(When my legs returned, I was dressed in chintz and standing in front of ELMO who was holding a school-boy’s slate and some chalk.)
Elmo: I want to play schoolhouse - educate me, bitch-knees.
Me: How did we get to this abandoned barn?
Elmo: I inherited it from an ancient great white owl named Crocadock.
Me: Oh I’m sorry he died.
(ELMO doodles idly.)
Elmo: I welcome death’s presence, hooker - it is the chapter-gate into a sky-stew where bones become angels wings, and Earth Wind and Fire are there also.
Me: You like Disco.
Elmo: Don’t presume to know me.
Me: I wouldn’t dare.
(ELMO cracked his slate over my head.)
Elmo: I hope you like ghosts, because I’m about to expectorate all up in your contusions until you are good and spooky.