Bagism: Library

Skywriting -- Mar 16, 1998
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Continued from Mar 15, 1998

John was falling down, down, but before he hit the bottom, who should come along but...Sarbarglo the Magical Flying Dog!!! He caught John and then flew away with him to the Garden of Maybe.

Garden of was a long time since he had been there for the last time. Eleanor Rigby, and Lucy in the Sky and her diamond tears. It's been a long, long time. He tried to remember what it was all like. One shadow drifted from the sky. A flying zeppelin. He wasn't alone. Then he got hit by a streetcar.

"OH NO!", he shouted when the streetcar hit him. And the shout echoed through all the corners. Luiza stiffed a laugh. "Sorry again!", she said, smiling. "It seems it's the only way to catch your attention." "So I am dead.", he said. "I told you so. Vůs sois os mortos - we are the dead. There is only one way to escape from here. When somebody shed a tear for you,you are free. But nobody cries for a kid who's half forgotten", she sighed. "and here I am, half alive, half dead. Maybe. Definitely maybe. If I trespass the garden I am free again...if not for that dumb gate-keeper that doesn't want to let me go.", she moaned. 'Gate-keeper, you said", John muttered. He remembered one gate-keeper that he hated. One certain fellow, mod-like called Sally. Thank God she was dead...but he was dead too.

"Vos sois os Mortos." John let the words fall like lead. "Nobody cries for the forgotten ones." John looked up past the tops of the Garden of Maybe's Tangarine trees. "There's got to be more to it." While he was deep in contenplation, he was hit by another streetcar.

But it was only a maybe streetcar and passed right through him. He looked on in wonder.

He burped unbelievingly. "Wow, a maybe streetcar! Even the streetcars are better here!" For old times sake he decided to walk around the Garden Of Maybe, since he couldn't get out until someone cried for him. He stared at his reflection in a river with water so smooth it was like a mirror. He simply sat, staring, until finally he slapped the water with his hand and blurred the image. He saw many people he'd seen before, Lucy in the Sky, Eleanor holding her face in a jar, and several musicians he'd seen at the Cavern Club. Then a thought struck him. "Hey, wait a minute! The last time I was here, we all got out by digging under the gate like dogs!" He ran to the gate and was promptly disappointed. He'd forgotten that since his last visit, the dirt had been replaced with cement and a thin layer of soil. The gate was too high for him to climb over, if he tried it he would most likely die all over again.

That thought wasn't the only thing that struck him, at that same moment another maybe streetcar was passing by and mowed down both John and his thought.

"Hey, Luiza...It's like 1984....they can kill thoughts here..." John turned in wonder. Luiza sat on the edge of a fountain, covered in blue butterflies. Cement. A garden built on a city, built on a garden. A Garden of Maybe

He raised his arm to point and found it, too, was covered with butterflies. Yellow butterflies. He closed his eyes and saw them still, as though he had been staring at the sun. "What are they attracted to, Luiza?" "Sadness." He held both arms before him, careful not to bruise any delicate wings. "They live on sadness?" Such a beautiful thing came of such immesuarable sorrow?

"It can't be pain. There isn't much now. It's just the sadness that wells up inside until you can't cry anymore. They like you, John." He closed his eyes and saw the sun-butterflies again in his mind.

John felt a tickle on his nose. He opened his eyes. A tiny red butterfly, no bigger than a bottle cap, had landed on his nose. John smiled a sad little smile, pleased to discover that at least someone cared. The butterfly fluttered its wings and whispered something unintelligible, perhaps a loving message in the language of butterflies. It made the sound again. This time John heard definite words, but he didn't really care.

Luiza was looking right inside the river. "You know, sometimes, if you are lucky, you can see the people from the other side. Maybe you have a bit more of luck than I have. Take a chance." John glanced into the reflection on the water...yes, he could see something...but what?

It was Luiza's sister, Anna. She was standing in Luiza's old room, looking at her sister's belongings. John watched as a tear slowly slid down her face. He didn't need to turn around to know that Luiza was gone. He sighed, the deep, heavy sigh of a man who kows he's alone. But he wasn't alone.

"Hey, John. How's it going?" Came a voice from behind him. "I'm dead, how good can it be?" John said angrily. "And on top of that, I'm stuck in this god forsaken place until somebody cries for me!" Stuart Sutcliffe, John's old friend, sat down next to him. "You'll get out, my friend. It's me that's trapped here. You think anybody's gonna cry over the forgotten Beatle? I doubt it. Hardly anybody knows about me, and the few who do don't know enough about me to give a damn. Nobody even knows what I sound like." Stuart said, sadly. Then a Voice came from nowhere. "Stu," It wispered. "I care. I will cry for you. And John, too." It was my voice. I cried for them. They were no longer trapped in the garden of Maybe.

They were now in a place known as the real world. It was the world they both came from, and the world they both missed. John and Stu got their bearings and started to enjoy themselves again, being in the bodies of teenagers. No Artharitis for John to worry about, No violent headaches or seizures for Stu. They both felt better than they had in a long time.

"We're fuckin' ALIVE, Stu!" Stuart laughed out loud. "Took you long enough to notice. Check yer pockets....see who we are" John shoved his hands in his jean pockets. They were a tight fit, the way he remembered. "No cards money though..." "Got the won't like this, Johnnie..."

Continued on Mar 17, 1998

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