Letter to Krissy:
wombat_part - third book of a letter to Krissy.
Fishing to find the write wombat to right.
Wombat words of wisdom.
wombat_part_05_01

Wait, let’s try: Back in the woods in southern Decoda, wherever that might be, lay a monster in the grass under the shade of an old oak tree. The monster was me and he was thinking of young women and soft breasts. That’s what he needed to lose the feeling of being a monster. He sat up and listened. In the bushes was a young woman picking berries and eating them. She came closer to the monster without seeing him. She was sweating from the heat and when she noticed a steam, she took off her tight T-shirt and short cut off jeans. She sat in the stream and splashed water over her body. It was a full figured body with fairly large breast. The cold water had made her nipples hard and she enjoyed playing with them. The monster enjoyed watching her.

When she stepped out of the stream, she noticed the monster sitting under the tree. She stood and watched him watch her. She was still naked and hadn’t bent to pick up her clothes. She wasn’t frightened by the monster. The monster was a little frightened by her. He knew he could over power her and take her body but he knew it wouldn’t help him. If she didn’t want him, he couldn’t have any satisfaction from her. There was more satisfaction in watching her beauty.

Realizing the monster was unable to attack her, she finally moved to put on her clothes. He watched as she wiggled into them and imagined her firm softness against his frail wretchedness.

Saying nothing she turned to leave but went only as far as the next bush and bent to pick more berries. She stayed in the monster’s sight and occasionally stood to look at him.

She walked to the monster and stood before him.

"We are alone here in the woods. Why haven’t you attacked me?” she asked.

"What I need from you, I can’t take.”

She kissed him and sat on his lap.

They got naked and fucked.

To wrap up the whole thing here. Since it’s the outcome that this story would have had had I finished it. Or maybe she killed him. Who knows. That’s always the question. But since I’m writing it, I say she gave her body and her love willingly to the monster and the monster was somewhat eased of his pain of being a monster.

With the taste of her vagina juices still on his tongue, she left him and returned to her campsite to eat supper with her parents.

The monster returned to his hole deep in the woods and thinking he’d lay down to sleep, was visited by the sister of the young woman. She fucked him silly too. The next day they both came back with three friends and they fucked all day.

Tits are nice. I think that’s what I like. I think woman should bring me their tits and devour my hunger. Wouldn’t that be nice.



One more thing I wanted to mention. I was pleased that no only did the people we met in Italy treat us politely, they were friendly and seemed happy to see us and talk to us. Even at the train track crossing as we waited, stepped a man out of his car to have a chat with us. Since Norman speaks Italian like a native, they carried the chat. But in case anyone is wondering about the hospitality of the country, I have only had good to excellent experience.

_bunnie stop_

After an excellent night where Henning and I slept in his tent and the other three slept in the hut, we got up for a breakfast of coffee and tea and cookies. Mauro was up early enough to talk to the owner of the land. He was curious how we found the place but not upset and told us to be careful with fire and have a good time.

We packed and returned to the road. There was now a cable in our way. With a little examination, Henning pulled the ring clamp down so that we could drive over it. One by one with two watching on either side, we crossed over what was now a 6 inch barrier. It went fine until Norman tried it a little too fast and the cable jumped up, hocked on his motor block and down he went. No damage except that his hey was somehow broken in the procedure. It wasn’t so serious because it was trapped in the ignition and he could turn it off and on with the broken piece.

It was quite warm as we drove to Pizza, stopping on the way for food supplies. It was to be Easter weekend so we were planning to buy much food and spend a few days in Pizza. After checking out a beach site we decided on returning to a site on the city perimeter.

The next day we spent at the beach. That was Sat. or Sunday. Henning put his kite up in the blue sky, Andi and Mauro went for a short swim and we lazed away the day. Andi made a little boat and set it to float in the ocean but it always came back.

Before sundown, we drove into Pizza to have a look how they built building that don’t stand straight. There’s three in the plaza and they are all a little bent. The on especially. People were doing the hold up the tower pictures. We took the bikes back to the site and after a little food or a shower or lazing about, we returned to the city to find a bar to eat and drink in. We wandered and I forgot to mention that Henning had a wipe out on the way to Pizza after our camping in the woods night. It was a funny corner that was 180 degree, down hill, blind and had a funny slope that changed a few times. He hurt his foot but not seriously and not his bike. A local fellow told us how the bicycle riders that went through to fast didn’t even get around the corner and hit the curb on the far side of the road and fell with bike following, 2 or 3 meters to a field. So we decided Henning was lucky. Which he was if you agree that he must fall.

Monday we headed toward St. Stefeno. Ulf was to meet us at the harbor at 6:00 PM. After we packed and were ready to leave, Norman realized he had a problem. He needed a key to get into his tank. We drove 30 km before we found a gas station that we could use. Easter Monday, everything is closed. They have machines where you can slide money in and get gas in return.

We thought for this one time we could screw off Norman’s tank lid. No. Nothing worked. The Italian version of ADAC (like CAA) came to look and told him to by a gas can, carry it with him and have a hose to his carburettor line. We thought it funny and left Norman and Henning to check out Police and whatever while we raced down to St. Stefeno. We planned to meet them the next day where we were to meet Ulf. They had it rough. Norman called ADAC and they put him and Henning in a 4 star hotel for the night so they could deal with the problem when things were open.

We arrived at St. Stefeno, had a Capachino and Mauro and Andi left me there to wait for Ulf while they found a campsite. They returned a couple hours later, we sat in a bar and wondered if Ulf would actually make it from Hanover on his 175 Zindapp. He did. Thirty minutes later.

Back at the site 12 km away, we had a pizza, shot the shit and went to sleep.

The next day we decided to have a lazy day and drive around the little island peninsula. It was only beautiful. It was a mountain and the roads were curvy and a little unkept. Roads are a little rougher as you travel farther south. The road turned into a private road. This didn’t mean you shouldn’t use it, it meant it was even less kept. Eventually the pavement vanished and we had 4 km of road that was not even fit for motor-cross bikes. We took it slowly with Andi taking pictures at every third corner.

After a stop for Capachino and home-made ice-cream, which by the way is not better in any other land I know of, we returned to St. Stefeno and had a Capachino and a sandwich in our favourite Café. We wrote post cards and waited for Norman and Henning. The fishermen came in around 7:00 and Mauro, Andi and Ulf went to check it out as I watched from about on the patio.

The boys, Norman and Henning came on Henning’s bike. Norman told me his bike motor blew up. The others saw us and came back and asked about Norman’s bike. About five minutes later, Andi said that today is April 1st. And he was right, the bike was parked around the corner.

Next day, a little late, we headed south. We were on our way to Napoli. Somewhere south of Rome we camped on a farmers field. We asked before hand and were given free reign. Campfire, grilled sausage, pork and lamb.

After a day of driving, we got to Napoli. For some reason, which evades me now, we didn’t want to pay the 2 bucks to use the highway. We drove through. Amazingly, after 2 hours, where red had no meaning when on a traffic light and people drove as if they were in a Mad Max movie, we found our way through the labyrinth to the peninsula south of Napoli. It was midnight when we set our tents up and went to the nearest town to eat a, what else, a pizza.

Next day we took it easy and went into whatever town it was there for another pizza and then a couple bars to watch the people. A pretty girl sang in the second one. Her keyboardist had a shitty keyboard.

We had one more day there and still didn’t get to visit Napoli or Pompey though we could see them from the cliffs of our site. Andi, Mauro and Ulf went somewhere, we didn’t, we lazed, made an excellent pasta and went down, way down, once more to the beach, on the rocks to have a fire and watch the water and the stars.

Maybe I’ll tell you about the trip back home later. If you care.

_bunnie stop_

By the way, that was Salerno. Pompei is without a ‘y’.

Okay, we went north again on our way toward John Carlos. It was again a bloody beautiful day and driving through the mountain, though a little cool, was fucking beautiful. We camped somewhere in the mountains.

The next day, even more beautiful mountains and Henning blew a tire. The front one. Luckily he wasn’t moving. It was a little adventure for Norman and I to look after while the rest sat in the sun. We helped a fellow in his work place to take the tube out and fix it. It was fun. Again friendly times with natives. He charged us 10,000 which is 8 dollars and we went back. The three had already left, for one minute. We arrived quite late at John Carlos.

A lazy day at John Carlos there in beautiful Toscana. Another feast after Mauro got a new back tire.

Norman, Henning and I left next day while Andi changed his chain that just arrived from Germany. They wanted to go back to Mauro’s. We wanted a shorter route.

We spent the night in Novara, just east of Milano. Norman’s friend. They fed us and we chatted and went to sleep.

Next day we planned to drive through Switzerland back home. We got to the next town, Arsizio, where we planned to have tea with another of Norman’s friends. We had met her the night before. She was the girlfriend of the brother of Norman’s friend and family.

Well, there at the corner to where she lived, I heard a sound and feared I knew what it was. I had worried about the very thing only minutes before. It was my chain. Laying on the road. Maybe you’re heard stories how chains break at high speeds and the driver was lucky to be alive even if his limbs were all broken.

Anyhow. We spent the day there. Norman chasing after a chain for me and we, with I can’t remember her name again, Jody, that’s it, sitting about, and later, Jody and I walking around the town. She was English so I enjoyed the talk with her.

The chain was on at 7:00 PM. We headed to the boarder around the beautiful lake that we had been sitting at most of the day and had our last Italian Capachino.

Henning left us to visit his cousin at the Boden Lake and Norman, with almost no teeth to turn his chain, and I traveled the highways of Switzerland to get to Saarbrucken. It was a little cool but the first several hours were not at all bad. With several coffee breaks, we came to Saarbrucken 7:00 AM. And I didn’t have a fuckin’ date with the unemployment office as I was lead to believe. I was a bit pissed off because having known that, I wouldn’t have driven through the night but I thought what the hell, I’ll go to bed.

It’s a few days later now and the trip is far into history. Perhaps we’ll talk about it a bit tomorrow as we sit at Andi and Mauro’s.

This book is almost finished. I get to start a knew one. Perhaps I’ll reveal the secret of the universe. Or continue to give clues as to the Jose Wombat religion. Or I may give you some recipes. Perhaps I’ll write more poems or tell stories.

Whatever takes place, you can be sure it’s well worth reading. Perhaps it is the kind of writing that one must read over and over because of the various underlying themes that are hard to grasp at first read. But one thing is for sure, those who read and believe what I say shall truly be blessed.

Thus spoke Jose Wombat and since I’m like a Plato and he a Socrates, I’m the one to reveal the word. And the word was with Bob and the word was Bob. Or God. I’m sure I told you about Cod being God.

If not, don’t worry, I probably told Franny. If not, don’t worry, you’ve enough things to do in your life. And like everyone else, a little philosophic, spiritual wisdom in word is nice when you sit down to have a shit or the TV is broke but all in all it ain’t so much important how you picture the it of the matter, it’s how you go about accomplishing the daily events.

And one thing Jose often said was, ‘Words are good but at the end of a long day ain’t nothing like a good meal, a place to lye your head and sex with beautiful strangers.’

I can only think of Fred Flintstone trying to put the cat out so at that I bid thee ado until the next, the 4th book, in our series of 5.

Love Steve.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. albatross_part_01



© 2001 | the jose wombat project