Friday, September 4, 2015
The Milky Way Brothers
"The Milky Way Brothers"
Their last name was Way. Dad thought both boys should share the middle name Milky. After all, as little peckerheads, Mom let them gulp and suckle the stuff.
Anyway, the older brother's name was Gloin--like in Lord of the Rings, for Dad's favorite character was the girthy dwarf dubbed Gimli--he was the son of Gloin, both probably wielders of the battle axe, but Dad didn't know with the suave of total clarity--he only read books during the waxing Moon and after imbibing, at least, a six pack of Canadian lager.
Dad had absorbed Lord of the Rings before it got popularized in 1970's America when graffiti claiming "FRODO RULES" ornamented the New York subway system.
So, the younger brother was called Davy--after Mr. Crockett; still, Dad was birthed a Yankee, but he did dig that coonskin cap and all.
The problem here was: Gloin and Davy were dealing with a bitter pickle. Dad had severe Inflammatory Bowel Disease and was suffering something more than just personal demons. Would tell Gloin and Davy, "Boys, I crap constantly, and in my pants; plus, there be blood I tell ya!"
Gloin, dwarfish himself, yet like Odysseus, barrel-chested and with a billowing voice commanded Davy, "We gotta go to the American West and get Dad some organic herb grown in licensed greenhouses. Living down here in the South with Mom's side of the family for all these years and there is still no natural medicine that doesn't get you thrown in jail for using. Southern Pride I guess."
Davy wasn't the brightest bulb on the marquee, more worried about manscaping his little goatee than the tangible real of it all. Nevertheless, the Milky Way Brothers gelled in blood-sharing synergy. Yup, they were going out West to help bring health and solace to the old man.
Their ride was an antique. A 1957 Ford Ranchero, candy apple red with a touch of green mint fused into it by the labor of a non-quintessential paint and body man. Too, there would be werewolves and witches along the way.
