Bliss
by Jake Barnes
He couldn't stop pining for the fjords. Good riddance to bad rubbish, his friends said. He mourned. Didn't it make him a wee bit happy that she had found her bliss? Not one iota. He beat on the wall. He cried himself to sleep. Then he got drunk and stayed that way. Friends rode to the rescue and drove him to a rehab in the valley.
When he got out of sick bay, they moved him into a room with three other alkies. A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest. They called the priest Father Chaos. The tree trimmer knew the ropes. He had been there before. Twice.
Jake moaned, ''Why me?” Buster the tree trimmer shrugged. ''Why not?” he said. Jake had to admit it was a good question.
It was the priest who saved his bacon. Jake complained that he couldn't buy this God stuff. ''You don't have to believe in my god,” the priest said. He told him to find a God of his own. A light bulb flashed in Jake's head. “Of course!'' he thought.
When he got home he wrote his ex a letter and wished her nothing but health, happiness, and all good things. Immediately the weight lifted from his shoulders. The Blue Bird of Happiness flew down from Heaven and perched on his head.
One day not long after he got home his ex wife called. She asked how he was, and he said fine. He asked how she was, and she said fine. Then he asked how Prince Charming was, and she said, “Don't start.”
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Author's Note
A longer version of my rehab story.
"The Blue Bird of Happiness flew down from Heaven and perched on his head."
Even though I got into trouble for a different vice, this resonated with me-maybe because it makes fun of all the "happily ever after" nonsense that comes with the territory.
Jake, this moves with good speed. And I like the characters who greet him in rehab. The opening line about the fjords is so visual. I was wondering if maybe he could get back there. Here's a thought and something I just tried! Run the grafs in the opposite direction, maybe. So the last one is first, the first one is last. Just an idea.
Oh yeah. Good stuff Jake.*
A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest walk into a bar...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I liked this but didn't get the use of "fjords."
I like the way you've developed this. Good work. *
Great piece.
"A longer version of my rehab story."
How's about a longer-longer version?
;-)
The tree trimmer knew the ropes. Of course. There's a nice flatness in the tone... inevitability. Acceptance. It works.
"There's a nice flatness in the tone."
At first I read this as "a nice FATNESS in the tone," which I think is also the case.
Like a big, rich, *fat* guitar tone.
Another little gem.
*
"Good riddance of bad rubbish" or "Good riddance to bad rubbish"?
"A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest. They called the priest Father Chaos." You get so much characterization with just this line. reminds me of a Ray Carver story, except more to the point.*
You have the language nailed in this - sick bay, alkies, saved his bacon. Great stuff. And I can not tell you how much paragraph 5 revolted me and I liked it. Wonderful tiff here, Jake!*
You do this last minute turn in the road so well. *
I can't remember which of you I have thanked, which I missed.
Anyway, to ALL of you, thank you very much.
js
Oh yes. Tightly wound, so well paced. LOVE this line:
"It was the priest who saved his bacon."
Great work, Jake. One of my faves of yours so far... *
How'd you do that? Weeks, months in so few words. And a satisfying cap! One little dig, or maybe two. Quite right.
This is such a good example of a great ending to a piece that maintains such consistent tone throughout. Hard to pull off, actually. I've seen such attempts overwritten and overblown. Thanks for not hitting us on the head. I really admire how you keep a steady hand the whole way, and how that ending changes tone and feel, so subtly.
*