Fletcher Quill Chapter 112

"We are the music makers
We are the dreamers of dreams
Wandering by lone sea-breakers
And sitting by desolate streams."
Arthur O' Shaughnessy 1844-1881

Supreme Court Justice Fletcher Quill sits quietly in his bad ass way too fast F12 listening to one of his dear old Pal’s John Lee Hooker immortal San Francisco based hard core Blues legend who taught Quill how to blow and suck his Key of low G Blues Harp sweeter then Almond Brothers slide guitar Hero Sky Dog or Little Luther or at least in Quill’s mind his heart and soul lives in his Harp playing period! Up rolls a perfect Black Turbo 911 equipped with a wide smiling Italian fallen Angel Johnny G.

"Quill my new best San Francisco friend, you must hook me up and ask your big time famous Chef Buddy at Alioto’s #9, plead with him to make a huge trough of that insane seafood soup he is so famous for.

Ahh the local Crab with big chunks of Alaska Lobster reminds me of Milan or Venice! Quill your going home with me to Milan my friend wild man Blues Man Judge Man.

You have to come and sample and feast at my fucking table Cowboy! I will have you swimming in the sweetest Italian Pussy you can imagine my demented friend of 666..."

"Follow me Johnny we go to Fishermen’s Wharf and feast old school style as my Italian friends have for generations.

I will assault your highly cultured taste buds with a symphony of San Francisco’s world renown culinary extasy, we give Paris a run for their Euro’s my friend.

Come let us indulge in rare 200 year old Scotches, wild Pig Cheese, local Mushrooms and exotic White Truffles sprinkled over Lobster baked in Cognac, ahhh..."

"Oh yes, I know you understand food Quill. Your time in Paris Montparnass eating like an old Sultan has nicely rounded out your culinary international education.

Did you not rent a 40 foot sail boat as a Laddy and cruise the outer Irish islands sampling the local seafood dishes from island to island? Of course your time in Asia, Vietnam, Japan and China underline that overly satiated pallett my new insane friend..."

"No place anywhere other then maybe New York and Paris have the assortment and variety of ethnic restaurants found here in San Francisco. Man, even back in the 1960s when I ran with Jerry Garcia and Pigpen with the Dead.

We always ate rare exotic stuff like Fish & Chips served on newspaper drenched with sea salt and balsamic Vinegar, bliss. The local crab season highlighted with local Mussels scraped off rocks near the famed Cliffhouse restaurant near my home.

Clams, crab, lobsters all thrown into a big pot to steam and then tomato sauce, and the spices that made this city known world wide. Food is San Francisco bidness and bidness is great baby!!!"

"Ok Quill, Generalismo Quill we go to my Italy and play in Milan and you will fall in serious love with my playground and endless new sensory overload without too much drugs. I will see that your educated in all things Italian old school.

Long languid lunches and endless Dinners till midnight my friend. The Italian female is designed for this life of constant sensual stimulation.

Now we eat and enjoy your little city by the Bay. The America’s Cup Race hosted by your larry Ellison will bring so much publicity and money and attention to this tiny Jewel by the Pacific Ocean. I think it takes over 60 days to find the new Champion team and Boat!

Though no one anticipates Larry dropping the Ball or slowing down that carbon fiber Cat that screams across the Ocean, it simply flies...

If it came under too much stress, the big boat would explode like a giant sea going devil gone wrong, all hands go with Larry’s exotic monster Boat that can’t be caught by mortal sailors without Billions of spare change..."

"Actually Johnny, not sure half this city has any idea how big the fucking America’s Cup really is? Other then Formula One or maybe International Polo, no other elitist sport generates so much attention and hard cold cash!

The fucking Olympics leaves most cities much more destitute then reaping any fucking financial harvest Baby! America’s Cup here in this perfect coastal sailing port with all this great food and atmosphere!

This is fucking huge my friend, here take another longgg ass Golden Bong Hit and I’ll fire up the F12 and we ride around listening to early Stones, Alvin lee, Johnny Otis, Johnny Winter, Ricky Nelson, Elvis.

I just got a new CD of Muddy Waters and Elvis doing the whole fucking Willy Dixon Song Book Buddy!"

"Man Quill, you and that fucking ancient South Side Michigan Ave. Chicago Blues Jones is like a fucking drug? Yes, my American rotting Icon?

My friend we all know you been harvesting all lowest lying fruit near the motherfucking back of 666's cave, right Generisimo fly fisherman?"

"Johnny you of all fucking people who has tasted all the very best worst of the very bawdiest in drugs, sex, food, wine and whatever the fuck else spend too much time thinking...

Here eat this tiny Orange Barrel LSD at its purest Owelsleian best, in 40 minutes we take a 200 mile run down the coast and eat at my favorite Santa Cruse Café Italian shirtmaker, wash that little thang down with this last perfect sip of 1983 Stags Leap and help me sort out these killer CD’s, we rip and ride my friend. Milan sounds very cool lets go play in your yard Cowboy..."

"Quill, let me see all those flies you have tied. Some new hot designer will start working with feathers in a serious artistic fashion, no question. Woman’s Boots first of course!"

"Fuck that, here drink this 2000 year old Scotch found in King Mother Fucker’s Tomb in Stickitintyoa India last Summer, man this shit is soo sweet and lethal..."

JERRY GARCIA & PIGPIN

"Quill hate to stop this taste feast cold Home Dawggy... Pigpen and me thought we ought to hip you too what’s up in Rock n Roll Heaven this evening Pally?

Chuck Barry the fucking main rocker of all time turns a splendid 85 and still plays once a week at some dive near home...

Man, can’t wait till "Johnny Be Good" fucking checks in with Little Richard and maybe one of those ancient fucking Rolling Bones hey Glimmer Twin, where is Keef?"

"Jerry, Keef is out at my Beach Penthouse waiting with the Dali Lama for me and Johnny here to slide in. Keef wrote in his Bio Johnny Be Good was a real prick Buddy!

Keef puts him with his old original drummer and quality session boys and fucking Chucky goes berserk and does his own thang...

No lost Blood between those two old dogs Son. What else is new in the Rock N Roll Pantheon Pigpin?"

ROCK N ROLL HEAVEN

"Janis Joplin still acting crazy over here on this side, Slamming that fucking Southern Comfort just like she did with me and Buddy Guy on that insane rocking train trip we all took way, way back.."

"Oh yeah, I recall the movie made about that train ride. How many liquor stores were drained before that party ended? Is Elvis still wearing the neon jumpsuit?

How bout James Brown, is he still prick with his back up band mates? And give me the latest on Jimmy Morrison, is that old Door still swinging fast and loose Son?"

"Affirmative, all those cats are still wailing and guess they always will be. Elvis voice rich, sweet and crazy up down the scales like when he was a kid. Janis always a little high with the little glass in her hand.

Little Richard crazy and energy filled as always. Rock N Roll Heaven be rocking Buddy..."

"Jerry, your missed soo much Dude! Pigpen we all love and miss you Buddy.... I hear the fucking Feds are messing with the Pot Clubs again, Fucking Black Messiah has stop that shit.

Stay the fuck away from Sin City bitch. Gotta bounce man. Looks like Dali Lama still in pain after Sarah Pollen and Michael Fuckman turned him into an Astronaut, Rear Admiral. He is on every fucking antibiotic known to man Pal!

That cell phone video is everywhere, I saw high schoolers laughing their ass’s off at these wanna-be idiot woman without any credentials or experience of any kind wanting the Black Messiah’s gig. Will not be a 2nd Dance for my boy , he is history."

"Gotta Bounce Jerry, Pigpen. Dali Lama is freaking out over his endless Whang leak, those bitches were nasty with STD’s...

Have start working up flies for next trout assault with Messiah before that po fool is as unemployed as my Boy Dali here was!

"Quill, Keep here Frisco Pistol, Dude so Dali me main Mate and me been rifling through your library Pally. What is this signed copy of Hemingway’s " Moveable Feast " doing resting near this fucking rare ass "666 Manifesto?"

This fucking collection of Book’s and manuscripts is scary even to me. You have copies of ancient illuminated manuscripts even the Hague or the Vatican or the private libraries of old Europe don’t have??"

"Yes, many sweet ancient works to get lost in my friend. Take a look at my 15 inch astronomical telescope now. Its on auto pilot an by now its deep in the Andromeda Galaxy third quadrant. That bright red and blue flashing is a new star being formed next to a Black Hole.

I’m screaming in the F12 with Johnny bout ten minutes away. Keep my telescope focused till I get there Glimmer Twin."

As Quill loudly pulls into the exotic car elevator that will lift him and new sweeet F12 up to the 4th floor of his Sea Cliff Mansion once owned by Sharon Stone his old long history squeeze that used to reside in his Irish Castle Raven’s Haven.

Many of the film star’s photos still grace the walls of the spiral staircase which much very nasty sex once took place all night long... Quill runs into his long time Man Servant Drake waiting outside the car elevator.

"Welcome home Sir! Much wicked bidness to attend to I’m afraid, do hope your rested and ready?"

"Ok, Old friend, I know one or more of the Bitches’s out in left field right? And maybe one of my Supreme Court Justice’s with a wild hair up their ass or ? Which Bitch in Rehab again?"

"Bitter sweet Sir Indeed. It appears your new Supreme Court Honcho Fat Tony has called ten times. He wants a firm arrival time and date Sir? Several of your old Squeeze’s are in Rehab and ask for prayers!

Your new supply of Blues Harps came this morning. A Mr.666 would appreciate a fly by were his exact words and your associate the esteemed Dali Lama has stored 300 pounds of Hashish in your underground wine cellar.

There is more including three parties all Blues Music affairs are waiting for RSVP"

"What is that incredible smell Drake? Must be Johnny Fashionesta in me kitchen hey? Smell those clams and that sauce. Hold all calls’ Drake, we will lunch upstairs in my fly tying suite.

Have me Cat Timba come quickly and bring a round of that 200 yr old killer Scotch with my Gold Bong, it is time to fly my friends. Dali grab a chair and sample this clam sauce Buddy? Oh yeah, the fucking kind like downtown Venice.

Drake pack my bags for Italy after I get the fucking court off my ass Boys! Getting Mother Fucking tired of this Court Bullshit burning my day light?"

GHOST OF MUDDY WATERS MOTHERFUCKER

"Quill, listen up Dawg! Man, every once in too many whiles a White Boy with soul slides in an kills every body like you have done Mr. Justice.

I listen that key of Low G Harp Son and I’m back at the studio with Willy Dixon and Little Luther and the Boys putting it down thick and oozy South Chicago Michigan Ave, Style Baby!

You do have to once in a black Moon slow yo ass down and let those low ass notes just hang like a football in the air. Let that low shit you conjure hang Baby and then get fast and then slow... You know the kind we like."

"Muddy, you come speaking and peeking. Make me cry , just a dumb ass Irish White Boy got lucky. Come on in and get visible and sit a spell Master. I’m so fucking humbled you come hang with me, humbled out man, humbled out..."

"I got a message from another of your soulful San Francisco Blues Legends another fucking bad ass white boy with more soul then he could control!

Mike Bloomfield wants you to get back to your roots at places like Old Waldorf, Fillmore West, Mabuhi Gardens and anything Dirk Dirkson or Chet Helms produced Son! Bloomfield wants you to remake his Blues Classic, "Sweet Little Angel..." And maybe take a whack at his sublime, "Buried Alive In The Blues" Can you hang with that Justice Quill, I say can you hang and bang Son?"

How much longer will General Quill let the Supreme Court burn his Day light?