Limits

Daily writing prompt

What could you let go of, for the sake of harmony?

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It was about 6 a.m. when my buddy and I rolled in from our most recent frolicking detour. Ahh, the fleshpots of western Pennsylvania! We were tired, and more than a bit wrung out after our long hitchhike trip home. Frankly, we were looking for hot showers and a few hours of sleep. What we got was a rapid-fire barrage of questions from our friend, the Teahead of the August Moon. “Did you see Marnie when you came in? She was crying when she left. What am I going to do?”

It took an hour over coffee at the Tarry and Taste donut shop on Charles Street to get the whole story. The Monk, our “monastic in residence,” had been on a rant the previous night about the sanctity of marriage. He described the very real advantages of fidelity. And detailed how the Teahead spent most of his time in lascivious and dissolute behavior. The Teahead’s girlfriend, Marnie, took these revelations in stride until the Monk started naming names. As the sordid list grew, her rage increased. When the Teahead accused the Monk of being a snitch. Marnie had reached the limit of what she would sacrifice for love and harmony. She slapped the Monk and slugged the Teahead.

Life at the Folkie Palace

An upset young woman had passed us as we came upstairs. We didn’t think much of it because it was a common event. The only thing different this time was the amount of anguish we found the Teahead in. It seemed that Marnie was “the one.” Unfortunately, as many of us find out, too late comes regret after the carousing is over. And the Teahead was the ringleader of our carousing at the disepitomable residence for wayward Folkies we called the Folkie Palace.

We were known for the most raucous parties. The most empty beer bottles littering the street. And the most frequent flyer miles at the nearby Emergency Room. In short, we had a bad reputation. We were well known to Officer Cappucci and his minions at what we endearingly called the Pig Palace, or the local station house. This is what Marnie was fleeing.

How an attractive young woman like Marnie became associated with our dissolute bunch will probably remain unknown. We never saw her again. But the Teahead vowed to turn over a new leaf, expel the dreck and crud from his life ( us, his friends) and becoma a paragon of virtue.

Bullshit!! It seems that the peaceful and harmonious lifestyle was too much of a sacrifice. Everything returned to its raucous state within a month. The Monk was back preaching over empty beer bottles. My buddy and I returned from Baltimore. And the staff at the Emergency Room had an increase in business.