Bromford Below - Part 24

 
Finally we have reached the last waggon of our underground train through Bromford below, or the first one behind the engine or the driver's seat and cabin. And still, the inscription at the top of the doors with windows behind our backs says,

END OF TRAIN.

»What does our treasure map say?« I asks Professor Sideburns, the man we haven't mentioned much in the past few days.

»It is still pointing with its' arrows to that closed door in front of us«, the professor the llama and we used to call Burnside before, answers. He is pointing to a door without windows at the front of this last remaining waggon. It has the same colour as the metal wall and is almost invisible.

»Hello there!«

Out of nothing a man with long hair and beard and a long linen gown is standing in from of me greeting us waving and smiling.

»Jesus!« I curse

»Whoa«, the llama adds, »Jesus, the cool zombie killing dude from The Walking Dead?«

»We didn't call them zombies in The Walking Dead. We called them walkers. And, no, I am not that dude. «

»And who are you?« the llama asks. »Looks like you are doing some sort of cosplay with your fuzzy hair and your white night-gown on.«

»Don't you know and can't you see who I am?«, the man says in a solemn voice. »Bromford might know me. We have met in my apartment number 24 twelve years ago. And I give you one little hint. It's my birthday today.«

»Congratulations«, Kylie says, »but I live in Apartment 24 now, together with my son Nigel here, when he is home from university. It cannot be your apartment.«

»Mine is everything and everything is mine«, the hairy dude proclaims. »And like my father says, what's mine is yours. But it doesn't matter now because we are on a subway train right now, not in an apartment-building in Bromford.«

»Speaking about this train«, I say. I don't want to recognize this dude. And I don't want to think about who he is or might be. An imposter, for sure, and surely not this other person whose birthday millions of people are celebrating all over the world today.

The llama is standing next to me.

»He is not, is he?« the animal whispers in my ear.

»Narrr«, I growl shaking my head.

»Speaking about this train«, I pick up my last thought. »You not happen to know where this train is going? Where it is taking us?«

»You will find out soon enough«, the man says folding his hands before his chest.

»We need to talk to the manager«, the llama says.

»The llama means the driver«, Nigel tries to explain. »And I am sure he is in his cabin right behind that door.«

»You mean my holy father, the LORD?« the man asks.

»Dude, you are not Jesus«, the llama is losing its' patience, »Jack is Jesus. Or he should have been Jesus.«

»No«, Nigel interrupts. »Jack should have been the new Jacob.«

Do the two of them know what they are talking about? Fiction mixing into reality on a night of magic and mystery.

»So«, the bearded dude says, »if I am not Jesus, maybe I am the Anti-Christ who has returned to the world to declare its' end.«

»Susej«, the llama suggests.

And the man breaks into speech, »The Devil came from Kansas City. Where he went to I can't say. Though I teach I'm not a preacher, and I aim to stay that way. There's a monkey riding on my back, been there for some time. He says he knows me very well but he's no friend of mine. I am not a humble pilgrim. There's no need to scrape and squeeze. And don't beg for silver paper when I'm trying to sell you cheese.«

I have to sit down. Feels like some gloomy cloud or wave has come over me. I don't understand anything of this. Is this what losing your mind is like? I look around in the single underground train waggon that is sliding through the dark tunnels. And all the sorrow in the world seems to flood my mind at once.

Looking at the faces of my companions around me I feel that I never felt lonelier in my life so far before. Nothing lasts forever, and that's for sure. Everyone I know goes away in the end. And I am not only thinking about all the people I met in this train in the past few weeks and I have lost to the darkness of oblivion. There may be a driver in his cabin behind the door at the front of the train, yet again there may be not. Once I step through that door, the rest of the train, the rest of the world behind me will be gone.

»Look«, Kylie is here. Kylie is near, holding me in her arms. And I suddenly feel thankful. She is a real friend. And wherever she may be tomorrow, she is here today. As is the llama that is laying its' snout on my shoulder now. Nigel is smiling at me with a weird tip of his fingers to his head. Even Professor Sideburns is nodding at me with a friendly face.

»Look, the door is open«, Kylie ends her sentence.

The almost invisible and slightly hidden door has opened a crack wide. Light, bright and shining light is pouring through the widening crack. And I hear the sounds of ringing bells and many people singing to a faint yet loudening music.

»Call me whatever you want«, our new long-haired friend says with a laugh in his voice. »Call me Jack, call me Jacob or call me Jesus. Or call me by your name. Tonight this train's last stop is Christmasland. And we are having a Christmas Party in the engine driver's cabin.«

He is pulling the door wide open and stepping through it.

Our eyes cannot follow him because we are blinded by the lights.

»What do you think?« Kylie asks. »Shall we follow him?«

And looking around the waggon again and through the rear-windows into the moving darkness of the underground tunnels I can only shrug my shoulders. What other choices do we have?

»It's Christmas«, Professor Sideburns says.

»And if you can't be with the ones you love, love the ones you're with«, Nigel adds what gets him a poke in his side by his mother Kylie.

Friends are chosen family, I think with an awkward grin, my fam.

»Group hug?« the llama asks pursing its' lips - ready for a wet, slobbering kiss.

»Ah, move on«, I say pushing it away - but friendly.

Everything will end well, I think, and if it didn't end well it is not the end.

And we step into the light.

🎄🎄🎄🕯🎄🎅
🎄🎄🎄🎄🕯🎄

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🕯

🎄🎄⛄🎄🎄🎁

"Way To Bromford"

Is this the way to Bromford
Is this the way to Bromford
Show me the way to Bromford
Show me the way to Bromford
Show me the way to Bromford
Is this the way to Bromford

You can blame it on the President
But what if it was you
Who was the White House resident
Or could you save the starving children
When there's so much else to do
With all the problems of the world
Coming down on you

So this is the way
This is the way to Bromford
Show me the way
Show me the way to Bromford
Alright

You can say my music's bullshit
In your uppity review
But if it was you here at this keyboard
With all the people waiting
To hear your next CD
And throw you in the garbage
Or hail your masterpiece

So show me the way
Show me the way to Bromford
This is the way
This is the way to Bromford
Alright

All these corporations poisoning our air
The children sad and hungry but they don't even care
Let's get together people
We've got problems here to solve
Let's make this world a better place
Before there is no world at -

Is this is the way to Bromford
Is this is the way to Bromford
Sh- Show me the way to Bromford
Show me the way to Bromford
Show me the way to Bromford
Show me the way to Bromford

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go

Long way to go
Long way to go
Long way to go