14. 'In the Water': The Chicken Is Involved, the Pig Is Committed

• Previous post: Chronicle 13. ‘In the Water’: Just in case

The moment I stepped into that house, I came upon a spacious living room and its kitchen. It was a rather elongated and cozy space. I found the living room, and with me, the two beautiful dogs that kept watch in there, stealthy and attentive. Douglas, Seth’s black German shepherd, I already knew. The best part is that he knew me too. I made a new friend, Monty, a gorgeous chocolate-colored Labrador who wasted no time in gifting me his unconditional friendship. He was Darren’s dog and it was Darren’s home, so the animal was, let’s say, ‘playing on home turf’.

I made a new friend, Monty, a gorgeous chocolate-colored Labrador who wasted no time in gifting me his unconditional friendship.

I took off my shoes and left them next to everyone else’s, right at the entrance. I left my backpack under the kitchen counter and went straight off to rest. Two immense sofas arranged in an ‘L’ shape awaited me like two great open arms. The best part was the blankets I found there. They were made of the finest, ultra-soft fleece, blue, with white stars and a big logo of the United States Air Force (USAF), the American Air Force. Apparently it was military gear, since Darren had served there as a soldier; just like Seth, only he had served in the United States Navy (USN), the U.S. Navy. Something quite normal here among young people: enlisting means, for many, getting your college education financed, even pocketing a substantial sum of money. Setting weapons aside and getting back to the blankets, I can assure you that I don’t recall ever in my life having tried any as light, warm, and comfortable as those, ever. It may also be that I took to them with a little too much pleasure, and if they were already good on their own, I turned them into something incredibly fabulous. And so, I foresaw a more than restorative and regenerative rest, perhaps even a transformational one, for I felt like I was deep in the forest, in contact with silent nature, as I was able to confirm seconds later.

No sooner had the lights gone out and I had lain back on one of the sofas, blanket pulled up to my neck, than I saw two silhouettes climb onto the sofa next to mine. And let not the most mischievous reader think here that they were the bodies of Alyssa and Hunter seeking my gentle nighttime company—no, I had already had my fill of dreams hours earlier, in that car that brought me there (see chronicle 13. ‘In the Water’: Just in case). It was the two dogs, who had already accepted me as part of the pack, and there I felt like another true canine, their doggy cousin, on express adoption. In fact, we looked like PAW Patrol snoring, especially the two of them, who even seemed to be keeping a rhythm and everything. It even occurred to me to make a beat out of such sounds. And so, feeling as accompanied as I did protected, I noticed the Labrador’s funny, friendly face settle right in front of mine, as if he longed for closeness. But of course, that’s my reading. Maybe I was the one who had stolen his spot on the sofa. The thing is, their presence, as I say once again, turned my rest into a somewhat musical evening, though a more than pleasant one. I felt fully in tune with those beautiful animals, and above all with Monty, with whom a special bond of friendship awoke in me. With just a look, we already understood each other. They were indescribable moments of communication, for what I came to feel in that place, and with that animal in particular, was as intense as it was special.

we looked like PAW Patrol snoring.

I wish I had slept much longer, but Seth’s movements at 8 in the morning ended up waking me for good. –Come on Jorge, you have to help me-. At least I had slept; my muscles and bones had rested, and my mind had relaxed. I got up, and the first thing I felt was a hunger so ferocious and cannibalistic that I could hardly even think.

We got into Darren’s pickup truck, and for the first time, in the early morning light, I could see where I really was: in a lush forest. The trees were towering, and all you could hear was the warbling of the birds and the breath of the wind rocking the branches. It was such an utterly soothing sensation that it invited me to get out right there and immerse myself in all that overflowing nature. However, my primal desire was to get some coffee into me as soon as possible, ideally with a little pastry to go with it.

It was such an utterly soothing sensation that it invited me to get out right there and immerse myself in all that overflowing nature.

We left the dirt track and merged onto the county road. My eyes opened wide as saucers when I saw, planted in the middle of open countryside, an enormous white cross. It must have been about 50 meters tall by some 30 wide. Seth told me that the religious fervor roaming southern Kentucky was as strong as it was old, and that it was quite normal to see this kind of symbol on bridges, barns, even in the towns, where what abounded most were churches—Protestant, Catholic, Presbyterian, Orthodox, you name it. What’s really needed is to be a better person, and not so much appearance and religious advertising, I told him in a burst of sincerity. To which he nodded.

What’s really needed is to be a better person

and not so much appearance and religious advertising,

On the way to the place where we would hitch up the aforementioned trailer, we stopped at a gas station to refuel our famished bodies. Here I must warn the reader that I betrayed my own ideals of not eating any meat, for though I have my weighty reasons and this is not the place to tell them, I will indeed devote a special article to them in a new aside (see Aside 1: ‘A Stop Along the Way…’). And so, upon entering, Seth approached one of the corners of the immense counter, where a man of Indian features was serving cardboard cones full of crispy, mutilated chicken wings and drumsticks (who knows the conditions those poor birds lived in, how they were fed, treated, and even the vile ways in which they were slaughtered).

(who knows the conditions those poor birds lived in, how they were fed, treated, and even the vile ways in which they were slaughtered)

Their conquering smell beguiled my nostrils far too quickly, and though my mind said no, my other brain, the one in my stomach, said yes—yes to rebellion—and it rose up against me in such a way that my whole self suddenly found itself sunk and subjugated under the orders of its hungry neurotransmitters. I didn’t want to, but as soon as Seth asked me –Do you wanna–, even my voice was violated and dragged along by the subordinating command of an other self which, though timid, said: -Yes-. Right away, the Indian man handed me one of those cones of discord and damned temptation. Then we filled up a coffee, paid, and left the premises. Before I had even climbed into the pickup, my possessed hand had already grabbed one of those tender, amputated limbs and slipped it, somewhat sheepishly, into my mouth. My teeth began to cut, tear, and grind it as if there were no tomorrow, and suddenly—whether from the hours of famine I was carrying, or from the betrayal I was exposing myself to—an intense itching began to spread across the whole roof of my mouth. It bothered me so much that it made it impossible to savor that forgotten, exquisite, and atrocious flavor. The flavor of human barbarity, of which I was an indirect participant at that very moment. I quickly drank some coffee to soften the blow of the itch, but my possessed palate wanted more of it, and only my eyes, witnesses to the blasphemy, helped my fingers hunt for new prey: a wing? a little leg? When I finished the cone, I wished I could keep going with something more, but I only let myself be fooled by what was left of my coffee. I found nothing vegan or vegetarian, not even a measly veggie sandwich with its lettuce, egg, cheese and—please—no meat, for as a friend once told me: “the chicken is involved (with her egg), and the pig is committed (with his meat).” And the fact is, I was in the land of chicken and of the damned fast food. Unhealthy habits of this unfeeling society.

and though my mind said no, my other brain, the one in my stomach, said yes—yes to rebellion—and it rose up against me in such a way that my whole self suddenly found itself sunk and subjugated under the orders of its hungry neurotransmitters.

We set off again, and within minutes we arrived at what looked like a big wooden structure full of garage doors. It took Seth a while to find the right padlock, since they were all nearly identical, and the numbers, battered by the erosion of time, were like a visual metaphor for his forgotten memory. –The eighth? The ninth?–, he kept repeating. Until at last—click!—the padlock on number 10 opened. The door hinges creaked as if they had never been opened, and what did my eyes behold? The aforementioned trailer was none other than a beautiful white yacht, some twelve meters long with a beam of about four, awning and all. My job? To guide the maneuver Seth had to perform with the pickup so that the hitch ball of the trailer would land on the exact point of union with the other mount that would bear the weight of the vessel. On his own, it would obviously have been a painstakingly meticulous task, real ‘Chinese-puzzle work’, with all my respect to the Chinese.

The operation came off almost on the first try, and on the way back I feared that on the curves the boat’s hitch would come loose and the vessel would shoot off to one side, crashing into whatever it found there; or that when passing another car, or another vehicle with its own boat, the two would graze each other and—wham! But no, it was just my imagination, for Seth’s skill and steady hand proved him to be a first-class driver.

We arrived back at Darren’s house, where the whole gang of friends waited inside, making preparations to begin the drive down to the famous lake. There was a very interesting moment of conversation, with laughter and jokes that I sometimes got and sometimes didn’t, but just watching the way the others laughed outdid the joke itself and made me laugh even more. For example, Seth, who, with his long, months-old beard in the wind, guffawed like an old Santa Claus. Just seeing and hearing him laugh was a joke in itself.

For example, Seth, who, with his long, months-old beard in the wind, guffawed like an old Santa Claus. Just seeing and hearing him laugh was a joke in itself.

The most memorable part of that moment came when Darren himself pulled out some helium tanks and a few bags of balloons. –Don’t you want to laugh? Well, come on, is the first?–. My goodness, what came next. They started filling balloons, and each person got their own. Seth kicked off the game by inhaling its entire contents; seconds later he began jabbering in a tone more deep than high-pitched—I’d even say terrifying, like something from beyond the grave: –Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this partyyyyyy!–

Seth kicked off the game by inhaling its entire contents; seconds later he began jabbering in a tone more deep than high-pitched—I’d even say terrifying,

like something from beyond the grave: –Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this partyyyyyy!–

The menacing tone of his voice, mixed with the ludicrousness of that effect, was more than enough to set off the first fits of laughter in the group, which spread through the whole living room as fast as a yawn. Then came Katelyn, Seth’s girlfriend, so imagine the effect on her sweet feminine voice. The guffaws kept growing, and among the seven friends, well, you can just imagine. Each of us, eager to hear our own particular effect, anxiously awaited our turn, and together with the message that each distorted voice would deliver, it stirred maximum anticipation in that heated atmosphere. The voices, and in turn the laughter that the curious gas produced, went from funny to hysterical, absurd, insultingly ridiculous. The collective mockery turned superlative and crescendoed when Katelyn herself began cracking up at the sound of her own grotesque laugh: -Ho, ho, ho, hooo-, it boomed through the whole living room. We looked like a procession of hideous orcs, sent by the white wizard Saruman himself in his assault against the elves of The Lord of the Rings. Then would come the girls’ turns, Alyssa and Hunter; then Darren’s, then his girlfriend Sheila’s, and with me it was the last straw. The only thing I could think of was to say to them, in a French more extravagant than sensual: –Voulez-vous coucher avec moi? Oh pleaseee!, which I’m not sure everyone understood, but more than one guy and gal watched me with a face of surprise and ecstasy. I don’t remember exactly whom I was looking at while I said it, but surely some guy or gal felt it was meant for them. My goodness, how embarrassing! What a pleasant embarrassment!

We looked like a procession of hideous orcs, sent by the white wizard Saruman himself in his assault against the elves of The Lord of the Rings.

We couldn’t stop laughing and laughing. I repeat: laughing and laughing, and me especially. In fact, the effort was such that even the very cheeks of my face, not to mention my abdomen, began to hurt so much that I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. The more they hurt, the more I laughed. The soreness afterward was outrageous, though I wore it with great pride.

And now we were more than ready to begin the descent to the waters of that mysterious lake, where a few houses and the odd church still lie on the underwater bottom, and where a strange surprise befell us both on the way there and on the way back.

a strange surprise befell us both on the way there and on the way back.

– To be continued next Sunday, April 14…
Chronicle 15 ‘In the Water’: Welcome aboard!