Apparently lightning does strike twice in the same place. At Alvin’s home, tucked away in the Burmese jungle, hidden by the large leaf tropical plants, marinating in the humidity, there was a tree that sat just outside the window to Alvin’s bedroom. He’d bought the house because the locals said it was auspicious. He believed it gave him a special pass that no harm would come to the place, or his family – afterall, it had already been struck twice.
The Texan kicked the clay earth with his cowboy boots. Sounds barked from around him. Monkeys, bears and his tiger could be heard pacing, yawning and hooting, at various intervals. He heard the monkey rattling its cage, wanting his attention. She’d just have to wait, he had things to think about today. He wasn’t sure when things became so complicated.
It was that girl. Patrick’s wife. She’d made him feel almost…what was that? Exposed maybe? She’d laughed at him when he said John Galt was a hero.
“But John Galt got off the world – he gave up. He’s sanctimonious and never changes,” she said.
“He stood up for something he believed in,” Alvin replied.
She just shook her head, as if she understood the bigger picture and he was holding on to an idealistic notion that would never be realised. She saw right through him and laughed out loud when he summed up who he was.
“At the end of the day kiddo, I’m just a good old-fashioned Texas cowboy.”
“I guess Burma is one way to get off the world,” was her reply.
© running with the beagle 2010