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| "I have a message from the universe, but never mind." Photo by Joe |
On a warm late-September afternoon in 1939, 30-year old Jimmy "New Man" Neandertal - so named because of his penchant for reinventing himself - was following the Southern Railway mainline north out of Charlottesville, Virginia, deep in thought. He was formulating the next incarnation of his persona, and felt that he was getting close.
"I feel that I am getting close," he said over his shoulder, in the direction of his traveling companion, a fellow hobo five years his senior, by the name of Hugo Stares. "Wanna hear what I've come up with? Hugo?" He turned to find the space previously occupied by Hugo now fully empty, save for a few gnats and a nosey dragonfly. Hugo had stopped about thirty feet back, and was now standing between the rails of a switch that led to a long siding. He was staring into a dogwood tree, hands on hips. Jimmy rolled his eyes and backtracked his way to where Hugo was standing with his gaze fixed somewhat accusingly on a sparrow sitting in the dogwood.
"Whaddaya suppose this guy's problem is?" Hugo growled, not interrupting his stare-down with the bird, who seemed puzzled, but undeterred from his chirping. "What the hell you want, ya dumb bird? What you think he wants, Jimmy?"
Jimmy looked at the sparrow, and the bird gave him a look in return, one that said, If I could shrug, sir, I most assuredly would. "I would be apt to wager that your diminutive avian acquaintance desires only what any sparrow would have - a meal, a song, a mate, and a nest - not necessarily in that order."
"Well I don't like him."
"Peep!" said the bird, as he made a tiny hop to the left and bent forward slightly, possibly in preparation for departure.
"My friend, it would behoove you to stand clear of that switch," Jimmy suggested, "lest you wish to find yourself here and there, a victim of the oft-overdue local freight, on its way to utilize this very siding at any moment."
Hugo finally turned his attention from the bird to his hobo companion. The sparrow decided that this was as good a time as any to depart, and departed - vanished really. "I see the switch, Jimmy - wait. Why you talkin' like that? That sounds familiar..." He thought for half a beat. "Say - are you quoting Foreign Tomas, The Strangetalker?"
"Um, yes - I guess so. More or less. That's what I was trying to tell you when I discovered that you had been waylaid by that malevolent presence, perched as it was so menacingly in a dogwood tree that you were left with no choice other than to engage it in an inter-species verbal tussle with nary a point in mind..."
Hugo was staring at his friend, now. "What's wrong with you?"
Jimmy shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just tired of expressing myself, you know, not good. So, while my aim is not to imitate Foreign Tomas, or to be the next Foreign Tomas, I do indeed aspire to a more refined manner of verbal expression."
"Oh, I get it. You fixin' to become a new man again, mister New Man Neandertal? Again?"
"I am. It's what I do."
"Your pop was a two-star general in the Great War, and you guys was set to ride out the Depression just fine, but you took off, because you liked trains..."
"True enough," Jimmy agreed.
"And you decided to live up to your family name of Neandertal - never did understand how that could really be your actual honest to god name, by the way - and you spent your first five years as a 'bo using nothin' but grunts to communicate."
"Right. Admittedly not my most savvy move..."
"Yeah - you suffered more ass-whoopings than a delinquent in a nunnery - and that was mostly before I met you. Then, you assumed that tough, hunky Johnstown steel mill foreman persona. I gotta admit, you got the accent down pat, but you were not believable as a tough boss man type."
"Not my proudest few years," Jimmy sighed. "But I made it through, and you must admit, these last couple of years of being super-laid-back South Florida hobo Jim have worked okay for me."
"Eh... So-so, buddy. Everyone just thinks you're slow or something. And yeah - on the one hand, that takes the pressure off of me tryin' not to be the dumb one, but on the other hand, I kinda like bein' the dumb one, man! Fellas would ask me how I manage, takin' care of myself and my slow friend, and I had to just shrug like an idiot, and they'd walk away goin' 'well, birds of a feather and all that...' I hated it."
Jimmy put his hand on Hugo's shoulder. "I'm sorry, friend. I've been trying to put a stop to that dynamic for some time now. I only just came up with this 'talk like a smart and/or weird guy' persona. I memorized a lot of Foreign Tomas' sayings, and I think I can extrapolate from there. I think I can talk better. More interesting, you know?"
Hugo had found a wooly bear caterpillar making its way north on the polished steel of the outer rail of the Southern main, and he stopped to stare it down. "I dunno, Jimmy. Sounds like you might be headed for a whole bunch more ass whoopin's. Now, whaddaya suppose this little monster's beef is? What's your problem, fella?"
"Well, I intend to try it on for size, my old friend. I shall eat time and convert it to life, watching seconds become inklings, minutes begetting thoughts, and so forth... You're not even listening to me, are you?"
Hugo was not listening. Hugo was gearing up for a decidedly one-sided altercation with an insect.
"Good talk, Hugo. Good talk."
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