JUNE 08, 2019
JAVIER'S BIRTHDAY ONCE AGAIN
So anyway. The unruly weather has led to a season of hot spells and the unavoidable annual commemoration of Javier's birthday.
Javier, who stems from Mexico City, always has wanted a Big City celebration, but since relocation to Silvan Acres his style has been crimped in so many ways. He has always lived life in a grand urban style which the Bay Area had previously provided all access, but Marin is not quite Bay Area. Marin, although cheek by jowl with 8 mllion residents of neighboring counties, inhabits a mind zone that features a very provincial concept of itself. A series of isolated rural towns that have no knowledge or experience with the Pacific Rim from which so many residents derive their income.
Jose decided to have Javier's birthday located at the San Geronimo Community Center, which is about the most conservative and laid-back sort of place to hold any event one could imagine, but about as urban as a place surrounded by elk and trees can get. Jose figured that surely a group of recidivist hippies would provide a safe environment for Javier's 61st birthday.
Javier, although turning 61, had not abandoned a single one of his bad habits of drinking, smoking, womanizing, gambling, womanizing some more, running fast and loose and womanizing to the third degree, and these habits have generally led to discomfiture, disarray, dismay and injury on the part of his close companions.
He felt it was his duty as a native son of Mexico City to preserve the image and honor of the hot-blooded Latino and so he was constantly getting into scrapes and difficult situations, while Jose and Jesus act as good, well-behaved boys who were well instructed by their honest abueltas.
Andre's band, The Monkey Spankers, performed on stage, alternating with a local band called Tiny Television and it was pretty much an all day affair with dancing and music and food made by the Household women and drink concocted by Denby and Pahrump and Occasional Quentin, who dumped an additional fifth of vodka into the punch that was well laced with absinthe that had fallen of the trunk on the Island. Several kegs of Fat Tire ale appeared although no one knew who had paid for them.
Martini rigged up disco lights and some pyrotechnics for when Javier was to blow out the candles on an amazing cherry chocolate cake topped by a miniature toreador. There was to be a candle for each decade of Javier's life plus one, which is very symbolic and everything.
The day was merry with feasting and jovial jumping up and down and Javier's presents were quite the thing. From Marlene Javier got a silver dagger that was quite the letter-opener. From Denby he got a hand-carved buddha about a foot high. Beatrice gave him a serpentine chain with a pewter skull on it -- Beatrice was soft that way. From Sarah he got a miniature Hitachi Wand and from Suan he got a box of flavored condoms.
"Are they edible?" Javier asked, as he was most intrigued by the latter item.
"O I do not think you want her to bite down while you are wearing them," Suan said.
As the sun set behind the ridgeline and the cake was brought out on a rolling server, Melisandre strode in carrying an assegai. She was followed by Carmen and Miranda. Carmen, leaning on what looked like a cane, was dressed in a blue dress and Miranda was dressed in a red outfit so tight you could read the label on what little underwear she had on underneath. She was a size 6 and she carried a pistol, size 38.
Javier was known to attract girlfriends who all bore reputations for excitement. When repeatedly asked by trauma unit teams just why Javier always chose such extraordinarily dangerous women, Javier would reply that he found them interesting.
"Why were we not invited last year?" shouted Melisandre.
James, the Center superintendent and event planner stepped out with his right hand up. "Keep it chill; we practice peace and mindfulness here!"
"That's good," said Miranda. "Mind your business and practice your piece." Then she shot him in the leg.
James, a large man, went down in a heap in front of the three women which hampered Melisandre's charge at Javier with the short spear.
The lights abruptly cut out and everything degenerated into a an atavistic melee of screaming and thuds and gunshots by the light of the seven birthday cake candles.
Jose started yelling, "Stop beating me! I am Jose not Javier!"
"I don't care; you are his friend and I will beat ALL of you!" Carmen said.
One of the gunshots punctured a beer keg and stuff started foaming across the floor among the writhing bodies. Pahrump and Denby were trying to wrestle the pistol out of Miranda's grip and the thing kept discharging at random as she tried to kill them. Finally the gun clicked empty and she let go of it to take out something that glimmered in the half-light; it was a short-bladed knife.
"Where the heck did you keep that!" exclaimed Pahrump.
"Hah! You'll never see where!" crowed Miranda as she drove it into Denby's thigh.
"Yaaaahhhhh!" said Denby, somewhat dramatically and at high volume
Occasional Quentin, percieving by sound and moisture what had happened to the beer keg tried to save the glass bowl of punch, which must have contained some ten gallons of liquid. Naturally he slipped in the darkness causing Quentin and the bowl to crash to the floor, adding a muddled idiot and shards of broken glass to the mix.
Everyone stayed low as Carmen swung her cudgel wildly in the darkness and Melisandre chased at shadowy forms to stab them with her assegai until Carmen accidently clipped her on the ear and she went down in a heap with the others on the floor until Carmen was the only one standing in the middle of some kind of scene from a movie by Quentin Tarantino.
The sound of distant sirens approached, drew nigh, and stopped outside as flashing red and blue lights came through the windows.
That is when Martini's timed pyrotechnics went off.
"Come out with your hands up!" barked a voice.
Those who were still ambulatory ran out the back, as had Javier long ago. Denby leaning against Pahrump, who was wheezing, hobbled to the door.
"What's up with you?"
"I think she broke one of my ribs," Pahrump said. He then fell down face first outside the door, causing Denby to fall over and lay there on his side.
"I did not tell you to lie down! Yet." The voice barked. "Get up! Now! Then lie down when I tell you!"
"We can't," Denby said, as he thought reasonably. "We are hurt."
So the sheriff tased both of them and bundled them into the car to be taken to the hoosegow.
It was at the County hoosegow that they had to remove the knife still embedded in Denby's leg as no one was allowed to bring those kinds of things into the jail under any conditions.
Denby commented that he was bleeding and the Sheriff gave him a bandaid before locking him up, commenting, "You smell like a distillery."
While lying on his cot in his cell Denby promised himself that next year he was going a road trip at this time of year.
The sound of the train horn keened from Oaktown across the estuary and wended its way through the redwoods of Marin's well-matriculated hills and slid over the sleeping bulk of Princess Tamalpais following the old, forgotten railbeds that once led along Sir Francis Drake Boulevard to the coast, stirring the coyotes who began to howl their evensong which carried forth on the winds over Fairfax and White's Hill, ululating through Silvan Acres and the mist-shrouded niches of the San Geronimo Valley, coursing with faint gray shapes along the ridgetops through the drifts of fog to an unknown destination.
That's the way it is around the Bay. Have a great week.