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While he was waiting for Enkidu to return, thinking of the dolphin-prowed ship
at anchor, ready to take them to the island of Pompeii, Gilgamesh heard a
sound.
A cry. A whine. A mewling sob of pain.
Up rose Gilgamesh, searching out the source of this heart-rending cry, and
found a dog, underneath the woman's wagon, bleeding from his neck and from his
right forepaw.
Gilgamesh knew this dog, whom the woman called Ajax, although Enkidu had told
him the dog did not recognize that name. He said, "Dog! Ajax dog, I am
Gilgamesh to whom all secrets have been revealed! I can heal you if you let me
touch you. Do not bite me, dog."
The dog raised his muzzle and bared his teeth as Gilgamesh reached for him.
Then he sighed a heavy sigh and put his head down on his unwounded paw so that
Gilgamesh could touch him.
When Gilgamesh touched the dog, it quivered and then it closed its eyes. When
Gilgamesh cleaned the dog's wounds and dressed them with unguents from the
woman's wagon, the dog cried but did not bite him.
When Gilgamesh bound the dog's wounds with strips of yellow silk from the
wagons curtains, the dog wagged its weary tail.
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When it was clear that Enkidu was not returning to the caravan, the king of
Uruk picked up the dog called Ajax in his arms and carried it to the boat
waiting to take them to Pompeii.
So did Gilgamesh set sail for the magical city, with a wounded dog for his
companion, and from there, perhaps, to trek to long-lost Uruk. And because
Enkidu was no longer with him, Gilgamesh stroked the dog and told it
everything he would have told Enkidu of the adventures awaiting them.
Gilgamesh did this with a heart that was heavy, but not unbearably heavy.
Enkidu had gone off with the caravan woman, this was certain: neither of their
bodies were among the slain.
Gilgamesh, like Enkidu, was not alone.
CRUSADERS IN LOVE
Bill Kerby
Copyright (c) 1887 by Bill Kerby
Hey, wait a minute, who the hell is this Lefty Armbruster anyway? Am I suppose
to know him? My answering service is about to go ape; he just keeps calling.
This is not exactly the choicest time to be bugging me for favors, either. I'm
not the kind of guy who doesn't remember who he's been, believe me. But all of
a sudden Robin and I are flooded with attention - we are on the "A-list,"
everybody's new best friend. We go down to City Cafe and every head turns.
They want us to be celebrity judges on Dance Fever. We stand in a movie line
and the guy comes out and takes us right in. Free popcorn, too. My lawyer
finally returns my calls. Suddenly, it doesn't seem to be my turn in the rain
barrel anymore, as the old saying goes.
When I came to this weird beard town, I hadn't exactly fallen on" the turnip
truck. I'd been in the Marine Corps standing tall (I will walk my post in a
military manner, keeping always on the alert, and observing everything that
takes place within sight or hearing, sir!), struggled in New York as a
starving actor (my hottest moment was. when Morty himself, drunker than a
skunk, tried to pick me up in F.A.O. Schwartz), plus I got involved in some
semi-shady stuff which I'll tell you about later, okay?
But how the hell can you prepare yourself for L.A.?
It's sixty-two miles wide at one point, every living soul in it is on the make
if we're going to be honest about it, - and there are - by actual count - more
Mercedeses than there are Plymouths! Go figure. The weather's always nice, and
half the people give you that empty grin and tell you to have a nice day,
while the other half are cutting your heart out with a rusty hacksaw. They got
championship sports, championship business, and championship pussy. If it's
Wednesday where you are, I don't care, it's already Saturday out here! At the
top, you can go anywhere, do anything, be anybody. And at the very bottom, you
know in your soul that you've come as far as you can go in continental limits
before you've run out of plans. This is IT, babeee. Last chance saloon.
So you get a car, you start hanging out, and you do the breast stroke through
the panic and dead dreams of the jerks at the bar. Everywhere you look"
mirrors. You can see yourself. Or you can be yourself.
Bo, it's sad.
Time: 3:30 A.M. Monday, April 10. Los Angeles Police Department, Officers
Fishbeck and McConnell, North Hollywood Division. Automobile A was traveling
south on Laurel Canyon Boulevard at a high rate of speed. It was a 1958
Triumph convertible, red in color with a tan leather interior. It was not
equipped with safety belts. Skid marks indicated that automobile A had crossed
the double yellow lines just south of Croft Street, which intersects Laurel
Canyon Boulevard to the east. The weather was clear, the pavement was dry.
Automobile B was a 1984 Jaguar X-6 sedan, green in color, with a green leather
interior. Safety harnesses were employed, Vehicle B was traveling north at a
normal rate of speed when it was impacted by vehicle A. There were two
witnesses, whose names and statements are listed below. After the emergency
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