The Angels Saga - Sword of Andorra - The Life of Damien 4

[Comics, Coins, Stamps, Collectables & Gaming]

The Life of Damien 4
Totambimberiel looked at the boat. 'It's a sailboat, Damien.'
'That it is,' replied Damien. 'Mornington's finest.'
Totambimberiel and Damien were at Mornington, on the coast of south-east Androvon. There were roads from Paradision to the coast on the east. Tracks and things. You went up into the south Tinderry's and navigated dirt tracks and got to the coast in time. The roads were unsealed. It wasn't that there wasn't money to seal them. That wasn't the point. They were meant to be unsealed. They were Cooma through Numerella to the coast in mentality – dirt track was the way to go. And then you got to Mornington. Mornington smelled like and old English village mixed with the township of Narooma on the South-east coast of New South Wales Australia. There were 'Daly's' in Mornington. In Haven Noahide Fellowship. On the south side of town. They studied 'Morning Stars' in the Angels saga – the Daniel Daly's introduction the records of the Children of Destiny. They prayed a spirit of 'Glimmersphon & Golden Lake' over Mornington and the immediate oceanic surrounds. Jagged bits were required. Saruviel was prayed into stormy weather. 'A good dab of seventhborn' said the HNF Pastor. 'That will keep Mornington amused.' Mornington citizens often appreciated the joke. But scattered abode items when it got rough with the storms always brought out the wry grin that this was bloody Mornington and the weather didn't get that severe. But every few decades, a bit of bluster, and a bit of a bitch of a storm, and the residents would say 'Fricking Storm Saruviel' for a week. It was all quite amusing. HNF liked the jokes.
'Sad,' said Totambimberiel. 'If that's the finest they have.'
'They don't push at building Australia 2, mate,' said Damien. 'Steady as we go, chap, the boatbuilders here say. We're not trying to rule the darn world. We're Mornington. Please calm down.'
'Understood,' said Totambimberiel. 'Well, it's a boat. That's what we are here for. It will do.'
'It shall suffice,' said Damien. He munched on his chips with fish and tartare sauce, and smiled. 'This is well planned, of course. Way back when the team got going with Torah 2. Funny idea. King David, you know. He mocks me. Says my whole existence is a sham. Pointless effort at redefining reality. Will never get anywhere.'
'But it goes on, and the records are being studied which are online so far,' replied Totambimberiel.
'The source material. The final product is still years away. Anyway, let's get aboard, and get out there. Time for the sea life,' said Damien.
'If you say so,' replied Totambimberiel the Cherubim.
They took to boat, hoisted the sails, raised the anchor, and took to sea. They sailed along Mornington harbour, headed north. A hundred yards or so north of the pier, were the sailboat had been anchored, they passed 'The Lady of the Morning'. The Lady of the Morning was a statue, an elaborate and beautiful maiden, who greeted the morning sea. She was the work of a Mornington artist, a sarcastic soul, who had lived in Mornington in early years, but drifted up the coast to old Sydney town. The Lady of the Morning was, of course, naked, and if you got up on the rock she was attached to, and gawked in through her folded legs, you could just catch a glimpse of her rude bits. It was often a sledging point in Mornington, whether you'd had the balls to gawk at the Lady's privates or not. Mornington people would often go down for a morning swim in summer, and, of course, throughout the year, and had a habit of greeting the 'Lady of the Morning'. She was not completely dissimilar to Copenhagen's 'Little Mermaid' statue in Denmark. It was the same sort of material used, placed in a similar sized rock, though the pose was slightly differing. A similar concept though, and Danish people had heard of the Lady of the Morning and often breezed into town to look her over. As they passed the Lady, Damien gave her a little bow, which brought a chuckle from Totambimberiel.
'The Man in the Shack,' said Damien. 'Let's us travel up coast.'
The boat sailed north. They sky was blue, and there were clouds. Fluffy ones.
'Sea. It has a smell,' said Damien.
'Noticeable. Fresh, I think. The oceans recycle earth's crap regularly,' replied Totambimberiel.
'They do, don't they,' replied Damien. 'It all sort of sinks down into the depths and gets cleaned out. Good point.'
'This is a decent boat. Not flimsy,' said Totambimberiel.
'Mornington believe in being professional,' replied Damien. 'And taking their time with their works. To make sure standards are achieved.'
'The new bible should do that,' said Totambimberiel. 'Professional. The approach. Not excitable. Daniel the Jew, probably of David's house.... Like Isaiah. They were a bit excitable. Jesus picked up that spiritual thread. Liked the zeal. It causes a lot of problems. Hell, yeah, it gets people over rebellion a lot of the time. Hellfire and brimstone teaching does that. But it's too damn excitable at times. We need a Plan B also. We probably need both, but we really do need a plan B as well.'
'Calmer waters,' said Damien.
'What we need, Damo,' said Totambimberiel.
They sailed on, around the head. The shack came into view on the beach. A beachcomber. The old man. Wasn't really old. Just wore a scraggly beard, and dressed in dissheveled pants with thongs and a shirt which was weather worn. He was in front of his shack. They came ashore.
'Eat fish,' said the man. They ate fish.
'The beach provides like the land. The city does, but you need mankind's knowledge to cope. The natural world of land and sea – primal instincts will get you there. God's backup plans for challenged lives. You can always make it in nature if the rat race is too tough.'
'Wise,' said Totambimberiel.
'Thanks,' replied the old man. They finished their fish.
'Ever return to the rat race?' asked Damien.
The old man stood. 'Look at these pants. Tattered. Look at this shirt. Tattered. Sunbleached and tattered. I live in nature's paradise. Got a woman, you know? Yes. Yes, the old man has pussy. Mornington chick. Drives up the highway every few weeks. Drops in. We get amorous. She brings me big macs and things. I'm happy, dudes. I have everything. The rat race? Forget about it.'
Damien stood, sipped on the apple cider provided, and nodded. 'Wisdom.'
They headed back to the boat, and off to see. They went out – into the deep blue. Anchor was thrown down.
'It's a storm,' said Totambimberiel, looking eastward. 'Not a terrible one, probably. But it's a storm.'
'We'll ride it out,' replied Damien.
Later, it blew, and there was thunder, and there was lightning, and they were below deck, sipping whisky, candle burning, playing cards. Thunder would crack. They'd look at each other nervously. It was torrid for half an hour, then started settling, and the rain set in. They got to bed, though it was just after 6 in the evening. Damen woke at 4 the following morning. All was calm. He went up deck. Things were in a bit of disarray. He tied sails back in place, and adjusted things which had come loose. He made coffee then, and Tot got up.
'We'll head back now. Have brekkie at the cafe,' said Damien.
The sun was rising as they came into Mornington pier. The lady of the Morning had greeted them, and Damien queried whether she was in the mood for a bit. Totambimberiel replied that she was a bit of a stiff personality. Damien smiled. They sailed to their place in the pier, roped up, and hit the cafteria. Lattes and croissants.
'The good life,' said Damien, smiling at the early morning Mornington citizens.
'The good life,' replied Totambimberiel. And soon they were back in their hotel room, the day planned for internet work with their laptops, the following morn the second boat trip before returning home. The good life.
* * * * *
'It's cold,' said Totambimberiel. 'And it's raining lightly. It's too damn early to be on the streets.'
Damien sat on the street bench in the city centre, as it were, of Mornington. It was 5 in the morning, still dark, but dawn was coming. It was cold. It was a bit miserable.
'Look,' said Damien. '5.05, right on time.' A big rig came into down with a big Woolworths sign on it, turned a corner, and pulled into the Woolworths supermarket back lot. 'They'll be busy a while,' said Damien. 'Watch at quarter past.' At quarter past a fat man started jogging past them in a Mickey Mouse T-Shirt with track pants. He settled in the park just in front of them. 'He'll do 3 pushups,' Damien said to Totambimberiel. The man did that, puffed a lot, and went back the way he came.
'Funny,' said Totambimberiel.
Around 5.40 it was starting to get light. 'Come on, it opens at 6.' They made it to the cafeteria. It was open. 'First a paper,' said Damien. The newsagency next door had its door ajar. 'Morning paper?' asked Damien. The woman looked at him.
'Fine. No problems then, but I can legally only take cash till we open at 6:30.'
Damien gave her a $2 coin, and she gave him the Mornington News. They sat, they ate croissants, drank lattes, and Damien read out some articles in full.
'This I think is a useful tradition. Reading out loud the articles. It's a major stimuli for thought and action. Reading them of course, but also out loud.'
'Point taken,' replied Totambimberiel.
'Let's go,' said Damien. They headed to the Pier. The boat was fine. Anchor was lifted, and they headed out to sea.
They sailed up beach, and put anchor down at the Lady of the Morning.
'Mona Lisa has a vagina too,' said Damien.
'Mona Lisa does not allow randy drunk teenage boys from Sydney town on holiday to feel up her vagina for a laugh,' replied Totambimberiel. Damien laughed.
'Course not. Only Roman ones,' replied Damien.
Tot smiled. 'You think there's a real lady?' asked Damien.
'Probably,' said Totambimberiel. 'His aunt Dolly, or something like that. Childhood crush.'
'Yeh. Who knows,' said Damien. He steadied his tripod and aimed the camera carefully. 'I think it's still enough now,' he said.
'Take the shots,' said Totambimberiel.
Damien took two dozen photographs of the Lady of the Morning. The camera was not a digital one – it was a traditional one with film.
'I think I got her well enough,' he said to Totambimberiel as he pulled up the anchor. They carried on, up around the head, and foun the old man's shack. He wasn't in sight. They came ashore. The fish was frying. They started eating it. Shortly, the old man came from alonng the beach.
'Crabs,' he said. 'They'll taste great later on.'
Damien and Totambimberiel smiled.
'The Man on the Mountain does visit the big smoke. It's a once a century thing. Once in a regular lifetime thing. Goes in, he sells his gold of course, I sell my beachcombing best finds, invests the money into the savings plan, and he heads to the brothel for a massage, while I head to the donut store and then the fried chicken takeaway I like. Stay the night, morning at one of the classic takeaway chains, then homeward bound.
'So of course, the funds are still building towards Empire. The savings plan,' said Damien.
'Depends on what the business plan is,' said the old man. 'Mine is well sorted.'
'Millennia still to go?' queried Totambimberiel.
'Quite a few,' replied the old man. 'But this centuries beach finds have been quite decent so far. A few decent treasures of note. Especially a Swatch which I waited a few days for people to return for. Nobody showed, I added it to the findings.'
'How much will you clear this century?' asked Damien.
'Probably a few thousand as usual. It's slow, but that is the whole point. Planning the Empire – it takes millennia of forethought.'
'Course,' said Damien.
'It would have to,' replied Totambimberiel.
They headed to sea. The dolphins showed. Mornington's dolphins.
'Beaker and Squeaker,' said Damien. 'And I think that's Molly with them.'
'Looks like it,' said Totambimberiel.
The dolphins swam around the boat as it travelled out.
'Got the fish?' asked Tot.
Damien brought out the tuna. They came to the side of the sailboat. 'Dolphins of Mornington, pride of the sea,' said Damien.
The dolphins heads bobbed up and they began squeaking their talk. Damien threw the tuna. The dolphins grabbed it with their jaws and wolfed them down. When he was finished Damien said 'Pride of the Sea.' The dolphins squeaked again, and headed off. They put down anchor later that day. Cards were played, whisky was drank, sea shanty's were on the stereo. The rain that night was light. Around 5 in the morning Totambimberiel got up, and made them coffee. He headed them back to Mornington.
'Good coffee,' said Damien, sipping it, looking at the seagulls and the burly ocean in the light of dawn.
'Good to be alive too,' said Totambimberiel. They made the pier, anchored the boat, and headed to the cafeteria. Croissants and lattes, as usual.
'The conclusion,' said Damien, is that we should work hard each year. As time goes by we should be quite dedicated to our jobs. Because when the holidays come around, they are capable of becoming better and better all the time with good planning. Life rewards us well with good things.'
'Good life,' said Totambimberiel.
They drove the highway back to Paradision. An extensive chat with Boaz and Ruth was given. Boaz seemed pretty happy with the dialogue. Damien was pleased. His life destiny had hit an A this time. Life was good.
The End