Before he lit out for the Dutchman's Johnny Luck checked the list of things needed for his restoration project. The Cabo Verde lighthouse was nearly rebuilt. Needing only ornamentation. Arrayed beside his office desk (a folding cocktail table) were items salvaged by his ragtag army of scavengers. The office was a lean-to cabana with a frond roof. He picked up a Prince Albert tobacco tin. A gimpy Creole boy named Mango had presented it to him. The birdcage chest swelled with pride. "For you," Mango explained. Then he skittered away on his club foot.
That tin became a place to stash little treasures. Gems and crystals, gold and silver. Jewelry and whatnots lost. Gone from their owners. Retrieved and now residing in a tobacco tin. Johnny Luck fingered the recent haul. Nothing aesthetically grand. Problem was, the kids didn't know what to look for when it came to the frills. Basic construction material they understood.
He opened a bottle of Red Stripe and sat back.
A canvas director's chair served as throne. He surveyed his balmy realm. The beer was cold. He poured a stream of it onto his head like shampoo, drenching his dreadlocks.
Watching Pirate Jenny in the distance, he exclaimed: "Jah-hovah!"
No comments:
Post a Comment