said sticking her tongue out and giving him the raspberry the Bronx cheer.

Say it don’t spray it and You’re the nerd, you sneaky little theatre geek.

Who are you calling a geek she said reaching over to tickle his ribs. I never bit the head off a live chicken or anything else.

He did a double take and raised an eyebrow. They collapsed on their backs on the deck laughing.

Are they dating? he asked nonchalantly. Feeling relaxed in her presence. He could sense how she was more relaxed on the ship than she was on land. He was the same way.

No, Beatrix said, just best friends forever. Are you interested in either of them?

Maybe?

Aww, and here I was thinking that you were mi “cariño” (honey) Beatrix said with a pout.

Aaron smiled and she kissed him on his forehead.

“What’s in the balloon over there?” he asked.

Nitrous oxide. She said. Laughing gas, the stuff the dentist uses in the old movies. You want some?

Sure, why not.

Beatrice retrieved a balloon. It was thick and had a textured aluminum cylinder about 3 or 4 inches long and 1-and-a-half to two-inch diameter attached to a stainless-steel cylinder filled with nitrous oxide. She fitted the balloon over the device then gave it a sharp twist. It punctures the skinny top of the nitrous stainless-steel container, and the gas fills the balloon. Beatrice passed it to Isaiah with a one-word instruction; inhale. By the time he remembered Hunter S. Thompsons warnings about the drug it was too late, he had already inhaled. You cannot Un-inhale a drug.

Years from now when he wrote his memoirs, he would take several chapters to warn of the evil of this wretched drug. The devil Eather and absinthe pale in comparison to the depraved depths one will descend to while under the influence of whippets. It was the best two chapters of the book. She took the cracker from his hands and led him to his bunk. It made seconds feel stretched into hours and she made sure he hit the balloon the moment just before he orgasmed. They would return to the party an hour later disheveled and covered in each other’s sweat.

Are you having fun so far in Key West? Beatrix asked genuinely concerned.

Yes, thanks to you I am having a wonderful time, thank you mam.

I want you to have such a good time you don’t ever want to leave. She said with a mischievous grin. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.

He did as she commanded, and she placed a sugar cube on his tongue.

Let it melt in your mouth.

Ok, what is it?

DMT:

“(N,N-Dimethyltryptamine (DMT or N,N-DMT) is a substituted tryptamine that occurs in many plants and animals, including humans, and which is both a derivative and a structural analog of tryptamine.[4] DMT is used as a psychedelic drug and prepared by various cultures for ritual purposes as an entheogen.[5]

DMT has a rapid onset, intense effects, and a relatively short duration of action. For those reasons, DMT was known as the “businessman’s trip” during the 1960s in the United States, as a user could access the full depth of a psychedelic experience in considerably less time than with other substances such as LSD or psilocybin mushrooms.[6] DMT can be inhaled, ingested, or injected and its effects depend on the dose, as well as the mode of administration. When inhaled or injected, the effects last a short period of time: about five to 15 minutes. Effects can last three hours or more when orally ingested along with a monoamine oxidase inhibitor (MAOI), such as the ayahuasca brew of many native Amazonian tribes.[7] DMT can produce vivid “projections” of mystical experiences involving euphoria and dynamic pseudo-hallucinations of geometric forms.[8))”

You’ll love it. You’ll love it. You’ll love it.

YOU’LL

LOVE

IT.

mi cielo.

Isaiah offered Beatrix a drink.

Thank you. Now, how about you give me a tour of your ship captain. she said, taking his hand.

Sure, but there’s not that much to see. He replied.

“Your boat looks like something from Star Trek that just landed, she’s beautiful she said, admiring the lines of the Prototype sloop Monarch Ti-44.

You like boats?” He asked feigning ignorance of her fetish.

Yeah, Beatrix confessed feeling the need to clarify how, I love them but not like you think, not like most of those girls out there, the ones that you see hanging out on old guys’ yachts. They think you’re rich if you have any old kind of big yacht. Me, I just like the way they feel, the movement of the waves, the ebb and flow of the tide, the sound of the wind blowing across the bow at sea. The only way I can get off is on a boat. She confessed with a demure grin as she squeezed his hand with both of her small hands.

I love them too; it’s been like this for me ever since my moms took me out on the Mediterranean in a 40-foot catamaran when we still lived in Sicily on the navel air station. I must have been not much older than three or four.

You remember that young?

Yeah, I was born there and we sailed every weekend while we lived in there. He said wistfully.

Wait, You’re Sicilian? Beatrix asked.

No, I was born on the naval airbase Sigonella, mom was navy and dad was still in the Marine Corps; we lived there until I was six.

So, Tata you’re only American because of a technicality since military bases like embassies are considered sovereign soil.

Yeah, ‘jus soli’ (right of the soil). He grinned.

Have you ever fucked on molly?

No, I’ve never done it.

Fucked or Molly or both?

He laughed I’ve never done anything more than a sip of sparkling wine at New Year’s Eve parties before tonight. He confessed.

I’ve always been pretty straight edge. Drugs always terrified me growing up with my mom in and out of rehab. I had to maintain my focus in order to finish school early. So, I could go sailing. I’m not really a nerd, all of my friends and my girl back home are all smarter, I’m just impatient.

That made her laugh.

So, Beatrix asked quizzically you and this girl back home, are you exclusive?

No, she’s my best friend and she has a girlfriend named Penelope. Aeon is majoring in marine biology at University of California San Diego while Penny gets her master’s in law.

So, you ok with me and some of mi amigas bunking with you tonight?

I’m more than ok with it. But seriously, I am kinda nervous about the molly, I don’t want to end up like my mom.

Beatrix hugged Isaiah and laughed you got nothing to worry about Boo, Molly just makes you relaxed, trippy, and horny as fuck, she said with a grin its not hardcore like opiates or anything addictive.

Beatrix pulled a small plastic baggie from her breast pocket dipped her pinky nail into the bag and sniffed the white powder. She reloaded the pinky nail and held it up for Isaiah to inhale. It burned a little and left a weird tingle in the back of his throat and in his sinuses. He had visions of all of the drug movies he had ever seen; the worst parts of “Pulp Fiction, Spun, and Requiem for a Dream” surged to the front of his imagination.

How will I know when it kicks in, he asks?

Here, she said, you’re a big boy hit it again then show me where you sleep. He inhaled a second dose of the drug. Beatrix took his hand, and he grabbed Carlo in tow.

As they made their way toward the stern from the bow the drugs kicked in, ThE DruGs KicKed iN, THE DRUGS KICKED IN, tHe DrUgs kICKEd iN. If life is a song by Skrillex, Molly kicking in is the drop. It’s all twisted visions and distorted audio and reality is out of synch as if you were an extradimensional traveler. The music sounded sublime reverberating within his skull, all of the people were now truly angelic and beautiful, and Beatrix was a holy moment. The three of them headed down the companionway without stopping until they reached his bed.

Starbuck ran over to say hi then quickly ran back up to the deck to play with all the new people. Beatrix sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her sneakers. Carlo wrapped his arm around Isaiah from behind nuzzled his neck as Beatrix pulled off her jeans. Isaiah pulled off his Long white linen shirt Carlo reached around and unfastened then unbuttoned his white linen trousers then sat beside her to pull off his shorts. Beatrix pushed him onto his back before he could get them off, straddled him then leaned over and kissed him.

Let’s take a shower, it will feel amazing right now. Carlo took a hit off the blunt then passed it to Beatrix to hit as He pulled off his pants then followed Beatrix into the shower. She was right, the water moved in slow motion over their skin, he could see sounds and hear colors, the world seemed to drift distorted in and out of phase there were moments of déjà vu as he talked to different people that night. Missing blocks of time occurred making it seem as if he were time-traveling or teleporting. One minute they were lying in the bed then a time jump, and they were sitting on the deck chatting with Serina, Doris, and Electra, while Alana held Islas’ hair as she threw up chunky salvos of chips and salsa over the starboard bow. Concerned Isaiah asks if she needs seasick medicine, and everyone laughs.

Carlo shouts over the sound of the house music, “She ain’t sick dawg, that bitch just drunk! Dion laughed loud and hard then gave him some dap. There were several girls dancing with each other as they smoked blunts and drank box wine from red plastic cups under the stars, a cool breeze blowing in from the sea.

Carlo plopped down in the seat next to them and hugged Isaiah. It’s good to see you out here dawg. Carlo said, smiling as he tuned his guitar.

Huh, why? Isaiah asked, finishing off his Coca-Cola and leaning back into the cushions on the bench.

Dion chimed in, most of the time we get invited to party on a boat, it’s some rich old white dude and his leathery wife. These old crackers be horny as fuck on that blue pill. Dion looked at Isaiah and grinned.

Beatrix laughed, it’s true that’s the worst fucks ever. These Mother fuckers so old they be skeetin’ dust.

Ewww. Electra laughed.

I swear, Beatrix continued animated, one day one of these old farts is going to cum and all that will come out is kazoo noises, blue confetti, and silly string! They all erupted with loud laughter. Viagra just called and said shut up and take my money. They love your new ad campaign. Close-up woman bent over back arched hips grinding back too close to see if she is alone. Then still off camera, you hear a man’s loud moans as he orgasms, kazoo noise, blue confetti, and silly string fly in an arc over her back still framed so she is in the shot solo. They love the tagline “when your girl wants to party.” Yes, I have just sold a money shot to a multibillion-dollar corporation dedicated to boners for boomers. Boom mic drop. Her improv was better than most stand-up comedians rehearsed sets. Beatrix was the funniest person he had ever met. Her humor was smart, she was open-hearted with her friends they all looked out for each other.

You’re the first black skipper I’ve ever met man. Dion continued.

There must be other brothers with boats around here. Isaiah said hopefully.

Naw dawg even when you see them nigg@’s flexin’ with boats and planes in music videos they just leasing them for the video they shootin’ they don’t own them. Yo! yo! Dion shouted, picking out his afro. Show a hands if this the first black mutha fucka’ boat ya’ll ever partied on raise ya’ hands.

All hands went into the air. See, my nigg@ I ain’t lying. Knowing this yo’ boat makes me feel better. My Geechee ass love to see my people coming up. Ya’ feel me?

Yeah, I never really thought about it, even when we went to the Caribbean or Porta Vallarta and lived on a chartered catamaran with our neighbors every summer.

Damn, must be nice having rich folks? Dion laughed.

Beatrix shot a mean look at Dion that he ignored.

Now, it was Isaiah’s turn to laugh. No, nothing like that they saved their money when they were in the military for 20 years and invested it wisely along with the settlement after my sister died when the SS Horizon Dispari sank in 2010. So, by the time they retired at 38, they had a nest egg and a plan for how they wanted to live. Nowadays, they both teach part-time at SMU.

Go Mustangs! Electra shouted drunkenly as she stubbled by on her way below deck to use the head.

You really sailing this big mutha fucka to Africa by yourself? Dion asked earnestly.

That’s the plan. Been the same plan for the last 10 years, been working on the boat after work for the last six months getting her ready.

You’za hard mutha fucka’ man because I’m telling ya’ ain’t no way I would ever try no shit like that. Respect your game G. You the realest mutha fucka’ I ever met out here real talk kinfolk. He hugged Isaiah then went back to picking out his ‘fro as he rose to go find another beer and chat with Sirena about the Electra situation while Carlo continued tuning his guitar.

He’s not Cuban but I can’t place the accent it sounds a little bit like the Creole you hear in Louisiana, but different Isaiah said thinking aloud.

You have a good ear, Papi, Dion is from St. Augustine his folks are Gullah.

Electra returned from below deck holding Isaiah’s guitar. This your guitar Acere?! she said drunkenly, belligerently thrusting the instrument in his face.

Yeah, why else would it be on my boat? Everyone laughed.

Those panties and bra in the drawer under your berth yours?

No.

Then why are they on your boat? They all laughed again. He decided not to ask why she was going through his drawers. She was sorta’ feral and slightly intimidating, she reminded him of himself, and he wondered if she was autistic too, but decided it was best not to ask about such things.

“Play something”,” she commanded shoving the guitar in his face with a petulant scowl on her face.

“In vino veritas.”

“In wine there is truth.”

Electra replies:

“Age quod agis.”

“Do what you do.”

Isaiah retorts:

“Credat Judaeus Apella, non ego.”

“Let the Jew Apella believe it; not I”

Electra:

“Eventus stultorum magister.”

“Experience is the teacher of fools.”

Isaiah:

“In pace requiescat.”

“In peace you will rest.”

(a “fuck around and find out.” threat”)

Electra glared at Isaiah for a long minute as it dawned on her that he wasn’t just quoting old movie lines from memory but that he had actually studied Latin.

Doris finally asked, breaking the silence, “What the actual fuck is going on with those two!?”

Alana shhhed her and whispered, “They are having a movie nerd pissing contest in Latin. It’s the Doc Holiday meets Johnny Ringo scene from Tombstone.”

“I can’t tell if they want to fuck or fight,” Doris said thinking out loud.

“Neither do they; Alana whispered, cállate.”

While he sat on the bench flanked by Carlo who had his arm around his shoulder playing with the end of one of his cornrows and Beatrix who sat sideways with her legs over both of their laps.

“You have to sing with me if I play.” Isaiah said taking the guitar.

Fine. She growled.

What do you what to sing?

Carlo leaned in and whispered to Isaiah his breath hot on his ear then his lips on his neck with laughter.

I like that. Isaiah cooed. Can I get something to drink first this molly got my mouth dryer than a nun’s cunt.

Mara did a spit-take. Damned, she laughed. You really are from Texas.

They all laughed, and Beatrix handed Isaiah her drink.

“It’s ok, Beatrix said soothingly, I know you don’t drink alcohol, it’s just soda in my cup.” Some of the revelers were stretched out on the main deck sipping wine from red plastic cups and passing a blunt. Still sitting in a circle around the hookah. Others were in the cabins below deck drunkenly screwing.

He took a few sips then Thanked her, “ok Electra you ready?”

Carlo asked Isaiah, “Do you need a pick?”

I don’t use them, he said plucking a few cords with his fingernails.

Carlo smiled as he realized that Isaiah was classically trained.

“I’ll sing the first verse Isaiah said grinning, you sing Hanna Montana’s daddy parts.” More laughter from the group. then Isaiah began;

“Yeah, I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road

I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more

I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road

I’m gonna ride (Kio, Kio) ’til I can’t no more

I got the horses in the back

Horse tack is attached

Hat is matte black

Got the boots that’s black to match

Riding on a horse, ha

You can whip your Porsche

I been in the valley

You ain’t been up off the porch, now”

When he reaches the chorus everyone on the boat joins in a dozen drunk stoned teenagers screaming their anthem into the darkness across the sea.

“Can’t nobody tell me nothing!

You can’t tell me nothing!

Can’t nobody tell me nothing!

You can’t tell me nothing!”

‘Old Town Road’

-Lil Nas X

Isaiah finished with a flamenco flourish at the end and then segued into playing the Passenger. He repeated the opening cords as he spoke.

“I like this song because I can sing the chorus in any language. And so can you. No spoilers if you know the song.”

‘The Passenger’

-The Stooges

“Oh, the passenger

How, how he rides

Oh, the passenger

He rides and he rides

He looks through his window

What does he see?

He sees the sight of hollow sky

He sees the stars come out tonight

He sees the city’s ripped backsides

He sees the winding ocean drive

And everything was made for you and me

All of it was made for you and me

‘Cause it just belongs to you and me

So let’s take a ride and see what’s mine”

[Chorus]

English “Singin’ la la la la la la la la”

Arabic “La la la la la la la la”

Española “La la la la la la la la la la”

Japanese “Ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, ra,”

Every chorus the language would become more obscure until he was growling the lyrics in Klingon, but it didn’t change until he sang it in Bantu and began to make clicking language sounds.

Beatrix and her friends laughed till they cried.

Another time slip and now they are all swimming beside the ship with a pair of manatees. Starbuck is on the deck barking running back and forth across the deck excitedly. All night people are taking pictures and making videos as they party and posting their adventures on social media. The interview with his parents a few weeks ago was barely a blip on a slow news day but now all of that was about to change.

He wouldn’t know about it since he would be out to sea with his phone stored below deck. It would be when the local reporter from Dallas got the idea to fly to Florida during a pandemic to follow up on a story about a black kid on a sailboat that’s when things really took off in the media. The people of Ghana and Sicily saw that he had their flags on his ship during the party. Their drug-fueled rants logically and ethically sound reasons for reparations and acknowledgement by the UN showed the world they weren’t just drunk kids they were smart.

All of the music that they played at the party surged in the sales of those artists not just for that song but their entire catalogs. People were responding to his eclectic taste in music in a way pop culture hadn’t responded to a nonmusician’s taste in music since Quinten Tarantino.

He was oblivious, they were all just enjoying each other’s company on a night with a waning moon. They talked about how the earth was the Titanic and they had already passed the threshold on global warming; the ship is sinking but the band plays on. They questioned the war, and challenged capitalism, Christianity, all faiths, and imaginary bosses. They didn’t give a damn about democracy if socialism worked, they wanted to correct the mistakes of Reagan. Restoring the tax on the rich and repairing the social safety net. They had no problem jailing rich people or politicians and if heads had to roll to fix this mess, then so be it.

If the ‘Monroe Doctrine’ dictates our actions here, why do we push the Russians into starting a war. Offering UN membership to buffer nations was warned against by Bush Sr. and every competent ambassador to Russia since. They would all dismantle qualified immunity, and civil forfeiture, and start jailing crooked cops, prosecutors, and judges immediately. People who lied and weaponized the police would be jailed not just for false reports but for the crime they lied about. Still all these years later and not another steel sky scrapper has collapsed into its own footprint from fire again. We spent over a decade in Afghanistan for what? We killed mostly civilians and non-combatants, but the news is embedded so they just spew jingoistic propaganda. I believe in nothing.

Another time jump and Isaiah is in bed with three other people. He recognizes Dion and Beatrix, but Maras’ name he can’t recall for the first few minutes after he wakes up. But he didn’t sleep, it was just another time jump more temporal distortions. He saw Doc Brown flying a Deloren.

They stayed up all night drinking and smoking and talking about their dreams, the world that they inherited on the path to extinction. How did the schools go from duck and cover in case of a nuclear attack to active shooter, Nazis in America, everything is on camera you can see what the police are doing to people it doesn’t stop, the news just stops reporting it. My parents rarely use their phones or the internet. To them, the tech is kinda creepy and big brotherish. They’re practically Luddites.

“Yeah, I know old people get weird sometimes. Voy a hacer café: It’s time to go.”

Electra hugged Isaiah. “I’m glad I was wrong about you. Turns out you’re actually pretty cool. Have a safe journey.” She turned and shouted to the rest of her friends still on the boat “No te vayas, espera café!” They began to stir from their slumber to get dressed as they gathered their belongings and helped clean up the mess from last night’s reverie. Everyone said their farewells Beatrix was the last.

“Thank you for inviting us. You’re the only guy with a yacht I’ve ever met

that wasn’t some iteration of pervy asshole or power-tripping creep. she said with a sadness-tinged smile. You have my number, give us a call on your way back.” Beatrix hugged Isaiah and they all finished saying their goodbyes. A few minutes later he was alone on the boat again just Starbuck and Isaiah her trusty boy. While Isaiah was sitting on the main deck staring out to sea Electra returned. The puppy met her on the pier and followed her back to the boat.

I forgot to give you something she reached down and tied a shell bracelet around his wrist. She tried to kiss him he turned away wait I have morning breath.

Electra laughed dude I had your junk in my mouth, I licked your toes, and you literally had your tongue in my asshole, I think we passed the exit for worrying about morning breath long ago.

He laughed and kissed her.

Noticing for the first time the Lotus flower tattoo on the side of her neck, they all had a similar tattoo somewhere on their bodies he recalled still in the haze of post-party buzz, he called Starbuck back from the pier as Electra exited the parking lot on her Harley Davidson disappeared into the early morning traffic. And with that, she was gone.

-About the author

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals; Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, Tx.