Saturday, February 19, 2011

Ursa Medium

A hard squint crossed my eyes as the mammoth orange ball slipped into my frame from behind it's fluffy camouflage. For a moment I had to lift my off hand to its visor position; straight forward, cocked right, fingers tight and palm covering the whole of the sun so that I might see the oncoming traffic. But soon enough the road twisted and our facing angles changed, lightening my squint to a more relaxing wince.

And it was through this wince that I first saw her, the curve of her fleshy claw cradling the burning orb below as if she were a silver dragon gripping a perfectly formed ruby. My eyes, darting so as to not lose sight of the highway as I browsed, moved heavenward; following the contours of her leg, then her ample and muscular bosom, and finally her long, slender, graceful neck. It twisted backward, topped by her horned, elongated skull, her single visible eye glaring at her rear haunch as something appeared to grow in size at the beast's hindquarters.

"Nessy!" I shouted loud enough that Linda might hear, her position behind me and the turbulence of 70 mph conspiring to make her deaf to my occasional observances.

"Where, where" she hollered back through the face plate of her helmet, gripping my shoulders for balance in case she'd need to turn dramatically to spy the monster.

I turned my head to the right, that the wind might help carry my voice instead of forcing it back into my lungs. "Thar she blows". I pointed skyward and dead ahead. She saw it instantly and noticeably perked up, wiggling in her seat for a better view of the Loch Ness Monster.

"What's that behind it?" My passenger tapped my shoulder as if to emphasize that she was awaiting my answer impatiently. But you can't hurry clouds, they sort of create themselves.

"Can't tell yet!" I fibbed. I could certainly see what it was enlarging itself in the updraft, but I was reticent to give my appraisal until it was so obvious that even an untrained eye like my wife's could agree with my interpretation.

It was a bear that sat, or perhaps knelt behind my monster; its head was unmistakable, its shoulders thick and dark, its arms stretched ahead with lumpy hands gripping Nessie's haunch...the same haunch that Ness was now smiling at, her head cocking back and opening slightly as if she were gargling future downpours or more likely, (saints preserve us)grinning in primordial pleasure.

And then, it all became obvious; so obvious that I was surprised that Linda didn't smack me on the back and scream "Do you see what I see? Could it possibly be?"

For a minute, I was too stunned to speak; the blatant immorality of it nearly too much to handle. Like we don't have enough sex on television or in advertising. Hell, even radio is full of innuendo, kids books have seen sexual reference hidden between the lines...

Is nothing sacred? Is the sky itself not out of bounds?

"See it?" I called out hoping she would say it so I didn't have to.

"I think so" she answered, coyly avoiding the inevitable.

"See the bear?" I specified thinking that might push her to suddenly get the joke, suck in a lungfull of breath in mock shock, slap my spine in a playful but painful way and bellow "No-It Can't Be!"

"Yup" she answered blandly, oblivious to what the wind and humidity had spelled out in no uncertain terms.

It looked like Pooh, I swear on a stack! But as to not ruin the innocence of that tale I coined "Ursa Medium" as the name of the perpetrator as I called out the play....

"Ursa is humping Nessy, cantcha seeit?" I waved my clutch hand wildly as if to create movement between to two rapidly dissipating forms. The air was cooling fast and thus, the clouds were collapsing. Even now Ursa's head was falling forward into Nessie's back as if his job was done and any genetic swap fulfillment would now be up to cumular science and cirral evolution. I'd only hoped m'lady had spotted the faux porn before it vanished in a wisp of cloudstuff.

"Don't tell me you didn't see it" I protested loudly as our turn appeared and I leaned the bike northward and perpendicular to the decaying mass of entertainment. She laughed; one of those really good laughs when she realizes how insane I am and how funny that can be.

"Yes!" she said leaning into me and nearly whispering her response as if the idea of a bear and brontosaurus having sex kinda turned her on. "Aunt Bee would never have approved" she giggled, killing that "turned on" idea with a silver stake through it's heart. Man she's cute, in spite of the Andy Griffith reruns.

Screw dream interpretation, this is the real thing. Only a scientist could anticipate it, and only an artist can spot it before it blobs itself into something altogether different. It's sciart...or perhaps artance...oh who cares; it's important, it's cool and I do it!

Just call me Bragi Stringbreaker, Cloud Interpretist Extraordinaire!

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