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Thread: Storm Over The Nile

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    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
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    San Diego Calif.
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    Storm Over The Nile

    Storm Over the Nile

    I’m suffocating in the duvet. It’s an accident, I swear it.

    “See if you can put it on before I get home,” she said. “It doesn’t match the scalloped shade but, oh well.”

    “You can count on me,” I said.

    It’s a Belgium flax linen duvet cover. For some reason duvet reminds me of bidet. James suggested I get one for Christmas. I told my ‘Super Significant Other’. I said they’re fashionable. She gave me a look. We still don’t have one.

    Like my grandsons, I like squirting water. Not down there, but nearly everywhere else.

    It’s a Cal King duvet. Tres grand tres grande lit cal. (108x92 inches. 274X233 cm.) Gee, when I unwrap it, it’s much bigger than I imagined.

    There’s more stuff on the other side of the label, like Fiber Content 100% Belgium flax linen, which I slice off with a pair of scissors.

    It has buttons up one side. BUTTONS! OMG. And just look here, they go all the way up one side. And for some reason the button holes are turned inside. It’s kind of like buttoning a shirt, but you have to do it inside out. This is going to be a pain in the butt. I can’t stuff it on the bed, because it’s too soft and not big enough. So on the floor it goes.

    Hey, this thing is enormous. This task is getting epic. I’m not sure if I’m up to it. Look how big it is! Holy you-know-what! I’ve underestimated the problem and overestimated my ability to solve it. Why does this always happen to me?

    Then I come up with a solution. I’ll lay it out from inside the duvet, the Hungarian goose down comforter is going to have to be goosed down to the far end with my hands personally. It has to be an inside job. The only way is to crawl in. Oh, Jeez.

    In I creep, farther and farther until I reach the other end. There’s light coming through this linen stuff. It looks like a tent! It looks like Sir Richard Francis Burton’s tent in Mountains of the Moon! Whoa! It’s hot in here!

    And look over there, to the left.

    On the seams near the end, the light is coming through like Sir Ralph Richardson’s tent in Four Feathers. And I can’t see it very well, and he can’t see at all because his face is all bandaged and he ends up blind. But right when it gets scary, my nose takes over.

    What a pain in the nose this place is. It smells like old canvas; canvas can act as a screen. And that reminds me of EZ Marc and I driving down Washington Street to ‘The Hill,’ in his Volvo, to watch 35mm movies outdoors on a king-sized bed sheet strung between a pepper tree and a ramshackle house overlooking Lindbergh Field. The tenants would wait until dark drinking plum wine and smoking reefer. Before the movies you’d watch planes and commercial jets landing in the twilight, trailing red streaks against the dark brooding mass of Point Loma. The hippies that put on the show worked at channel 10, and had access to a magnificent reel-to-reel film collection, which they pirated whenever they wanted some treasure. A couple of AV Geeks before the Geek Squad was ever invented. It was when you paid off your favorite geek with cheap wine and a spaghetti dinner instead of money, because it was all you had. And it was hot that summer. Cumulus clouds born in Mexico sprouted like immense cauliflowers, and loomed in their whiteness over the dark shadows of Mount San Miguel. The Union Tribune later called it “The Summer of Love.”

    Eventually I get the job done and spread the duvet cover out on the mattress. I love the Color. As soon as the wrinkles fall out, Barb will love it too.

    “Life is good,” said a friend of mine.

    Especially when you’ve nearly suffocated in a tent and lived to tell the tale.

    ©Steven Hunley2016 The Tempest Caliban Act 3 Scene 2
    Last edited by Steven Hunley; 01-22-2017 at 11:46 PM.

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