TURTLE

WHAT IT IS

The weather can be quite comfortable in late May and early June around Mount Pulaski and with the tourist season starting to ramp up, the two person police department is determined to see that all folks, residents and tourist alike,  experience a peaceful, law abiding city  to enjoy.

Crime in Mount Pulaski is minuscule, a fact that chief Bob Shickle and officer Jill Deakins are proud to point out. But, they do have a concern, an increase in motor vehicle crashes on the roadways leading into town. This spike in accidents occurs during the spring months and this year Jill has been told by the chief to get to the bottom of, and to solve whatever is causing the increase. Jill spent the last two weeks in May pulling extra duty patrolling Hwy. 55 and County Rd. 700, paying particular attention to early morning travelers who seemed to be involved in many of these occurrences.

One of the witnesses said it was a monstrous turtle crossing the road, so he hit the brakes hard to avoid hitting the beast. Two other witnesses on a motorcycle saw the turtle and a sickly, pale man crossing the road; she put the bike into a skid. Jill took their statements, then headed into the cornfields adjacent to the road to look for the diapsid.

WHAT IT IS NOT

Davey Doucet’s metaphoric ship began to right itself after a three week stay in the Boca Ratan Regional Hospital. Another three weeks of convalescence at Slim’s Cape Cod chalet and Doucet was up and about on his own on most days. Long walks along the beach, the smell and sound of the surf and the huge seaside bonfires at dusk all served to mold Doucet back into some form of reality similar to his reality pre-Nevis.

Despite his progress, Doucet felt stuck in a quagmire of conflicting identities. Aquena’s revelations were from an inventive mind, steeped in sorcery and burdened with a strange populist objective that both mystified and traumatized those seeking her counsel. Her collage of manifestoes, theatrics and legends could have been meant to confuse or, to enlighten and elevate the subscriber to a plane from which to observe and lay testament. This plane of existence escaped Doucet for the most part, partly due to his specific upbringing, but more to do with his inability or unwillingness to embrace concepts and characteristics that would turn his world from its solid ground and granite foundation to a mushy existence of fluffy clouds with convenient deeds and unexplained truths.

Doucet was a turtle! Slow and cautious in the face of a world that was not really changing, but merely shifting its priorities, applying makeup to cover the blemishes and convincing anyone who would listen that truth and trust, though good and noble, would not be the currency of the future, that currency had already been spent and now habitually under supplied.