THE RETURN OF BLUESMAN – THE RETURNETH

[srvlives]

Bluesman couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so tired. Life had been a blur ever since his last encounter with Doc Mojo. He had traveled aimlessly for what seemed like months and finally ended up in a run down old barrelhouse in Gooseneck Mississippi nursing a now warm shot of bourbon.

The bartender roused him from his daze telling him there was a call for him/ A call? Who knew he was here? Who did he even know that knew how to use a phone?

He got up from his barstool on seasick legs and wandered over to where the bartender stood holding the phone out to him.

Taking the receiver Bluesman suddenly had a sense of dread, he had seen Doc Mojo fall from the bridge into the murky waters of the Mudindanoze River, but he had not seen his body surface… could this be him?

He spoke into the phone, “Hello”

“Well well, you sure are a hard man to track down” It was Doc Mojo, how could this be?

“We have some things to discuss my old friend. I’ll be at the Crossroads at midnight tonight. See you there, if you’re up to it that is”


Have at it boys…….

[texas blues]

Bluesman slowly made his way to the door. His exit did not go unnoticed. In a dark corner of the barrelhouse sat more a shadow than that of a man. Dark as it was in the smoke filled room which reeked of old booze, sweat and maybe a little blood, it was easy to tell the shadow was a well dressed individual. From the wide brim Italian Fedora to the pointy handmade shoes...nothing but the best. But somehow the light did not present itself to illuminating the shadows face. Long well manicured fingers sporting a gold pinky ring drummed slowly on the crate serving as a table on which a half bottle of the house's finest whiskey sat, along with a half filled glass. The shadow watched the bluesman cross the room, his fingers fingers keeping time with the lilting sing song drunken step..da dum da dum stop..da dum da dum stop. The proprietor of the joint appeared. Sweaty brow and dirty apron, he made a feeble attempt at standing up straighter and sucking in his gut but then thought better of it and bowed his head a bit and avoided looking directly at the shadow. "You doin' alright Mistah' Lehgma? I got some block ice in the box I been savin' a spell. I could chip you some for your drink if'n you want suh." The shadow spoke in a voice distinctly heard and yet like it came from somewhere far away. " That's alright..but I'll be leaving now. I have to meet and old friend at midnight." The shadow flipped a gold coin onto the crate. The man reached down to collect the coin and he turned his gaze to the door...the shadow was already gone.

[howlnwoof]

Anyone looking out the single dirty window pane at that moment would have noticed something rather familiar about the off kilter gait of the well dressed "shadow" . It seemed as though his left leg may have been 3/4 of an inch shorter than the right one ...... and there was a rather disconcerting way about him ...... as he moved away from the joint across the parking lot . As he neared an old faded burnt orange Ford Pinto ; which as luck would have it was parked just at the edge of
coverage from the single , dim , yellow light hanging precariously from a rotted and leaninig pole ; he cocked his head to one side and removed his hat . He turned , with a twisted smirk of indescribable evil spreading across his face , to look back towards the ramshackle establishment he had just vacated . Rolling his eyes back till only the whites were visible , he muttered under his breath , so low even a passenger in his car wouldn't have recognized any words . " It's my time after awhile Bluesman ...... and where'd you get that shiny guitar , boy ?" Officer O'Toole threw his head back and cackled up into the dark Mississippi night ......... turning back to the joint , his lips moved again , but without sound , and Ernest Cromarties Juke Joint burst into flames ..................

[cas]

Near Midnight.....at the Crossroads. But was it the REAL Crossroads? Who knew? It looked right, but the feel was wrong, no strong mojo here. Bluesman sighed, nothing for it but to look elsewhere. He walked aways 'til he was at ANOTHER crossroads. "How many *$*%*# crossroads are there" he said. Still no feel of the real one....so, another walk to another crossroads. This time, electricity coarsed through him. "Whoa, dude, like this gotta be the place". If only Doc Mojo was here!

Carol

[howlnwoof]

He found a large rock near the edge of the road to park his behind on . As he looked around , he noticed the orange glow off in the distance ...... back in the direction from which he had come . His attention was quickly diverted by the single headlight cresting the nearby hill ( do they have hills in the delta , he thought to himself ) , err , hump and bearing down on him with surprising speed . The exhaust of the burnt orange Pinto , exiting through several small holes between manifold and muffler , made a sound similar to one Bluesman remembered from his youth . His Grandpa had made that exact pfffttting sound after a bowl of chicken gumbo and a twelve pack of PBR . These precious memories were almost the end of Bluesman as his mind drifted away ...... only to snap back moments before the orange missile found it's target .
He lurched to his left just as the Pinto slammed into the boulder he had been sitting on . Obviously , having only one dim headlight on the opposite side of the grill had caused the granite resting spot to go unnoticed to the driver . The hood blew up and off it's hinges , the one good headlight shattered , the radiator errupted and the driver was ejected out the passenger side door , which had prior to the collision , been held shut with an overtaxed bungie strap . Bluesman gathered his senses before approaching the bloodied and disoriented victim . As his eyes adjusted back to the utter darkness of the Mississippi night , he at once made a disheartening realization ...... he knew this man ...... they had a history that went back many years ...... and he had to make a decision . Do I dare lay down my guitar to help the man who tried to kill me , or do I walk away and find another crossroads ? His choice was made for him though , as from the ditch across the road , a bright flashlight hit him in the eyes dead on and the sounds of a metal socket on the strings of a resonator guitar filled the air . He'd know that song anywhere , and it chilled him to the bone .......

[ricochet]

...Amazing Grace?! "Who the hell's out here playing that at midnight at the crossroads?! And get that light out of my eyes!" "Sorry." said Grady, lowering the light. "Ricochet? What are you doing here? Still haven't quit playing with your Johnson in public, I see." "Well, Grady and I came down here looking for a guy who was spamming BRB for gig bags and thought we'd see what the crossroads looked like at night. My old Johnson could sure use a tuneup. We kept quiet when you showed up. We didn't know who you were. Mississippi, West Virginia and Tennessee have reciprocity on CCW permits, but you can't be too careful. Aw crap, now I messed up, that's what I get for trying to talk and play at the same time! You know, we might not want to stay close to that crashed Pinto for long." Then Bluesman heard that familiar "Pfffttt!" again, but the Pinto wasn't running. "Sorry!" said Grady. "We just had some killer gumbo and PBR..."

[howlnwoof]

The smell that accompanied the sound wafted across the accident site and settled over the injured Officer O'Toole . It slapped him to his senses , while at the same time causing his stomach to become quite unsettled . He glanced across the road to where Bluesman , Ricochet and Grady were now discussing the finer points and varying techniques for polishing your Johnson and decided now was the opportune moment to slink away unnoticed into the night . He became shadow like once again and had it not been for the Pinto's bungie cord door holder ; which had also been ejected during the crash and had unfortunately snagged both a nearby fence post and the exposed elastic band of the good officers' XXL fruit of the loom boxers ; he would have escaped into the darkness . As it were , when the sudden pressure from the snagged undergarment
constricted O'Tooles' non-musical johnson , he let out a sound not unlike that of a Minnesota lake full of loons , thus drawing everyones attention to his current predicament . Ricochet , having some backwoods medical knowledge , approached the downed policeman with a chuckle and said .......

[maxx england]

Lordy son, you got trouble, we ain't none of us suckin' the poison outa there. O'Toole looked up at the grinning faces and passed out again.....

[howlnwoof]

As the trio discussed what should become of the fine officer , there approached another set of headlights up the road a ways . They quickly decided to use the bungie strap to secure O'Toole to the fence post , where he would hopefully remain until they could contact the proper authorities , and then the three of them crouched low behind the Pinto , trying to remain out of sight . The headlights sat up high and there were tiny marker lights above the windshield . They gave off an eerie greenish glow , giving the vehicle the illusion that it was floating , rather than actually illuminating the roadway . And by the quizzical looks on their faces ,they had all noticed at once that there was no engine noise or rumble of tires on gravel as the lights approached . As it neared their position , they realized what they saw was a Greyhound bus .... an old Greyhound bus , quite possibly one of the first ones ever to hit the road . And the age and many thousand of miles travelled were quite obvious on the outer skin of the bus . The windows were dirty and streaked , the aluminum hull had faded to a dingy shade of gray and the tires were worn and cracked . It came to a stop directly across from their position , still without a sound , and after what seemed an eternity , the hinged doors slowly opened . As if drawn by some unquantifiable urge ; a feeling they all experienced but could not describe ; Bluesman , Ricochet and Grady approached the bus . Looking up into the drivers seat , they could now clearly make out the drivers' features . He leaned towards them into the glow from the instrument panel , leaving no doubt as to who he was . "Climb aboard gents " , he said as he adjusted his hat . " Hardy souls like yours are hard to come by these days . I can show you things on this route you would have never thought possible . The fare is free , you mearly pay at the end of your trip whatever you think it was worth . Deal ?"
As if hypnotized , they nodded as one and slowly climbed the steps to look for a seat . The bus seemed filled to capacity , not with your usual sorts , but with a whos who of deceased blues men . All wearing the same haggard expression . The doors closed and as the bus accelerated down the road , Ricochet turned to Bluesman and asked , " Where do you think this will lead ? Why were we chosen to ride this bus with all these legendary men , and how long have their souls been aboard ?
And the most curious thing about this , I can't believe we're being driven around by ........

[texas blues]

"Call me Elmore..." "C'mon now...and get aboard. I got's lotsa' stops tonight...the firstn' you gon' really like. Ya'll ever been to a Head Cuttin' show? Ya'll wanna' cut some heads? Man...you cats look green as they come..but I reckon you must play some..that right? Say Grady...you bring a fitty' nine with you? No? Check 'da back there..every 'thang you need is back there. Rico..we ain't got no Johnson's...National do you good? ..Sit on down and enjoy the ride, we'll be there soon 'sho'nuff. I'm takin' you to a place called The Balinese. That's Ruby's joint. They gots women..whiskey....you wanna' good steak? They got some good music too...ya'll see. We'll be there soon....c'mon now..ya'll look a little scared...ya'll been dreamin' 'bout this yo' whole life...relax and enjoy it man....ya'll know who I am....I won't steer ya'll wrong."

[maxx england]

Back in the dark, O'Toole surfed the edge of consciousness, slipping in to the grey and then back as he was reminded about the beers and the burgers he'd had, along with a little sorta "other stuff", from Sheriff Rottweiler's wife. And as he rose and fell, it came to him his hands were tied and he couldn't stand up.

In the bus the boys were sat down, soaking up the atmosphere, the rye, the wornout seats and dingy yellow lights; there was no discernable engine noise, more a metallic whine from under the cracked brown floor that hovered in the background, gnawing at their souls. They knew they were travelling in somebody's time and space somewhere, somewhen at the same time knowing they'd already arrived.

Rico turned round in his seat, looked at the heroes, called out, "Any you's got bad blood? I's done got the mojo here, two a day, ev'y day,for two weeks, that done gonna solve that last visit to Fanny Mae. An I got that sump'n fo' them critters in yo' undergrowth too.".........

[howlnwoof]

Grady cast a skeptical look towards the good Doc Ric . "I ain't the smartest guy in the world , but I don't believe spirits can have " critters in their undergrowth . " "They might be hexed or cursed or feeling the effects of eternal damnation , but I seriously doubt they can have the crabs !" , he stated matter of factly . "Whatya think Bluesman?"
Bluesman didn't answer . He was staring intently into the big wide angle mirror that hung above the drivers seat . "Do you two think it's odd the driver said his name was Elmore ?" he asked . " When we first saw him I could have sworn it was Robert Johnson driving this bus , and I know you guys thought the same thing ,."
"Not me", said Ricochet . " I thought he was the spittin image of Albert King .What about you Grady ?"
"At first glance I could have sworn it was Rev. Gary Davis , but now I'm not so sure ."
As they looked around the bus , all the passengers seemed to be changing slowly from one blues legend to another .
Mississippi John Hurt slowly metamorphised into Jr. Wells , Tommy Johnson turned away and when he turned back he had become RL Burnside . Bukka White became Hound Dog Taylor and Furry Lewis' features ebbed into Albert Collins .
Our three vagabonds took all this in silence . The lights inside the bus reflected back off the windows so they had no idea where they had been or where they were headed . A single resonator guitar sounded from among the seats , seeming to come from nowhere yet everywhere at once , and the night seemed to grow even darker . The song , an old gospel blues , began with someone humming low in the background and gradually grew to the point of everyone on the bus joining in . The chorus of famous voices had a soothing effect on the new riders , and as all three relaxed into a sleep like state.....

[maxx england]

Time didn't exist no more, the bus rolled in it's eternal fog, a day, a minute, nobody knew; then a sense of stopping. The doors opened at a railroad stop, a bench outside the office, a figure on the bench.

Beyond it was a single line and on that line was an essence of a train, that mystery train, that lonesome train. The carriages had no name, no identifiable style, the engine was nothing but Engine, you didn't know how many wheels, you didn't know nothin' but the the ole fireman was mean and the ole engineer was cruel and there was goin' to be two lights on behind and the smokestack lightnin' goin' on down the line. Figures made their way slowly to the steps, female figures, familiar to the point of pain in their coats, walks, wafts of perfume. Each one of the boys felt their hearts lurch, break, as they boarded.

Movement - the bus driver reached down by his feet, picked up a small bag that held something that clicked, rattled, threw it out to the figure on the bench. He reached down, red leather jacket faded with age, face hidden by the cheap baseball cap, put the bag in his shirt pocket as he sat back. Without it fading into view, no sudden appearance, he was now holding a battered cheap lefty acoustic with a cheap pickup wedged in the soundhole, and his hands started to make passes over it, chromefinger on his right hand.

As the doors of the bus shut, Grady, Rico, Bluesman heard stuff that wasn't anybody but everybody that ever played slide, all at the same time and in all different keys and all harmonious at the same time, it was Blind Willie, Houndog, Muddy, Elmore, JB Hutto, Lonnie Johnson, Son House, it was just a world and a wall of a sound, and the last notes as they drove away were the sound of a frightened, abandoned child howling in the dark for a mother that never came.

[howlnwoof]

The events of the next few hours (or had it been days?) were unlike anything they , including Bluesman (who by the way , we all know , had been involved in many strange and unbelievable situations) had ever experienced . Sometime during this part of their journey , sleep had come to all three . Not restful sleep mind you , but the kind of uneasy sleep brought about by nightmares or sickness or stress filled days . Somewhere in the distance a little red rooster , apparently not to lazy , crowed for day . As the dawn splashed down over them , they woke slowly , letting their eyes adjust and found they were all dew soaked and within 30 feet of O'Tooles ravaged Pinto . Gradys' state of coherence was hurried along by a sharp jab to his ribs and a large hand on his collar forcibly shaking him awake . A growling , in command sort of voice accompanied this latest pain . "WHAT N" THE HELLZ GOIN ON HERE ..... YOUBOYS DRUNK R" STONED ? WHO'S THE DRIVER ? ONE A YALL BETTER ANSWER ME FOR I SHOVE THIS NIGHTSTICK .........
"Hang on there officer." It was Ricochet . " If you'll look right over across the road , you'll see the driver ....." His thought trailed off as his eyes followed his hand over to the spot he pointed to . There was the bungie cord , hanging on the rusted wire of the fence . The grass and weeds in the fencerow didn't seem to be disturbed ...... you'd have never known a man as large as O'Toole had been laying there unconcious at any time recently . As they all blinked in disbelief , they were shackled and manhandled into the back of a squadcar . As they pulled away and started back towards the nearest town , Bluesman strained to turn and look out the rear window . He wasn't sure , (after all they had been through , he thought maybe his mind was playing tricks with his eyes ) but there on a rise , less than 50 yards from where they had been detained , he could have sworn he saw them . Peering out from behind a clump of wild thorn brush .... Officer O'Toole , still looking haggard and bloodied (and with his overtaxed XXL fruit of the loom boxers stretched out over the back of his pants ) and there next to him : Bluesman couldn't mistake the face , even at this distance : wearing an evil grin he remembered from days gone by , had been Doc Mojo . What diabolical , take over the world plot could he be concocting this time ? And if Bluesman , Ric and Grady couldn't find the right words to talk their way out of this little predicament , who would be able to stop MOJO ? Various scenarios played themselves out in his minds eye and as he absorbed himself with these thoughts , he was unaware that their direction had changed . They weren't heading back towards town . Instead they were heading deep into a thick swampy grove of trees , a place he would have recognized immediately . They were being delivered to Mojos' secret castle lair ...........

[cas]

Well, it wasn't really a castle mind you, but it'd do. Our three intrepid travelers were stuffed closely in the back of a rank, riddled, rusty, red & rotten squad car that'd seen better days a decade ago. However, it wasn't long 'til they were at the door of the "castle", Doc Mojo's hauntingly, hallucinatory, hazardous house. The officer drug them outta the car, none to gently, and proceeded to drag them into the "castle". The room they ended up in, if you could call it a room, was a large, cavarnous cavelike area, bats and all.
Bluesman winced as the large, loquacious, lacksadaisical, loving officer lifted him lightly onto a large table that was turned upright. Ric & Grady suffered the same treatment. "What are y'all gonna do with us"?!!! screamed Bluesman. "Wouldn't you just like to know that, huh, wouldn't ya" said O'Toole, entering from a side door from some unknown room. Ric looked at the bleeding, bruised, bashed, black & blue, bully. "Those injuries should be treated in a hospital & it looks like you've lost a substantial amount of blood. Perhaps we could repair to the nearest hospital for you to be looked at"?
A loud, nasty, evil, hellish, horrendous laugh came from behind them. Doc Mojo appeared. His appearance was.....unusual. He held a resonator out and.......

Carol