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Farmer, Philip Jose – Riverworld 06 – ( Shorts) Tales of Riverworld

But she could be found again.

Though he might have to search for a hundred years, he would find her.

Surely, God understood his great love for her. He would not be jealous because his creature, Dante Alighieri, loved Beatrice more than he loved his Creator.

Dante’s last thought dwindled into darkness. Forgive … didn’t mean tha…

Graceland

Alien Steete

“… strange days, it seems…”

“I miss me gold tooth,” Keith said.

He was sitting on the edge of the oak stage, his bare legs dangling over the bamboo-slat front. The Mersey Zombies were taking a break during the sound check. A couple of Titanthrop stagehands were making themselves busy, checking the electrical cables for burn-throughs in the fish-skin insulation and rearranging the massive stacks of speakers. In the sound booth, located in the middle of the open-air amphitheater’s seating area, the King was haranguing some luckless techie about the recurrent feedback problems from the mikes; they couldn’t hear what was being said, but the King’s ring-encrusted forefinger was jabbing back and forth and the techie’s head was alternately nodding, shaking, nodding, shaking, as if keeping time: yes sir Elvis, no sir Elvis, yes sir Elvis, no sir Elvis…

“You miss your tooth.” Sitting next to Keith, his bare back resting against a monitor speaker, John lit a limp

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Alien Steele

joint with a firestarter and sucked the smoke into his lungs. “So what? I miss my glasses….”

” ‘Coo, you always looked like a fairy with them on….”

“I most certainly did not,” John croaked. He held in the toke for a second, then slowly exhaled. Behind them, Sid was sullenly practicing the opening riffs of ‘ ‘Anarchy in the U.K.” on his bass. Brian was nowhere in sight, as usual. “And just for the record, I never believed that story about how you busted your mouth after your drove a Caddy into a Holiday Inn swimming pool….”

“It wasn’t a Caddy,” Keith insisted, “it was a bloody Lincoln Continental, and I did so break out me front tooth, when I climbed out of the water and slipped on the pool deck while running from the coppers….”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve heard the whole sodding story many times.” John passed the joint to Keith. “And I didn’t look like a fag with my glasses on. I loathed those contact lenses Epstein used to make me wear….”

“Heard from him again lately?”

“Not since he joined the Dowists… besides, Yoko liked the glasses….”

“Oh, for God’s sake, man, when are you going to stop talking about your old lady?” Keith picked up one of his drumsticks and idly scratched his sunburned back with it. “I mean, you’re getting more pussy than Frank Sinatry….”

“Lord!” John looked at him sharply. “Is Sinatra here?”

Keith shrugged. “Not that I’ve heard. It’s just a line I picked up from one of the Yanks.” He took a quick hit off the joint and passed it back to John. “Pigpen told me that one,” he gasped. “Or maybe it was Lowell….”

“Okay, so I get laid regular.” John gazed dismally at the rows of empty bamboo benches in front of the stage.

GRACELAND

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He absentmindedly reached beneath his kilt and scratched. “But I miss the missus, all the same,” he said softly. “She was a good woman. Good singer, too.”

Keith made a face, but wisely kept his mouth shut. They were both quiet for a moment, listening to Sid as he struggled through the bridge of “God Save the Queen,” the punked-out version that the three other members of the Mersey Zombies refused to play during their shows. Keith cocked his head toward the kid. “I mean, you think young Mr. Ritchie there misses Nancy?” he asked softly. “The bloody wench was nothing but poison. Even when she showed up here two months ago, he told her to shove off or he’d stick her again….”

Sid’s head jerked up. “I did nor!” he shouted.

John looked over his shoulder at him. “Easy, lad,” he murmured. “The Moon here was only joking.”

Sid wasn’t satisfied. He unplugged his guitar, hauled the strap over his shoulder, and threw the instrument down on the stage, startling one of the Titanthrops. “You geriatric old farts make me want to vomit,” he muttered as he stalked toward the curtained door leading to the backstage area.

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