Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Making Bones

Bones to pick or picking bones. Sometimes people make their own problems and karma has a funny way of sorting it out. Best to live your life right and don't worry so much about what others might think. In Buddhism there is no perfect and the only fear or conflict that exists is what you bring into anything in life. 

Here's a new one from the Bones series. I do love me some skeletons. 

Ever lose your head over something? 

Kisses, m. 

Making Bones

“Making Bones” Frankie says real calm and folds her hands.

It’s a moonless night and there’s something in the swamp air that smells of death. It’s followed us into the company of Francis Eliette Boudreau, a witch of the backwoods who counsels the good & bad hearted alike without prejudice. She beckons Johnny and myself off to the side of a grave and points to Tommy to move forward so she can assess his dilemma. Our weekly poker game had gotten a little out of hand the last week and Tommy lost more than he bargained for, his head. Frankie is sticking to the rules and letting us have an audience with her on this dark evening.

There’s nothing like playing cards with a dead man, because for the most part he ain’t got nothing to lose... except his bones. And make no mistake a dead man will hunt you across this world if you take his bones unless you win them fair and square. While losing to a skeleton might sound grim it ain’t so bad. You may have the very thing you value so much, your life, but fortunately a dead man hardly wants your life. They rarely will take it, but he will take something you need as Tommy came to realize last week.

“Damn right, I’ve got bones to make,” hollers Tommy as he throws everything off the tombstone table.  The sound of his voice escapes the misshapen skin resembling a deflated football resting above his shoulders.

“Ahhh see your desperate my son, but what can Frankie do for you?” she lifts her hands and removes a small satchel from around her neck. Before Tommy can reply she’s emptied the small bag filled with teeth and bones and sent them shuffling across the tombstone.  “So you came to play?”

While the dead won’t take your life, they’ll make your life hard to live. And if a dead man were cross enough at you, he’d trade his winning bounty in to Frankie to settle up a debt or make a bargain.  One could call Frankie a repo man except the dead had plenty of time to settle up before losing their bones to her collection.

On this particular occasion, Tommy insulted his opponent after losing and the damn skeleton thought it would be funny to give his skull to good ol Frankie for a bigger grave to rest his bones in. The rules give Tommy a chance to win it back in a game of the old witch’s choosing.  And from where we stand she’s chosen dice.

Same as I’ve known for the last ten years, no one has beaten Frankie at a game. As a matter of fact a great deal of men and women, living and dead lose to her. Losing to Frankie more than guarantees you’ve doubled down. My pal Birdie came for her voice after her husband gambled it off, and Frankie ended up with her tongue as well. And once you lose to the witch you never get yours back.

With a wide broken tooth grin, examining her damn near perfect roll of the set of bones, the witch motions for Tommy to gather them and take a whirl. With a twisted nod and a shuffle of his feet, Tommy throws the bones. Back and forth the game continues, until there’s clearly a winner.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he moves his hands to shift his misshapen face. Without a doubt there’s an inkling of a smile as he looks over his perfect roll of the bones.

Tommy looks uneasy but calls the witch on her end of the bargain anyway, “Ma’am, I don’t mean any disrespect, but give me back my head and don't make no bones about it.” 

Frankie walks over and extends one hand with his skull. 


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