Carnival Baseball
Page 22
It was no surprise that the Friday morning funeral service for Chew-on Man was jammed pack. It seemed every inch of street outside was covered by umbrellas as the city itself seemed to weep for its fallen hero.
The inside of Saint Andrew’s Church was decorated with white carnations that formed the slanted Whispers “W”. The archdiocese at first denied the catholic facilities for the service, but a generous donation from the Injun Joe Chewing Tobacco Company of South Carolina seemed to assuage any concerns the pious man had about the dead’s religious beliefs. Many politicians were present, including Delaware’s Governor and its U.S. Senator, John Townsend.
Mink sat with Simon Says and Charles Tanner Junior in the front pew next to Sarge and Delilah. He could not help but smile when he saw his friend held the singer’s hand.
The Whispers home plate had been lifted out of the ground and stood on display next to Chew-on’s remains. The little tobacco doll’s silhouette was burned into its surface, a visible reminder of the sacrifice it had made.
Before its coffin was carried outside and placed onto the miniature hearse pulled by a shetland pony, the priest asked if there was anyone present who wished to speak. During that uncomfortable moment when all heads begin to look around for any takers, Simon Says stood and walked to the podium.
The Tanzanian closed his eyes and grunted several times as he hopped around the pine box barefoot and spun his body in the traditional burial dance of his people. When he completed a circle, he unfolded a piece of paper before him and pulled a pair of bifocals from his waistline. He put them on, cleared his throat, and commenced to read the final lines of Walt Whitman’s famous poem, “O Captain! My Captain!”
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead. 2
Mink and Sarge shot looks at one another. Their loud laughter echoed off the church walls.
After leaving the grave site, local press popped some pictures of Sarge and Delilah together in the rain. The two ducked into the back of a Rolls Royce Touring limousine that Mark DuCane graciously leant them for the occasion.
Sarge pulled a small box from his pocket and placed it in Delilah’s hand.
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Is this what I think it is?”
Sarge’s face went flush.
“If you think it’s a hayseed from Louisiana trying to ask you to marry him, then, yeah. It’s what you think it is.”
Delilah opened the velvet box and found a diamond ring. She trembled. Sarge pinched it between his thick, rough fingers and slipped it on her hand. She looked closely and saw a beautiful design of an inlaid golden heart and crown. Sarge placed her hands between his.
“Well, what do you say, Delilah? Will you marry me?”
The limousine by that time was far outside the city limits. It made its way down the country drive towards the cottage surrounded by green pastures. A group of horses trotted next to the car on the opposite side of the split rail fence. They followed it all the way to the barns.
About the Author
Colby Cox was born in Delaware and was raised on a steady diet of crime noir, comic books, and the Marx Brothers. Rapidly nearing the age of forty, he is happily married and lives with his wife and son. This book signifies the end of his mid-life crisis and it should be smooth sailing from here on out. He can found at www.libertyandin-dependence.blogspot.com.
ENDNOTES
1. Vincent Rose, Richard Coburn, John Schoenberger, “Whispering”, 1920.
2. Walt Whitman, “O Captain! My Captain!”, 1865.