Scruffrug Capital

These pages are stories of Scruffrug. Scruffrug was born a rug. One day he up and flew. This story was written on 5/3/1990 and found in 2016.

Scruffrug goes to the capital (what a capital idea). Coming in seeing the white house. Watching the lawn and the drug dealers. Outside the fence, rug catches a tangled corner of fringe on the spire and there he dangles. What sorts of things tumble from his surface: toys, human beings, ideas, everything gets shaken out. As he comes near to Warner St. and Elizabeth's house. he sees the punk kid. He has it all wrapped up. Before the kid can get out his knife, Scruffrug twirls about and has him straight jacketed. So every punk impulse to reach outward to destroy ripples within and is known for its true motive power and force of action.

So Scruffrug has a good talking with that boy. The boy wriggles and tries to stretch out Scruffrug. And the rug says, "Feel those muscles and how you want to do it. What strength, what motivation".

Rug dangles his fringes making kind of a tunnel vision and makes the boy see a kitten in a garbage can. The kitten had gone after the garbage smell but there was nothing there. Now kit can't get out. So there they see looking down at the bright shiny eyes and huge unrelenting miaowing of the fluff. Help the kitten out by lifting it up slowly and then make it feel loved by petting it a little and then put it gently on the ground.

The kid forgets to run when Scruffrug unwinds him. The kitten digs in the claws a little as lifted out and seems to pause only a second to feel the pet. Runs a little on the ground springily and comes back to rub the boy's shoe, tail straight up and purring. Arched looking up expectantly, sending a purr smile up. The boy thinks of putting the kitten back in, mean kid that he is. Scruffrug wraps them both up tight. M'row says kitten and Scruff drops him out. The kitten seems to want to help the boy but no way. Kitten sniffs the fringes.

The boy is having a dream. You know the dream Elizabeth, when imagination is unleashed and unfurls like the flying carpet that Scruffrug has come to be. It is time for Scruffrug to pass it on. So he tells the boy his story. You know it Elizabeth. How Scruffrug once woke up to realize that he was a throw rug. He had served well, getting thrown and walked on. But the key came in that question of "I wonder if I could fly?" It was not a drug or a teaching but a wanting and finding the resources within. Easy and hard as getting up to walk.

Finding the resources is what? Is going back to the big bang of creation and looking at the blueprints and the structural possibilities of the materials. The way he was woven of threads this way and that, that laid together. And how he could carry it on. All of us are scruffrugs until we realize we can fly and do. Until then we trip people, because they have more than we do. We hang on to dirt and trap it. Taking drugs seems to be a way out, but only plays with our perception, straining and stressing our materials and depleting our study of how to fly. But in each of these things that seems wrong is a bunch of right. Drugs tell and remind us us of our dream. Tripping means we have some muscle and ability to direct action.

Scruffrug bundled and tumbled that boy and tickled him. Story is continued in Scruffrug Threads, here.

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