Papa

“His name was Boaz and he was a noble deer and he didn’t deserve to get shot and die.” Your Mama’s tone displayed anger and bitterness. As usual.

Channeling, thought Raggy. Always forget she can do that. He glanced over at the other deer head mounted on the far side of the fireplace. “How about the white one?”

YM closed her eyes, getting in contact with the Great Beyond again. “Viola. Boaz’s mate. Played him like a violin. Or viola I suppose, hee. But they were together at the end. That’s how they ended up here… together. Two stone with one bird.” She snorted and stared over. “Weren’t faster than a speeding bullet, you see.”

“I see,” Raggy followed quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from something that would agitate her further. “When’s the 1st gig?” he then decided to say.

“You know when it is, Raggy. You’re just trying to switch subjects.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Tomorrow. At 3. You ready?”

Another snort, combined with a bitter chuckle. “Of course I’m ready. Are *you* ready?”

“I’m not in this one. They don’t need a jester to warm you up here.”

“Jeston the Jester,” she recited. “Remind me how that works again?”

He sits up, looks out the smoky windows at the waterfall in morning light. “Dawn’s breaking,” he said distantly with neutral, cracking voice (as usual). “You better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Phillips coming, I know.”

Phillips coming! thought Raggy, off the hook at last.

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