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?
Enjoy!
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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