Date: Tue, 14 Jun 2005 05:38:51 EDT
From: J
Subject: PETER PAN AND ME 53

PETER PAN AND ME 53
THE NIGHT IT RAINED LIKE THE DAY TINKERBELL DIED part two

You know, I just bought a computer. You know just before Peter Pan picked
me up so to speak. Made me a young boy again. People promise you things
and put up a front, then they don't or can't deliver. I hate them. I'm in
deep deep despair. I wish everyone who ever lied and then didn't deliver
would suffer and die. Including him. Yeah the guy who said he would fix
my computer and didn't. And Him him. Peter Pan. Peter. The Pan. You see,
at the moment I'm in the bottom of a mud walled pit that's sorta caving
in on itself with me in the center and the lowest spot in a puddle added
to by the torrential rainstorm overhead. Graham was supposed to be no
longer a problem. Yet there he had been, standing, spreading his legs
over the pit as if I were interested in what was in between them. I
wasn't. There wasn't much there. There hadn't been much where his
shoulders ended either. You see, Peter cut off Graham's arms not too long
ago. At least I think it was not too long. I surmised it was Graham that
had been haunting me. And he was right. Here I was a loser at the bottom
of  a mud caked, water logged hole, naked as the day I was born, and why?
Because I am.  A loser. When I was little, every Christmas or any holiday
where I looked forward to something, something always went wrong. I mean
always. And usually it would be the gift that I wanted most, the one
thing I asked for...that always broke down. I guess some people are
cursed like that, some people are jinxed or maybe sometimes others put
curses on them, sometimes I wonder about those people who call themselves
witches. I wonder what they do to people, sometimes hiding out under the
name wicca. They say one thing too and do another too. I pretty much hate
everyone right now, except perhaps some members of my family. Peter's
like that too. He's pretty much doing one thing while saying another. He
told me he'd never leave me or forsake me, sorta like God. And where are
they both? I gave up well, nothing and everything for him. At least
growing old gave me an end in sight, a long long end but an end
nevertheless. With this, with being discarded like yesterday's cold
pizza...by him, by Peter, I would suffer as a little boy on the verge of
teenage hood for eternity. Just like him. Or maybe he'd revert to being
even younger. I already lost the power of flight. I was not thinking
happy thoughts. Maybe you've noticed. I wish I were dead. I could just
put my head under this muddy worm filled water for a bit and go to
sleep...I longed to kill myself. Still, something always held me back. I
guess I have my family, my nieces in particular. I thought of them and
suicide just eluded me. Peter abandoned me and God seemed too far away,
those friggin born again churches did my life so much harm, robbed me of
my faith, the real faith in God. I hate them. I wish they would burn to
the ground. Anyway one year I would want a train set and it would brake
or another year a pop up Noah's Ark Book and it had a page ripped or
missing. Another year it would be a piece not in the box and oh yeah, the
best was on Halloween there was this scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz
costume...huh, I've since met the real one...I had this light on the top
of it that I wanted to work so badly and it didn't. Yet...there was
always the love of strangers...I recall this girl that came to our door
and she was selling Halloween things for starving kids or something and
she saw this kid, me, crying. In the cold bitter wind, she went out and
found a replacement bulb...which worked for about five minutes. I'm a sad
little man.

That also reminds me of something I may have told you once before.
Somehow a misunderstanding happened. I was supposed to be taken home by
someone from my soccer practice when I was I don't know, how old, six?
Second grade? And that leads me to the fact that I loved our home in
Rosedale when we were young kids, my sisters and brothers and I. Then we
moved when I was in second grade to Long Island and I cried every day in
school and hated it. I hated school. I hated Long Island. I still do. I
long to leave it but never could leave my family. I think now that
Arizona or New Zealand or Australia, might have been nice. I always heard
horror stories of people moving away from their families. Robbed in
Hawaii. Raped in London. Made fun of by frogs in France, whatever. Anyway
no one picked me up from Soccer Practice. Everyone left me. It got dark.
I was in the park till God knows what time. I began to cry. A strange
girl, who sorta reminded me of the first stranger...yet I sorta knew the
first one. Maybe it was an angel, the same angel. She called my home for
me and my parents came. Were they worried? Nope.

Another time, I was much older and horrified by the events I saw in three
born again churches and went bike riding on a street of hills and lost my
brakes. I crashed real hard onto the side..I swerved rather than choosing
to go across a busy intersection and into someone's garage door about 50
feet from the side of the road where I landed in bushes. I must have been
out for a bit.  A really handsome teen or 20 year old, not sure which,
named Downey or something, helped me. I managed to stumble to his home
and he made a phone call for me. He was wearing a short cut shirt with no
sleeves. It was summer. He was so hot. Anyway the kindness of strangers.
Peter was no stranger at this point. I hated him at this moment. Leaving
me to die alone in some hole with not even a memory of me. I also,
irrationally, thought my family, even though I wrote them notes from time
to time, would forget me by now, if any of them are still alive. Again, I
knew not what time it was outside Neverland. I haven't been out of
Neverland for a bit now. A good long time. Oh I wish I could die now.
Right now. But there was that something, that spark that refused to let
go, give up the ghost and follow Tyler into death. I hate life. I hate my
country, I hate my world, I hate my race, I hate my religion, I really
hate. I hate everything and everyone just about. I looked up and the rain
choked even my thoughts as it filled my throat, my eyes, my nose. I hate
Tyler. I hated Scen and Rober for having a normal relationship when I
couldn't. I hate them for getting to grow old together. I hate Elise for
being so self righteous. I hated her for being the only girl in a long
time that Peter asked to join the Lost Boys. I hate him, so much I ache.
I want to kill him. I want to kill Graham, Tyler, myself. And if Seth
were here with his lover girl, I'd kill them too. I hate them for having
a normal hetero life. I wish I could be hetero. It would be such a nice,
easy life. I hate them. I hate being gay. Homo. Fag. Limp wrist. Baloney
smoker, gay boy, puffer...gee, I hardly ever enjoyed the perks of being a
faggit. But I sure got all the suffering that went along with it. Well,
soon the water would reach my chest and then my mouth and over my head
and I would drown and that would be that. I wondered if these thoughts
would preclude me from heaven. I shrugged. I'm not perfect. If God wants
me to be perfect in order to get into heaven, well, then...


Peter was probably off on some adventure with some girl. Ah well, I
suppose he had to do that sooner or later. The others, the real world
others, would say that was the natural frame of things, male and female.
He and her. Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve but there are others who
think that since Eve came from Adam, they are still just one. One sex.
Homo...sexual. Like me. Like Peter. Damn him, he can go to his girls if
he wanted. But he was just trying to avoid his real feelings...that he
wasn't into them any more than I am, was. I'm confused. I'm hurting. I'm
soon to be drowning. I let my struggle end. I dropped my arms and drooped
my shoulders. The rain continued harder and harder. Graham seemed gone
but somehow, some way I knew he'd return to gloat as I gulped my last
breath of water from the muddy pit. I felt sorry for the worms now. At
least at one time, I could fly. I could fly and he, or I, or my moody
bitchy feelings took it away from me. It's that Peter. Lost boys can come
and go, fight for him and save him and die for him and even sacrifice for
him and he would go on, a smirk across that smug fuck face of his. He'd
laugh, maybe even bring them to the afterlife...could it be...where are
you? "Where are you?"

It seemed tragic. "What me tragic?"  He'd say and I'd say, "Yes, no, no,
ME, I'm tragic."

Here in this hole, not a person to remember me. I was sure even the Lost
Boys had already forgotten me, those who I'd slaved away
for...for...for...for how many years? Or was it just moments? Poor dead
Oliveer, the first of my Lost Boys to die for...for Peter. I hoped he'd
remember me when he sees me on the other side.

Tink was definitely dead. The music told it. The rain bore it. The wind
didn't help it.

It's amazing how people only think of themselves and occasionally when
they want to justify their own sense of guilt and of self worth, when
they want to feel good about themselves and their existence, they force
themselves to think about someone else, to do good but out of their own
needs, thus they are self serving again. I can say, truly say, that I did
things in my life that weren't always based in that. And I was always
searching, searching, searching for...for one other human being that was
the same. Of course I wanted that person to be male. I found it in pets.
Cats are like that. They really seek you out when they want something
though but when cats come to you for...for some loving or sleep with you
in your bed, you know they must really like you, cause, well, cats don't
do things unless they really like you, things like that anyway. I'm
rambling. Must be cause the water is at my neck now. I try to fly
occasionally but the water and mud hold me down and even the mood I'm in
won't allow me to get a millimeter off the ground or dare I say it out of
the water muck. I shut my eyes as the rain worsens. And worsens. I can't
see the top any more and even when I look up, my eyes are so pelted with
raindrops...gosh, they feel like rocks...I don't dare open them up. I try
to do that but my mind won't allow me. What is it? Why bother? I want to
just let go and give up the ghost. I try to force myself to do it, to let
my spirit out so I can die. Like that tv show DEAD LIKE ME, where spirits
are pulled from their bodies before the moment of death so that the
person doesn't really feel the pain of the moment of death. But it won't
work for...for me. I can't do it myself. Something still holds me into my
body. The fucker known as Peter Pan maybe? I cling to that small one
percent of hope that he will come rescuing me, laughing like the wind,
smacking the villains down with his feet or his sword, and yeah, even
killing them for...for me. FOR...FOR...FOR...FOR ME. For...for me. He did
all that for...for me.

I supposed that I should be grateful that the little prick known as Peter
Pan gave me attention as much as he did for...for as long as he did. I
mean he hardly gave Wendy a blink compared to what he's already given me
and as for...for the rest...they mean nothing to him, I'm not even sure
they even meant friendship to him. The little fuck face. He's all about
himself. I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate him more than I hate...

Tyler...figure in rain. Gray. Glimmering white now. Peter bending on one
knee. Tyler pushing hands down on Peter's shoulders.


When in the springtime of the year
When the trees are crowned with leaves
When the ash and oak, and the birch and yew
Are dressed in ribbons fair


The rain seems to let up. I look up. It's not. It's the same. Only...only
to me, it doesn't seem that bad. Even death at this point. A rain drop
hits my cheek. And it warms it. It spread to warm me.

"I shouldn't have done the things I did."

"I know, Tyler. I know. I'm sorry too."

"What?"

"I made a promise to Chase and I killed you. I killed many. It's not
right in His eyes, you know..."  Peter bowed on one knee. "Will you?"

Tyler or rather his spirit, bent down and then fell on his face and
cried.

Peter shook his head to one side, "Can't you forgive me? I'm, I'm sure,
I'm sure Chase will. He'd forgive anyone anything...I'm sure of that..."

"Yes."

When owls call the breathless moon
In the blue veil of the night
The shadows of the trees appear
Amidst the lantern light

Another drop hits my head, smack on top. It had to be mathematically
correct. It felt...good. Like the fire when the apostles are anointed by
God. It warms my head, my brain. My brain seemed to hiccup. My mind
shakes. My head nods up and down. I smile and laugh. I look up. A few
drops land on my teeth and make them sparkle white as in a toothpaste ad.
The water is still rising. It's at my neck now.

"But I can't forgive myself."

"Pufff, oh that,"  Peter brushes it off like a mosquito on his face and
nods his head, just like he did when he was telling the adult Wendy that
he'll reteach her to fly, not realizing then that Wendy was adult of
course......  "...of course you can..."  Peter stands and as he does, the
ray of light that comes down from heaven stops the rain in just that ray
of light. The fog and mist around it still contain water particles from
the area and the torrent goes on around it. Peter stands on high and his
feet come off the ground to surprise him like the day he was in Wendy's
bedroom proving to John and Michael he can fly and he was so happy he
just took off without realizing it. His face registers shock and then he
smiles up and then down. Down at Tyler, who went back to his crying.

"I killed him. I killed him. Him too and I would have killed you too
if..."

"If I hadn't killed you. Yes, I know. I don't care..."  Peter puts his
hand out like Jesus putting his hand out to help someone up, for...for
Thomas to put his hand in the holes in his hand.

Speaking of holes, I'm in one. And I wonder if God's hand is around the
hole. It would be a pretty big hand.  I imagine Neverland as part of
God's palm. Psalms. Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death...I shall fear no evil.

Another rain drop comes. In it, I see Peter Pan coming through Wendy's
window. No, wait. My window. A small light follows him. Tink. The fairy
boy. It hits my chin and glistens it. I laugh out loud. The rain is
slowing down. A lot.

Chorus:
We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gay


"Come."  Peter's hand is reaching out like ET to Elliot. Tyler's hand
comes up to meet it. Peter reaches down some more, "Come on. I shall show
you the way, the truth, the path...the one, the three...I know them well.
And they forgive me too. I have been a bloody bloody bloody boy. But the
way is still open to me...as it is to you. For...for my sin is greater
than yours."

"I ...it's all sin,"   The ghost of Tyler says and reaches up to grasp
Peter's hand firmly.

"Boy why are you crying?"
The raindrop that hits my left eye. Me in King Kong's domain. Talking to
Peter who was crying over the fact that Penguins cannot fly.

"What is your name?"
"Pan...Peter Pan."
"Chase."
"I like that name."
The raindrop that filled my right eye. The water is up to my neck and
over it now.

Hands in each other's, Peter had Tyler's left hand in his own baby like
right hand. With his left hand, the showman Peter is, he points the way
like Clark Kent or Superman might as he spirits up up and away. And Peter
says it, "UP up and away!"

Faster than a speeding bullet...well, that's not true of Peter in one
respect. He's nice and slow in some ways, and big.

"I know where you live..."

Peter pointing happily and sticking his nippular chest out, "Second star
to the right and straight on till morning..."

Who will go down to those shady groves
And summon the shadows there
And tie a ribbon on those sheltering arms


"Promise me one thing, leave Kickai to me."
"I promise."
Another drop on my eyebrow.

"Leave Tyler to me."

I smile and jump up a bit. I notice or rather don't notice. I'm floating
up over the water now. The water is up to my ankles. I'm excited because
I know or think I know what Peter is doing.

Graham, as I predicted, has returned and seeing me floating over the
small pool created under me, grows red with anger. He snaps his hands and
a Viking with him hands him a crossbow. He points it down at me. I don't
really see it or him any longer. I'm seeing another rain drop hitting my
chest.

"I love you Chase."

"Will you come back for...for me?"
"To hear stories...."   Peter floats over the sky and turns, "ABOUT
ME...."  He starts to turn up to fly again but stops and looks down
through the bubble of the raindrop, "AND YOU, CHASE!"  I laugh and
giggle, a wide sincere grin.

He flies over the rooftops....the stars bow to greet him...he circles the
moon, the girl there smiles at him but he waves her off, "I'm about
another."    She laughs for...for she knows.

I giggle and smile and kick. I float higher. I stop. There's some doubt
lingering.


Another raindrop and another. Leaving my bedroom window far behind.
Flying through the vortex.
In the springtime of the year
The songs of birds seem to fill the wood
That when the fiddler plays
All their voices can be heard
Long past their woodland days

Another raindrop. Peter singing like an angel over the treetops, lifting
me up with him over Neverland, the woodland creatures and sea creatures
dancing to his voice...heavenly...

And so they linked their hands and danced
Round in circles and in rows
And so the journey of the night descends

More drops over and over they hit me: dancing in the forest of Kensington
Gardens...the party...the marriage...swimming along the beach, shark,
Peter saving me, resting on the log...his bare glistening body, smooth
skin brightly lighting up the shore...

When all the shades are gone
A garland gay we bring you here
And at your door we stand


At King Kong's door. Each raindrop like a memory. Like stored memories of
Peter himself stored in the cave of lost memories and the cove of
forgotten thoughts...but these energize me with each hit.


It is a sprout well budded out
The work of Our Lord's hand

Raising up. Tyler in his hand. Pulling the ghost with him through the
vortex toward heaven. Bodies alight. Passing the demons who try to stop
them. Sparkling laughs off Peter's thick prepubescent lips.

Roughing me up as he teaches me to sword fight. Wounding me. Hurting me.
Dancing again. Another group of drops hits me and I don't really see
Graham holding the crossbow anymore, nor his sidekick of a massive Viking
there beside him. It's me crying over Pan's body, me crying over his
being dead, finding his body in the woods...how much love I held
then...and knew it even at that terrible moment. This image, ironically,
brought to me the most joy. Knowing Pan was alive and not dead at this
moment, not with me, maybe never again with me but knowing I trusted he
was doing something...something valuable to him...to me...and I knew. I
knew what he was doing. Fully. Tyler, he was taking him to the other
side. And going all the way.


I laughed out loud, my mouth opening wide. My mouth was hit by several
raindrop. The kiss. My kiss to suck out the Seth monster from Peter's
very being. Peter springing forth again. The thimble explanation. He
finally knew it. Or did he? Would he remember it? He might not. But it
mattered not. Grinding on him. Him on me. Kissing me. Mouths as one.

Chorus:
We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again

Dancing on clouds. Finding the pirate ship through the clouds. Peter
saving me from Kickai. The swimming lessons. The merboy who almost drowns
me. Peter saving me. Me saving him. Me saving the merboy from the hag
mermaids. Bubbles in my nose. Me kicking the sorcerers's asses saving
Peter.


We bring a garland gay

Chorus:
We've been rambling all the night
And some time of this day
Now returning back again
We bring a garland gay

Bubble: me reaching up for...for the fairy boy, "I do believe in
fairies."

Rico: I do believe in fairies.
Oliveer: I do believe in fairies.
Pa're: I do believe in fairies.
Tyler: I do believe in fairies.

Grabbing up for...for the fairy boy, lifting upward. I knew I could fly
now but not far. For...for the physical part was still holding me down
and I also knew that crossbow would catch me right in the forehead any
second, when fired by Graham. Old. Alone. Done for...for. Graham. Poor
fellow. If only he could see the error of  his ways. Sometimes I wished
Peter could be like Wonder Woman, make liars tell the truth, change the
minds of the evil minded.

Bubble: Me at the window, Peter closed out with me. Looking in at the new
baby. Looking in at him as a baby. Not much different. Crying. Why this
way? Bubbles hitting me and splashing me in water. I giggle, laugh,
guffaw after each and every one, knowing we've been through this already,
knowing it already made us stronger, enlightened me AND HIM...for...for
Peter learned. Flipping guards, sword fighting Kickai and Graham and
Tyler's brothers...Peter hitting the ground....a power from Peter that
moved me. Peter ignoring me for...for lying to him. For...for fooling
him. Mad at me. I won't tell his story to my children for...for my
children will be his children. I won't leave him for...for  another, I
will be with him for...for all eternity. He's not abandoning me. He's
doing what I want: he's saving Tyler's soul. My inner child laughs. My
spirit jumps. I rise. But someone is coming. I know it's him. Him him. I
feel the soar. The power.

Graham and his lackey above, feel it too. They look up at the sky. The
rain isn't letting up much but someone is laughing there in the grayness.
Then a ray of bright light and a huge amount of non rain. A blast of
energy and light and speeding bullet. Peter's face, a big O on his mouth,
a big O of fun and joy and enthusiasm, unfettered by any adult chains,
coming down right at me. I couldn't see it at first but I could. In my
mind. Then in my eyes I saw it as the rain did stop. Peter flew straight
down....out of the sky, out of the mist and fog and the rain. A bright
light following him. He laughed one long laugh and as he came down, he
did a super speedo flip, his feet kicking up and around but it seemed as
if he never stopped moving downward in his vertical flight at me. But he
had. His feet in his flip, knocked Graham flat, his chin getting kicked
and the crossbow being knocked aside. Graham fell into his lackey and
both heavy men fell to the ground with a thud and mud splashed up all
around them.

I was up but not enough. Peter flew down at me and we laughed as one. He
wrapped me in his right arm and put his other arm out straight, "Second
mud hole to the left and straight on till we hit the curve up!"   I was
flipped, head down, like the half  turn of giant pinwheel has grabbed me,
turned me so I faced straight down, the same directon Peter was facing,
and I am  humble enough to say that   I did so shut my eyes.

"P'TER!!!!!"   I yelled in triumph. Peter, with me as his passenger,
punched his way DOWN through the mud hole, a great splash coming up from
it. The water hit a recovered Graham in the face as he tried to peer into
the hole to see my fate. My fate was wonderful. Peter drilled his way
through the ground, the soft mud, the hard earth. He punched his flight
and curved through it upward and rose up out of the ground like some holy
man revived from the dead! Like Lazarus. And Peter laughed, a spray of
mud like some strange oil spurting sprayed Graham just as he had wiped
his face from the mud. His aide also was covered in more mud and both
tried to run but I was not sure which direction, away or toward us.
And...I didn't care.

Around us the gray clouds still swirled, making the colors of the forest
under and around us, all the more vivid green, almost glowing in
intensity without the shadows to deal with. The lack of sunlight made the
greens greener, the leaves of  brown browner, the golden earth in spots,
even more shiny and red and mustard color. Overcast isn't always bad. The
lifting fog, even now leaving us, gave it a cozy atmosphere, almost like
being indoors without being indoors, a close comfy feeling. But as the
fog lifted, the vividness of color remained.

In the air, a tight muscular arm wrapped around my back, my bare body
pressed hard against his and I do mean hard, there was no better moment
than this. I kissed Peter deeply and his laughing vibrated my tongue, my
mouth, my teeth, we sparkled and sparked. We had come out of the hole and
flew upward and upward until we spiraled rapidly. As we did, we kissed
intimately. Peter finished after a long time and looked down, "What's
that? Chase? What's that?"

"It's..."

"Is that manhood?"

"I think, Peter, you might be right, I think it is."

"EWLLL!"

"Peter Pan, just because it's adult-ish doesn't mean it's bad."

"Didn't say that! Why we play adults sometimes. I'm into adult things
that are good for...for me, that feel good for...for me and this feels
good for...for me...."  Peter pulled me closer and closer and I couldn't
contain myself any longer. I popped. And Peter repeated it, "POP!"   He
smiled and lapped it up. All in the air.

"What does this mean?"

"Nothing, I'm still the same Peter Pan I always was!"

"And I wouldn't have it any other way!"  I kissed his neck.

Behind us, the pastoral, colorful arcs of a giant rainbow filled the sky
as the clouds opened and let in some sunshine. We spun slower now but
just as romantic. Peter was mine and Tyler was in heaven. I was glad. All
was right with the world. And it would be for...for some time to come.
Even with Graham back, although he would cause us some more problems in
the future...but that's another story to be told at another time...



Peter Pan and characters from the play, TV shows, movies and other
materials called PETER PAN by JM Barrie are copyright JM Barrie and the
Great Ormond Street Hospital for Sick Children. No copyright infringement
is intended.