"MISS TERRY"
of
"THE ODD ESSAY"
A MYSTICAL TALE
BY
Peter McBrearty dms.astrol
WRITTEN ON Location:- Cyprus
Date:- April 1989.
Part 1. "The Vacation"
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Dear Charles,
"having a wonderful time here, weather is hot, people are very friendly, scenery beautiful. Hotel is really good also, "Grecian Sands" by name, looks out across the Mediterranean, just right!"
Just the other day I was in a little shop trying to purchase a t-shirt. When I asked the girl assistant if she sold Coca Cola she said "no,
I do not have any for sale here, but you may have 'MY' can".............
Anyway, I paid for the t-shirt and asked 'how much?' for the can of coke. She said,
"Oh no, no charge sir, you can have it for free".
Of course, I tried to get her to take the money but she really didn't want it! said it was 'a present'!......
Well! .. .. I breathed in awe of this truly inhuman act of kindness as she smiled from across the acres of t-shirts, shorts, necklaces, bracelets and Demis Roussos tapes, her dark eyes flashing and twinkling like bath-taps against the soft olive hue of her lovely face, and her teeth sparkling like banjo's in the Sun.
Just then, Anthony Quinn burst through door to the back shop, all sweaty and unshaven.....
........
... "What the
hell you a-sayin to my a-little a-girl meester? -- Huh?" he bellowed
across the
fore court as I tried to get to my vehicle across the pebbled and rough road, casually slipping into my t-shirt and guzzling cold coke at the same time. The early evening dust was blowing up into my heavy eyes, and with one arm pushed through a sleeve, and the neck of the shirt tight across my lower lip I spun around to see the pot-bellied figure standing in the shop doorway, bottle of wine in one hand, and a tarnished shotgun in the other.
Swaying in the dusty, humid air he lifted the gun and pointed it in my direction. His 'a-little a-girl' was crying and screaming, pulling on his tattered shirt sleeve, squealing,........"NO Papa! NO!, don't shoot thee nice man, he only thirsty!"........ tears flowing from her bath-tap eyes..
I moved towards him slowly, coke held as high as was possible with the t-shirt caught at elbow level, and handed him the pull-ring from the can saying..........."Whatever you do, don't look through the hole in the centre".
He gave me a friendly, Grecian smile and laughed aloud with his hands on his hips, looking all sheepish and, like a little boy, his face began to redden....... "Well! stifle my Aunt's threadbare hearth-rug with a hand-woven Turban" he mumbled into his daughter's head clasp...."Thank you! thank you a million times over meester! and let me display my gratitude and apologies to you", he humbly mumbled as he began to enter into his famous Greek dance.
"I'm sorry, I must go now" I said, slapping his back and squeezing his daughter's hand in mine, only to find the embarrassing situation of feeling the cream sponge cake she was holding, squelch over her fingers and splodge down on to her polished ankle-boots.
I spun on my heel quickly and stepping into my vehicle I zipped off and away,... zapping out past the Moon and across the dark regions of space to the centre of the Galaxy.
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artworx
by adastra@itl.net
(c) Peter McBrearty
dms.astrol
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