Sojourn of the Suns

�is an adolescent coming-of-age story involving an unmotivated college student who meets and falls in love with Amy Sharpe, the 17-year-old daughter of a wealthy, abusive family. On impulse they flee the banality and suffering (respectively) of their Midwestern lives for an uncertain � and profoundly maturing -- odyssey across the country. Avoiding the pursuit of Amy�s vengeful, yet strangely conflicted family, they face not only threats to their love, lives and happiness, but are also confronted with all the imponderable dilemmas of truly becoming adult. A final bloody showdown amid coincidental events of cosmic proportion leaves a lot to think about.

CHAPTER�� 6:

Welcome to Paradise

�� After drinking all night and driving all morning, Bill drifted through a series of strange, ephemeral dreams, finally finishing up by flying effortlessly through endless vistas of ripe, eagerly growing corn. He awoke to find reality pretty much the same.

�� Tasseled, golden-green stalks passed by his window in the millions, enough food to feed a nation. Enough monotony to feed a psychosis. He stirred, stretched, and turned to look at Amy.

�� The setting sun slanted through the windshield, painting her in lovely yellow light. Her honey-blonde hair gleamed, and she sang softly along with some tune on the radio. Seeing him stir, she turned, favoring him with a warm and slightly quirky smile. �Hi baby. Sleep well?�

�� Bill made a show of yawning and stretching. �Waitress, I�ll have the western omelet, homefries, and a double order of bacon.�

�� Oh! I�m so sorry, sir!� Amy herself made a show of consternation. �You�re mother just quit as chef! You�ll have to get up and get it your own damn self!�

�� Bill laughed and sat up, thought about cigarettes and banished the thought. It promised him it�d be back. Then he peered through the windshield.

�� Looking for something? �Cause all I see is corn.�

�� Actually I was looking for our accommodations tonight. I�m not much of a Motel-6 kind of guy. I thought we�d camp out somewhere, as long as we got all this stuff. I�m just looking for a good spot.�

�� Along the freeway? You�re nuts.�

�� No, you�ll see. I�ve got it all figured out. I actually managed to think while I was driving through this granary all morning, and I think we should repay all this nasty, boring ol� corn by eating some of it. And where better to hide out than the middle of a cornfield? It should definitely be secluded enough. We just have to find the right field. I�ll know it when I see it.�

�� Amy accepted this with a nod and a change of subject. �Did you know you talk in your sleep?�

�� Bill grunted, then laughed. �I have been informed. I hope it didn�t bug you.�

�� It was actually kinda cute.� She grinned fondly at him, then returned her eyes to the road. �Who�s your �little elf-queen�?�

�� Caught off guard Bill blushed. She referred to a fantasy he rarely acknowledged outside his dreams. That he�d let it slip while asleep was embarrassing enough to himself, much less another person. For a moment explanations clogged his throat, and he couldn�t say a thing.

�� Amy laughed delightedly, enjoying his reaction. �Bill Bagwell, you are so cute I could just die! Don�t worry, you didn�t say anything too embarrassing. It was all mumbles, gibberish. It wasn�t even that loud. I could sleep next to it, no problem.� Another impish grin. �But I caught that �little elf-queen� thing a couple of times, and then the deepest, most pleasurable sigh in the world. So what gives, Bilbo old boy? You cheatin� on me in your dreams?�

�� Bill was spared the indignity of squirming when he saw what he was looking for just ahead. �Wait, honey, this is it! Pull over here.�

�� She did so, but didn�t drop her demand. �Well?� she insisted, after stopping them in the breakdown lane. Fortunately Bill had had a minute to regain his composure, and he met her with a grin of his own.

�� Cheating? I hardly think we�re man and wife yet.�

�� Okay, your point.� Amy leaned over and kissed him, hard. �But after tonight I don�t want you dreaming of anybody but me.�

�� Her grin reappeared, delicious with promise, and Bill felt a warm churning inside. Then she turned to the cornfield they were flanking. �Okay, Mr. Baggins, expert treasure hunter. What�s so special about this particular stretch of cornfield?�

�� Bill was happy to detail his expertise.

�� Well, lady, for starters there�s no fence here, and the ditch is shallow. There�s nothing between us and that access road but some bumpy ground, nothing to a four-wheel drive. Meantime, this field is huge, and there no houses in sight anywhere. Once we get a good break in traffic we can slip over to that dirt road without anyone seeing us. Then all we have to do is follow it. It goes all the way around the field, probably. Now see that line of trees up ahead? That�s a stream. It borders the field. We take that access road down to the stream, up along it, away from the highway. Then at the dark back corner of the field we should be able to find a secluded little hollow, complete with firewood and wash water. Just in time for dinner, too. How about corn on the cob and beef stew?�

�� Sounds smashing.� Amy smiled. �I knew I was in good hands with you.� She shifted into four wheel drive and looked up at her mirror, studying the flow of traffic. Bill joined her, and after five minutes of frustration they were finally rewarded with clear sailing.

�� That�s it.� said Bill, even as she gunned the motor and pulled them off to the right. A few lurching, tossing moments later they were on the access road, heading for the trees. The break in traffic held, and they reached the turn unobserved, curving sharply away from the road and into the shadow of the treeline.

�� It was darker here, shaded from the sunset west and with twilight coming down, and they proceeded more cautiously. Finally they reached the back of the field, and as Bill suspected it was perfect for them. Bounded by the treebelt and stream, surrounded by acres of rustling corn, the ground sank gradually toward the gravely streambed into a dark, shady hollow where they finally parked the car.

�� They regarded each other in silence for a moment, considering their delicious idyll. Then Amy moved to get out, and Bill followed, stretching his five feet ten inches and feeling his spine and thews crackle gloriously. He walked around the car to Amy, shaking the kinks from his legs and swinging his arms in circles. She was also doing what she could to get the blood flowing again, stretching and swaying and bending her body from side to side. Bill watched appreciatively.

�� Finally she noticed him watching and smiled. Straightening up, she snapped off a smart-assed salute. �Now what, Cap�n Bill? First Mate Amy, reporting for duty.�

�� Bill grinned. �First let�s mate, Amy, and to hell with duty.� Then he cast a glance at the darkening sky, saw Jupiter peeking out.

�� Ah, shit. I guess we better get set up soon, before the light�s gone. Tell you what. You unload the car, make us a little bed in there, and I�ll pick some corn, get a fire going. Sound good?�

�� You bet!� she said, and went around to open the sliding door.

�� Bill left her to it, ambling up the slope toward the cornfield. He barely had to go in past the first row to find several fat, tasty, butter-and-sugar ears, young and tender and burstingly ripe. �One ear or two?� he called, and although muffled by the car her reply was audible. �Two!�

�� He chose four perfect ears and left them on the hood of the car.

�� Down by stream he found a number of heavy, water-smoothed rocks, steering away from those of sedimentary origin and likely to crack or explode in the heat of the fire. Then in the dirt near the open side of the car he built a firepit, carefully stacking kindling for a blaze and culling through the deadwood by the steam for a stockpile of heavier pieces. By the time he had a cooking fire going, Amy had unloaded the car and used the air mattresses, pillows and sleeping bags to create a dim, cozy little cave out of the interior. Then they sat together and watched the fire burn down to a more manageable level.

�� It was pleasant wait. The dusk thickened around them, distancing the fields and highway, and the crackling warmth and lively dance of the blaze drew them in.� The world around them retreated to the occasional rumor of a rumbling truck, soon forgotten, and they were left in thrall to the enchantments of nature.

�� A haunting, atonal chorus swelled around them, crickets and cicadas competing for attention with the frogs of the brook.

�� Late summer was on the land, and if the symphony of life lacked the urgency of the mating spring, it still had a certain charm all its own. Despite the rattle of coons in the corn, squirrels in the wood, everything spoke of calm, of a resting peace before the frenzy of autumn. Only the mostly silent predators had something different to say, with the hooting of owls and the sinister flutter of bats occasionally whispering of mortality in the background.

�� All the more reason to enjoy life now.� Bill scooted closer to Amy and held her, and as the fire burned down to coals they began to kiss, passing the time in the most pleasurable manner imaginable.

�� Exploratory advances grew more familiar, their bodies becoming increasingly entwined and their tongues searching out the open cavities of each others� mouths. Bill�s hands moved slowly, excitingly over the firm curves of Amy�s body, testing shape and spring and finding them as wonderful as imagined.

�� Their necking grew gradually more heated, until Bill found his breath coming in heaves and the crotch of his jeans uncomfortably tight. He broke away, looking into Amy�s sparkling eyes and flushed face and making the supreme effort.

�� The fi --� his voice cracked, and he swallowed, wet his lips and started again. �The fire�s ready. How about dinner?�

�� Okay.� she whispered reluctantly, and they got up.

�� While Bill laid a grate over the fire and set the corn to roast, she turned to the box of food and retrieved a couple of cans of Dinty Moore�s beef stew. Soon she had them opened up and dumped in the kettle, and they joined the corn over the coals.

�� They chatted lightly while Bill turned the ears and Amy stirred the stew, exchanging cooking histories and favorite meals, and were happy to find a general confluence of opinion. Everything seemed to bode well for their romantic prospects. Now if only the sex was good.

�� Bill grinned to himself. How could it not be?

�� Soon enough the food was done, and they were buttering and salting the corn. � Picked less than an hour ago, it was as fresh as fresh gets, and the first sweet, delicious mouthful awoke ravenous appetites. For long moments there were chomping jaws and murmurs of pleasure and little else as they demolished the first course, then Bill turned to the stew. Bubbling thickly a few moments ago, it had cooled by now to the perfect temperature, and they sat close together in the open side door of the car and took turns spooning it from the kettle, washing down the thick, meaty chunks and soft vegetables with swallows of ice-cold beer from the cooler.

�� Bill couldn�t remember a tastier, more satisfying meal, and at last they dropped the kettle and slumped together, groaning with satiation. By unspoken consent they slid down to the ground together, stretching their legs out by the fire and leaning back against the open car. Bill put his arm around Amy and they snuggled, enjoying the embers� dying glow and the aftermath of their championship feed. Then Bill looked up, across the field, and caught his breath.

�� By now the stars were out in force, the night steadily darkening from purple to black and revealing endless new members of the gorgeous celestial pantheon.

�� Out here away from the lights of the city their brilliance was unchallenged, and the silver sliver of the moon did little to show them up. Jupiter once again reigned supreme, blazing like the star she aspired to be, and intriguing Mars stood a distant reddish second. Then came the familiar constellations, providing a glittering backdrop against which to track these wanderers. Last of all, spattering sporadically through the myriad lesser stars, came the flaming, streaking deaths of late-season meteor showers.

�� Shooting stars!� exclaimed Amy under her breath, as though frightened of scaring them off. �That�s so beautiful!� Tell me, Billy, what are they really? Not stars.�

�� Meteors.� he replied. �Just rocks, flying in from outer space and burning up in the atmosphere. You can see them practically every summer, especially in August, late night August, if you get out in the country like this. Meteor showers. Most of them burn up through friction with the atmosphere, but occasionally one punches through and strikes the earth. Like the one that supposedly did in the dinosaurs. Or that comet that crashed into Jupiter a while ago.�

�� And Jupiter, that�s the bright one there?� And Mars, of the ancient life?�

�� Right. Those objects are obviously planets, they�re too fiercely bright and steady to be stars. And they move from day to day, while the constellations stay fixed.�

�� You know all these constellations?� asked Amy, with dubious respect.

�� Yeah.� replied Bill, and he proceeded to point out the more obvious ones: Hercules and Bootes crouched up above, Cygnus and Sagittarius, and at last mighty Scorpius, raising his barbed tail as though to smite the encroaching horizon.

�� They were old friends all, and Bill�s love was apparent in his voice. Picking up on it Amy was duly impressed. �How did you learn all that?�

�� Bill squirmed a little. �I was kinda in the Boy Scouts when I was younger.� Amy stifled laughter, and he continued, �They kind of turned me on to it, and I eventually got so interested I read up on it. It�s almost like a hobby, I guess. I told you, practically the first thing I ever said to you, was that I found the stars and planets beautiful, and the universe fascinating. Remember?�

�� Uh-huh,� replied Amy, stirring in Bill�s arms and snuggling deeper into his embrace. �Tell me more, Billy boy. What else is up there?�

�� Well...� Bill paused, unsure of where to start. Explain the cosmos in a handful of sentences. Sure. Then he mentally spat on his hands and went to work.

�� Well, our sun, and the planets, and all these stars we can see, are all part of a single spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy. You probably know that. But maybe you don�t know that there are over a hundred billion stars in this galaxy. That�s more stars than there are grains of sand on all the world�s beaches. And there are over a hundred billion galaxies as well. At least. Everywhere we look, as far as we can see, we find more galaxies, arranged in local groups, clusters, superclusters, and strange stringy agglomerations called filaments, all on a scale so vast it�s nearly incomprehensible.

�� So we have all those galaxies, made up of all those stars, and shitloads of planets to go with them. That provides for some interesting speculation, what with the recent discovery of ancient bacteria on Martian rocks. But in addition to worlds like ours there are also asteroids, planetoids, comets -- just iceballs really -- random hunks of rock and dirt and vast seas of gas and dust floating around out there. Not to mention such total enigmas like quasars, pulsars, and black holes.�

�� Then there really are black holes?�

�� Sure. Perhaps a great many. Current theory holds there may be supermassive black holes at the heart of most galaxies. There�s one we know about for sure right up there, in the constellation of Cygnus.� He directed her attention to the �summer triangle,� Vega, Deneb, and Altair, and Cygnus the swan flying amidst. �Cygnus X-1.� The name rolled off his tongue.

�� But what are they? And why can�t we see them?�

�� Bill chuckled to himself. Whatever happened to simple questions? Before long he�d be delivering a lecture on advanced astrophysics.

�� Well, mostly the remains of stars. See, stars like the sun aren�t eternal. They�re born, evolve, and eventually die, like everything else. Except for maybe the black holes themselves. Anyway, how they die depends on what kind of star they are.�

�� He drew a deep breath. �Stars are formed when huge clumps of gas and dust cohere and accumulate enough mass to ignite. If the giant gas planet Jupiter were however many times bigger, I forget what, she would burn like a star. Anyway, the intense gravitational pressure causes thermonuclear reactions in the star�s core, fusing simple atoms to make heavier ones. That generates all the energy. But like any other nuclear reactor, the star eventually uses up its available fuel, and depending on its size, it either fizzles out or explodes. Our own little yellow sun will eventually swell, consume the inner planets, fry the Earth, then collapse and gradually cool to a cinder.

�� However, a big, hot star like Vega there, a blue giant, doesn�t die that simply. � �When its fuel is used up it first implodes, falling in on itself, then explodes cataclysmically in a supernova, the greatest kind of explosion in the known universe. It destroys the star, blasting away lighter matter into beautifully wispy, surrounding clouds called nebulae, which in turn eventually birth more stars. But what�s left of the original star, the products of all that relentless fusion, again collapses in on itself, becoming so dense, so powerful, that its gravity sucks in anything within reach. Not even light moves fast enough to escape it. Nothing in the electromagnetic spectrum we understand can. In effect, it disappears from view, becoming a hidden, single point source of irresistible attraction. That�s why it�s also called a singularity.�

�� Disappears from view...� mused Amy. �Singularity.� Her voice took on a wistful note.

�� That�s what I want to do, Bill Bagwell. Disappear from view. With you. So how about it? Do you feel the irresistible attraction? Shall we become a singularity?�

�� She turned her face up to be kissed, and Bill paused only to breathe �We shall.� before obliging.

�� Their dinner had settled by now, and the kiss immediately deepened. Physics lesson over, they locked together at the mouth and finally freed the passion that been building over the last twenty-four hours.

�� Slippery tongues slithered and probed, doing joyful battle, and their hands began roaming at will, seeking out treasures until now denied. Soon Amy shifted, coming fully atop Bill�s half-seated form, and despite their intervening clothes the contact was electrifying. Bill hardened like stone, straining at his confinement, and at last he broke his lock on Amy�s mouth to begin clawing at the buttons of her shirt.

�� She cast her head back, groaning with need. Rasping her saddle against his crotch, she created a delicious, unbearable friction. Bill gasped, working her shirt down off the shoulders, and he was in the process of teasing her free of her bra when she suddenly pushed him back.

�� Seated above him, silhouetted low by the fire and high by the stars, she leaned back, bringing her weight to bear more firmly on his groin. Again Bill gasped, and Amy captured his groping hands in her own.

�� Now wait a minute, honey, just a second. If were going to do this, we�re going to do it right. No clumsy fumbling around.�

�� She released his hands and began unbuttoning his shirt, still rocking on him ever so slightly, and soon she had it stripped completely off. Then she slipped lower, unbuttoning his jeans and slowly, excruciatingly disengaging the zipper.

�� Bill sprang at once to attention, pushing the elastic band of his boxers effortlessly out and down. The cool night air felt like heaven on his blood-hot length, but then suddenly heaven was superseded, as Amy ran a tracing figure slowly up and down, causing him to bob and dip and spring back up as rigid as ever.

�� Bill groaned helplessly, and he thought his mind would burst. Then Amy abandoned him to pull off his boots and toss them aside. She grabbed his waistbands, jeans and shorts together, and he raised his hips. Immediately she raked them down, tearing them off and leaving him naked and erect in the night.

�� Inside,� she purred, and Bill obeyed, content to leave things in her capable hands. He backed up into the vehicle, his bare butt coming down on the soft, slick nylon and cushy resilience of the air-cushioned down-filled sleeping bags.

�� Throbbing with need, he retreated over this heavenly surface to the pillows piled at the back of the car, then watched through the open door as Amy removed her clothes.

�� Smiling richly in promise, she shrugged her light, paisley-patterned shirt to the ground and reached between the cups for the vile clasp. One practiced pinch and her bra fell away.

�� Suddenly Bill�s mouth couldn�t decide to water or dry. Limned by the light of silvery distant suns, Amy�s hair shone softly, her eyes gleamed bright and every spectacular contour was lovingly defined. Round, firm and high, beautifully shaped and sized, her breasts were exquisitely proportioned to her small, curvaceous body type. Faced with such perfection Bill felt a moment of parching daunt, and then focused on the pert little peaks of her nipples. Saliva flooded his mouth.

�� Slowly, Amy�s hands slid down her belly, ticking starlight off the sexy gold ring piercing her navel. They met at the narrows of her waist, and then her own zipper purred open, revealing a shining triangle of silky blue panty. Swaying like an practiced odalisque, she worked the tight jeans over her hips and they dropped to the ground. Then came the filmy panties, and she was stepping lightly out of them and through the doorway, joining him in the darkened vehicle.

�� They came together like satin on silk, bodies meeting and molding in the enfolding dark. Her hand gripped him, hard, and his face sought out the fleshy press of her breast. The nipple scraped roughly across his cheek, and Bill engulfed it, sucking for all he was worth. Amy tugged him, firmly, and he moaned as his hand sought out her warmth. Then they moaned together, teasing out the nectar, limbering the pistil, preparing them both for the joining. At last Bill ripped away his plundering mouth and gasped �My condoms...�

�� Nooo....� Amy managed, �not needed, not needed. Just have me, Billy, have me. Make me your little elf-queen!�

�� She pierced him herself with that thrust, and Bill teetered on the brink. He made one last stab at responsibility. �But I always...�

�� She stopped him with a kiss, shifting her body atop him in the gloom. �I know you �always,� I trust you, now trust me, not needed, I�ll explain later. Doing so now would spoil the mood.�

�� She writhed deliciously atop him, no denim separating them now, and the heat and wet of her decided him. �I wouldn�t want that,� Bill spoke, and he clasped Amy to him.

�� Momentarily she melted, opening and giving and sinking down onto his hardness. Then immediately she became all spring-steel and sinuous motion, flinging herself into the act with an abandon that was instantly contagious.

�� Not that Bill needed any goading. The woman mounting him was the most attractive, most exciting one he�d ever had. But more important she was someone infinitely special, someone he suspected he already loved, she was Amy Sharpe, in all her lovely, quirky intricacies. He cried out in pleasure as she slipped down onto him, and then again as she mounted her frenzied rhythm.

�� Frenzied it was. This was no soft-textured art film. Gasping and panting and sharply crying out her joy, little Amy Sharpe became a blur of electrifying motion, her fit, tight, petite body the quintessence of erotic mobility.

�� Socketed deeply inside her Bill endured this womanly onslaught in stupefied gratification, hardly able to believe it was happening. Atop him, astride him, all over him, Amy rode him like a bull, her every heaving lunge rocking that hard, hot spike ever deeper up into her.

�� Time became temporarily suspended during this endless exercise, a feat of unimaginable athletic intensity. But at last sweet Amy began reaching for her climax, her constant screams of pleasure escalating in a piercing crescendo that only end in orgasm.

�� Carried along by her enthusiasm, Bill boiled toward his own peak, determined to meet her at the top. His hands reached up and caught her hips, and with his own eager strength he aided her rhythm, holding her firmly atop him and stropping their mutual frenzy to a razor�s edge.

�� Finally Amy stiffened, lunging upright and shuddering out her screaming peak. Feeling her insides convulse, Bill groaned himself in inexpressibly sweet release. He emptied himself, in a series of wrenching, biologic spasms. Only then did his wonderful lover collapse atop him: limp, quivering, panting out her moaning recovery.

�� Any words would have sullied the experience, so they were silent, feeling their labored breaths slow and their heartbeats fall into synch. But at last Amy slid off to the side, nestling her head in the hollow of Bill�s shoulder. Leaving one perfect leg flung across his hips she sighed, her free hand stroking up and down his flank.

�� Lover, I could do that with you forever. You were absolutely perfect.�

CHAPTER 8:

Excerpts from the Journal of Bill Bagwell

20 sept 199-

�� Rose with the sun today, eager to get back on the road. It�s the first day of the rest of my life, as they say, and I couldn�t be happier.

Bailed from the campsite early, determined not to be spotted by ol� Farmer John on his International Harvester. No problem. I felt extremely satisfied looking back at our shady little hollow. Leaving behind a little piece of heaven, maybe a little piece of myself, if it�s not too corny to say so. After the cathartic, soul-searching ordeal of reliving Amy�s past, she and I made love for hours, committing to each other in a way that seemed determined to exorcise those horrible demons. It was the most emotionally intense, indisputably pleasurable experience of my life. I had no idea two people could connect in such a fashion. I�m looking forward to tonight, and every other night from here on out.

�� Stopped early and grabbed a newspaper, nothing in it about the daughter of a wealthy local businessman disappearing. So far so good. Nevertheless I bought a road atlas w/ the gas, and we�ve switched to secondary roads. No more interstate, thank god (I mean the stars). Too soulless, too monotonous. Too conspicuous. Now we just cruise through town after town, past endless corn and wheat and hayfields, and occasionally an actual treebelt or brook. I�m looking forward to crossing the mighty Mississippi River, I�ve never seen it.

�� Again, what a perfect night last night. Idyllic. I love this girl, I really do. She sits beside me now, driving. (That�s why this writing so poor -- I�m doing it on the road to distract me from all the corn, corn, corn) She drives easily and well, for a 17-year old and a girl. That�s right, I said a girl. I�m allowed to be a chauvinistic pig in the privacy of my own journal, aren�t I? Anyway, she sings along with the radio, and sings well. Better than me, anyhow. I sing too, sometimes, and she laughs. Me and my bad habits.

�� Speaking of which, no smokes so far today. Good deal. And last night was the first time I went to bed sober in literally months. Didn�t even miss it. Who needs booze, when you�ve got sky and stars and fresh country air?

�� Not to mention the most captivating woman on the planet. Still can�t get over her inner strength, resilience in the face of horrible pressure. How did she survive all this, and stay sane, not to mention develop an extremely healthy sexual appetite? She seems almost rabidly determined to share and enjoy her body to the fullest. Perhaps it is because it�s been the source of so much pain, and shame, that she now works it like mad to extract compensatory pleasure. Whatever it is, she makes me ashamed to look at the way I�ve been living recently. Do I really deserve someone so special?

�� Thinking this I look at up her, her lovely eyes soft and distant on the road ahead. Then she feels my gaze, and she turns, smiles and winks. Her hand reaches over and squeezes my knee, then slides comfortably up to give old Elvis a friendly squeeze too. Her eyes twinkle, and I go back to writing this. On second thought, screw writing this.

22 sept 199-

�� Still no sign of pursuit. Every morning I get a paper, we check it cover to cover while the other one drives. No mention of us. Perhaps Dick & Dick have been stymied, or maybe they just don�t care. Then again, perhaps they�re avoiding the media & cops, coming themselves or sending surrogates. Dick Jr sounds like the type to take Amy�s flight as a personal betrayal. And who knows what Dick Sr is capable of, if he thinks his ruin to be at stake? Either way, I�m not worried. How�ll they find us? It�s a big country. The plates are buried under a ton of supplies, with fake ones between us and the rest of the world. I believe after we pass the river we�ll slow down, take our time. Why rush? We�ve got our whole lives to spend together. Let�s enjoy �em at our own pace.

�� (Later)

�� Well, the Mississippi is behind us. Half a continent to go. What to say about the river? Impressive? No shit, it�s one of the biggest in the world. It�s also one of the greatest examples of human arrogance, stupidity, and futility. I shudder to think of how much money the US Army Corps of Engineers has wasted trying to �manage� this river. For the last 50 years or so it�s been trying (naturally enough) to change course and shorten its route to the sea, bypassing several human cities (what a shame). So of course we�ve been pouring a constant stream of money and concrete into it, trying to prevent this. Good luck. I wish I could talk to these people somehow. Hello! It�s a fucking river! One of the greatest ever, no less. It goes where it wants to! Didn�t anyone see the fabled 500 year flood? Or the comparable one just 20 yrs ago we seem to have somehow forgotten? Sooner or later it�s just going to wash away our pitiful ephemeral human attempts to manage it. Then those cities will have to jump through some real hoops. But in the meantime of course we�d rather play Hercules, cleaning the Augean stables. I guess it�s simply against human nature to plan ahead, or to consider the fact that we aren�t physically or technologically omnipotent. I even heard one of these Army engineers being interviewed on TV say that, given enough money, no physical engineering problem was insoluble. Great. But for how long? Things change, see? That�s the nature of the universe. But that�s kind of thinking they do at the Pentagon, all right. Throw enough money at it and it�ll go away. Maybe we�ll even get to line our pockets a little in the process.

�� Anyway, back to the river. I hear it�s also a disgusting cesspool further down south. Sewage, boat exhaust, fertilizer runoff, petrochemical industries, who knows what else. Frankly, I don�t want to know. We took a ferry across, the water brown and muddy. Saw a couple gar. Huge fish, they looked like alligators. Interesting too. Been around since before us, before the dinosaurs, even. Just like the crocodilians. Perfect evolutionary design, if primitive. Probably outlast us too, if we don�t poison them all first. Long, bony jaws full of teeth, impossible to catch on a hook. Saw a cable fishing show once where they hunted them with bow & arrow. Looked fun, but how do you eat something so bony? And if you�re not going to eat, why kill? Buy a video game instead, they�re more challenging. Speaking of fishing, I�ve got to try out Amy�s pole. She�s certainly been trying out mine, ha-ha.

23 sept 199-

�� Taking it easy now. We camped off a little woods road last night, next door to the inevitable cornfield. Perfect for what I had in mind. I got up early this morning, before my old friend the sun, even, and slipped out without waking Amy. Took Dick�s pellet gun and nailed a rabbit on the first try. This place is crawling with them. Totally psyched. I haven�t had fresh game since high school. Of course, growing up on the rural edge of the suburbs I�ve done plenty of hunting, fishing, etc. My brothers and I used to go out all the time, for ducks, partridge, etc. And rabbits of course. That was before it became politically incorrect to actually kill something you were planning to eat. Like steaks were never alive.

�� Anyway, this one was fat & sassy, raised on the finest American grain. I had him cleaned and spitted, roasting over smoky hickory coals before Amy even got up. Of course the smell woke her, and her expression was priceless. Damn, I love to make this woman happy. She mourned the pretty little bunnies, questioned my cleaning and cooking expertise, even professed reluctance to eat meat not already packaged by the butcher. But that oh so savory smell was not to be denied.

�� She loved it, of course. Not to be vain, but I do know my shit about some things, and camp cooking is one of them. Enough meals out of cans. We�ll save those for later. It�s harvest season, and we�ve been driving through the richest farm belt in the world. In addition Dick�s little pellet gun is perfect for potting rabbits. I figure, if I�m going to cop a few of Farmer John�s vegetables, the least I can do is pop a couple of rabbits for him in return. It�ll save him about as much bread as I cost him, and it salves my conscience a little.

�� Burglar Baggins or not, I don�t like to consider myself a contemptible thief. Stealing from a couple rich pricks like Dick & Dick, who deserve castration and death (in that order, with about a 30 minute interval in-between) is one thing. Robbing an honest, hard-working farmer is another. Not that I haven�t been tempted. Some of those chickens look awfully plump ... but no, libertarian or not, that�s going just a little bit too far.

�� Anyway, we chowed down, heavily. Roast rabbit for breakfast, with fresh crunchy raw vegetables and fruit juice from our cooler supply. I haven�t eaten this well, or this healthily, in years. Combined with no smoking and the very moderate drinking over the last few days, I feel like the proverbial million bucks.

�� Getting lots of good exercise helps too, of course, and after the way I woke her up and fed her in such championship style, Amy dragged me back into bed for some voracious feeding of her own. As promised her oral technique was unbelievable, and so I felt obliged to return the favor. I have my own little skills, naturally, and her screaming climax must have been audible for miles. Afterwards, she confessed rather shyly that no one had ever done that for her before. I guess I got to show her a thing or two after all.

�� Anyway, after that we went back to bed, all cuddled up cozy together in our little love wagon, and slept and lounged and snuggled most of the whole damn day. Why not? Now it�s evening, and Amy�s washing up in the little stream that runs by here. There�s a fairly deep pool, full of minnows and shiners if bracingly cold. I can see her pointy little nipples from here, hard and sharp enough to cut your tongue ...

�� Damn, this little journal�s becoming downright pornographic. After years of boring entries I�ve got some real entering going on. Well, I better go help her out. Grab the shampoo, and a cup, and wash that beautiful honey-lovely hair for her. Then start thinking about dinner.

26 sept 199-

�� Well, I finally got to try out Amy�s brand new rod & reel, and what a memorable occasion it was.

�� We were cruising along west, the yellow sun warm in our faces and promising a beautiful set, when we passed a huge, rolling golf course. Bingo. For myself, I think golf is the stupidest game in the world. Bunch of rich, elitist, racist pricks with bad taste in clothes puttering around on carts. That�s exercise? That�s a sport? And what an unjustifiable waste of prime real estate! Anyway, the one thing I do like about golf (besides Caddyshack) is the big open water hazards salted around the course. Full of bass, half the time, and no challenge at all to an experienced midnight fisherman like me. Believe it, when it comes to clandestine fishing missions, I�m Gollum, not Bilbo. And I have yet to reach my Henneth Ann�n.

�� So anyway we drove on past, doubled back and around, and eventually found a nearby dirt road hidden in a treebelt to park and camp in. Then I left Amy to set up and went back in the twilight to reconnoiter. Found the water traps, and the best way in. Saw a few fish jumping and everything. Returned to Amy, and we spent the early evening drinking a few beers and getting psyched for the adventure. Caught quite a good buzz, too. Made catching bait quite a chore. Now, if I could only stumble across some shifty cat�s marijuana patch! Oh well. Truth be told, I don�t actually miss it that much. I�ve got better things to concentrate on. Hell, maybe I no longer need to anesthetize myself to get thru life. Cool! Amy, my love, where have you been all these years? Wait, I know, don�t remind me. Better question: Amy, my love, stay with me forever, won�t you?

�� Anyway, once midnight rolled around, we prepped for the mission and went. Dressed in dark clothes, we hooded the flashlights, got the necessary gear and slipped over there. Then over the fence and in. Beautiful night, of course, with visual purple and the light of several hundred distantly shining suns making the flashlights totally superfluous. Off with them. Then down the dewy fairways, past the sand to the greens, all unseen. Then to the pond.

�� Most of the cattails had been slashed away or poisoned, for whatever compelling aesthetic reason the golfing group had, so the frogs here had little place to hide. Before long it was obvious the bass were used to munching on them to their hearts� delight, and were uninterested in my worms and insects. What I�d have given for a good lure, a jitterbug maybe. Gamely we swapped the pole back and forth, (as sweet a piece of equipment as you could ever ask for), but had little luck.

�� Finally we got bored, and sitting on the green I took a huge wad of worms, baited and weighted the hook considerably and tossed it way out there in the middle. Then I backed up, wedged the pole in the cup (perfect, that little flag-hole) and we kicked back to look at the stars. Thousands of them, in the deep black of 2 a.m., and it was as fascinating, compelling, and romantic as ever.

�� Meanwhile the well-manicured green was firm and silky beneath us, we were a little drunk and one thing led naturally to another. Soon I was taking my little Amy again, hard, right there on the green, with the starshine reflected in her eyes and my toes digging divots in the turf. Sorry, you rich-ass bastards. Oh well, that�s what they hire some poor black greenskeeper for.

�� Anyway, we�re right in the riotous middle of the act when of course the fishing pole starts thrashing around, something�s on the line. I leap out of Amy, abandoning her in mid-gasp, and run all panhandled & nagoy (a little Clockwork Orange slang for you) over to the pole.

�� Of course, I trip in my panicked hurry, doing more undeserved damage to the green, and come up all grass-stained and dirty. Amy�s laughing her ass off, and I finally get to the pole just as it pops out of the hole and goes skittering down the bank. Something big�s on the line, and I have to stand there naked and fight it for a good five minutes or so. Meanwhile my mischievous little Amy comes up behind, puts her arms around me and grabs my deflating dick at half-mast. No no no, we can�t have that. Quickly she coaxes it back up, her fingers as tricky as a prestidigitator. Then as I�m reeling and heaving and fighting this fish she starts jerking me, holding me firmly from behind, laughing away and ignoring my pleas for her to stop. So we�re standing there, naked and dirty by this pond in the middle of the night, drunk, laughing like lunatics, with Amy tugging and jerking, her other hand creeping around to massage my balls and me sticking out as hard and rigid as a railroad spike, all as I try to fight this serious fish.

�� Finally I get it in, (the fish, that is, not little Elvis) and it�s a big old catfish, about two feet long. I eventually get the hook out, with Amy still fondling and teasing me the whole while, and so I start swinging the damn fish at her, holding him by the gill and slapping her bare butt with its slimy side, trying to fight her off, and she�s giggling and dancing around and then of course she trips and falls in the water, splash splash, and then I�m laughing like a drunken hyena. Finally I threw the fish on the green, flip flop flop, and waded in to help her.

�� She immediately pushed me down of course, and then we splashed and thrashed and giggled and fought and eventually had utterly unbelievable aqua-sex by the light of the late-rising moon. Then at last we washed each other off and got dressed, deciding we�d pressed our luck enough for one night. Back to the campsite, then, and a late-late night dinner you wouldn�t believe. Fresh catfish, fried in beer batter and butter and a little salt ...

�� Then finally to bed, and with dawn coming up we slept the morning and most of the afternoon away. Amy�s still crashed out pretty as you please as I write this. No travel today. What a night. Man, I love that little girl.

29 sept 199-

�� Did I say the other day this was like some kind of dream vacation? I believe the word I was looking for was honeymoon. Because if Amy & I aren�t man and wife yet, I don�t know what it takes. Certainly not any bullshit religious rituals. Say what you want about mystical revelations, (I�ve had a few -- take enough hallucinogens and you will too) I doubt the mysteries of the universe were solved by wandering desert nomads too ignorant to comprehend the mechanics of rainfall. And as for the eyes of the state -- I�ll let Joni Mitchell say it:

�� We don�t need no piece of paper from the city hall

�� keepin� us tied and true

�� Anyway, I�m ranting. I don�t even need an audience to hold forth anymore, I guess. So back to the original topic: this is a honeymoon, our honeymoon, damn it, in the eyes of the only true heavens out there.

�� I call to witness the stars, the myriad bright quintessence of beauty and power: givers of all known life, the ancient and primordial if blissfully insentient eyes of the universe. Under those piercing eyes we�ve consecrated our love for each other over and over again, taking this precious time in a delicious natural idyll to do what life was meant to do: reproduce.

�� Or at least try. If Amy is indeed sterile, beaten into barrenness by her monstrous brother, you�ll have to prove it to us. We make love nearly all time, in the cozy cave of the car or more often out under the imponderable sky; in the hot, sunny blaze of the September afternoon or the brilliant starry cool of the endless night. We do it during bright, beautifully precious early dawns and long, slowly creeping dusks. For hours our tangled bodies give testament to the yearning spirit within, and in ecstasy our souls are joined and sing aloud the ancient, primitive paean:

�� Together as one we greet our mother the sun

�� We bid her farewell the same way every day

�� With slow deep strokes of unbounded love

�� and fast, breathless thrashings of unbridled passion.

�� Man, listen to me, I�m waxing poetic. My college profs would�ve cut me apart. Well, if a man can�t indulge in a few unnecessary adjectives in his own journal, than where the hell can he? I�m speaking from the heart here, and that�s what�s important. Value content, not form. Who will ever see it anyway?