Bagism: Library

Skywriting -- Mar 15, 1998
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Continued from Mar 14, 1998

"Wow," says the narrator. "Am I really the first to add to the story today??" "Aye," says little John. "Get on with it." So she does. "John and Paul and George and Ringo all find themselves on the mystical, far-eastern island of Foorkle all-of-a-sudden-and-once-again, with that beloved flying dog, Sabarglo!...And ummmm... it's frickin' 3:00 in the morning an' I can't think of anything else to add so... back to you my friend..."

"It's really three in the fooking morning? Where have I been for the past couple days?" John looked out over the water. He sat on the rocks nearest the edge of the ocean. John hurled his shoes into the waves and watched them disappear. He passed a dirty hand through his hair. "How long have I been here?" There wasn't another soul in sight. He threw a handful of pebbles towards a flock of birds.The seagulls laughed at him.

"The least the narrator could have done was to put someone here with me," John thought. Suddenly Paul appeared beside him. "I do wish Yoko was here. Still, I'd rather be with someone than by myself."

"yer not alone, John" "Yes I am." Zap. No more Paul. John could brood in peace.

"What is the sound of one man brooding?" I asked. "Shawna! It's you!" We knew eachother from somewhere far in the distant past, future or present, don't ask me to explain, it's too complicated... I don't understand it. Suffice it to say I knew him, and he knew me. "How have you BEEN?" John asked. "WHERE have you been? When have you been?" He was full of questions. "I've been fine, John. A little bit of everywhere, and I've been tommorow, yesternow, and never." "All that, eh?" John asked, standing up. "I've been here, and a few other places besides. You wouldn't BELIEVE how sick I am of street cars." "I might." I said, having been hit a few times myself. "C'mon, John, Let's get out of here. I took his hand and turned the page. We were standing in the middle of London, Texas. London, Texas is a boring place, not much happens there. "Whoops," I said. "Wrong London. I grabbed John's hand and turned another page. This was the right London, but I saw immediatley that it was the wrong time. . People were starting to stare at us in our old fashioned clothes. I had brought the two of us to the 1990's! I pushed some buttons on my watch, and we were back in 1967 London.

People were dancing at the Bag O'Nails, as if nothing was really going on. And there was something going on. A zeppelin crossed the sky to announce the end of Rock and Roll as they all knew it. The comandant of it was called Page called, and he landed on the club to search for the person he was supposed to grab and give an end, leaving no trace. Page moved himself to the direction of John. Hell froze over in expectation. Then they all got hit by streetcars.

And some spirit laughed of Page's face when he got hit. "I told you to stay back, Page!", the child's voice warned. John looked up to the zeppelin a-waiting outside the Bag O'Nails, and he hoped he was seeing one hallucination. he girl on the flying zeppelin was Luiza.

"Hello, John! Did you think I'd leave you alone?", she shouted. John didn't know exactly what to think. She just extended one hand to him. "Come with me. Please. This zep is boring if you are alone. And I want to see my sisters again and you are the only one who'd guide me there. Please?", she pleaded.

"How am I supposed to take you home if I can't find my home?" John shook his head hopelessly. "It's no good, Luiza...I can't do it." He hollered up to her. "You have to try, John.." "I fooking told you, I can't do it! I can't do it anymore, Luiza! There's no way back home!" John stopped yelling as he realized his voice was dying.

His knees refused to hold any longer. He collapsed into the sand, feeling his glasses shatter as he hit. He heard Luiza gasp.

"Vůs sois os mortos...we are the dead, John. You are just like me", Luiza strangely said. "And home...home is wherever your soul belongs to. There msut be one girl you like in this world. Find her and you will find home". Tghe zepellin started to float away. "If you find one of my sisters, or my brother Ringo, tell them I will be right here...waiting for them to come....Jai Guru Deva, John!", she shoute,d her voice fainting in the distance.

He stirred and spat the sand. "I'm dead..." It seemed as though his heart splintered into a thousand pieces at that moment. He hadn't the will to move. He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm dead. I'm dead." John was heartbroken. Why, of all people, did this have to happen to him? Why couldn't some drunk child abuser or a criminal on death row go instead of him? Sean was only 5, and John wanted so badly to see his son come of age. "I'm dead." But Luiza had told him how to get home...whatever had she meant? He knew his soul mate was Yoko Ono. And he knew he had found her, but he was still in this godforsaken place where he knew no one. Aggh!

And Luiza's brother Ringo, was this the Ringo Starr he knew? It had to be, the resemblance was uncanny. He struggled to sit up; it seemed to take all his strength, even a simple task like that. "Yoko!" he screamed. "Why, Mother, why?" There was no answer; he expected that. He just wanted it on the record how he felt. "Hey, wait a sec..." if he was dead, maybe he could fly! He stood up and looked at himself. He was transparent and there, by his feet, was his prone self. He nearly fell over right there, but he regained his composure, walked to a cliff, and leaped over the edge.

He didn't fly. He fell straight down. John looked up to the sky for a last glimpse of it. The wind whipped through his dirty hair and sweater. "Damn you, god...damn it all.... Mother!" He closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.

Continued on Mar 16, 1998

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