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Scrumpy the Flea / Blog

Man Forest

The forest group had their fill, and it was time to decide where to travel. No homes held these creatures. Wild, free and with music in their souls. The sun stretched out high above them, and they began an aimless wander on the path. Shrew spoke first. “Let’s walk to a man forest, set up and take over the city. They will be under the music’s spell and then we kill them all.” The others stared at him. Yet again. Something unnerving about a 3 ounce creature that is fearless, and most of the time rightfully so. He had been beaten twice. Once, the hiding black cat, and one other the owl. Shew hated owls. Opossum, being the moderate said, “if we do find a man forest, maybe we can play, and they will give us money. I have heard about money. Then we could get a plane ticket and fly anywhere on those metal birds that roar across the sky in their angry song.” Scrumpy, having taken only a little blood from Rabbit was allowed to vote, and the group decided, three to one to not kill all the humans. Rabbit said, “wait here a minute.” Scrumpy rode Rabbit on a wild fast careless dash to the trees, where Rabbit called the Crow. “Brother Crow, where is the man forest?” The Crow cawed, and said “follow where I shall fly. But stay away. It is cold, gray and there is little soul there. I go for crusts of bread, which Humans throw to the ground.” Crow took off, flying over the empty hills toward where the sun was heading…Rabbit Rushed down the trail back to the group, and said,” Follow me.” The group talked excitedly about what songs they would do, what adventures they had shared and what they hoped would happen in the man forest. Rabbit asked Scrumpy “when do words come into your head? And do you like that?” Scrumpy crawled up to between Rabbits ears, and enjoyed the breeze..Scrump said, “the words are sometimes painted in front of me, and all I need to do is see them. Other times a burning happens in my soul and the words come out slowly but with truth. True words hurt more than lies.” Opossum laughed. “Lil Scrump, for a tiny bug you think too much.” Everyone laughed. Scrumpy rode, and to keep time he picked up the Takamine, and sang songs for the journey. The group listened, kept walking and hummed along…soon, they saw the man forest in front of them. Gray, noisy and metal carts on crowded paths. Shrew said, “tonight, we shall be kings.” Everyone laughed…the adventure had started…

Carol Phelan Aebby
Carol Phelan Aebby  (about 2 years ago)

Absolutely wonderful writing.....charming!!! xo

Shadows

Shrew’s bravery was unquestioned. Ferocity unmeasured. Passion unfathomable. Greed, was easy though. It was all his, all the time. Scrumpy got that right away. Stay away from the Shrew unless gift was in hand. They made their way to the big meadow, peace all around and the music they had played still in their veins. The Opossum said “OK, we split up. If dogs or the farmer come, we meet by the Big Tree.” Scrump was just along for the ride so all was OK. Rabbit made a bee line for the carrots, and the others went to far corners. Rabbit ate and ate and ate till he could not eat more. He groaned, and limped slowly to the Big Tree. He was first there. Soon the Opossum came and smelled of turnip. He laid down in the rising sun. The group napped while waiting for Shrew. He showed up, screaming “WE BETTER GET GOING!!!” He was covered in blood again, and smelled of mint somehow. The group heard barking in the distance and stared hard at Shrew. It would have been a nice afternoon to rest, but off they went. The walked till the barks could not be heard, and settled in a thick stand of sun flowers. Opossum asked Scrumpy, “where do your songs come from?” Scrumpy smiled and thought. He said, “Well, sometimes from the Spirit that governs the sun and shadows. Sometimes from memories. Sometimes from Lady Bug who was her own shadow and sun. Songs come from feeling and being alive.” Opossum listened, and stretched out. The group napped, full stomachs and sunshine. When they woke, they were surrounded by beetles and mice and hares and ants and some larger creatures. The assembled crowd asked for songs. Songs to get them through the day. Rabbit smiled, and grabbed the bass. Opossum the guitar, and Shrew started a beat on the drums. Scrumpy held the mic, and sang his best, in strangely deep, forgotten tones. The invented song filled the afternoon. Something about flying, and time and other places nobody had been. The intensity increased. Three chords crashing. The beat faster and faster. Everybody staring at the forest creatures in a trance. That lullaby of eternity reaching out. It was just as the shadows, the dandelions in spring and the fresh early rains. Part of the forest. Part of life.

Lion

The day warmed up and Scrumpy rode Rabbit to the next adventure. Scrump realized the wise Opossum was the brains, Rabbit the spirit and Shrew the energy in us all. It was a day the Flea couldn’t wait to see unfold. Never had Scrumpy been able to lead, but just ride and follow. To watch and learn. They ambled on away from the rising sun. Rabbit talked of gardens with carrots and lettuce and strawberries. They chatted as they walked, and Opossum asked Scrumpy, “what makes you happy?” Scrumpy smiled, and thought. And thought. He said, “Today.” The possum grinned and nodded. The shrew said, too loudly, “blood.” They stared at him. He walked on, slightly ahead. Gratefully so. They walked for about a mile on the well worn path that animals use. The smells were bear, mice, squirrel, fox and others. As they rounded the corner approaching the “Big Meadow” two yellow eyes stared at them, in the tall grass next to the trail. It was a mountain lion. He stepped in front of the three. He stared at the Rabbit and licked his lips. One leap, and he was on the group. The Possum, Rabbit and Scrumpy dashed away. The shrew stood his ground. With small black piercing eyes, he warned the Lion. “If you wanna have the worst day of your miserable life come closer. The Lion snorted as predators will. What happened next is not suitable for print, but there were screams of agony, fur flying, claws slashing, bushes being leveled and the smell of pain. The Possum, Rabbit and Scrumpy were in the silence of the shadows staring. After the dust settled. The shrew walked down the middle of the path. “What are you waiting for? We have carrots ahead in Big Meadow?” The shrew was covered in blood, none of it his own. The Lion far gone….and Scrumpy stood and clapped as hard as he could. What a group he was riding with!

Name

Scrumpy rode, and the new friends were humming, and slowly waking up. They walked to the water’s edge, drank deeply, and then went to get something to eat. The Rabbit, some grass still fresh with dew. The Opossum found some pine nuts and the shrew…..where he went to eat nobody knew. He always came back smelling of blood or vinegar or lilac. Nobody asked. Nobody dared. After they had all eaten, they pulled out instruments. Scrumpy was so happy to be with musical creatures. Slowly, the beat of the Shrew got stronger, and the sounds of Karmasaur filled the sky. Other animals made their way closer to hear and tap their paws and claws and tails. Scrumpy was impressed…and as the song ended the mountain lion led the cheer. All sorts of noises came from the dark corners of the day. Another, snorted a porcupine. The rabbit turned to Scrumpy and said, Hey if you’re gonna ride you take this one. Scrumpy popped his hat on his head, grabbed his electric and asked Shrew to give him something fast…the Shrew erupted in a hypnotic rhythm, and Scrumpy caught it, and began bashing four repetitive chords. The animals listening nodded to the beat. Soon the Opossum and Rabbit joined in, and even more animals came. Birds flew closer, ants came in a line and snails picked up their pace to hear better. The song went on and on, with much laughter. When they finished, the animals snorted their approval. The day had started with music. The Opossum yelled loudly…”Shows over….we gotta figure out how to take over the world.” The listeners disappeared into the shadows. They knew having played music the would be safe. The mountain lion or bear would not turn them into a meal. They had value, and were left alone. They started talking about naming the group. The shrew suggested “Shrew and the Others.” They stared at him, and didn’t respond. The wise possum suggested one word names were best. Rabbit suggested the Beatles. “We all like to eat em.” They thought , but Scrumpy chimed in that name was used by humans he thought. The Possum said, “What about Eagles? They are free. They are mighty and terrifying. The shrew said, “we are better than Eagles. I have always feared Rolling Stones. They come lose and there is no escape.” The Possum said, “the name will come when it’s ready.” So the Oposum, the Rabbit and the Shrew kept walking. Scrumpy watching and learning. This day had started off well.

Scrump Jump

Scrumpy finished singing. He and Meagle sat in the silence, watching the shadows stretch out on the day. It was time for Scrumpy to learn more. To travel. That meant blood and fur. He tipped his hat to Meagle, and leapt. Big broad jump. Another. Another. Then he saw something moving. He headed there in three giant leaps…at the base of a tree there was an Opossum, a Rabbit and a Shrew. Scrumpy had seen some weird things in his life. Nestled in carpets in human houses he saw some behavior that woule mean instant death in the animal kingdom. He had seen the aliens land while on the back of a mountain lion. He had seen coyotes protect a deer. Now, three unlikely creatures moved in the morning air. In between them was a bottle of Jack Daniels that still had a third of it’s contents swirling around. Scrumpy knew about animals. The shrew was dangerous. Nowhere to hide on him, and he could scratch him out in a violent move whenever he wanted. Cats were dangerous too. Nowhere safe to rest. The Possum would move slowly but thoughtfully through his days…so the rabbit was his choice. Soft fur. Legs that wouldn’t contort like the shrew. Scrump jumped. Landed. He was happy to see some of his flea friends there already. Thomas, Margee and Linda. They waved Scrump over to the high back of Rabbit. They laughed. Talked about how the blood was 90 proof after the night these three had. Scrump laid back and rested… Soon, the Possum woke. Saying WHO TURNED ON THE LIGHTS? Loudly. The other two woke. Slowly, stretching out in the early sun. They coughed, violently, then stood. The three talked about what the day would bring. Scrumpy learned they were friends, fast and true. They would stay together. The Shrew for the dirty work, the Rabbit for the fast getaways and the Opossum for the wisdom and path to travel. Scrumpy laughed. The other fleas looked at him. Scrump pulled out his 12 string…tuned it quickly…then started strumming. The Shrew stared at Scrumpy. Evil in his eyes at first, then relaxing. Soon, the Possum starting humming to Scrump’s song. The rabbit pulled out his bass and played along. The pond was filled with a glorious noise. The three new friends now started walking as they sang and played…the journey had begun…

Scrumpy Woke

Scrumpy peeked out from under the Black Butte Porter bottle cap he had slept in that night. A bit cold but intact. The early sunlight made the pond he was near shine and shake in the dim light. He watched. The colors changed, and the light filled the trees. Last night had been a wild ride on a Labrador to the edge of the pond. He put his hat on his head, and jumped, feeling the cool early morning air. Lady Bug was gone. She could fly, and left when she wanted. She was somewhere he could not go, but he was still missing her as he started his day. She has her own life, and he was a stop in her flights. Scrumpy had learned to bite the DOWNSIDE of sleeping animals. To be still when they moved. And to watch for what’s gonna come next. He was older as fleas go. He’d seen them come and go. The young uns that bite to be satisfied, and then get swept up with a furious claw. He leaped again. Bigger and bolder. He came near the grasshopper shivering with dew. They nodded. The grasshopper, Meagle Red, asked Scrumpy how was things. Scrump shook his head yes, and they sat in silence. Then, after shaking the dew from his wings, Meagle asked Scrumpy for news from beyond. Scrumpy had lived in houses, in mice dens, on the free running deer and in deep dark places. Scrumpy said, in a gruff, but caring voice, “It’s all what you make it.” Meagle nodded, and asked Scrumpy if he had any new songs. Scrumpy smiled, moved to a spot without grass and cleared his voice. He pulled out his Takamine and started strumming. Meagle was silent. The sun rose. The pond rippled and raced. The day began, and Scrumpy sang………

Words

Without meaning behind them, or without effort words are just noise. Honesty is a rare commidity these days. We all want to "look good" versus being the struggling ones on the bitter edge of failure. As someone that has slept in the land of failure more than once, it helps when words mean something, instead of just filling space. I have broken bones, and they heal. Words can be eternal in our underused brains. Be careful what you say! And when someone comes up to you and says, "how ya doin?" Do they really wanna know? Try telling the next person you see how it REALLY is going. Noises are great. Words are power. Use em wisely, like the atomic bomb or breath mints.

Dreams and Reality

Addiction sucks. I get that drugs feel good. I get that getting that instant feeling is so good for a while. But then life gets in the way. You end up being someone you didn't want. You end up doing things you don't do. Your morals take the bus to Omaha. Omaha is a very moral town. My Daughter that I love with my whole heart back in jail. 16 years old. I know the visitation ritual. She has the BEST heart. Damn. So, having the intelligence of most hoot ornaments, I could only write a song. Please listen to "Daughter." True that. She heard it for the first time at 4 AM driving snow storm heading over the mountains for her first inpatient treatment. She cried and held my hand next to her cheek while she cried. I drove with one hand. Dark. Slick. Feeling the timeless moment, the love and the pain. Please listen to Daughter. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh SG

How To Live Life

Well, that's not that tough. Breathing is one of those things that comes to mind. Once you can breath, then it's all downhill. As far as what to believe, or what to do, you will figure that out at you keep breathing. Kind of like walking. It takes a lot of muscle memory, but we do it for a few years, then assume room temperature. Here it's about 68 degrees. Friends count. A lot. Hey, I have a few. It's hard to get to know someone that lives in cardboard in random spots in the USA, but hey. I have been lucky. Oh, and I gotta Thank Takamine. Good guitars. Thanks for the guitars. They do rock. And as others have said my punk style on accoustic isn't the easiest. I am just some random man. I do think, and that seperates me from 99 percent of humans I guess. Maybe, or it's the pervasive body odor.

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