#198 Fertile at Any Age

#198 Fertile at Any Age

 

I packed my jeep with camping gear, supplies, and enough beer and wine to last a week. Donna knew where there were old Indian ruins off the beaten track. I wanted to search for artifacts because the market for Indian stuff was booming.

The wine wasn’t cheap. Donna had lots of class and wouldn’t drink anything that cost less than ten bucks a bottle. I was tempted to buy the $3.98 a gallon wine, fill and re-cork her empty bottles, but I worried she might notice the taste difference, so I splurged and paid for the good stuff. I did buy the cheapest beer. After two or three, I couldn’t tell the difference between a top brand and the swill.

On Donnas’ directions, I drove through rugged desert terrain and up a hill filled with scrub until there were so many rocks bigger than the jeep that driving any further was out of the question. “We have to walk from here.” She pointed to a spot halfway up a hill. “There’s an entrance there to where they used to dwell.”

“We’ll make camp here so we don’t have to carry our gear all the way up there.” I picked up a canteen full of beer and a bottle of wine. “You grab some tools to comb the ground for anything we can find.” I trudged on up the hill with Donna walking behind. We reached the entrance where petroglyphs covered the rocks. My canteen was half-full,  and I regretted not bringing two.

Donna knew enough to bring flashlights along with the other tools. We crawled through the almost hidden cave entrance. I shined my light on a cave wall and was amazed at the drawing of what appeared to be a man or god engulfed in flames. Donna got right to work scraping the loose sediment in search of arrowheads and other treasures. I finished off the beer in my canteen and my bladder was full. I didn’t want to empty it near where Donna was digging so I walked deeper into the cave to relieve myself.

As I did, I saw a small furless animal scoot under a rock. Never having seen an animal like this, I got on the

ground and shined my light under the rock where it had run. I didn’t see the animal, but did see a carved piece of wood.

I took out my Buck knife and stuck the blade under the rock to work the piece out. My heart raced when I gazed at a well-preserved wooden flute with carvings obscured by a layer of dirt and dust. I carried it back to Donna, who sat sipping her wine. She held a tiny piece of rock she thought might be an arrowhead. We headed back to camp where there was more beer and wine.

Night fell. I gathered brush and built a roaring campfire. “Flickering under moonlight tonight is a bonfire ignited inside my beating heart,” I told Donna.

She gave me a look and said, “Maybe you better not drink anymore.” She poured herself another glass of wine.

With a damp cloth, I cleaned off my found treasure. I saw the image on the flute was the same as the man or god engulfed in flames on the cavern wall. I shook it to empty any dust inside and put it to my lips and blew through it.

Eerie sounds emanated from the ancient flute. I tried to pull it from my lips, but it was stuck and felt like the flute was drawing air from my lungs instead of me blowing through it. The weird sounds went on and on. I couldn’t draw a breath as the flute sucked all the air from me. When I got dizzy and ready to faint, the music stopped.

“That was beautiful, Joe. I didn’t know you could play.”

Shaken, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know one note from another. Then I looked to the fire and saw it. The image carved on the flute grew in the center of the fire. It grew bigger and bigger until it dwarfed Donna and me. The flaming man stepped from the fire and approached me.

“You summoned Kokopelli?”

“I did?”

“You hold the key. What is it you want?”

I looked at Donna. Her face froze in disbelief, so I knew she wouldn’t be much help. Unusual for me, I did some quick thinking and said, “What can you do for me?”

“Don’t you know I’m the God of fertility and seduction?”

I looked at beautiful Donna and my beer-frazzled brain jumped at the word seduction. As though he read my mind, Kokopelli started to sing. Fire soared as though fed by a steady stream of gasoline to cause an inferno brightly blazing.

The next thing I knew, Donna, and I were in a passionate embrace.

A few weeks went by. Donna couldn’t believe that at age 71 she was pregnant. When she gave birth to healthy twin girls, she made headlines around the world. DNA testing proved I fathered them at age 75.

“How?” was the question everyone asked? I knew Kokopelli was responsible for this miracle. Now that I had two babies to support, I needed to earn their keep somehow. I searched for work but was always told, “You’re way too old.” So I drank some more beer and pulled out the flute that caused it all. While holding it in my hand, I had an epiphany.

I ran to tell Donna.

“Our money problems are solved,” I shouted as soon as I burst into the room and the two girls awoke with a start and cried. I picked them up and danced in circles until they began to giggle.

“How?” was the question that came from Donna’s lips.

“We’re opening a fertility clinic!”