[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

heavily laden with wax again."
The Don removed my bike helmet from his head. "No, likely it is the
golden helmet of Mambrino that retards my hearing, for it is not meant
that I should wear it." He handed it to me. "Thank thou, Don Jack, for
letting me know its wonders, however brief it was. Oh, how invincible it
must make thou feel!"
Well, I don't know about invincible, but it did lessen the odds of my
having a close working relationship with a head injury attorney at any
time in the future. Sancho finished cinching the saddle around
Rocinante's underbelly. The tired horse looked at his master with an
expression that read oh no the dipshit with his stupid frigging armor is
getting on my aching back again.
Don Quixote swung himself up, and I swear, you could have heard the
poor horse's groan in Toledo! (That's both in Spain and Ohio.)
Sally returned with a sackful of goodies, which I secured to my rear
rack. I waved adieu to her and the other wenches, then looked around for
Rodrigo, who was walking toward me after loading the luggage of the
bachelors on the coach. I had already abandoned my idea of asking him to
perform that little service on the battlement of the castle, because I didn't
want to insult him. But you know what, he was a perceptive guy, and he
offered to do it on his own!
"Usually it is done when a knight arrives, rather than leaves," he said,
"but your friend won't mind, because I don't think he knows whether he is
coming or going."
I grinned. "You got that right, pal. Thanks a million. But what will you
use for a trumpet?"
He dug into his sack and pulled out a little horn. It looked like one of
the things you blew into on a particular night of the year when Dick Clark
was having an orgasm about a ball falling down a building in New York.
"This will have to do," he said.
"It's perfect."
We shook hands and parted. Don Quixote and Sancho were already on
their way to the gate. I caught up quickly, and we rode out of the Posada
del Fernando. About twenty yards down the road I told them to stop, and
we turned around.
The coach had also emerged but now stood there, and the nimble
Rodrigo was scrambling to the parapet over the doorway. All three
bachelors were waving fists out the windows and griping like crazy, but
the dwarf didn't give a shit. He waved at us, then started tooting on his
horn. Yeah, it sounded like a one-note New Year's Eve jobbie, too.
But do you think Don Quixote cared? The old fellow was absolutely
radiant as he took in each note. Even the jaded Sancho got caught up in
the ceremony.
But Fernando, the innkeeper, was still pissed about everything and
decided to make Rodrigo the scapegoat. Climbing up to the parapet he
snuck up behind the tooting dwarf, turned around, and bent over. It was
clear he planned on blowing Rodrigo off the wall with one of his
thunderous farts.
Surprise, just before I could call a warning Rodrigo did an awesome
back flip and wound up eye to eye with the innkeeper, whose flatulent
foray found empty air. The dwarf tooted his horn in Fernando's face,
startling the innkeeper and sending him backward. He plummeted to the
road, hit it hard, and lay there, which was probably a good thing for all of
us who were on his day's shit list.
Second's later Rodrigo was back on the coach, exhorting his horses to
considerable haste. We gave each other a thumbs-up when he passed. It
was amazing how, over the noise of hoofbeats, you could hear the three
bachelors still bitching and moaning.
"A cunning fellow," Don Quixote said admiringly. "It is plain that he
has been enchanted."
"Oh, definitely," I agreed, and Sancho looked at me as if to say
methinks you are as whacked out of your skull as my master.
We rode for an hour, and everything was pretty laid back; no
demon-things from Hell, no windmills, nada. Finally the road intersected
a steep trail leading into some mountains on our right. The guys weren't
interested, but it was exactly what I was looking for, having decided it was
time to move on.
Don Quixote shook my hand; his armor creaked like crazy. "I am sorry
to see thou leave, Don Jack," he said solemnly. "We have shared grand and
glorious adventures together, have we not?"
"We sure have."
"Ah, but I understand that thou must travel to yon distant places to
perform other grand and valorous deeds in the name of thou beloved Holly
of Cedar Rapids, just as I must do the same for the chaste and virginal
Dulcinea of Tomato& "
"Toboso," I told him. How can he remember Holly of Cedar Rapids and
not that!
"Yes. Anyway, Don Jack, be assured that if our paths again cross, I shall
deem it an honor to ride at yon side. To chivalry!" He raised his lance.
"Yo, to chivalry!" I repeated, hoisting a bad-assed fist in the air.
He left. Sancho shook my hand and said, "Do you think I am a great
schumck for hanging around him, Don Jack?"
"No, I think you're a great friend. Keep him out of trouble, pal, and you
may get your reward someday."
He joined his master, and they continued along the road. As I watched
their retreating forms, I thought about how neat it was to have ridden
with Don Quixote, shared some of his adventures. Okay, he was nuttier
than a macadamia farm; no one ever denied it. But you find that out in
the first chapter of Cervantes's very long book, so it's not even an issue.
Just like with the windmills, what matters is that he went out and did
what he wanted to do. He tried. In the aptly named song "The Impossible
Dream," his quest was likened to a star he must follow, no matter how
hopeless or far away it might be. And if you believe in something so
strongly, then the hell with what everyone else thinks. Just do it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]