Fall in May

~5~ My Birthday Death Wish

"And behold I saw a pale horse:
and one who rode him was named Death,
and all Hell followed with him."

The Book of Revelation 6:8  

💀💀💀

After I finally get my head straight again from the big birthday surprise. I roll out of my father's old room only to find Aces waiting somewhat pensively on the Barca-lounger. By the expectant look on the Grandpa guys old war-torn face, he is clearly anticipating some sort of big birthday blowout on my part. The kind where the poor orphan kid from the wrong side of the breaks throws up a shit fit over the unfairness of life. "Cause the Sun won't come out tomorrow!".  

Aces knows damn well I never wanted to be here in the first place with him and the Irish Antichrist, who keeps claiming that she is my grandmother. But no thanks to chance, circumstance, and happenstance, it seems we are sorta stuck in the suck with each other for the duration of my stay here in Hell. The really sad part is Ol' Aces probably thinks that any of this actually matters in the grand scheme of all things Insanistani. Cause trust me, in the Insanistan Grand Master Plan we are clearly the furthest thing in mind at the moment. 

"You talk to Irish yet?" I ask eyeing him over the small pile of presents. Which I am now almost sadly certain contain what these blazing raisins believe to be appropriate back to school clothes for the up-n-coming orphan.

"I did." He nods slowly.

"Okay cool." I nod along. "So you have anything that you feel like we need to parlay like pirates going forward?"

Aces rolls his head to the side in an irritatingly familiar manner, as he thinks his way through his opening move in our piratical parlay.

"Helmets." He finally grins up at me hesitantly.

"Like in condoms?" I rock my head to the side and eye him askance. 

Because now I am starting to wonder if turning sixteen in the Ol Screaming Eagles War Plane Corps meant a trip to the old Zyzzyx Road House on old route 66 to "meet me a floozy and finally become a man". Cause if that is the case I think I'd rather bail out on that wayward trip to Barstow and just stick to the killer clowns.

"Good God, you're an idiot sometimes." He just shakes his head, rocking himself up to standing tall and then heads for the back door. "Come on let's go see what's waiting in the garage."

"Better not be a surprise party with creepy clown hookers, grandpa guy?" I grumble under my breath, just out of his ancient raisin hearing range.  

So I follow him out the back kitchen door and across the dying grass, to the last door of his three-car garage slash workshop.

"Happy Birthday." He opens up the last garage.

Just based on his level of excitement, I almost expect a brand new used clown car with a pretty pink bow on top. Instead, we both stand there staring down at what suspiciously looks like a pile of junk underneath a dirty old tarp. Just by the looks of the spoked chrome tire rim laying sideways glaring up at me from the upturned edge fo the tarp, one very busted up motorcycle in a lot of pieces.

"A broken bike?" I mug appreciatively. "Nice."

"And also a bit of a man project." He smiles wistfully down at the pile of scrap. "I got this baby off a vet who can't ride anymore, but he says it was in working condition a while back." By the sad state of the pile of scrap at my feet, I can't help but wonder when exactly was a while back?

"But there a couple of things you will promise me on your word, Darren." Old Aces turns suddenly serious on me. "If and when we get this thing running again? That you will not ride this thing on the street without a helmet, a license, proper registration, and insurance."