The Dinner Party Chapter 6

CHAPTER Six Dinner Party Stuber 6.1

The noon sun glimmered on the soft silk of four-foot high corn. The roar of Duane Allman’s motorcycle scared a few natives who hadn’t heard anything like it before. Katherine B. was having the time of her life putsing along at 30 MPH through a field of knee-high grasses. The native girls enjoyed watching her have fun on a man’s toy.
Further up the hill, and around the corner, just out of view, a small fire burned.
Fawn flinched then kept a shy count of the beads woven into a blanket she had been sharing with Garcia. She reached over and played with his sideburns. (By “18 again” we mean 18 in real terms, not just in spirit. Hence, sideburns, but no beard.)
“No matter what happens with my father’s speech, we can stay here and enjoy the wonders of nature,” Fawn said.
Garcia laughed. “You know there is nothing quite like the wonders of nature. Maybe we should write a song about it.”
“Our songs don’t always have words, but maybe you could teach me.”
“How come you haven’t had boyfriends before Fawn?”
“I am too shy to boldly ask to lay down with anyone,” she lied. “Plus my parents wanted me to have friends that were good hunters or good fighters. Most of those guys in my tribe were the biggest jerks, you know what I mean?” she asked with a quizzical look on her face. “So, if anyone came up to me and wanted to play at anything but bead tying or mask making, my mother made them go away.”
Garcia packed a bowl with hemp and lit it by sticking a piece of fallen birch bark into the fire and using it as a punk. The pipe was a long one, stolen from the wall of her father’s favorite ganohsot. He’d be pissed if he knew his daughter was losing her virginity with a guy who smoked hemp, not in ceremonies or at gatherings, but just as a way to relax before having sex.
“Are there any people who smoke pipes on a daily basis?” Garcia asked.
“Not really. I mean we’re not supposed to. Most women don’t smoke very often at all. The men smoke at fire-rallies or meetings,” Fawn said.
Garcia, not a personality type long on delayed gratification, pondered the sensible living these people had adopted.
“So you women do all the work around here?” Garcia asked.
“Well, we do plenty of planting and harvesting, and we tan the occasional

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deer or bear, but the men hunt and protect us, so it works out. I thought we were coming up here to play, now you’re just asking questions, this is no fun,” Fawn said, with a poochie lip.
“You want to try this pipe?” Garcia asked, handing the lit bowl to her.
“I could be severely punished and teased for this, but, yes, I will try it,” Fawn said with a brave smile.
She took a large hit and held it in. She wanted to cough desperately, but held the smoke in like a young Onondowagan male would. She wasn’t about to be outdone by this strange guy from the future, or wherever. After ten seconds she exhaled.
“Is that how you do it?” she asked.
“It sure is,” Garcia said, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure you haven’t snuck out and tried this before?”
“Absolutely not,” Fawn said as she slowly turned around. She took off her deerskin top with her back to Garcia. This move made him a lot more nervous than her. Yet, she was so nervous her hand shook before she could take his hand.
“You better be sure this is what you want to do,” Garcia said. “I am already friends with your mother, your father is the most important authority in these parts, and if we get banished, I got to tell you, I’m not that great at culling a living off the land.”
“I want us to be friends forever Garcia, I won’t tell anyone of our play time unless you want me too.”
Garcia was thinking this girl was a little young to be making such promises, but she seemed able to handle her smoke fairly well. Maybe he struck it rich here.
Just as Garcia, shaking, reached his hand for Fawn’s breast, a loud cry, almost a war chant started to infest the clans meeting below. The problems of the clan seemed miles away. They weren’t.
Big Deer didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His dream told of chaos. His dream told him not to sacrifice his clan no matter how many people called him a coward. His dream occurred long before his clan was invited to this meeting: long before news of Running Bear’s death hit the Haudenosaunee.
“I want you to know that I believe we should not throw away our lineage in the Heron Clan just to appease the war-like tendencies of Running Bear. He is our cousin, he is a good man, but I think we need to remain united about peace,” Big Deer said to about half of his clan.

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Their facial expressions seemed to agree. A few were more concerned about the ruckus occurring behind their camp. {Again M=Male. F=Female}
M: I would like to fight if we are asked. M: You would like to fight, but we do not know the nature of the war. This so-called war could be no war at all. We do not know the intentions of these foreign people we have never seen. We could be going to war just to satisfy the blood-needs of Running Bear’s new lover.
F: I agree, we need to be attacked before defending what is ours. Why should we go into our neighbors’ territory and start a war, spilling their blood, ruining their land, just to save our own. Even if we are victorious, our neighbors will not be happy that we dragged them into it. They may have been able to create a peace with these foreigners.
Jessica: From our perspective, we know that if it wasn’t for the generosity of the tribes to the east, the Europeans would have all died from the winters. If you went and simply convinced the tribes not to help the new settlers, they would probably perish by exposure. That still wouldn’t stop others from landing south of here and taking over the continent.
M: What is this noise all around us?
F: We will find out soon enough. This woman’s point may be correct. Why fight until we are defending what is ours?
Big Deer: The simple point is, that war is no longer part of our traditions. We must help as many people stand up to Running Bear as possible.
F: Let’s see what’s going on here now. We should join the other clans. It sounds mighty rowdy over there by the lake.
Big Deer rubbed his eyes, clearing away the cobwebs, but not the anguish that he felt. He lagged behind the group. He broke a twig off a young maple and started to peal the thin bark as he walked. He’d like to take Running Bear over his knee and tan his ass with this switch, he thought. Running Bear had ascended young and Big Deer was a little bitter about the way the women voted when Running Bear became chief.
The whole voting system was devised to avoid people being swayed by a loud voice. Men could easily form alliances with other men, create voting blocks and retaining power even if there decisions were not in the best interest of the tribe.

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But could a man form alliances with a large number of women without the gossip bringing him down? It was thought not, hence only women voted for chief.
But in Running Bear’s case, the women, without realizing it, let their genitals speak when they elected the man, at least in Big Deer’s thinking, that was more of a charmer of women than a leader. Big Deer kept that theory to himself. He knew how it felt to be left out of bed. Not so much by his wife, but by the gossip. She would gladly forgo sex in order to get back at a man whom accused a whole clan or tribe full of women of voting with their genitals rather than their brains.
A smile crept along his face. Now he was quite a ways behind his clan. Daydreaming doesn’t move the feet any faster he thought as he stepped up the pace to catch up. What is it about a clan that will just walk ahead of its leader at such an important gathering, Big Deer thought.
He had no clue as to just how important.
There was one more batch of sumac between the woods and the clearing that held five ganohsots, and this rowdy tribal meeting. While his clan trod on, Big Deer went to the bushes, picked a few berries and pondered the poison they contained.
He squished them in his left hand (the dirty “himanay”) and smeared his cheek with a loose red that would wear off before fooling anyone into thinking it was blood.
A Turtle clan woman named Flying Owl, along with Corcoran, came running toward the Herons.
“Running Bear is dead!” Flying Owl said.
Semi-hysterics broke out among the Herons. Some women cried, some men hit each other in frustration, others just screamed. Big Deer got the word and realized it was no time to dilly-dally.
He knew there would be women who would nominate him for the spot. He thought about the synchronicity of the sumac berries he just picked. One thing natives in this area were tuned into was the pure luck nature and the universe had thrown into the sequence of things. This respect for the supernatural was why the Haudenosaunee always followed their dreams. It was one of the rites passage of the tribe. Adolescents had to learn that to deny their dreams was not just a big folly, but tantamount to a deadly sin.
There were many humorous stories of men who insisted on following their dreams, and thereby tearing their families asunder, or making huge mistakes. Some seemed foolish when waking up and acting on their dreams.

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Indeed some would be teased endlessly by their peers for acting so freely. But, the elders never teased them, and they regarded the dreams as signs from the turtle, on the back of which they flew through the universe. The air gods always made their presence known subtly.
It was from another one of his daydreams that Big Deer was awoken. Awoken by near chaos.
“What in the name of the white serpent is going on here?!” he yelled.
“Since the news of Running Bear’s death, people have taken to running around, applying war paint and getting ready to go into battle,” Corcoran said.
“We are here to discuss the first major break in the rules we have lived by for centuries, and all-of-a-sudden people are running around ready to go to war without even speaking?” Big Deer said, as he entered the center fire pit area.
“I think the lack of leadership has caused a vacuum that has people making up their own minds regardless of your laws,” Corcoran said.
F: “Who are you to say?”
M: “Your arrival here has started all of this. Now let’s see you get us out of this safely!”
Big Deer: “I want everyone who is in favor of peace to round up all the other humans who agree with you. I want you to reconnoiter the people on the verge of being led astray, and help me bring them back to our ways. The amount of humans we save from going east to fight a shameful war will determine how well we survive if some of them go off anyway. Disperse and meet back here with as many real Haudenosaunee as you can find.”
The quick speech was followed by Big Deer running to the Cayuga and Onondaga camps. He knew that they had hated the endless wars with the Mohawks before the peace under the great white tree, and that they wouldn’t be hard to sway.
Meanwhile, Catherine the Great was consolidating power of her own.
“I beg you to do by Running Bear’s command. We must stop the invasion before it arrives!” Catherine said to a band of painted Mohawks and Onondowagas. These were the fighting tribes.
Jack and Virginia Woolf were the only remaining invitees gathered around the swarming group. The normal war routine was known only in legend to these Haudenosaunee. There was no doubt that they would remember the runners needed to keep the fighters fed, and the scouts were already grouped together. There had been skirmishes to defend the western borders, but not an all-out war in their generation.

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On the other hand, Big Deer’s group seemed larger.
“We have to convince the others not to go!” Big Deer said as he walked, pied piper-like with humans of all ages following. “Hurry, we can catch them before they drag our hole tribe into years of suffering.”
Big Deer’s group arrived at the scene of much hooting and hollering. War dances were saved for the night, but this near-riot in the August sun was more powerful.
The shouting match between Big Deer and Catherine the Great could not be heard over the crowd noise. Here’s how it went:
“You can not lead these young men to slaughter, you are not even one of us!” Big Deer screamed.
“They are going out of respect for Running Bear. They are going because they know that to stay behind is to ensure the demise of your tribe,” Catherine said.
“Even Nostradamus, and the other gods from the future say that our tribe does not die out entirely. They described it as 300 years of dormancy. No matter what you see as fate, I know that if we learn how to deal with the foreign people, our ways will survive, even if in the smallest of quarters,” Big Deer implored.
“But my way means you won’t ever have to submit your culture to the ways of the greedy Europeans!”
* * * *
A wind from the southeast and the close attention they paid each other kept Garcia and Fawn from realizing what was going on at the meeting site. The thin line of smoke from their fire was not noticed in the arguments below.
Garcia put one hand around Fawn’s back. His other hand lightly rubbed the underside of her left breast as he suckled her right breast.
Fawn giggled quietly at first then pulsed under his gentle touch. The summer sun gleamed off a sweat ball rolling down Garcia’s back. He had only taken his shirt off, as he didn’t want to press the situation too hard. Nothing like the benefit of a few centuries of dealing with women, he thought as Fawn started to get hotter and hotter.
“That feels nice Garcia, does it feel nice when I suck yours?” Fawn asked as she slid her torso down far enough to give her an angle on his nipples. He moaned a faint response and started to play with her hair.
He rubbed it, and twisted it in his hands. It looked beautiful, and he

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wouldn’t have guessed it was oily by looking at it, but to the touch it was downright greasy.
“How do you keep your hair so pretty?” Garcia asked.
“In the summer I like to swim a lot, but in the winter, I would have to say that my hair isn’t as pretty,” she said.
“Where I come from, we had all kinds of chemicals to make our hair pretty. Anyone could get all different types of potions to put in their hair to clean it. We called it shampoo.”
“There you go again with all that informational drivel I really don’t care that much about,” Fawn said.
Garcia was impressed at how the language translator god had given Fawn such a nice vocabulary. He had forgotten his history. He should have remembered that the Haudenosaunee were amongst the most loquacious tribes in the history of man.
“Suck my finger,” Fawn said. As soon as he did she flagellated and started laughing.
“I can’t believe you fell for that one at your age, ” she said.
“Fell for what one, that was disgusting. We were having a moment of intimacy, and you went and farted.”
“It was more like a joke. Don’t you know the kids game where one kid gets the other to suck his finger, then he farts?” Fawn asked.
“I guess I know a similar game. We played the game, but we would get someone to pull our finger and fart while it was being pulled. The pulling was supposed to act as some type of release mechanism,” Garcia said.
“This is the same thing, except by sucking on my finger while I farted, our legend says you have agreed to accept all my poisons for that day, no matter which god is infecting me,” she said.
“It must be the god of love that is infecting you today,” he said.
“Not exactly,” Fawn said with a smile.
“No? How about the goddess of mischief?”
“Not exactly,” she said, turning her head thirty degrees on its chin’s axis.
“Don’t tell me. Uh, the god of vengeful karma?”
“I don’t know what karma is, but I don’t think so,” Fawn said.
A little frustrated now, Garcia reached over, picked up the pipe, repacked a party-sized bowl and took a puff.

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“Hmm, this will take some thought then,” Garcia said. “Is this god a god of nature, a god of the Overworld or a god of the underworld?”
“A goddess of nature,” she said
“I doubt you’d be infected by one of the three sisters.” (Corn, beans and squash for those keeping score at home.) “How about the big serpent that rolls over the hills and hides under the lake?” Garcia asked.
“No, he’s not really a god, more of a myth,” she said.
Garcia figured he had played the game long enough, and wondered why she hadn’t just told him. Again, he forgot his own history books on this one.
“Here,” he said, “smoke more of this, I am sure it will come to you.”
“Sarcasm is not flattering for you Garcia, I know which goddess is visiting me, and if you were more attentive, you could have guessed by now,” she said as she reached over for the pipe.
She took a hit, held it in, took another hit and smiled.
“Don’t tell me you’re on your period!” Garcia exclaimed. (Good get Cherokee.)
“Well, yes, it is the goddess of menses that is visiting on this day,” she said.
“That’s a hell of a day to pick to bring me up here,” he said.
“A period doesn’t mean I’m not horny,” she said.
“Yeah, but…”
“And you fell for the old finger-sucking trick. Unbelievable!” she said with a laugh of confidence.
“Hold on a second, your not expecting me to clean up your period for you just because you fooled me on a custom I knew nothing about, are you?” he asked, trying his best to backpedal and weasel out of anything to do with her period at the same time.
“Actually, the finger sucking was pure luck. I don’t usually fart in public, and I never expected you to fall for it,” Fawn said with her titties dangling in the sun.
“Wait, let me get this straight,” he said as he drew another round out of the pipe. “You still expect me to be your poison lackey even though I knew nothing about this finger-sucking deal?”
“Sure, in fact, we can cement our love forever if you would just lick the menses out of me,” Fawn said. She tried not to laugh.
Garcia had been around a long time, but for a young girl to be so brash

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about sex, a virgin no less. He just wasn’t sure whether she was a virgin anymore. How could she know so much. He caught her giggling under her breath.
“Are you playing with me?” Garcia asked.
“Of course I am, silly. I have seen my clansmen play games with each other’s heads after smoking, and I thought I would try it with you,” she said.
Now Garcia knew he was dealing with a precocious one.
“You seemed to have picked up a lot for someone who has always been protected by her parents,” he said, like some type of parent himself.
“Well, are you having fun?” she asked.
“I sure am,” he said as he leaned over and caught her in a full French kiss.
The pipe dropped, spewing ashes on the edge of the blanket, while the two moved in close unison. A bright orange ash started to smolder on a bunch of blue beads. Garcia slid his hand to the small of Fawn’s back. He trickled his fingers so they barely touched her back and ass. She shivered and squealed a laugh when the sensation became too much.
“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish?”
“Of course not,” Fawn said.
Garcia started to tickle her sides then her feet, then her sides again. Fawn tried to wiggle away, laughing as hard as she could.
She screamed.
“What’s wrong, you don’t like my game now?”
“No, the blanket’s on fire,” Fawn said.
“Right, like that’s going to get me to stop tickling you.”
With that she was able to sneak out from under him and put the ash out.
“Ooops,” Garcia said.
“That’s OK, where were we,” Fawn said eagerly. “How are your family jewels?”
“Why you devil,” Garcia said.
“Let’s see them.”
Garcia slowly took off his sneakers, socks pants and underpants. He figured she deserved a tease on this one.
His penis was semi-erect.
“Oh, you’re horny too,” Fawn said.
Garcia started licking her knee, her thigh, her other thigh. Fawn’s deerskin wrap was pushing at the top of his head at this point.

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“Let me make that easier for you,” Fawn said. She reached back, untied the thong that held her in and kissed Garcia.
She quickly started moving her body to position it for lovemaking. Garcia thought he might want to go down on her and get her ready, but her insistence won out. She held his penis in her hand, aware that its firmness might not last.
She guided him then let out a gasp as he slowly entered.
The look in her eyes was a swirl. The strain of ecstasy in her face made him feel alive. He couldn’t be tripping now. This dream was real. He was in love deeply in love.
She had guided him into the missionary position, and as he stroked along, Jerry realized that she was in pain. He pulled out and slid down to tease her into orgasm. He figured that would loosen her up.
“What are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.
His response was muffled by her pubic mound. He pretended to speak full sentences while deftly tonguing the area just above her clitoris. She started a soft moan. Jerry then pulled away and started laughing.
“I thought you would like this.”
She laughed and instinctively pushed his head back into position.
He coasted his fingers along the insides of her thighs, barely touching them. She pulled her feet, bent her knees and arched her back. This changed the angle on his tongue, which he swirled clockwise around her moistened clitoris until her moaning became a rhythmic gush.
She dug her heals into his back and used the leverage to move her hips. He was on his knees now, squeezing her cheeks and nibbling the soft curly hairs of her mound. As he rose to lick her breasts, his shoulders pushed her thighs back, and her feet into the air. She was laughing and moaning at the same time, when he moved forward again. This time his biceps pushed her legs back so her feet were almost over her head. He didn’t realize how much deeper the penetration would be, but knew that he had reached new depths when her moan turned into a gasp. He continued thrusting at this angle until just before ejaculating. He then pulled out and let spew on her stomach.
“Ahhh,” he moaned.
She reached down and ran her fingers through the creamy muck.
“It has an unusual smell. I like it,” she said, as she made mini-cobwebs by

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moving her fingers apart and together in front of her nose. He laughed at her playfulness.
“You’re a great human being,” Garcia said.
“That was a great new feeling for me. I am a little sore, but my friends tell me that is to be expected the first time. It must be due to your great manliness,” Fawn smiled. Her tribesman, having more leisure time than most men have known in any time, had become fairly adept at lovemaking. She had waited a long time to get in on the fun. What a wonderful thing, she thought.
“You seem to know so much about sex. How is that, when you had never had sex before?” Garcia asked.
“Well, of course I have seen people having sex. I didn’t spy on purpose, but I walked in on my parents one time, and they felt compelled to explain what they were doing rather than let me go away wondering what was going on. I think they were worried that I would think that Dad was hurting Mom in some way.” Fawn said
“That makes sense. How old were you at the time?” Garcia asked.
“I guess five or six.”
“Hmm, my culture made sex into a taboo. We hardly ever talked about it, and when we did, we often told half-truths. Even to our children,” Garcia said.
“That’s terrible. Sex is the most fun you can have, I imagine. We live by our dreams in my tribe, and it would be hard to do that if we were going around making a taboo out of sex,” Fawn said.
“People went crazy thinking about sex in my tribe. We had a lot of homosexuals too. I have no idea why, but it could have been because of the hang-ups they developed when their parents didn’t explain sex. We also had a lot of families where the parents never got along,” Garcia said
“It seems to me people do a lot of unnatural things where you come from,” Fawn said.
Garcia smiled and started to put on his clothes.
“Are you sure you want to head back to the camp so soon?” Fawn asked.
“I wasn’t planning on heading anywhere, just getting dressed,” Garcia said.
“Why would you want to get dressed unless you had to? It is such a nice day, why don’t you put some color into that white body?” she said.
“I’m not used to hanging around naked, but I think I can get used to it,” Garcia said.

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“Let’s talk about us,” Fawn said.
“Good idea. What do you think your mother is going to say when she finds out that both her husband and her daughter have taken up with white humans from the future?”
“I am disappointed. What makes you think I would ever tell my mother, unless you wanted me to?” Fawn asked with a slight scowl on her face.
“I’m sorry. I get a little paranoid about where I stand because I am not used to living the way you live.”
“What do you mean, ‘the way I live’?” she asked.
“In my time we never had to hunt or grow our own food. We had given the job of growing food to certain people, and everyone else did other things. Very few people grew crops or raised beef herds in my time.”
“So what did you do Garcia?”
“I was an entertainer. I sang songs and wrote songs. Some of my music was about the loss of nature. Lots of it was about people who had a hard time giving up there natural inclinations in order to fit in. You know, songs about outcasts and the like.”
“That’s interesting, but what do you mean songs about the loss of nature. You can never lose nature.”
Well, once the Europeans took over this area, nature was subverted, the land was divided, and some people became very wealthy, while others were forced to beg,” he said.
“You mean many different tribes lived here?”
“Well, in a way. Sometimes the wealth was distributed only amongst certain tribes, one tribe controlled most of the wealth, the remaining natives, like yourself were often not successful trying to be useful in the rich man’s world though,” Garcia said.
“That doesn’t seem right. My people know more about how to grow food and win wars and hunt than anyone else,” Fawn said with a mixture of anger and pride. “How could we not be useful even to your tribe?”
“It was because of a completely different philosophy. Many people in my tribe believed that the world is here for our benefit only. We gave up being friends with nature. We divided up the earth, and people owned certain bits of land. Once they had bought the land, they usually could do whatever they wanted with it. That often meant that people polluted the land,” he explained.

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“Polluted it? How could you survive if you were ruining the land?” Fawn asked.
“I’m not sure how long human beings did survive on this planet. It got so bad, by the time I lived, about 20 percent of the people were very wealthy, and everyone else had to scrape by wondering when or if they were going to eat again.”
“That is impossible. How could human beings be so cruel to each other. Were you always at war too?”
“The wars broke out when one group wanted to use another group’s resources for their own benefit, or when there wasn’t enough food,” Garcia said. “Actually, a lot of wars in my era were started just so that people could become wealthy by selling armaments to the warring countries.”
“Oh you people really are terrible!” Fawn shouted.
“I think that is why we have been brought here by the gods. It is our job to stop our own people from ruining this place,” Garcia said.
“Why do you think you were picked then?”
“I don’t know, I am merely an entertainer. Maybe it was because my band attracted a lot of people who wanted to go back to living the way your tribe lives.”
“So you were a human being, even though a lot of people around you were representing the underworld. That would explain it,” Fawn said. “But how did we get so far away from us. You do that every time Garcia.”
“I have an idea,” he said as he reached over to kiss her. “Why don’t you tell me about your dreams, and I will try to remember some of mine.”
“This summer my dreams have been about swimming and men. I never had the sexual dreams my friends tell me about, but I always have boyfriends in my dreams. We sing together or lurk around the creeks together. Sometimes we’re picking blueberries or raspberries. But so far my dreams have not been about sex,” Fawn said, sounding a little disappointed.
“Well maybe now that you have had sex, you will be able to dream about it easier,” Garcia said, trying to cheer her up.
“Perhaps. How about some of your dreams?”
“They are hard for me to remember. Sometimes I would write my dreams down just after waking up, but it is hard for me to remember even the dreams I wrote down. Maybe I should tell you about the dreams I have right after I have them. I will try to do that for you tomorrow,” Garcia said.
“It is amazing that you have no memory. I am used to having to remember

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many different stories. My grandmother tells me stories about how our tribe began, and which gods rule which things, and the myths,” Fawn said. “If I couldn’t recite them, at least the gist of them, she would get pretty mad at me.”
“Your tribe is probably using more of your brains than my tribe does,” Garcia said. “We had everything written down, and machines that remembered complicated formulas for us. All we had to do was push a button and the machine did the work for us. My city was famous for them. We called them computers.”
“Sounds like a powerful machine,” Fawn said. “But what is a machine?”
“We used to put things together to help us put other things together. It is hard to explain. Imagine a huge ganohsot where people worked together to make canoes. Now imagine large devices that helped the people put the canoes together quicker. This one place could make hundreds of canoes every day. Does that make sense?” he asked.
“I think so. Is that where they would make machines like Duane’s motorcycle?”
“Exactly. We got to the point where we were hardly walking at all anymore. To keep in shape people would go to special places to exercise. My time was a lot different than this time,” Garcia said.
“I guess so. But again, we got off of us,” Fawn said as she reached down for Garcia’s penis.
“Take me for a stud do you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Fawn replied as she started to play with Garcia’s balls. He laughed and moved his hands behind Fawn to start stroking her ass again.
Meanwhile, back at the camp, Big Deer was trying to cause some order.
“Look folks, we don’t need to fight over who is going to war. I think there is little more we can do to convince the young men to stay,” Big Deer said to a large group of humans made up of all the clans.
“We probably should spend the next week or two planning how to teach you
what you will need to know to effectively construct a culture made up of Europeans
and yourselves,” Wassily Kandinsky said.
Big Deer thought Kandinsky was a bit condescending, considering the negotiating his tribe had hammered out over the years, but took a diplomatic tack.
“For most people the best thing to do will be to go about their daily chores as if nothing had changed. I think we can have small groups at a time learn more about what you know, then they can pass on their knowledge,” Big Deer said.

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“Good idea. We need to get together to see who can teach what the most effectively,” Larsen interjected.
Turning to the throng, Big Deer asked: “Should we still have a prayer and good wishes to send our brothers into battle?”
F: “I think they should by asking us for forgiveness.”
M: “Maybe, but if they are going to protect us, and we do not give them our prayers, we are not good humans.”
M: “I agree. We should not let our difference split us further. We should have all the traditional dances and fires that accompany any war party.”
F: “I don’t see how you men can break the ancient laws so easily, and even support other men in doing so!”
Big Deer: “It could be days before we have unanimity on this one. Whoever wants to go to the Mohawk camp and help the men prepare for war can go. There will be no shame or teasing of those who support our men. Likewise, no one is to feel bad about expressing their displeasure by staying in their own camps.”
Big Deer didn’t realize the long-term implications of his words for about a minute. Then it struck him that he had decided to let his tribe break themselves apart over this issue. It had been a long time, he thought, since the Haudenosaunee allowed such a split to stand. Equally long since all men did not go to battle.
What if I am remanded to the dregs of history as the only coward the Onondowagas ever had? Big Deer thought. My family would be teased for many moons. Maybe forever. No, that can not happen. Too many agree with me.
“The split over whether to fight or not never would have happened if these strange gods hadn’t come. Now that we have agreed to their ideas, we must take advantage of their help. I know this feels unnatural, and maybe it is. But I believe these human gods are from the future, and I believe they can help us prepare for the
onslaught of foreigners,” Big Deer said.
F: “What if there is no invading force from across the big water? What if this Catherine is just assuming power? If we don’t stop her now, she will leave with many of our best men. They could form communities by taking over smaller tribes to the east. Then they might come back and try a war with us!”
Big Deer: “We have to have faith that our own brothers will not come back and try to gain our chosen place. But I believe we can make some assurances. I want at least five peace-loving men to volunteer to go with the tribe and spy. You may be sacrificing your lives, and this duty may last more than one lifetime.”

Stuber 6.16

“I will go to help our tribe,” Darting Swallow said.
Others grouped behind him. Some were women.
“I believe the warring group will have some women runners, but we will have to be selective about how many women we let go. If it is going to be a long duty, I think we should not have more than two or three women go,” Big Deer said.
F: “Those of us who have had our children should be the first to go.”
F: “Those of us who are the strongest and fastest should go to make sure we survive.”
F: “Maybe there should be an entire mixed group that follows the others as spies. A group that isn’t underground. If we go to Catherine and ask if we can follow them and help the runners, she won’t suspect that there are other spies within her group as well. She will have to spend energy keeping an eye on us, while our inside spies get a better picture of what is going on.”
Big Deer: “I like that idea. Is anyone opposed to trying to have two sets of spies?”
After hearing no response, Big Deer then walked over to the group of men volunteering to act as spies. He noticed a face that has been a violent youth. He wondered whether he has had a great change of heart, or whether Catherine had already sent spies into his group.
He looked right at the 18-year-old.
“Why don’t you help me pick who will stay?” Big Deer asked.
“I am not worthy of such a distinction,” Brown Trout said.
Brown Trout’s hesitance sent a pang through Big Deer’s stomach.
“Sure you are. You have played lacrosse with your friends, and played it well. You know who will be a good spy, and I will help you.”
“OK, I don’t mind, as long as you have the final decision,” Brown Trout said.
This guy is smarter than I thought, Big Deer thought. Either that or he’s not anywhere near a spy.
A certain nervousness flowed through the crowd as Big Deer and Brown Trout walked by picking people to be spies. They got closer and closer to a filling their needs without picking any women.
F: “I guess the idea of having women join the group that infiltrates Catherine’s war-party is out of the question now.”
F: “So much for equality.”
“I am not overlooking your talents ladies,” Big Deer said. “I am doing this one

Stuber 6.17

stage at a time. Wouldn’t you rather trust a woman to help me pick the women who might go?”
F: “I’m not sure that is the best idea.”
F: “She’s right. The theory of cross sex voting comes into play here. Men don’t nominate our chiefs because women have a good perspective on men. Likewise, you men know who is a good fighter or a clever scout better than we do, so why shouldn’t you pick who goes?”
F: “If we leave the picking to Big Deer there will be less consequences for the women who are left behind. If women help pick who stays and who is left behind, there will be bickering for generations.”
“OK, we’ll decide who goes,” Big Deer said. “But in the case of the women, those who are left behind can always volunteer to meet runners on the eastern edge of our frontier as long as they have had their children. How does that sound?”
F: ” That will be fine right ladies?”
A general grunting of approval followed, and the women were picked along the same criteria set up for the men: cunning, quickness, resourcefulness and tact.
After the spies were picked there was a general milling around.
F: This is great, we now have spies set up just like Catherine and her warring group, but who killed Running Bear?
M: It could have been that power hungry woman that now leads us into battle!
F: What if Running Bear was swayed by Big Deer and he was about to side with us? Then if she killed him to gain power, our brothers are being led astray by a maniac!
M: We’ve got to find out who put an arrow into Running Bear. It had to be someone that was a coward at heart because after he was pierced they also stabbed him. I saw his body, he was mauled.
F: I’m not sure Catherine is strong enough to put him away like that. Plus, if the rumors I have heard are true, they were lovers.
M: Haven’t you ever wanted to kill your lover?
F: Maybe, but I wouldn’t actually do it.
M: Hmm, but you are not a power hungry maniac either. Big Deer: OK enough speculation. Why don’t the two of you lead a group that finds out who killed Running Bear. It is bad enough that we are split on whether to go to war or not. The sooner we know the murderer the better.

Stuber 6.18

Their investigation was more than a mere footnote5 (#5) in the goings on of the tribe at this time.

* * *

Up on the hill, Garcia and Fawn were still trading dream sequences:
Garcia: Maybe we are just the dream of the gods?
Fawn: Maybe, but if we were just a dream we wouldn’t be able to make decisions would we?
Garcia: What if all the decisions we make are also predetermined by the gods?
Fawn: Hmm, then our custom of living by our dreams is a better reflection of what the gods want than your customs of making decisions based on the need to control people or steal the land from nature.
Garcia: I thought your tribe attacked other tribes all the way to Illinois? And don’t you trade corn for other things with other tribes? Your corn production means you are in control of a lot of humans outside your tribe.
Fawn: We once had many wars with other tribes, but we settled that with the peace under the great white tree. I think we are helping tribes by bringing them food. We don’t use it as blackmail, and they are happy to pay when their crops are low.
Garcia: I figure they’re happy to pay because they are too busy fighting other tribes to grow a full crop.
Fawn: You see how productive peace can be then.
Garcia: Sure I do.
Fawn: When there is peace, everyone has a chance to be a god. You have children, and you are their first god. If there is no peace, the men are always dying
and don’t get to raise their children. So the women have always been closer to being gods because we have always raised our children, in peace or war.
Garcia: In my time even the women gave up raising their own children. In rich families the children were taken to be watched while both parents worked or played games. Actually, the families weren’t even always rich. It took two jobs to keep a nice home in a safe area. I think this was because the people who controlled the work kept too much of the profit they made from the workers. Women wanted to have careers

Stuber 6.19

and children too. I just think the children would have been better off if they had been raised by their mothers.
Fawn: What is a more important job than raising your children?
Garcia: You got me.
Fawn: It sounds quite strange.
The subject of Garcia’s feeble attempt to re-stiffen had been avoided. His stalling tactics were paying off though. Fawn was keeping an attentive eye on him while whispering her replies in his ear.
Fawn: How nice to see you are ready for more lovemaking.
Garcia: Let me show you something you may not know about.
Garcia slipped toward her torso, started flicking his tongue under her breasts, then moved down to her anxious pubic mound. He lifted her butt into the air and teased her by tonguing around the outside of her lips, then down toward her knees, back toward her now aching vagina and so forth until she hollered: “Will you quit that teasing!”
He finally parted her lips and gently placed his whole mouth around her clitoris. His tongue was darting around it, and, wet with saliva, he kept it in a soft state as he approached. She kept trying to drive her hips into his mouth, but his body-weight was stronger, and he remained within millimeters of her clitoris, only touching it by mistake as he licked around it.
It didn’t take much of this before she started to hum. She no longer demanded his tongue by thrusting upward, but her hips gyrated rhythmically as her body tightened, anticipating the gush of orgasm to come.
Garcia figured she hadn’t seen her parents performing oral sex or she would
have told him about it.
Just as he was getting ready to stick his left index finger in her ass to give her yet another new sensation, they were interrupted.
“Fawn, get up quickly, your father has been murdered!” Jeanne Larsen exclaimed.
“Shit,” Garcia said, as he grabbed the pipe and tried to console Fawn.
Fawn first sat stunned, then gathered up her leathers, put them on and ran, tears streaking down her face, down Bare Hill.

 

 

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  • Before You Speak

    Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask ‘Is it kind? Rumi  Translated by Coleman Barks

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“The Dinner Party,” a novella in 11 chapters plus endnotes, copyright, Doug Stuber, 1992.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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