Melvin's Mellowing Drama

A dark cloud hovered out in the distance warning Melvin Craig that he needed soul searching and a few extra minutes enjoying a scenic drive could be the best thing for the individual traveling home. Replacing getting to the destination faster with the message reflecting peacefully for a moment the point was justified. Knowing exactly where the outlook peak lied was a major reason for the American now defined as a native in accepting the course change.

For many generations, the restaurant marker served as a landmark guiding the troubled to a spot where they can spend a second focusing on a natural message. As for the eating establishment Long John’s Pirate Cove is where Melvin throughout the line, “Would you marry me?” and his former college sorority big sister was hooked into honoring his name and during the next twenty-five years neither one of them regretted stating the vows.

Putting the car in park Melvin stepped out feeling the breeze from the waterway below cooling the angry sensation taunting his bones by rattling the skeleton being haunted with a paranoid fear. Taking change out the family man figure climbed one step up to activate the tourist binoculars.

It was then he observed the red crimson color plaguing the tide as the bloody white caps surfaced its violent hand, “such a shame a gory sight cursing this placid image, it was my fault,” he mumbled to himself, “I made that meeting with the Demon Deacon, and antagonized that gator who already was dealing with mental health luggage.”

Returning back to solid earthly ground the Seminole guilt started to set in, “Everything was going great until those Leprechauns spent the holiday, how did I know that would make the Demon Deacon jealous.”

Still trying to cope Melvin crossed the street entering the air conditioning provided by the Long John’s Pirate Cove establishment and there sitting at the bar was a Leprechaun enjoying a boilermaker. “Oh, my dear Seminole friend, you look like a Spartan who did a rain dance and it turned into a Hurricane washing out the whole Saturday night!”

Melvin stopped right in his tracks and turned green with a glowing tinge, “my dear Seminole you look like you have come in contact with a wealthy tease, have you been cutting successful investment deals?”

“As a matter a fact I have, let me see I helped a demon deacon create a lucrative potion that gave a gator great strength and early the next morning when the crow woke everybody up there was total carnage in the lake.”

“Well, I encountered that last week this peacock had plans for a rocket,” suddenly the Leprechaun was shushed,

“And” Melvin wanted more information.

“It was just like our meeting earlier this month, fun, anyway Melvin, what are you worried about, someone getting kicked out of heaven?”

“It’s the Demon Deacon, he scares me,” Melvin was being honest.

For a few moments, the Leprechaun did some pondering and then lights displaying rainbow colors flashed revealing a guitar. “Here,” the Leprechaun took a breath “Melvin this instrument is a weapon, play it real loud and the Demon Deacon will go nuts, do not play any Irish Catholic jigs instead nice hard rock maybe about where the devil lives or how one should introduce themselves.”

“But Mr. Leprechaun, those songs have evil lyrics.”

“Melvin,” the Leprechaun responded, “I sit on a pot of gold with clenched fists, it is the proper way to do things especially after downing a few boilermakers.”

When Saturday rolled around Melvin had a take charge attitude heading north to visit the Demon Deacon while the stringed ax rode shot gun. When he arrived the Demon Deacon was doing the afternoon delight weekend fetish, ‘working on the motor bike.’

“Mr. Seminole welcome, are you ready to play?”

“Yes,” Melvin answered strumming like it was a banjo.