Richard Langartner's Obsession

 

 

Jimmie Dean ---sounds like James Dean,

That's what I thought ----when I was thirteen,

Great transgressions do arise,

And I do try to sympathize ----with my mother.

  (Chorus)

[On my Greek ----locomotive,

Ridin' that train, now ridin' that train o' thought,

Down Down Down, Da Down Da Down Da Down, Down Down Down, Down Down Down

Down to Jumpin' Bean Town.]

 

Thought about some eatin' some ------bearded clam,

And findin' me -----a tonky honk slam,

On my beach front property,

Way down South ------in Tallamakee,

 

[Chorus]

 

I gotta peeeeeee --------right now,

I gotta peeeeeee --------right now,

I'm gonna wax that toilet seat,

Way on down -------to town clown.

 

Nonsensical Jibber-Jabberwocky

That was thee song going through my head as my 27' Ford pickup truck roared down the back roads of Southern Georgia with its orange-red dirt and pine trees that rose up to the night sky. This is in thee days before we had radios in our trucks. I wasn't alone in that truck, but I was the only body that was feelin' that bumpy rutty road, I can assure you. See a man's mind does crazy things to him sometimes and thoughts flew past me and blurred into a dark, indistinguishable stream just like those pine trees outside my pickup truck.

One-armed Teddy Rosenwinkle had been over at my farm late that afternoon this particular day. Teddy was called One - Armed because that is exactly what he was. He'd lost his arm in that awful World War where all those young men and boys were stuck in those trenches shootin' bullets at one another for no good reason. He got it shot off right below the shoulder so that what was left of his arm reminded me of a penguin's little flappin' thing on the side of it's body. He was called Teddy because he was born to some patriotic parents during the early stages of Teddy Roosevelt's presidency. Teddy --- Rosenwinkle; those two names went together.

My wife was out pickin' gooseberries with my daughter when Teddy arrived at the house. He was riding his stubborn old mule since he never had enough money to purchase a car on account of his having trouble securing work since he didn't have two-arms. I invited Teddy into the house for a drink being that he was thirsty and so was I. We chatted about the news of the town the way southern folks do. " Did you here that fancy race horse that Lester Kaufmann bought broke its leg?" or " Ralph Young is lettin' that Negro, Benny Washington, sharecrop on his land. They says he's an industrious fellow." Teddy might say. As I was saying, Teddy had a hard time securing work, so he often spent his days traveling about our small southern town spreading the current events. He was like a walkin' one-armed newspaper. If something happened in this town it was never too long before it reached the ears of our fellow townsfolk. And because of this service Teddy provided he was always able to secure enough food and drink to help him make it through the day. So we had another drink and continued to talk. Teddy got up. Apparently the Whiskey and Lemonade he had, had made it through his system so he headed to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later Teddy came out the bathroom and entered the kitchen. He was holding in his hand a book and a pink ballerina's tutu with ballerina shoes tucked under his arm. My jaw dropped and my heart beat against my ribs.

"What are these?" Teddy said.

"How the fuck did you find those!?" I asked.

Opening the book as best he could with his one arm Teddy said "I took a glimpse at this journal of yours. You're all gushy in here about how you wish you could be a dancer. You know Dick, maybe the most important question is why you wanted to become a ballerina."

I was only 8 years old when my grandfather died. That year was 1909, the same year my obsession with ballet and becoming a ballerina began. My parents were first generation immigrants from Austria - Hungary. When my grandfather died my father insisted we go back to Europe to bury him.

My grandfather had been living in Vienna when he died. So we made the trip by ocean liner. Docking in Italy we took the train to Vienna, which along with Paris was one of the art capitols of Europe at the time. I had never seen such a beautiful place. Vienna was so foreign to a young boy who had never seen anything but Southern Georgia. The trip left quite a mark on my young mind.

My mother took my sister and I to the ballet since they were performing the Nutcracker Sweet. My Mother was from Vienna and I believe she missed much of the culture that was lacking in our Georgia. We had standing tickets since they were inexpensive. We were located to the right above the stage. The gold curtains parted and the show began. The dancers began to enter the stage and the stage lights were turned on. My eyes ran from where the ballerina's foot touched the floor to her arm held high above her head. Each movement was beautiful. The dancing was done for no other reason than to express the grace and beauty of the human body. The girls, the men, how they danced and what stories they told with their jumps and pirouettes! My obsession with ballet began here the first and last time I ever saw ballet. But as I went to sleep that night the magic still danced in my head. Most events that influence people are forgotten the next morning or within a week but this event, the ballet, would become stronger and stronger each and every day, each time I would play the ballet over again in my head. I would walk in the woods near our home in Southern Georgia. When I was alone, my body would demand I dance. There was a small grove of trees and I would pretend it was a stage. I imagined the animals would come and watch. They were my audience and rejoiced in the beauty of dance.

Now, I had forgotten that I had left my closet in my bathroom open. It was always locked. My wife and daughter had never even seen the interior of that closet. However it didn't help that One- Armed Teddy Rosenwinkle was a snoop.

"Hand over the tutu." I said to Teddy.

"What? No, wait till I tell folks how Dick Langartner dresses up in a pink lacy WOMAN'S outfit. Ooo! I'm a ballerina." Teddy said back to me as he jumped into the air trying to imitate a ballerina.

"Give me my fucking tutu." I said moving to grab it from Teddy's hand.

"Nope." Teddy said as he ran to hide behind the cast iron stove in the kitchen. "This here tutu's the most newsworthy event this town's seen for along time. Talk about finding skeletons in one's closet, I found a tutu!"

I had moved over to the stove and as Teddy Rosenwinkle said this I picked up the cast iron poker that stood next to the stove and swung the poker at Teddy. The poker struck him on the side of the head. Teddy let out a whelp and fell crumpled to the floor like when you throw your coat on a chair and it just falls down wrinkled and in a heap except your coat doesn't bleed.

Now it's not every day that a man kills another a man. When one is so consumed by emotion he totally forgets himself. He strikes out at what is annoying him, what's bothering him, to satiate that desire, that emotion. That desire, that wanting of your soul always wanting, which's what's caused all my problems in this life. From wanting to be a ballerina to wanting my tutu back from One-Armed Teddy Rosenwinkle, desire has been at the root of all my problems.

Now the events right after Teddy fell to the floor are kind of hazy. I remember almost like I wasn't in control of my own body like I'm standing next to myself outside of my body. I picked up the tutu, my ballerina shoes, and journal and put them back in the closet in the bathroom. The next thing I remember is seeing my wife and daughter through the window coming over the hill towards the farmhouse their baskets filled with gooseberries. I suddenly awoke and with nervousness I looked over at the cast iron stove and next to it lay the twisted dead body of One-Armed Teddy Rosenwinkle. Jumping up I ran to the body and pulled it into the small room off the kitchen where I cleaned the fish I caught. I grabbed the first piece of cloth I could and began to wipe up the blood that was on the kitchen floor. The blood had already begun to soak into the wood of the floor staining it. I moved some of the wood that we used for the stove over the stain to conceal it. Looking back up through the window I saw my wife and daughter nearing the house. I slammed the door to the room where Teddy's body lay. I stuffed the blood soaked cloth into the hole where the red-hot coals smoldered in the cast iron stove.

My wife and daughter came into the house. I was standing near the stove looking out the window.

"Hello," my wife said, "Where's Teddy? That's his old mule outside right? Thought I'd give him some of these gooseberries."

"I don't know." I said. "His mule just wandered in here. No Teddy at all on him. I've been wondering all afternoon where he's at and how his mule ended up here." I said worried my wife wouldn't believe what I was saying.

"That's pretty strange," my wife said back to me. My wife looked around the kitchen as she set the baskets of gooseberries on the table.

"Well I think I'll wash some of these gooseberries up and get them ready for canning. You seen my apron, Dick?"

Oh my god I thought, her apron was what I used to soak up Teddy's blood and now it's burning in the cast iron stove.

"No, a no I-I haven't seen it at all." I said.

"Strange it was here this morning. You know Dick that just doesn't seem right - Teddy's mule being loose and walking over here. Maybe you should drive over to his house and let him know it's here."

See when my wife suggested to drive over to Teddy's house everything fell in place.

I thought drag the body out the back door of the room he was in, toss his body in the bed of my pickup truck and drive, drive, drive down to that limestone quarry 20 minutes from my farm and dump his body into that deep dark water that went down, down, down into the earth for miles.

And now that brings us back to the beginning and present time of our story. Driving down those back roads of Southern Georgia with One-Armed Teddy Rosenwinkle with his crushed skull laid out in the back of my pickup truck. I have one last dance to do. One last pirouette before I close the book on this chapter of my life. A man died because of my love for ballet, my deep dark obsession just like the bottom of this quarry that One- Armed Teddy Rosenwinkle will soon rest for all the days to come.

(Strips down to tutu and briefs then does pirouettes over the dead man's body and other such ballet moves. Drags Teddy out of the truck and dumps him in the lake.)