Cardinal Meadows. Episode 7

"Apparently this crowd, hadn’t been into “Green Consciousness as much as they were into Unconsciousness”

Lev 22:6 The soul which hath touched any such ,shall be unclean until even, and shall not eat of the holy things, unless he wash his flesh with water.

Spooner had surprised me with a work crew and dump truck. He and the boys were sorting trash outside and had sent me into the house to do the same. Unclean? In the biblical sense? The inside of the house was clearly an abomination. I’d already spent four years in exile. I wouldn’t be risking another four by deliberately breaking a peculiar Levitical law. Just in case, I made a promise to God that I wouldn’t be eating again, until I’d thoroughly washed my hands.

The thought of having Spooner and the other two within ear shot relieved some of my trepidation about venturing into the house. At the store, Cindy had said that after the old woman who lived in this place died, that people had broken in and used it for a party house. It must have been one hell of a party, literally. Everything that was worth stealing had been carted off long ago. What remained was broken and scattered. I didn’t want to start in the middle, walking back and forth through all the trash, so I started pulling trash through the front door with a long tined rake. Apparently this crowd, hadn’t been into “Green Consciousness” as much as they were into “Unconsciousness”. Beer and liquor bottles were strewn everywhere. And carbon footprints? Yesterday’s tan carpeting had become today’s ashtray, as cigarette butts took residence wherever they were flicked. Worse, hot candle wax had melted into the looped fibers. It was a wonder the place hadn’t burned to the ground. In addition to hosting “bring your own beer” parties, the trespassers must have had “bring your own mattress parties” as there was at least one in every room along with a disgusting assortment of used birth-control. Maybe it would have been better if the place had burned down. Spooner was right, the laundry room floor and living room fireplace had become a makeshift latrine after the bathroom had given out. It was enough to gag a maggot.

I was getting nowhere with the rake and hollered out the window “Hey Spoon! There's too much junk in here and the rake's hanging up in the carpet... there’s a ton of little stuff ground into it…I'll be here for days.”

Spooner came in and took another look around. He tried to encourage me. “Look at the bright side man, there’s some silverware and cooking stuff, and we could save that lamp over there…and look, I’ll bet one of those mattresses is still good.”

“Look Spoon, you could wash this stuff in holy water and Chanel #5 and I still wouldn’t eat or sleep on it.”

“Dude, you’re the boss.”

Spooner stuck his head out the window. “Yo, Dex, Twit, we need a hand in here…an hey!... grab a couple flat edged shovels and a razor knife and, oh yeah, bring in those plastic trash barrels.”

A few minutes later Dex and Twit each came in with a shovel in one hand and a trash can in the other.

Twit, a man of few “spoken” words, said, “No razor knife. Try this.”

He handed Spooner a pocket knife. Spooner opened the knife and ran his thumb across the sharp blade.

“Yeah, this’ll work.” I was about to ask about why we needed a knife, when Spooner continued. “Bros, Lenny says ixnay on the raking. I’m thinking we tear out the carpet in large pieces, roll it up, trash and all and haul it to the dump.”

Bravo. Spooner really surprised me. On first impression he seemed the laid back, take it as it comes type of personality. And though he would probably deny it, he was a “practical” genius and a leader at heart. Spooner continued on.

“Big stuff out into the yard. Small garbage into Twit’s can. Aluminum cans and recyclable bottles into Dex’s- we’ll divvy those up later. Lenny, you’ll dump the trash into the back of the truck.”

We worked as a team and in an hour had cleared out the mattresses and most of the loose trash. Spooner had just told us to get ready to pull up the carpets, when Dex piped up about lunch. I too was starving, but of course didn’t have anything other than the trail mix spilled on the floor of my car. Spooner told us to take a break, and he headed out the door and jogged down the driveway towards his house. This was as good a time as any to keep my vow of personal cleanliness. I asked the guys if there was any water nearby. Dex pointed towards a rusting horse trough adjacent to the nonworking well in the far back yard. The trough held rain water. It looked somewhat murky until I dipped my hands into it. The murkiness was a cloud of mosquito larva that quickly darted towards the bottom. It wasn’t close to pristine, but baby mosquito’s had to be far cleaner than what I had been handling. Without soap, it took some time to get my hands really clean.

By the time I had returned to the front yard Spooner had made it back. Sitting on the porch was Spooner’s add-as-you-go “endless pot”, a jug of sun tea, four plastic cups (presumably our bowls) and only three plastic spoons. I looked at the utensils.

“Hey Spoon, we’re short a spoon, what are you eating with?” Dex rolled his eyes at me, as if I were stupid. I responded incredulously, “What?”

Spooner proceeded to pull an oversized soup spoon from his back pocket and wiped it off on his shirt. To my dismay, with it, he proceeded to ladle what looked like Spaghettios mixed with meat into each cup. Like an inside joke, Dex and Twit just shook their heads and smiled.

“What?” I asked again.

Twit responded. “He don’t need no spoon.”

Dex piped in. “See the Spoon here? He may not look like it, but he’s a chow hound. Since he was a little kid, he’s carried a big spoon in his back pocket. Kinda like a lucky rabbit’s foot. Trust me, if there’s food, he’ll find it.”

Twit echo’d the statement. “You got that right.”

Dex continued. “That’s why we call him ‘The Spoon’.”

I just laughed out loud. After filling the last cup, Spooner shoved the entire spoon into his mouth stripping the sauce off between his lips, and then grinned ear to ear.

I couldn’t help but be repulsed. “Come on Spoon, how could you serve us with that thing?”

In a teasing tone he responded. “You never know, I might have washed it before coming over here.”

“Well, did you?”

Spooner smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

I don’t mind be teased on occasion, but this was a health issue. “Then I’m not eating it.”

I started to stand up to walk away when Spooner reached out and pushed me back onto the porch step.

“Dude, I cleaned it, I cleaned it. Alright?”

“Are you sure?”

“Dude, I eat with this thing. What do I look like, a bum?”

I’d already been kind of a jerk. I didn’t want to make the same mistake and say something off handed to my new friend and neighbor. But that didn’t stop Dexter.

“Damn right you look like a bum, you frickin’ hippie.” Everyone had a laugh.

I had to ask. “So what are we eating here, Spoon?”

“What’s it look like? Spaghettios in a curry chicken sauce.” I shouldn’t have asked.