In that moment i saw fireflies and cherry blossoms...'
it just so happened i was playing dominos at "Mings"
in the basement, past the coolies and the vats of boiling bubbling laundry was an undescript door through which i had crampingly passed.
inside, the roar and the raucuss comrodery greeted my senses and the sweet and sour aroma of jasmine insence permiated the room.
loo loo greeted me and took my hat overcoat, and holstered sidearm, under the everwatchfull eyes of Chan, sat seated in the corner with some kind of blunderbuss, whatever it was i wasnt supposed to take notice. Chan easily reclined kittycorner to the silk screened entrance that occluded the inner maelstrom of whiskey and whatnot within.
"Chan" i affirmed, as i strode in past his very large and subtley threatening presense.
He stared but did not acknowlege, which rasised a hackle as i passed.
in those days, polite society owned the streets and all that occured above. corruption nestled and festered beneath. it was not seemly to drink and cavort on sundays or sabbaths and so , such as this found it's own level. below the sidewalks in this case, deep under the workings of 'Ming's' chinese laundry.
cards, games of skill, games of chance all manner of vices, anything had for a buck or a toss, it was here to be found or gained or lost. ladies to be had , or in this case their cards and maybe invites, since this type of action was to be found on the 3rd floor above, these were the gratouities to the judges and lawmen within.
i had come, that early spring day, for a round or two of 'jacks and threes', my favorite game and one that came close to my name.
Harold's poke was my wager, he being just buried in his rickety now lifeless claim in the foothills. rest in peace dear prince, and i was topped off with hope and just a little thimblefull or two of whiskey. ( it's best not to drink until one take's the big pot) was my rule and my testament.
on this day, i had bad luck scaring up a table of snooks, (unshorn sheep) and so i settled for a game of dominos and sat down next to the duchess.blue dragon printed silk and her hair tied in a top not, she made an amazing presence. an ivory needle held her satin black tresses tight to her brow, and if there was a single strand out of place i couldn't find one.
"Silk sheets and satin tonight?" She whispered looking towards the door. Chan sat apprehensively gazing subtley our way. ( the duchess belonged to Chan, this was common knowledge, and until last night, she was his alone.)
Subtley, and with little inference i smiled as she rearranged the dominoes on the felt table. the gesture, my knee to hers i thought was ours alone to share but Chan's unknown friend had quickly tipped him off.
And then there was the clatter of his chair and his very meaty fist behind my ear and fireflies and cherryblossoms and darkness....
Roads and trails and backwash and coyote tracks had led me to this place, and as i dreamed my sweet jasmine scented dreams i recalled these roads and these tales, Humidor Tales i will call them.
And for those who wish to share read on, in time read on, for i will recount them one by one
Rumiantions of a criminal mind,
Once again i found myself in a sticky bit of conundrum. This current gordian knot bound me as follows.
You see my perplexion was this, the irony of sacrificing my own personal virtue and moral standing for the greater good of others thereby an act that would in fact, be virtuous. the only slight downside being the destruction and ruination of countless lives in the process brought about by my despicable and abominable conduct.
what to do?
act says i make up yer mind fer chrissakes.
and so i did.
i decided to vault to the greater and more desireable virtue.
there thought i. done. good.
tweaking my mustache ever so slightly, i adjusted my tunic, donned my cap, and purposely strode out of the Reichstag into the chilly Berlin nict.
Adowe shoulder hoisted his RPG-7 as the three skiffs approached the Maharo Naru's stern in the darkness.
He glanced at Gaanburi, still somewhat high on the khat he had injested that morning in Eyl before they boarded their skiff. Gaan still bore a bold look of euphoric excitement anticipating the battle ahead but also there was a shadow of sadness there, from comrades no longer alive.
Not their first battle, and hopefully not their last, the larger ships had become increasingly weaponized and difficult to board. This being the case, Adowe's skiff containing the 12 badaadintas (saviors of the sea), spun 3 precautionary donuts in an attempt to draw and assess the chemical tanker's weapons and offensive capabilities.
Adowe's launcher shuddered and jerked the slightly rocking skiff. Aiming high at the communication tower above, it was hard to register the impact, the acrid projectile's smoke being so thick and stinging and watering his eyes.
Pirate hunter guns suddenly opened up from above as torrents of water poured down from the russian made robotic water cannons mounted midships. He could hear the 'thump thump' sound of a helicopter approaching rapidly in the distance.
He turned to see hoisted ladders, hanging from the rails of the ship, crawling with scampering screaming pirates, from the two other skiffs at the corners of the stern.
Separate names with a comma.