Lawrence Welk and the Dancing Bones
A Macabre Love Story by Jon Christian Part 1 of 2
Authors Note:
The intention of Lawrence Welk and the Dancing Bones is to be quirky, disturbing and fun. I hope this combo puts you in the mood for Halloween (one of my favorite holidays).
I really tried to embarrass myself this year with the vocal interpretation of my protagonist, Alice. So, if you are in the mood for some fun, feel free to listen to me read it to you below. If anyone knows of any literary character whose catch phrase is “Oh onions,” please let me know in the comments. I did look, but could find none. Assuming that is the case, I hope you think of Alice every time you cut onions (or bones).
If you missed last year’s Halloween special, Where the Happy People Live, where Finn Rowan arrives in the quiet mountain community of Manitou, Colorado after spending his early 20’s selling bit coin in the windy city. His first day in Manitou turns into the most terrifying day of his life. Click the link for the full story and a blooper reel: Where the Happy People Live
FYI: I have created an immersive experience version of Lawrence Welk and the Dancing Bones that will drop exclusively for paid subscribers next week (and yes, it will have a blooper reel).
The immersive experience is a telling of the completed story from start to finish. It contains sound effects and an original score (all created by me in my basement studio). I absolutely love creating immersive versions. It’s a bit of a window into my occasionally odd mind. Not to spoil anything, but the bone cracking sound is epic.
If you aren’t on the paid side of this Substack, you are missing out. So please consider an upgrade. You can select a monthly option, or save a few bucks by selecting the annual payment at a very affordable rate. You can do this by logging into your Substack account from a web browser and manage your subscription. OR easier still download the Substack App. It’s a free download and honestly the experience is better on the app than from your inbox. Once you have the app, you can easily manage your subscription (and find other authors).
Notes on upcoming schedule:
Next week- Part 2 of Lawrence Welk and the Dancing Bones, and the immersive experience/blooper reel for paid subscribers.
October, 30- The annual reading of “My Favorite Halloween” will be reposted on my Facebook page and on Substack. I’ve re-recorded it for 2023.
Coming in November- The second in my Interview Series should drop (Interview completed, Working on writing)!
Coming in December- A heartwarming Christmas tale (a work in progress so fingers crossed I have time to complete this).
I say all this to give you a chance to invite your friends to join us on this Substack fun. Click below.
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Let’s GO!!!!
Listen to Part One here:
Read Below:
Alice skinned potatoes over her kitchen sink. Each stroke with the peeler released the subtle scent of old dirt into the air. Next to the bamboo cutting board, hand written instructions say to cut the potatoes into quarters and place them into a roasting pan. “Where’s that knife of mine?” Alice asked. She scanned the countertop until the sharp edge of her butcher knife glistened in the beam of a late afternoon sun. She picked up the knife and gripped the handle tight.
A man with a skinned bird in his hands drew Alice’s attention to the kitchen window. He trudged slowly toward the back door. “Wait for a chicken,” Alice read from the instructions.
Outside, the chicken man stopped and gripped his chest. His wrinkled face grimaced in pain, but his eyes were alive and a vibrant shade of blue. He had tamed white hair, parted to the side, and a green tee-shirt that revealed farm muscles that should have shrunk years ago. He shook his head and continued toward the house.
Alice touched her face with her free hand and held a half inch of skin in her fingers. “Oh my,” she said. “When did that happen?” She shrugged her shoulders and picked up a Russet potato. Lately, she found it hard to remember things. She positioned a skinless potato on her cutting board. “Now, where did I put that knife?” She laughed when she noticed it in her right hand. “Silly me.”
The back door opened with a swoosh, and ushered in a cool autumn breeze. Chicken man slid into the kitchen with his bird dangling from his hands. He kissed Alice on the top of her head. “It’s good and clean, my dear.”
Alice spun and waved the butcher knife through the air, within inches of the man’s head. “What is? My head?”
Chicken man grabbed Alice’s wrist. “Alice, it’s me, your husband, Clarence. I was at the coop and brought this chicken. It’s for tonight’s roast. Remember? You… you wanted to help by cutting vegetables.” He pried the knife out of her hands and dropped it on the counter.
“What chicken?” Alice asked.
Clarence held it up by the neck. “This one.”
Alice nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, right,” she held out the empty roasting pan. “Give me the chicken. It’s ready to roast.” She reached for the naked bird.
Clarence pulled the bird away. “Wait. I need to chop off its head and clear its insides.” He flopped the bird on a wooden block and held the butcher knife over his head. “You still have onions and carrots to cut. Did you read your note?”
“Oh, onions. Of course I read it.” Alice said. She held the note up to her glasses and read: Peel and quarter carrots, place them in the pan. Peel and quarter onions, place them in the pan.
Clarence brought the knife down with a thud. The chicken head separated on impact and slipped to the floor. He picked the severed head from the floor and threw it in the sink. Blood and white fluid oozed from its neck bone and down the drain.
Clarence exchanged the butcher knife for a boning knife. He scraped the edge with his finger and nodded. “This will do nicely.” He slit the chicken open and emptied organs into the trashcan. “Alice, you swallowed the medication I gave you this morning, right? You didn’t spit them into the trash again, did you?”
Alice looked at Clarence. “Well, of course I did.”
Clarence pulled two pink tablets from the trash and onto the counter. “You know you can’t go a day without these.”
Alice plucked the medicine from the counter, rolled them in her palm, and filled a glass of water. “Did I spit them out again?” She drank down two pink pills and returned to the cutting board with a leafy bunch of garden carrots.
Clarence cleaned his empty dinner plate, lowered it into the drying rack, and sauntered to his record collection. He returned with a Lawrence Welk album and showed it to Alice. “He is your favorite,” Clarence said. “Follow me.”
“Okay,” Alice said, and followed Clarence down the dark hallway and into the den. A gold chandelier produced a dim, candescent glow in the room. A woven oriental rug graced the oak wood floor with a touch of 1950s elegance. When she stepped on the carpet, the subtle scent of aged wool worked its way through the air. A cherry wood record player is in the corner, its top ajar, waiting for someone to feed it.
Clarence put the vinyl 33 onto the record player. He clicked the power and watched the black disk spin before placing the needle onto track one. The speakers emitted a quiet hiss before a treble note from a trumpet emerged complimented by a layer of deep bass.
Alice nods her head. That first note pirouetted in her mind, and her memories danced into focus. The den was in the cabin she and Clarence built together many years ago, far away from everything else. There was even a coop full of chickens and roosters. She looked at Clarence, and may well have been a teenager in Denver all over again. Her heart thumped, and every day she fell in love with Clarence at first sight.
Clarence’s warm, firm hand clasped Alice’s. His feet shuffled across the floor as he set the pace. “One, two three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.”
“Oh Clarence, you dance divinely,” Alice said.
“I knew you’d remember this. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Alice felt something on her backside. “Clarence! Please remove your hand.”
His laugh boomed. “Oh, come now. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Is there any music more stimulating than Lawrence Welk?”
Alice reached around and slid his hand up. “Be careful, Clarence. You always said dirty hands mean dirty time.”
Clarence smiled. “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. I still have no idea what that means.”
Alice kissed her husband of Fifty-two years. “I have an idea.”
Ω
Alice woke when Clarence got out of bed at two o’clock in the morning. He seemed agitated. “Are you okay?”
Clarence crept toward the bathroom. “I’m fine. Just a little gas. You can go back to sleep.”
She did.
Ω
The next morning, Alice found Clarence dead on the kitchen floor. She touched his pasty skin as tears flowed along her age etched tracks. “My poor, sweet Clarence. What am I going to do now? Just what am I going to do with you now?”
When the tears dried and exhausted breaths were all that remained, Alice noticed a note next to his body. Written in Clarence’s frantic handwriting, the note read—Go to the Filing cabinet, look for a folder called The End.
“Filing cabinet?” she asked the dead body. “I know where that is.” She scuffled towards the office. Along the way, a pill bottle with pink medicine sat on the kitchen counter. Printed next to her name on the label were the words, ‘Take two every morning.’
“I guess I’m supposed to take these.” She popped the top and retracted two pretty pills. The pills lay on her tongue as she filled a glass of water. “Oh onions, these are vile.”
When she opened the trash can, the scent of rotting chicken guts punched her in the nose. She spat her pills atop a pile of small intestines and tied the bag shut. “I will throw that out later. Now where was I going? Oh yes, the office.”
The office door opened with the creak of aged hinges. Nestled in the corner, the velvet recliner faced the window to the east. Out the window, the rising sun fought off the remnants of icy-gray clouds. Leaves swirled under the old maple tree Clarence had planted years ago. For the first time this season, the furnace clunked to life, releasing a fragrant dust.
Alice only ever came into the office when it was time to call Clarence to bed. Often, he sat in the recliner and fell asleep with his favorite novel. Alice would peel the book away from his chest and walk him to bed. She picked his novel from the oak end table and thumbed the dog-eared pages. It seemed to her it was the same book he’d been reading for the past five years.
The L-shaped desk faced the corner; its dark finish stood in contrast to the light end table, but Clarence never cared about clashing furniture. The desk calendar was a few months behind. Alice ripped the sheets and stopped on October. Clarence circled October 23rd with the words, ‘fifty-third wedding anniversary’ scribed in blue, indelible ink.
Under the desk was a three-drawer filing cabinet. Each drawer is labeled with letters of the alphabet, except the last one, which read, N-The End. Alice opened drawer three and found a manila folder labeled in black sharpie—The End. “That’s the one I need.” She retracted a sealed envelope with the words—To Alice-If I Die. She tore it open.
My Dearest Alice,
Don’t be upset. We both knew this day would come. We have talked about it for years and years. My favorite memories are those of us dancing to Lawrence Welk. I want to dance with you forever.
My good friend and lawyer, Henry Lingley, will help you. I hope you remember him. I’ve introduced you many times. He lives in town. He has a white house at the end of Cooper Creek Cul-de-sac. His address is 8201 and his phone number is 555-4221. You must contact him, as he will help you with the will and your care needs.
Henry is also a sculptor who makes art from old bones. We both agreed that his work is beautiful and bone was symbolic of our love of dancing. I have asked him to make a piece of art for you.
All you must do is clear a spot on our bookcase, next to our collection of Welk and put the piece there. Find our favorite album and play it. Forever, we shall dance.
I will see you again, my love.
Clarence
Alice folded the letter and tucked it safely back into the filing cabinet, her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Oh Clarence, you shouldn’t have. But where am I to get a bone?”
End of Part 1