Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer by Jamie Ott (drm ebook reader txt) đ
- Author: Jamie Ott
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After Bally showed him the main adjustments to his property, he took him back inside the house. He pulled out a pot of stewed venison and rice, which he heated on the stove.
Lunch was just the uplift that Jacko needed. The venison was so tasty but hard to chew.
Bally put in a funny movie during which Jacko fell into hysterics. It felt strange to laugh, and it felt so good that he made himself laugh even harder than he needed. He forced it through his tears, through his fear, and through his sadness.
Why couldnât he just escape his fate? Hide out there with his Uncle?
~~~
The next day, Jacko woke with a minor ache in his lower back. His bed was sunk so low in the middle that his rear touched the box springs.
In the living room, Uncle Bally was bent over, lacing up his boots with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
On the television, a woman was broadcasting the weather. âClear, grey skies,â she said.
âCoffee,â he said with clenched teeth, âin the kitchen. Grab yourself a piece of fruit because we gotta go.â
Jacko wandered into the kitchen where a piece of linoleum, sticking up, nailed him in the ball of his foot.
Despite the dubious look of the old yellow coffee pot, which Jacko was sure his Uncle Bally probably never cleaned, he poured himself a cup and grabbed a banana.
Back in the living room, the anchor lady was talking about what an unusual week it had been.
â⊠Rain has stopped in most parts of the country, but the Earth, itself, will not restâŠâ then there were shots to places where people were trying to get about, but were having a hard time walking on the ever-trembling ground. âIn other parts of the country, there is little sunlight, and though weâre pressing the government for answers, there is still no explanation as to why the skies remain unchanged, or where the clouds have gone. Activists blame manâs global warming, saying that if theyâd reduced chemicals in the atmosphere sooner, than this wouldnât have happen.â
His uncle turned off the television. âI donât understand why they keep putting out that global warming crap! Somethingâs happening, alright, and it ainât got nothing to do with us.â
âWhat do you suppose, then?â he asked around a mouthful of fruit.
âItâs God! âAnd the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and threw it to the earth. And there were noises, thunderings, lightnings, and an earthquake. So the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first angel sounded: And hail and fire followed, mingled with blood, and they were thrown to the earth. And a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up,â revelations.â
Whoa, thought Jacko.
He was so off, yet so close.
âPut on your shoes; letâs go.â
âWhy?â
âI started setting up a miniature green house down in the shelter. We need to gather seeds to try and grow down there; although Iâm no green thumb. More like black touch of death, but weâll try anyway. I got this book though.â He walked over to the mantle. âMaybe you can look it over later. Plants require gentle kind of caring, which Iâm unable to provide. But first, weâre going hunting. Some pigs have been burrowing out by the river.â
âHuntingâs not my thing.â
âWhat do you mean, itâs not your âthing?â What do you think we ate last night? What are you gonna eat when all the meat, in the grocery stores, spoils? Hunting is the ancient nobility. Now, come on, boy. Youâre gonna stay here, you gotta contribute.â
He stubbed out his cigarette, grabbed a gun and a large net that lay on the floor and walked out.
Thirty minutes later, they were following a trail that seemed to be leading them to the river. He talked the whole way, telling Jacko the difference between mountain lion and dog tracks, deer and reindeer, and how to track boars or capture squirrels.
âYou see them holes right there. Pigs digging up some tubers, I bet. They may even rest near here. Weâre gonna track âem down that way --â he pointed to some faint tracks and chewed shrub. âNow if we can catch us some, great. Likely, theyâll run back here. Once weâve chased them back around here, youâll use this, here, net to catch one. Iâd give you a gun, but I donât trust you. Iâll shoot one and youâll net one, and weâll have enough meat to last six months.â
Jacko was intrigued by his uncleâs fervor. He wondered if that was the way the demons looked at him: like a pig running across country.
After walking through the forest, another twenty minutes or so, Jacko started to wish he was anywhere but there. The cold touched, easily, through his light parka and sweater. He longed for another hot cup of coffee that was still in the pot back at the house.
Some time passed when his uncle suddenly put out his arm like a bar to his chest. Shhh, he mimicked with his finger to his lips.
Gently, he raised the binoculars that hung around his neck to his eyes, and then motioned to Jacko to stay still.
He watch as Uncle Bally walked carefully to a small space between two trees whose limbs hung down, obscuring Jackoâs vision so he couldnât quite see what Bally was looking at.
He put the gun up to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. Then there was the sound of many feet, running.
âSee that, Jacko! Thatâs how they communicate: gruntinâ and squealinâ! Letâs go!â
He walked, fast, past Jacko.
âThese pigs have a real routine! Now I just shot the tree to scare them, but I know where theyâre going. If we play our cards right, we could catch two of them.â
As quiet as they could, they back tracked, only veering off the trail just slightly. It didnât take long for them to find several of them standing by a small stream of the river, drinking and lying about.
âNow, how weâre gonna do this is youâre gonna stand here, okay?â Uncle Bally whispered, mimicking positions with his hands. âIâm gonna go around and shoot one. Now theyâll get scared and, Iâm bettinâ, their gonna come right through here, right at you, because up that way is a dead end cliff. Pigs remember things like that. Also, donât underestimate their strength. Theyâre shaped differently, but that doesnât mean they arenât heavy, fast or strong. Donât break your neck, just try to catch one, and weâll be set for quite a while.â
Jacko looked at the pigs that barely reached past his knees and thought they couldnât be that hard to catch.
Poised, net at the ready, he waited for Bally to come around.
It happened quicker than Jacko expected.
Uncle Bally stood out along the side of the clearing. The pigs had yet to notice. He took aim and shot the largest one. Jacko was relieved, but he didnât have long to linger on that feeling because the four other pigs came charging toward the only clear spot, which was right where he stood.
They ran like miniature charging bulls. He didnât know they could be so agile!
Jackoâs heart pounded.
The first two approached.
He swung the net, but the pigs ran around and between his legs while the other two ran off the trail and into the bush.
âWell, donât just stand there, boy! Get one!â
He turned and ran. It took every ounce of strength to catch up to the fast little blighters. His net was raised skyward.
Suddenly, the two pigs that went into the bush appeared, nearly knocking Jacko over. He didnât hesitate. He flung the net at once, holding the pole as hard as he could.
It landed over the smallest one, entirely, but instead of stopping, it yanked on the net with such force that Jacko slammed flat onto his front, and then it dragged him for a couple of yards before he was able to dig his feet into the ground and heel himself up.
The pig, which didnât stop trying to escape, further entangled himself in the net until it was lying on its side.
His uncle walked up behind, âWe-e-ell, looks like the pig took you on a trip!â
He laughed hysterically at his clever pun.
Jacko looked down his muddy front.
âBoy, you need a bath,â he laughed jovially. âGood job.â
âHeâs such a little guy, though. Maybe we should let him go.â
Looking over at the pig, he concurred. âYeah, you may be right.â He tugged the cord and shook the net, and the pig ran off, honking.
âWell, come on, boy. Iâm gonna show you a thing or two about cleaning a kill.â
They walked over to the water where the dead pig lay. He heaved it onto his shoulder, and then Jacko followed him back to the house.
When heâd set the pig on his cutting table, he said, âFirst thing you need to remember is to give thanks to the lord. You just killed a living thing; it gave up its life for you. Second, you never cut any of the organs if you donât want disease and pea and poo runninâ all over your food. Water is the universal solvent but it doesnât work on all bacteria and virusâ.â
He, then, took his foot long machete-like knife and made a cut from the bottom up, baring all the animalâs organs.
âNext, you cut here and here. Normally you can skin an animalâs hide real easy, but this one weâre gonna save most of. Donât know if youâve ever had pigskin, but it sure is good: too good to waste. Weâre gonna keep the head, which has ample meat on it. In other countries, it would be wasteful to throw it away. Some like to keep the eyes and eat those too, but I donât care for them.â
âWhy are you saving the guts again?â he asked, looking at the mound heâd placed in foil.
âTo lure other animals; for fishing and to set traps,â he replied incredulously, rolling his eyes. âMan, you city kids get things too easy, I tell you what. It makes you dumb is what it does.â
He threw the newly gutted body of the pig over his shoulder, and disappeared into the house.
The rest of the day, Jacko spent reading about planting while Bally worked on his irrigation system down in the green house.
Later, they sat down in the living room and watched the news over dinner. For the most part, the world was unchanged, except for sunlight that broke out at the North Pole for a few hours.
The next morning, Uncle Bally took Jacko out into the forest to track a deer. Earlier, heâd seen some half eaten leaves and scat lying about. This time, he wanted Jacko to lead the way and kill one.
âSee, youâre gonna find the most activity if you can get up and look around at sunrise or before. You know, thatâs when animals get going. Somehow, itâs like they know theyâre less likely to meet people, which is exactly why a hunter gets up earlier. Besides, some animals rest when itâs hottest, which is afternoon and you donât want to be out here at that time, neither.
Only problem is sometimes tracks and scat arenât reliable. Dew might make scat look moist, or other predators might have tracked the animal first. Despite all the external factors, when you see activity, you see the patterns; then you know where to hunt.â Bally, slapped him on shoulder, âSee, look over there,â he pointed.
âDonât you think youâve got enough meat for now?â
âThatâs a really good
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