I was in a house which reminded me of the House in Patriot. The living room and kitchen were part of the same room. I was standing in the kitchen and my grandmother Leacy and another man were sitting in the living room.
Although it was unclear what had happened, I had earlier shot a young man who apparently was the son of someone important. The fellow hadn't died and no one had arrested me. I was surprised no one had come for me and expected someone at any time. Leacy was completely sympathetic with me.
Suddenly, we heard a knock at the kitchen door. Leacy rose, went to the door and opened it, but immediately slammed it shut. She frantically picked up a gun (a luger) lying on the kitchen table and fired one shot through the door. She then stepped back as if not believing what she had done.
Someone outside began pushing on the door and suddenly it broke down and fell to the ground. A large group of men seemed to be outside. One of them appeared to be my uncle Liston and in his arms he was holding a small black boy (around 6 years old). The boy had been hit by the bullet Leacy had fired.
Confusion ensued. Many men mostly dressed in suits and ties began marching in. The gun was taken from Leacy and laid aside. I inferred the men had come to the House to question me about the shooting I had committed. Perhaps they had even intended to have a trial in the House. My father was among the men and was obviously opposing me in my shooting incident. I roughly brushed past him as I tried to get a better look at the wounded boy, on whom all attention was now focused.
The boy was set on the stove next to the door. He appeared to have no hair and his dark brown eyes didn't seem to comprehend what was happening. The bullet had entered his left cheek and apparently exited out the back of his head. I approached to take a closer look. No one was panicky and indeed I seemed to be the only one alarmed.
I was concerned the bullet might have caused brain damage by hitting the cerebellum. But scrutinizing the bloody hole where the bullet had exited, I concluded the brain stem had been missed and the wound, although serious, would heal. I stepped away from the boy and informed Leacy of my diagnosis.
When I stepped back to the boy I was surprised to see a stocky, middle-aged black man standing in front of the boy holding a long earth worm. I then saw someone had cut a notch from the back of the boys head where the wound had been. The notch was about a centimeter high and ran across the entire back of the boys head. In the base of the head below the notch was an empty space where apparently whatever had been inside the boy's head at that spot had been scooped out. I hoped it hadn't been part of the brain.
The man holding the worm approached the boy and began filling the space inside the back of the boy's head with the worm. I inferred the man was an important man from Africa and was related to the boy. He thought the worm would help heal the boy until medical assistance could be found. I protested that that was probably the worst thing he could do, but he disregarded me and completed filling the space with the slimy, squirming worm.
Obviously someone needed to take the boy to a hospital. I volunteered to take the boy in my silver Volkswagen, sitting outside. But someone else took charge of taking the boy and almost immediately everyone left. Leacy, whom I then noticed was also black, left with the others.
Once they were gone, I looked around and saw only my uncle George sitting on the floor in a corner of the living room with his polio-deformed legs bent under him. I thought the people who had seen me here must have wondered what I was doing in such a somber environment.
Left alone I became hungry and began rummaging a deep drawer close to the floor in the kitchen cabinet. I found what appeared to be some coupons for spaghetti and spaghetti sauce, and some packets which apparently contained red kidney beans in some kind of sauce. I opened one packet over the stove and began eating some beans. I spilt quite a few beans onto the stove and some fell down one of the burners. They seemed to expand down there and boiled up over the burner. I was creating quite a mess. I even scrapped some beans off the stove and ate them. Finally, I spooned out the last of the sauce and put it in my mouth. It had a metallic taste and I wondered if any meat had been in it.
I picked up a cloth and began cleaning up the mess. As I continued, it began to appear that I was out on a back patio or back cement driveway cleaning the dirt off the driveway. It was especially difficult because some large tree-like plants were also growing on the driveway in some dirt and I didn't want to disturb them. The dirt I did gather up I threw over to one side of the driveway where some dirt had been excavated. A large tree was also lying on its side on that part of the driveway.
Two rather rough-looking men (probably in their mid 20s) walked up. A fellow came out of the House to greet them and they walked inside. It began to become clear to me that the House was actually occupied by Hari Krishnas. Leacy and I were only staying here temporarily and I didn't seem to be completely certain of our status.
I walked inside and found the two men sitting alone in one of the rooms. The one sitting on the couch had short hair. He had tattoos all over his arms and appeared to be a rather rough character. The fellow sitting in an armchair had brown hair cut above his shoulders. I asked them who they were.
They explained that they were guests of the Hari Krishnas and that they were going to have a party here tonight. I had earlier heard that such a party was scheduled. I was however a bit surprised that that type of person would be having a party with the Krishnas since I knew the Krishnas didn't drink alcohol.
The fellow who had brought them into the house came back into the room and sat down next to the fellow on the couch. He was apparently a Hari Krishna himself, although he wasn't dressed like one. He was also smoking a cigarette which seemed to me to be completely out of character with a Hari Krishna. He gave the fellow on the couch something to eat which the fellow immediately began to devour.
I stated that the party would probably not be very festive. The two fellows wanted to know why. I began trying to explain what had taken place and said, "I shot the son of an Indian—of an African leader. My grandmother then shot the grandson of the leader."
Actually, I realized the facts were rather muddled in my mind. The fellow sitting in the armchair didn't seem to fully understand and began questioning me about why I was here. It began to become clear to me that I didn't have the full picture as to exactly what I was doing here.
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