IN THOSE MOMENTS

“IN THOSE MOMENTS”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

The loose shutter beat against the house like the mad hammer of Thor as a brutal wind was ripping through the wooded valley at thirty plus miles an hour and gusting heavy. I suppose I thought I should go outside and fix it while at least my electricity was still working. I raised myself from a 2am vodka bender off the carpet in the living room, I would like to say this has not happened often but I would be exaggerating. One thing that does make this episode different from the others is that I know how I got here this time. I sat up slow and smiled at my clothing, at least I am fashioned in wool pajamas and socks. My boots are right next to me and that’s a plus except minus one pair of laces my pup has chewed off sometime between 11pm and now I am guessing. I just smile at my pup and pet him, it’s not his fault, I don’t like tying my boots anyway. I pull myself up to the sofa and twist my eyes a few more times and slug back of what’s left of my cranberry and vodka drink. Christ, I think I was making them a little stiff last night. I pan my coffee table which is an old travel trunk in hopes for at least one more loose cigarette laying about and I score. I decide to go ahead and light the candle sitting there just in case. The television is broadcasting some old Shirley Temple movie, I never could stand that freak, just something creepy about her dancing with all those black men and singing about lollipops. I switch the programming over to the weather channel and turn the sound off, I am just interested in the numbers, I have no desire to listen to some painted up douche bag sporting a spray on tan with grotesque overly white teeth, while dressed in over priced foul weather gear telling me how bad things are as he dodges up rooted stop signs; while everyone knows he would have been just as convincing if the dumb shit stayed in his van with the other flunky interns. I raise from my throne of debauchery and snatch up my jacket from the kitchen table and think the pup probably has to pee anyway. I don’t worry about his leash it’s to miserable out tonight for even a crack head to want to wonder off in hopes of a score. I turn on the front porch light and open the door and it smashes back a foot into my left boot just missing my face, nice save I think. The pup jumped back two feet in horror and pissed himself silly for a slow five count; well we tried I thought, it’s not his fault. As I looked out the door and down there was a knee high snow drift blocking my path and looking just as assured as any true young spirited hovis’witness under any door frame, so I kicked it a couple of times and then my pup leaped out into the weather as if he had a better plan. Now when I say I am going to fix the flapping shutter at 2am what I really mean is that I am going to rip it off it’s hinges and then worry about proper repairs in the spring. We do have a home owners association even this far north tucked up in this little town but, the last time they paid me a visit about my lawn not being manicured to there liking it involved 3 cop cars, several bystanders going to the hospital for butterfly stitches and two of us spending the weekend in jail. So truth be told I don’t hear from them anymore, so fuck the shutter it’s a cosmetic nothing at best.
I stand on my porch looking out at my street and think one day I am going to be mayor of this burg and then have a good laugh shortly followed by a good bugle blast from ass that could be heard over the roaring wind; loud enough even for my pup out in the yard to turn and face me with his ears raised with an expression that let me know he was impressed. I turned and walked toward the loose shutter and it was slapping back and forth with the speed and ferocity of a well oiled stamping machine. I decided at that time to go inside and get on a pair of work gloves to keep safety in the top five, as well make myself a fresh drink. I called for pup to follow me inside but he declined; fuck’m I thought he’s having fun and if not he will get it right next time or maybe the time after that and if he doesn’t he will just freeze to death it’s all quite simple really. While I am mixing my 3am cocktail which I feel are underrated by the general public I begin thinking to myself that I do enjoy repairing things its just that at this point I am in no mood to be looking for my hammer or digging knuckle deep into an old glass pickle jar of assorted screws and nails for something that will hold that shutter in a fixed position. I think at that time the shutter is rotten anyway to try and justify my actions to come, much like this 3am vodka and cranberry. I use the cranberry in the vodka mix to work as a kidney cleanser time will tell. I head back out front and on my way I notice my crowbar propped next to the fireplace, lucky find says I to me. So I take time to stoke the fire and throw on a few needed pieces of hardwood, oh how I love the smell of oak. The wind is just as evil as it was when I made my first pass outside but I didn’t let the door catch me this time. I just let the door swing wide and free, a little to free actually because the door handle ended up burring itself into the drywall and stayed stuck there, just as well I thought at least the repair is indoor work. Once back out on the porch I noticed pup was well and not only that he managed to find himself some frozen road kill, a rather large grey squirrel to be exact. I was going to tell him not to play in the street, but one could not tell where the yard ended and the street began in such conditions, so I just opted for a good boy pat and a swill of my frozen hurricane theme drink. I turned my attention now to the shutter which at this point was causing other porch lights to come on, which in fact made me feel like doing nothing about it at all., however instead of being a prick I rolled up my sleeves figuratively speaking, actually I just sat my drink down. The nice thing about having two feet of snow on the porch was that it made for one fantastic big chilled cup holder. Without to much further ado I slowly moved toward the shutter of death. I needed to trap the shutter in a cocked position so I could pry it loose and this raised the stakes. I looked back at pup and asked him to wish me luck, his frozen drool engulfed the squirrels midsection as he held it in his jowls with his tail a wagging as quickly as my flapping shutter, happy he is god-bless’m. Well with one nicely placed misguided lunge into the shutter I felt my shoulder dislodge from joint which in turn caused my teeth to shutter and then I yelled something vulgar in Croatian, I don’t know what I yelled because at that time I did not speak Croatian nor later in life would I go on to learn any; perhaps someday I will set aside a little time to learn a few catch phrases, but I have seen Croatian porn and in truth it just sounds god-awful even in the softest of tones. As I pressed up against the shutter I practiced a few labored breathing techniques perhaps the same a dwarf would exercise during giving birth to a future Samoan pro football player. I just knew that if I fell unconscious on this porch in this weather I would be know better off then that trophy pup was holding. I was impressed how much perspiration was forming over my brow when knowing clear well it was 27 below zero outside. Once I felt as if I would no longer pass out face first into the snow I set down my crowbar and opted for one more long cool swallow from my drink, to help settle the demons which have momentarily possessed my right shoulder. However thankfully enough I am ambidextrous and have great strength in my left arm and grip, for that matter I am always the go to guy when the jam jar lid is unbreachable. I lent back over and drew up the crowbar and in one swift handsome motion placed it between the shutter and the house. There in keeping in Zen format I collected a few more controlled breaths and a few more swigs of my cocktail before I implemented a few good rips on the crowbar. I told pup to put me on a three count but he was not listening so I just went ahead and yanked. I blacked out but only for a short period as I was collapsing to the ground and next to me the shutter lay free from its hinged jaws of death, I was victor and was rewarded by a slop nasty kiss from pup whose breath smelt of dead rodent, but that’s not his fault so I gave him a few laps from my drink. Once pup the dead squirrel and me made it back inside I stoked the fire one more time and made myself another stiff drink and carried over to the sofa and kicked off my boots. About 3 minutes after I sat down I looked up at the television and witnessed the weatherman being hit but some enormous debris which appeared to be made out of some jagged heavy gauged aluminum and just like that he was gone from viewer and then the station broke to a commercial about life insurance I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Moments later there was this amazing earth shaking thunderous roar and wood splitting crackle. As I looked over to the kitchen while feeling the house shake, an enormous amount of tree section came crashing through the roof. Pup peed on the sofa a little but it wasn’t his fault I did to I think. Seconds later the power went out and the house was lit only by my roaring fire and little candle on my travel trunk. The tree all but filled the kitchen leaving a five by five foot void in the ceiling, sparing the breakfast nook and my vodka bottle. The wind seemed to have stopped and the snow fell in my kitchen straight down in billowy bulbous size flakes. I lent over and petted pup with a smile as he held old grey in his mouth looking over at the anomaly before him, it wasn’t his fault; yep its in those moments I find life so complete.