Lucky # 60

I admired the surroundings in silence with the fire fighters. It's odd you would have never of guessed there was nightmarish storm from the looks of it. Everything is picturesque. The once turbulent lake is now a gentle stream. It guides us through lush valleys filled with deer, rabbits, squirrels and owls. Good job indeed gentlemen. "Look at that." The chief exclaims while pointing to a bright and vibrant rainbow that we are currently passing under. it's amazing. usually when you see a rainbow it's only there faintly. But there is no missing this one. "Wow, it's beautiful." I say admiring the rainbow. "I feel like skittles are going to rain down." The chief looks perplexed. "The candy, skittles." He still doesn't get it. "It was a popular commercial in the 90's." "The 90's?" He says very confused. "Yeah, the 1990's." "What are the 1990's." "They were a decade that I'm pretty sure you lived through." "A decade?" "Yeah, it's a measurement of time.Ten years." The chief gives a knowing grin. "Interesting. We don't do that though." "What do you mean you don't do that? Everyone does that." The chief shakes his head. "Nope, we don't." "I can believe you don't own a calendar, but time still marches on whether you believe in the concept of it or not." At this point we have now completely passed through the rainbow. On the other side is a purple sky filled with bright, twinkling stars. "We are from different places." The chief says. "I know, what does that have to do with anything?" " We don't follow the math rules that you follow.Therefor everything looks and feels different." I scratch my head. " I can go with that, but if there truly were no math, and you were creating a universe as you went along then why have the fires?" The chief put out his had and does the "stop there." motion. " I didn't say we control the universe. And I didn't say we don't have rules." "Then what?" "We have rules, they are just different. And so that makes everything else different." I shrug and look over the side of the boat. "Is it New Years by you?" He asks me. "I'm not sure." "It is somewhere." I nod in agreement. The chief gazes at the stars. "Perfect time to make a wish." "yep." I take a deep breath, make a wish, and release it. "You miss somebody?" He asks me. "I do." "Don't worry, you'll see her soon." He smiles big and bright. "You'll see her soon."

On the Boat

I slowly open my eyes to find myself in a partially enclosed area of the boat. There is a whole crew of fire fighters standing over me. The chief stands in the center. He is a little on the heavier side and has a mustache. I can see a look of relief on his face. " We weren't sure if you would going to make it." He tells me with a thick brooklyn accent. I attempt to sit up and instead caugh up water and small fish. "Whao, take it easy." The chief says to me as he rushes over and offers his assistance. " You just went through a tramatic ordeal." "You can say that again." The chief shrugs as if he had never heard that expression before. "Ok, you just went through a traumatic ordeal." "Where am I?" "I don't know." The chief tells me causally with a child - like innocence. "What do you mean you don't know?" "I mean I don't know." "But you are the chief. How could you not know?" "I don't know. I just don't." I put my hand to my head. "Do you have a map?" "I don't." The chief turns to his men. " Do you guys have maps?" They all shake their heads "No." "How is this possible?" I ask flabbergasted. "Well, it's simple." The chief exclaims to me. "None of us brought a map when we left our homes this morning." "I gathered that, but you're firefighters. How do you know where you are going?" "Well we just do." " Do you follow the stars? Or some sort of signs from nature?" The chief shakes his head. "Nope none of those." "Then what do you do?" "Well, we leave our homes. We get in our boat. We drive around. We find a fire. We put it out and then we go home." I am stunned it could be that simple. "That's all?" I say. "Well, yeah. How else would you do it?" "I don't know you get a call telling you where the fire would be?" "No, do people do that?" "Yeah, everywhere." The chief laughs to himself. "That's weird. Don't you guys think so?" All the surrounding firefighters nod in agreement. "So you just drive around till you find a fire?" The chief looks puzzled. "We're firefighters. It's what we do. You feeling ok?" I shake my head and change the subject. "Is it still storming outside?" "No, it's beautiful." "What, now its nice out?" One of the fire fighters interrupts. " Yeah, we put out the fires so now it's nice out." I try and rationalize that statement. "And now the world is happy again." He reasurs me. " For now." The chief explains. I still feel somewhat lost. "Before we head home for the night we like to admire our work outside. You wanna join us?" "Sure." I say as I pick myself off the ground.

Weathering the Storm

Storm of the century would be an accurate description of what is going on right now. Never have I witnessed a storm like this one that I am in right now. It is pouring down so hard that the water is forming into a gigantic lake. Furious winds are creating title waves, and lightning strikes the tops of the now almost submerged trees creating fires. And here I am bobbing like crazy, trying to keep my head above the water. I notice the lightning striking the trees and realize there is no safe place away from the lightning. What little land I see is covered in trees, and water serves as an equally good, if not better conductor. I take a deep breath and plunge underwater. Just like any other lake it is murky. I decide my best bet is to close my eyes and feel around. I don't want anything getting in my eyes. I feel what appears to be a long strand of sea weed. I tug on the sea weed as if it were a rope. It pulls me down further. It is bringing me to something, but what? I reach the end of the sea weed. It is tied to what feels like a treasure chest.I open it with minimal effort, and lucky thing too because I can feel myself getting fainter and fainter with every moment under water. The lid to the treasure chest swings open promptly followed by a plop/squish noise. I notice then that I can breathe normally. I open my eyes to find I am in a whitish pinkish bubble. My little protection I guess. The bubble then takes me to the surface. It pops as soon as it hits the surface, forcing me to swim like there is no tomorrow. I'm dodging lightning bolts left and right. I didn't even know that that was possible, but I'm doing it somehow. But my arms do grow tired eventually. Unfortunately though, the violent winds don't rest and I find myself being tossed around in the sea. After and exhausting few minutes of trying to keep my head above water, I hear faint sirens. I muster whatever strength I have left and swim in the direction of the sirens. There is a little firefighter boat. They don't see me. I'm probably not even a dot to them. But that's ok. I swim even harder. Eventually I catch up to the boat. I grab onto the ladder in the back and pull myself on board. Once on the boat I plop, thankful that I have found temporary refuge.

Caffeine Jitters?

We talked for a while about nothing in particular. I guess that is what one would call Bullshitting. Perhaps that is what I needed. A light conversation. Even if it seemed to be about nothing and go no where. It was nice. However, I noticed my leg was twitching. "Is this tea caffeinated?" I ask her. "Most of my teas are. Will that be a problem.?" "No, it's just caffeine makes me jittery." She sinks back into her chair. "It's a good thing you won't be staying then." "Are you kicking me out?" I ask her . "Oh no, but you should open the door." I walk over the door that I entered from. "Oh no, not that one." She points to the opposite wall. "That one." I walk over to the wall and place my hand on the stone. The door slides open. There is a massive downpour on the other side. Long strands of ligtning hit the ground and multiple sirens go off in the background. I turn to the purple haired woman. " You knew something was wrong You could feel it in your bones." "You wan't me to go out there?!" I shout to her. "It's an option" "Should I?" "Do you want to?" "How the hell should I know? Isn't that why I am here?" The purple haired woman walks over to me. "I'm not your shrink." "You could have fooled me." "Hey" She says.."I wasn't looking for you." "I'm not to sure I was looking for you either." She rests her hand on my shoulder. "Do you want to go out there?" "I don't think so." "Then sit down and enjoy your tea." I sit down in the chair and I try to relax. I keep looking at the storm though. Eventually the woman pipes in. "You like a good mystery." She tells me. " I guess I do." "You do, and it doesn't always serve you well. But you should go." "You mean it?" I ask, more so because I am unsure about myself. "Yes, I can't relax with you twitching like that." I smile and head for the door. Just as I'm about to exit, she shouts to me. "Have patience. Mostly with yourself. It's all one big puzzle piece. And some of the pieces may not fit till years down the road." I nod and prepare to face the storm.

When You Find Yourself In a Fog...

Trying to mask my humiliation, I wander aimlessly through the fog. I know not where I am going. Even if there were no fog I would still be clueless. I mean I'm in a castle. What do I know about castles? I'm from the suburbs of Chicago. There are no castles here. Scratch that, there are no real castles. We have a Medieval Times. For anyone who is not familiar with this wonderful thing that is celebrated by Boy Scouts and bachelor parties alike, Medieval Times is basically a place where people put on cosutmes and joust while a crowed cheers or boos them. Somewhat cheesy, but fun none the less. The only way it could be better is if you were to replace medieval jousting with Roman gladiators. Though I doubt that will happen. At least anytime soon. At any rate I'm wandering along in a smog of my own creation. I can barely seen the path in front of me. I feel the stone walls in search of some sort of door. All the sudden one of the stones sink in and a door opens up. With out a shred of hesitaion I walk through. On the other side I am greeted by the purple haired woman. The one whom I drank tea with before. " I knew you'd be back." She says to me with a smile. "Why am I here?" I demand. "Whoa, no need to yell?" She insists. "Sorry, I just don't know what that was all about back there." The purple haired woman shrugs. "Maybe you weren't supposed to win." " Maybe, but I would have at least liked to have competed." "You did." I shake my head. "Hardly, my filling was missing." "And who's fault is that?" She asks me. "I put the filling in." "Then why was it missing?" I clench my fists. " I don't know. Maybe someone took it." She laughs. "What?" I ask her, very annoyed. "Even if someone did take it what are gonnna do? Fight them?" "I don't know." " I think you need to sit down and have some tea." "Tea doesn't solve everything." She smiles. "You're right it only solves 98% of problems." I try and hide it ,but a smile starts to form over my face. "Sit down and have some tea." "Alright, my angst can wait I guess."

Let the Games Begin

So there I was in a coliseum surrounded by many peasants cheering and applauding for me. The king put up two open hands into the air and like a teacher who trained a well disciplined classroom, the audience feel silent. "Thank you. It is my great pleasure to bring to you today... all the way from America... Sparky Boy." The crowd cheered and rored. Stomping and clapping loudly. The king raised his hands again, and once more the audience became silent. "He has come to challenge me with his own brand of pie." The audience laughs hysterically. " I know , but I want to see what this BOY has to offer." The king snaps his fingers. Two servants come by with a long wooden table and place it directly in front of the king. Then another servant servant comes in a places a chair behind the king. The king sits down. The king looks off to the side. "And here is my queen with my pie." She places a warm blueberry pie on the table. You can see the steam rising off of it. She cuts a piece for the king.He snatches the slice out of her hand and wolfs it down. With a mouth full of pie, he shouts to the audience. "Marvelous, simply marvelous. But my queen will also try a piece." The Queen cuts a pieces for her self. She takes a delicate bite, smiles in ecstasy and nods to the audience. The audience cheers. "And now, the challenger." says the King. The Queen attempts to cut my pie, but a big cloud of dust comes out and it flattens. "Do you see that? He has come with an unfinished pie." The King laughs loudly, the audience shortly joins in. " I don't understand." I say. " I had filling in there, but I don't know where it went." Neither the king now the audience care though. They just continue their loud and obnoxious laughter. Wanting to escape my own embarrassment, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bit of that cloud. I stretched it out a bit so it created fog, and I attempted to walk away. Not quiet sure how to exit the castle.

Four and Twenty Blackbirds

As I was attempting to finish a pie of epic proportions, four and twenty blackbirds burst into the kitchen. I tried to swat them away, but they were all too much. They were everywhere. Each one grabbed a piece of my clothing with their beaks. They then proceeded to flap their wings and fly me out the front door. luckily I was able to get a hold of my pie amongst all this chaos. We flew high in the sky. Up, up in the air. I watched as the houses and cars became little dollhouses and toy cars, and then disappeared altogether. We flew above the clouds. I always wanted to touch a cloud, so I reached out my hand and took I piece of it. It was fluffy like cotton, but better. I put it in my pocket just because. The birds flew lower and we entered a land of rolling green hills. Could it be Ireland? England maybe? At any rate it was beautiful. The birds flew me over what appeared to be a medieval stone wall of a castle, and placed me safely on grassy ground on the other side. They then dispersed. Shortly there after I heard trumpets and someone unrolled a red carpet. Mysteriously the carpet ended at my feet but began in the middle of the field. Fascinated as to where the carpet began, I ended up staring at my shoes. Before I knew it, there was a cartoonish looking King standing right in front of me. Full beard, red sash, crown and all. "Hello." He said in an upbeat jovial fashion. " I see you have brought your pie." "Yes I have." I remember thinking how it must have been a miracle I was still holding it, especially after taking one hand off of it while in flight to grab a piece of cloud. "Are you ready?" He asked excitedly. " I guess so." "Good, then follow me." He walked slightly ahead and I watched him wabble merrily down the carpet. "Let's do this contest." I thought to myself.

The Grizzles

Perhaps it is a bit of being naive , but something inside me says that it is alright to venture into the bears' home. I knock three times on the wooden door. The grizzle bear answers the door. He glances at me for a moment then walks away leaving the front door wide open. It's a big assumption but I figure that he wants me to walk in. The inside of the house is lovely. Hardwood floors, an old 1940's stove, and a candle chandelier. Mr. Bear, or whatever he likes to be known by reclines in a red leather chair and reads his newspaper. His wife wonders about the house aimlessly. Neither one seem to care that I am there. They both go about their business as if it were not there. Perhaps it is nothing. I mean maybe they get visitors all the time. Still I'm not sure why I am here. I shrug it off deciding to focus on the invigorating aroma coming from the kitchen instead. I walk over to the kitchen. There appears to be some sort of soup cooking. I casually look around. No one is watching, so I pick up a wooden spoon and attempt to taste the soup. out of no where Mrs. Bear stomps in a smacks the spoon out of my hand. She then points to the living room. Guess she didn't want me to stay in the kitchen knowing that I'd be eating the food. I walk into the living room that is currently being occupied by Mr. Bear. let me tell yeah he didn't look all that happy knowing that his space was know taken over by another body. He was even less thrilled when I plopped down on the floor and turned on the radio. Mr. Bear cleared his throat. I sighed and turned off the radio. Some what bored I taped my fingers on the hardwood floor. Mr. Bear glanced up at me. Signaling me to stop that. I complied and opted to twittle my thumbs in silence. Mr. Bear handed me a section of the newspaper he was done with. It was just a department store ad, but I had nothing else to do so I started to read it. Mr. Bear sighed and turned my paper over. It was an article about a pie making contest in the city. A light bulb went on. That's what I sighed up for. It wasn't anything bad, and I could do this no problem. I sprung up from the floor and was about to leave when Mrs. Bear stopped me. She shook her head and pointed to the kitchen which was made up nicely with her soup ready to be eaten. Ok, I guess I could leave after a nice, hot meal.

A Tolkien esq Forest

I did one of those things that they tell you not to do. I signed a contract without reading it. I don't even know what it is for. All I know is that in a little less than a week from today I am to show up somewhere in the city. I have no idea where, I just have to be in the city. Then once I'm there something is supposed to happen. I'd say this is odd, but I've seen a lot of weird shit. So far this is nothing. I'm not gonna try and wrap my head around this any more right now. I will simply enjoy my walk. The air is crisp, and I am deep in a forest. There is a stone path that guides my way. Big, beautiful, full trees are on either side. Occasionally I will see small homes made out of bendy, twisty trees. It is almost as if J.R. Tolkien created this land. In the distance I can hear a goat. I try and turn my head to see it, no such luck. I am having so much fun walking along the stone path, glancing at pretty homes made of twisty trees, and then directly ahead of me I see a grizzly bear. He does not spot me, and I feel no fear, but I know well enough not to venture further. At least not yet. I watch him as he crawls into one of the homes made of twisty trees. Part of me wants to take a step back. I know I can not do that though. I keep observing. Another bear follows shortly into the home. Perhaps his wife. I feel a strange peace as I observe them. I actually want to walk over there and knock on their front door. I will restrain myself for them moment though and simply watch in silence.

Contract

An ominous storm cloud is coming into town. It rests above the citizens. It waits. At any moment it will strike down with fury. Pouring heavy rain, gusty winds, and devastating lightning. I must not be afraid though. I walk on as if it was not there at all. Before I know it, I'm in a library. In my hands I have the controls for a remote control car. I do not see the car anywhere, but I fidget with the controls. I hear a little car nearby.I fidget with the controls again. The little car is louder. He must be closer. I continue to play with the controls until the little car shows up at my feet, happy that he has found someone to play with him. I know I'm in a library, but I don't care. I'm having way too much have. I have it do all sorts of fun stunts. Back and forth it goes faster and faster. Then the grand finale. I race it down the stairs. It's bumpy. He does not mind though. He voluntarily does stunts. Bouncing off the walls, grinding on the handrails. We are having a blast. That is until this principal/ librarian woman shows up and spoils our fun. She picks up the little car and beckons me closer with her boney claw like hands. "I'm going to have to take this from you." She tells me in a stern way. I apologize to her and she shakes her head. "That's fine. But I need to talk to you about something." "What is it?" I ask hesitantly. " You still have not signed up." "I'm not obligated to." "That is correct. However, when you ask for my help I expect you to sign." "I'm not signing." She grins and opens her eyes wide. "I think you will." Just like that I grabbed a pen and signed my name beautifully. It was as if a spell had been placed on me and there was nothing I could do about it. " Thank you, now remember it's one week from today in the city." "It's not here?" I ask. "Of corse not. Now you may go." I left dumbfounded not sure what I just signed or what just happened. But I knew things would get more interesting.

The T.V.

T.V., arguably the best and the worst invention of all time. Right now I think it is the cat's pajamas, the bee's knees, and any other outdated 20's slang that one can think of. The T.V. is great for relaxing. It is even better for gaining information. I'm not talking about the news either. Hardly ever do I learn something new from there. I'm talking about cartoons, movies and the occasional sit com. You laugh, but there is so much one can learn from a well written story. I believe that one of the most important things in life great imagination. The better the imagination is defined, the easier it will be for the individual to navigate through the obstacles of life and find creative solutions to problems. So T.V. , I ask you now to give me your weirdest, wildest, most out there shows you can find. let them seek into my subconscious mind. I have work to do.

Walk on

Want to hear something pathetic? I am a hero who lacks courage. If there is anyone out there who has been following my adventures I guess it is safe to say that that is fairly obvious. But that's me, I am the cowardly lion. Do I enjoy being this way? No, I find walls of any sort to be infuriating. Mental restraints are tough to break. I think there are many people in the world who don't quite understand that. The trick is to keep walking though. Take a deep breath, or two, or three and walk on through the mud. It may be hard at first, but the mud will eventually turn into dirt, and the dirt will be a paved road. Honestly, I am having trouble believing my own words, but I too will walk. I will walk on and on.

Rats!

There is relaxing, and then there is being comatose. I feel as if the the doctor put a spell on me. The past couple of days seemed as if there was a fog on my brain. I could not think much at all. At least not deeply. But I think the fog is starting to lift now. My focus is not quite where is was. It's getting there though. Ready for a new adventure, I get in the shower. I like to make the water as hot as I can before it starts to burn. Keeps me warm, wakes me, and creates a nice level of steam that surrounds me. I enjoy this morning ritual until the water becomes violent. The pouring water turns into a whirl pool that encircles me. The water runs faster and faster. A dead mouse washes up in my periphery. Slightly grossed out, I jump through the whirl pool with minimal struggle and land on the tile floor. Once I am out of the whirl pool, the water calms down and drains. I walk over to the bathtub to investigate the poor, dead mouse. In its place I see two dead rats with their heads stuck in the drain. I jolt out of the bathroom not knowing what I want to do first. Vomit, bleach my eyes, or take another shower. I don't quite know what is going on, but it is strange and disgusting. Something is about to happen, or has already happened.

Doctor's Orders

After the incident with the treadmill, I was taken to the emergency room. Just to make sure everything was ok. I was put on a bed, and left over night. They performed countless tests on me. As far as I can tell there is nothing physiologically wrong with me. It appears to be psychosomatic. I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. The fact that it can be all boiled down to stress. The doctor told me to use a day to myself. Relax, don't try and venture into the unknown. Don't try and figure things. Don't even think that hard. All he wants me to do is relax. Honestly, I feel like I do a lot of that anyways. Perhaps too much. But if that's what he wants, if that is what he thinks that I should do, maybe I should listen. At least for today.... until I get bored.

Semi Trucks and Video Games

Turns out the mother is a hardcore driver. I watched as day turned into night and we drove across countless state lines. This is just the first time we're stopping all day. I'm sure glad I decided not to get the Big Gulp from 711 before I began this journey. I unbuckle, let out a big yawn and stretch my arms and legs. I glance over at the girl, she is fast asleep. The mother looks at me through the rear view mirror once more. "You wanna get out and explore?" She asks me. "I do." "Go ahead." "I don't know where I'm going or if I'll be back though." "Don't worry, we'll be alright. Thank you for your company." I smile. "The pleasure was all mine." I exit the mini van and I see a crowd of people gathered around a semi truck further down the parking lot. Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I walked up to the Semi truck. It was some sort of video game tour. It was a test audience for whatever this latest video game system is. At any rate, everyone was thrilled. They were all pushing and shoving in hopes that they would be the next one to test out the product. I was not that interested in playing it. I wanted only to see what it looked like. I stood calmly in the back of the line. Guess that was enough to draw attention to myself. "You there!" A middle aged man with a Sonic the Hedgehog shirt shouts to me from inside the truck. "Me?" I say somewhat timidly pointing to myself. "Yes you." He replies. "How you like to be the next one to play?" "Um yeah sure." I say. The crowd begrudgingly parts for me. I hear a lot of "Are you serious?" and "Why him ?" as I draw closer. As I'm about to climb into the back of the truck the man with the sonic t shirt puts a microphone to my face. "You ready to be a part of history?" He asks. "Yes." I reply simply. He takes the mic away from my face. I look around. There are many gigantic flat screens everywhere. All of them displaying what would be considered by today's standards archaic graphics. If this were 1996, it would be cutting edge. But it's 2013 and the graphics look more boxy than realistic. In the center of the truck is a treadmill that hooks up to the screens. "Ok." The man says to me. "All you have to do is get on the treadmill and run." "That's it?" "That's all. This game you are a marathon runner. All you gotta do is run and run fast." I walk on to the treadmill. " I think I can do this." The man goes over to the control panel, throws some switches, and before I know it, the treadmill starts up. It seemed a breeze at first keeping up with my boxy avatar. However, it became increasingly difficult to run on the treadmill. It was as if it was getting stuck and I had to apply pressure just to get it to move. "Go in the opposite direction! It's easier that way!" The man shouts to me. I turn around and run in the opposite direction. For a while it is easier and in fact even fun. But then it becomes increasingly difficult to run. I try and apply pressure like before. No luck. I can't run it's like my leg's don't work. "Stop the machine!" I scream as I jump off the treadmill. The man rushes over to me. "What's the matter? What happened?" He asks me in a panic. I take a deep breath. "I just can't run anymore."

Road Trip

Normally I wouldn't think to hitch hike, but I wanted to change things up a little bit. Plus, I'm currently at a busy intersection and I don't feel like walking anymore. So here I am like a jackass with my thumb out in the air. No one seems to notice or care. All the cars zoom past me. Eventually a bluish, rusty, mini van pulls up along the side of the road. From what I can tell it looks like a mother, about mid thirties, and her little girl. The girl looks like she could be about six or seven. The mother rolls down her window and shouts to me " You gonna come in or you gonna stand there?" I walk over to the mini van and try to pull open the one side door. It's stuck. I yank as hard as I can and the door flies open. "Whoa there superman." The mother says to me. I don't say anything, I just buckle myself into the middle seat. The mother looks at me through the rear view mirror. " That's sweet of you, that you're keeping my daughter company." I glance over at her daughter who is looking out the window. I hadn't even realized that is what I was doing. I knew it seemed odd at the time to open the sliding door instead of taking the front seat, but I went with it as if it was my plan all along and I nodded. The mother smiled, started her car and took off. "So, where are you driving to?" I asked. "Not sure, we just wanted to take a road trip across the country. where are you going?" I shrugged. "I don't know." "That's ok, you'll figure it out." The mother reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out an ice cream cone. It looks fresh, as if there is a secret ice cream making machine in her glove compartment. Everything is still perfectly and professionally intact too. Two nice rounded scoops of blueberry ice cream on top of a pointed waffle cone. "Here sweetie, I completely forgot about this." She says to her daughter while extending her arm with the ice cream. The girl's eyes light up. "Thanks mommy." The daughter grabs the ice cream from her mother's hand. The daughter proceeds to open her side window. I look on at the daughter in awe. Now the daughter sticks the ice cream out the window. "I think she's gonna drop it out the window." I shout. "It's her ice cream, she can do with it whatever she pleases." The mother says to me. Hearing this, the daughter takes her ice cream out of the window and offers it to me. " You want it?" "No, I couldn't take that." "It's ok I just remembered you saying blueberry is one of your favorite, but you can never find it." " Wait how did you know that?" I ask her. " I don't know, I just remember." "But I never told you." "Guess I just know." The girl smiles to herself and continues to look out her window. The mother looks back at me again. "So where did you want to go?" "I don't know, I have a feeling I already went somewhere."

The Guards

I am surrounded by darkness, but luckily I have a pack of matches for such a case. I reach into my pocket and grab the pack of matches. I strike a match, but unfortunately it does not stay lit long enough to give me any indication of where I am. So I rely partially on my other senses. I creep down the hallway, listening carefully for any noises that would be out of the ordinary. Every so often I strike another match. It is almost like a less obnoxious version of a strobe lite. All I get are fragments here and there. A stone floor, a leaky roof, spiders, rats, but nothing could prepare me for what I was about to see. A huge wooden door guarded by three adult bengal tigers. I tried to remain absolutely, absolutely calm as the tigers stared me down. Then my last match went out. If I wasn't in danger before, I surely was now. I didn't know what do to. They had already seen me, and turning around seemed just as if not more dangerous. So I persued. I walked on, hoping that I would not be mauled. I literally tip toed and stepped lightly. I could hear their yawns and feel their breaths on my ankles. After what felt like an eternity, I felt my hand on the wooden door. I searched for the handle. The door was unlocked and I there was no fight from the tigers. I opened the door and was greeted with a ray of sunlight.

P.E. Revisited

Despite the face that I have been out of high school for years, I have some how found myself back in a P.E. class. It is exactly how I remember it. There are the "built" kids who get way too into the class. There are the wallflowers (that would be me.) They just want to show up for class dressed in uniform, get an easy A, and be the first one's out at dodge ball so they can sit on the bleachers for the rest of the time. However, the overly enthusiastic P.E. teacher will never let them off that easily. Right now I have an ape like instructor shouting at me. "Come back here right now and play the right way." He shouts to me. "What's the right way?" I ask. "Don't be smart." He cautions me. "I thought that's what school was for." "I don't have time for your mouth. Get back here" "No." I insist. "What do you mean no?" He asks. "I did what I was saposed to do and now I'm out." "You need to apply yourself." "I think I did." The teacher clenches his fists. "Randal, get the flail." Randal a jockish, built classmate walks over to wall and breaks open an emergency case containing the medieval weapon with a spiked ball and chain. Randal swings the flail around his head. "What the hell is this?" I ask, startled. " You wont do it the easy way, guess it's gonna be the hard way." The gym teacher says in a very matter of fact way. Randal runs towards me. I jump off the bleachers and head out the exit. The hallway outside the gym is completely dark. As I can hear Randal's footsteps barreling closing, I realize that the darkened hallways are the least of my worries. There are gated fences up everywhere. I am in a maze. I try hallway after hallway after hallway. They all lead to fenced dead ends. The footsteps are now closer than ever. I know I have no choice. I climb a random fence. "Here's hoping there's something better on the other side." With that I hop off the fence in what appears to be a dark abyss.

To Do

Love is the answer. Love is the answer to just about everything. The only acception to the rule I can think of is a math related question. One can't really raise their hand and say "Love" when asked about algebra. Otherwise, everything goes back to love or a lack there of. I know it sounds simple and childish, but it makes sense. At least to me it does. Some of the most amazing, beautiful creations have been formed out of love. Some of the most chaotic, nightmarish, gruesome scenes were created as a result of a lack of love....It's strange, I feel very New Agey today. Maybe It's something going around. Maybe I'm just getting older. Don't worry though, I have no plans to retire my red hood and cape. I don't think I could ever do that. If I live to be one hundred I'll still be going on adventures. Still be questioning things. The world needs me. I'm not sure of what just yet, but I know it does. What will change is that I'm going to try to get rid of my inner conflict. The one that tells me I can't do things. The one that tells me I'll always fail. It does not serve me much good, and I know no one would like to hear me complain. I don't want to hear myself complain. Transformation is not an easy task, but I do know it is possible. The road ahead is uncertain. This I have known for quite some time. I will try harder than ever to get past every obstacle, if nothing more just for my next grand adventure.

Jackie Boy

Whoever said "There's no time like the present" obviously never spent time in limbo. I shouldn't complain. It could be worse. Much worse. Jackie Boy(turns out that was my Jack- O- Lantern's name) took me to a bar. Let me tell you, Jackie Boy was the life of the party. I know he's a fucking Jack-O-Lantern, but it's true. Women wanted him and Men wanted to be him. He ordered rounds for everybody. Kinda makes me wonder how he paid for it. The bartender didn't seem to mind though. He knew Jackie Boy was good for it. All night long he cracked jokes and told stories. The stories mostly revolved around him growing up in a pumpkin patch. He was very animated though, and the people hung on to his every word. I laughed and I smiled. It made me wish I was him. So confident, so sure of himself. Eventually the crowd thinned out and the lights dimmed. It was time to go home. I had spent a decent amount of time in heaven, but it was time to go back to what most refer to as reality. I asked Jackie Boy if he was coming back with me. He shook and said no because his journey is elsewhere. I asked what he meant by that. "I'm a pumpkin.Who knows how long I have until I rot. I want to see the world." He told me. He then went on to explain I could join him. I declined his offer stateing that I couldn't go just yet for I was still needed. What I was needed for, I have absolutely no idea. At that hour though it made perfect sense to say. Maybe years later it would be perfectly clear. But Jackie boy smiled a knowing pumpkin smile. As Jack - O - Lanterns often do. Just then I heard the roaring of a loud motorcycle , and who should I see walking into the bar, but none other than Mike Pumpkin head. Made perfect sense to me. Except this time he was not expecting to see me at all. "Hey buddy." He shouted to me. "What brought you here?" I asked him even though I knew this was more his domain then mine. He pointed to Jackie Boy. "You know him?" I asked. "Fuck yeah I know him. We're going a road trip of America. You wanna come with us?" I gave him the same line that I gave Jackie Boy. However, this time there was slightly less certainty in my voice. "Alight, we should take off then." He grabbed Jackie Boy and started to exit. "I'll see you around." I said, trying to covince myself that I was reassuring him. "You know you will." He said with grin. He then took off into the night going back to wherever he came from.

My Jack-O-Lantern

A sideways grin, and a winking eye. My Jack - O- Lantern. Perfection at it's best. Something about this tradition of carving pumpkins that never gets old. It rejuvenates my spirits, puts an extra spring into my step, and calms my mind. I have put something into the world, and for that I am a better person. I can rest my tired eyes now. I sink into my couch and cast my weary eyes on my winking Jack - O- Lantern. Currently he's placed above my rabbit ear television that is on the snow channel. Rabbit ears? Snow channel? I almost can't believe my own archaic terminology. I bet there are kids coming up in the world now who have no idea what those vocab words are. They aren't really used that much anymore. I guess it makes sense. What with these flat screen, high def, T.V. sets. I'm a bit of a throwback . But I'm ok with that. It makes me unique. I relax a bit and sink further and further into the couch. I feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Before I know it... I'm there. That wonderful, magical place between wake and sleep. "Wake up, sleepy head." I hear. I scan the living room to see where the voice is coming from. "Over hear." I scan the living room again, no luck. Convinced the voice is nothing more than my imagination, I attempt to sleep. "Don't close your eyes." "who said that?" I respond, groggily. I look up at my pumpkin, not thinking anything of it. It winks at me with it's other eye. I shudder. "Don't be afraid." It reassures me. "You created me after all." "What do you want from me?" I ask it. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all. Just thought we could have some fun." I squint. "What kind of fun?" "Just thought we could go out, get some drinks. It is Halloween after all." "No, I don't feel like it." "C'mon it'll be fun." I sink further into the couch. "I'm too tired." "You just need some excitement. You created me because you wanted something to lift your spirits. Am I right?" I sigh. "Yeah, you're right." "Then let's go." "I don't know isn't it gonna look weird if I carry around a talking pumpkin?" The Jack - O - Lantern sneers. "It's Halloween. Besides what the fuck do you care?" " I don't." "Then get your shoes and let's get out of here." I smile to myself and exit room. "Always something." I think.

Reflection

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I see no scars or hideous markings that are not there this time. All I see is my face. My plain, regular, every day, average, suburban face. I guess there is nothing wrong with that. I just don't see anything special. Don't see anything extraordinary today. Maybe the mirror is the wrong place to look. Then again it tells you just what you want to hear. I've been to so many places, and my eyes have seen so many things. Yet right now I don't feel like a world traveler. I feel like a tourist stuck on a moving walkway. Stuff happens, and the landscape changes. I think I'm just frustrated. I feel underestimated sometimes. I feel like certain individuals question my intelligence. I sapose that is my own issues coming to surface though. I do tend to devalue myself from time to time. I know what will cheer me up. I'll make a Jack - O - Lantern. A winking Jack -O - Lantern. Yeah, that'll make me smile.

Surprise?

The air at Jeff's place is thick. It almost feel like there is an anaconda wrapped around me. Pulling tighter and tighter. Restricting my breathing. I'm waiting in the dark, staring at his front door. Hopefully he shows up soon. I do not want to pass out. I hear keys jingling on the other side. I get in to my proper stance with my fists clenched at my sides. Before the door even opens all the way, I verbally assault Jeff. "Listen, you bastard. Tell me everything you know, everything." I shout to him. Jeff barely responds. He flips the light switch on and walks to the kitchen as if nothing happened. I follow him. "Where is she?" He casually grabs a beer from the refrigerator. "How should I know?" "You're her grandson." I explain to him. "Doesn't mean I know where she is." He offers me a beer. I shake my head no. He shrugs. "I'm not her keeper, she'll go where she goes." He tells me. "Why did you hire me in the first place?" Jeff takes a swig of his beer. "I'm sure you've done enough digging by this point to know that she was into the occult and I don't approve of any of that sfuff." "Yeah?" "Well then I found you, don't ask me how,but I did. And I thought if any one can talk her out of whatever she's into it would be this wacko that's in my kitchen right now." "Thanks?" Jeff raises his beer as if to salute. "Don't mention it. Anyways her will is strong. A lot stronger than one would assume. So when she felt that she was in danger she hid herself." "Where?" "I don't know, but she'll be back." "How could you be so calm about this when no too long ago you were freaking out?" "I had some time to think. She'll be ok." I squint at him. "I'm expected to believe this?" "If you want ." I stand there, bewildered for a moment. "You should take the night off, watch the game with me." He says. "I don't watch sports." Jeff smirks and shakes his head. "Of corse you don't."

Watching, Waiting

I watched as the world disintegrated around me. Do I have a flare for the dramatics? Sure. But who doesn't? At least every now and then. Ms. Rosalyn is somewhere between here and there right now. I'm not entirely sure if she wants to be found. Maybe she likes it better in hiding. In a safe place where no one can judge her for feeling all too much. The curiosity eats away at me though. Not to long ago I began this mission, not thinking much of it. Just thought it would be something a little different. That it is. Each day I am slightly out of my comfort zone. Each day I am greatful for that. All else fails, it's been an adventure, and what an adventure at that. I doubt this is by any means over though. Everything in my bones tells me that this is just the beginning. That I need to press on.

The Elderly Couple

Everything is a clue, and everyone is a suspect. Including this elderly couple in the distance feeding ducks. Yes, they are feeding ducks, and so am I.  They are all the way on the other side of the pond. I don't think they have noticed me yet. They are far too absorbed in their activity of feeding the ducks. I get off my bench to question them. Before I can get any where remotely close to them I step on a branch. It snaps, and like a deer who was caught by a hunter, the woman points her boney fingers in my direction. "Harold, there's someone coming this way." She shouts anxiously. I raise my hands over my head. "I mean no harm."  "Why should we believe you?" Harold asks. Still attempting to run off.  "I want to ask you about Barbara Rosalyn." The couple stops dead in their tracks. "Did you say Barbara Rosalyn?" The elderly woman asks.  "Yes." I reply. The couple turns around. "We haven't heard that name in ages." Says Harold.  "What do you know about her?"  I ask them. The elderly woman laughs to herself. "Enough to fill a warehouse, dear."  Harold chimes in.  "We all went to the same high school."  I look at them straight in the eyes. "This may sound strange, but do you know anything about the Angelic Order of Brotherly Love.?" "That's one of those churches you have to pay to get in, right?" The elderly woman asks. Harold shakes his head no. "Annie, I think you're thinking of Mormonism." "No, Harold I think I'm right." I interrupt them. "Do you know anything about this group? Yes or No?" The both grow silent. "Can't say that I do." Says Harold. "But I wouldn't put it past her to join something like that." "Yes, she was always into the occult come to think of it." "Always?" I ask. "As far back as I can remember at least." Annie states. "What does her family think about this?" Harold takes a deep breath. "They don't much." With sadness in her eyes, Annie continues. "Most of her family wants nothing to do with her." "There is one family member who still loves her." Harold adds. "And who might that be?" "Her grandson, Jeff." She says without any hesitation. "But the problem with Jeff is that he never fully understands, and he's trying to reprogram her." "This is very important. She disappeared. I need to find her." Harold laughs. "What?" I ask. "She can't be found unless she wants to be found."  "But I need to find her."  Harold shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you." "I need to find her so I at least have some piece of mind." "sorry." He tells me. I hang my head. Harold hands me an empty pop can he was drinking out of. I look up at him confused. "When you were a child, you couldn't even crush that can. But you wanted to." "This is hardly the same thing." I tell him. "Don't belittle this. That was something you wanted, but you felt you weren't strong enough." "I thought I was weak." "Were you?" "No, guess I just didn't try." Harold smiles. "You're not weak. Go out there and try. You've got this." I crush the can in the palm of my hand, and like a motivational coach he adds: "You can do anything you put your mind to."

The Hero Emerges

Where am I today? Who am I today? My energy feels absolutely drained, and I can not seem to think. At least not much. All I want to do at the moment is stare out into space. Not move for any one or anything. The seasons are changing, or so I've been told. I don't feel too much in the mood for anything right now. I'm not depressed, just tired and confused. I guess that's ok though. Pretty much every great super hero has some sort of fundamental flaw. Yes, I know. I am aware of what I just said. I remember specifically not wanting to be called a hero. Maybe it was the idea  of knowing that I could be something  greater than what I am that freaked me out. I was happy being a punk with a red cape. But that's not enough anymore. I want more. Like I said, every great superhero has some sort of fundamental flaw. Superman has kryptonite, Daredevil is blind, The Incredible Hulk goes into uncontrollable fits of rage, and Iron Man is an alcoholic. Meanwhile, I am somewhat neurotic and doubt myself more than I'd care to admit. That being said, I think I'm finally ready to emerge as the hero. Flaws and all.

The Young Artist

There are twenty cigarettes in a full pack. Twenty five if it is Marlboro. This pack contains nineteen. This could be a clue. It could mean 1920 or 1925. I have to ask myself what happened in those five years that would be of significance to me? Perhaps I am looking too much into this discarded pack of cigarettes. Just then I feel a feel a pebble hit my right shoulder. Someone is watching me. I look directly over head and I see a boy glaring at me from his fire escape balcony. " Get your hands off my smokes." He shouts to me. "What are you, ten?" "I'm fifteen, and what do you care?"  I shake my head. "Number one, you're only fifteen and are putting disgusting toxins into your body. And number two, this may be a clue."  "A clue? What the fuck are you talking about?" I try to tell him my theory about the nineteen remaining cigarettes. How it could be symbolic of the years 1920 or 1925. He laughs at me and says. "You're crazy. You need sleep." "You could be right." The kid rolls his eyes. "Are you gonna give me my cigarettes?" He asks. "No, they mean something." "It means I didn't want my mom to find my smokes, so I hid them in the alley." "What? That's even more disgusting. " "Why?"  "Because besides from the initial toxins that you are putting into your body, you are also leaving it out in the open air for all sorts of germs and God only knows what." "Are you gonna give me a health lecture?" "I don't want to." I reply. At this point he is livid. "Are you gonna give me my smokes or what?" "No." The kid smirks.  "You want me to come down there and kick your ass?"  "I seriously doubt you could."  "Maybe not, but either way it's not gonna look good for you.  I mean I win, then you got beat up by a kid. But if you win, then it just means you beat up a kid." Unfortunately, I realize how right he is. I attempt to toss the pack up to him, but it hits the balcony bars and ricochets off.  "Really?" he says to me, with a look of disdain on his face. "I never played sports." I try and tell him. "I never played sports either, but I can throw a pack of cigarettes a few feet into the air." I pick the cigarettes off the ground and begin to throw again. He stops me. "No, its ok. I'll come down and get them." The kid lowers the fire escape ladder and climbs down. I notice that there is a huge gap between where the ladder ends and the pavement. I offer my assistance, saying that he can jump into my arms. Instead he leaps off the ladder, and like a gymnast he hits the pavement and does a somersault.  My mouth is open wide. I am in absolute awe. He casually walks over to me and snags the cigarettes out of my hand. "It was nothing." He insists.
I watch him light a cigarette and puff away. "Did you do that sketch?" I ask, pointing to the silhouette of a cowboy smoking. "You a cop?" He asks defensively. "Do I look like a cop?" He doesn't even have to examine me. He knows the answer. "Yeah, I did that." "What made you choose that image?" "I don't know, I thought it looked cool." "No other reason?  You don't see yourself as this cowboy character?" The kid scratches his head.  "What the fuck is this? Where am I right now?" "Look, you did that image chances are you did other images too-"  "So what if I did?" "All I'm saying is that all these images might have hidden meanings that you might now even know the meaning of."  The kid takes a long drag. "What are you? Freud or some shit?"  "No. But I know that you probably hear a lot and see a lot. And you can't quite express it all in words so it comes out in these little images." The kid exhales a huge cloud of smoke. "Wow, that's some deep shit." I shake my head. There is a long silence. "Have you ever heard of the Angelic Order of Brotherly Love?" I ask him. He shrugs. "I might have heard of it somewhere." The kid peeks at his wristwatch. "I gotta go my mom is gonna be home any minute."  I wave goodbye. "My names's Trevor by the way."  "Trevor, do you have more work up elsewhere?" "All over the place, but I'll leave my calling card so you know it's me." Trevor smiles and holds up one of his cigarettes. I nod my head and we take off on our separate ways.

What's Written on the Walls

As I walk down the cold, dark, damp, lonely alley I can hear the voices of the downtrodden, the angst, the scared, the angry and the hopeless. All spray painted on the walls. Some of the messages crass. Some are oddly profound. But they all speak the same language. That language being...Something isn't right. Something is off indeed. Ms. Rosalyn is gone and there is a certain heaviness to the surrounding atmosphere. Almost as if she brought a certain balance to the universe, and now everything is off kilter. I read the paint soaked walls.  There is one image that particularly sticks out for me. It is a silhouette of man wearing a cowboy hat and smoking cigarettes. He reminds me of the Marlboro Man. Though the sketch was probably just a doodle and nothing more, I can not help but wonder maybe this character is symbolic. He stands around all this chaos of graffiti as he casually smokes. There are no other drawings just him. Maybe he is a boss of some sort. Maybe all the surrounding graffiti is his minions. Or maybe he is me surrounded by chaos at every step, yet trying to keep my cool. Trying to keep my head. I look to the pavement by the sketch. A pack of cigarettes. A calling card maybe? I pick it up. It's practically a full pack. It may be a calling card after all. No avid smoker would leave behind a near full pack.

The Tape

Convenience stores can no longer be called convenience stores when you have to go to another town just to find what you are looking for. Granted a tape player is not exactly something that everyone has these days. It still is irksome though.But it is time to put all that aside and see what this tape has to tell me. I sit on the curb outside the convenience store and plop the cassette into the tape player. I throw on my huge pilot headphones and I listen. Nothing. For a minute all can hear is the tape slowly winding and then a voice. "Could you tell us your name."  "My name?" "Yes, please." "My name is Barbara Rosalyn."  "And why did you want to undergo this procedure?"  There is is a slight pause. "Well there are things. Things that I wish to know about myself."  "What are these things?" "Time has not been good to me. I want to remember more. Even if they are bad memories I want to remember them." "You are fairly sharp, Barbara."  "That is very kind of you to say, but I can feel my memory slipping even as we speak. I just want a more satisfactory life. I want to feel more."  "I understand. That will be all, Barbara." "Thank you."  With that the tape ended.  It's hard to believe , all this poor woman wanted was happiness. Maybe the idea of Ms Rosalyn being depressed was too much for Jeff to handle, so he had stop the mission. It doesn't explain how he got a hold of the tape or where she went, but I won't stop looking. I won't give up.

Coffee with a Friend?

 I sit and drink my coffee. It's bitter. Not much flavor, even with the cream added. I don't mind though. As long as it does it's job, that's all that matters. Despite the chaos of noise surrounding me (people entering and exiting, the hissing from the steaming milk, the cash register dinging, and the awful music blasting.) I feel more relaxed with each passing sip. I can't help but wonder, are Jeff and I friends? Or did he bring me in to a false sense of security? He does not let me contemplate that matter. "You need to leave me alone." He insists. " I"m afraid I can't do that." Jeff leans in. "You have to stop." "Why would I do that?"  I am completely  flabbergasted  and without words. "I know." He interrupts me. "You want to know what I did with my grandmother, right?" "Yes, what did you do with her?" " I never said I took her, but that's what you think." "Well, you don't exactly seem like an innocent man." Jeff smiles. "I'm sure I don't."  "Why didn't you just go to the police in the first place?" "They weren't right for this job." "Job?" I say in an accusatory fashion. "Fine, case whatever you wan to call it. The point is they weren't right for it?" "And why was I?" "I don't have time for this back and forth nonsense"  Jeff reaches into his jacket pocket and throws a cassette on to the table. "What's that?" I ask. "I've been doing a bit of research of my own. Listen to it." I stare at it for a moment. "This isn't 1995. I don't have a cassette player." "Then go to the store and buy one. They still make them." Jeff gets out of his seat and straightens his coat. "If you still want to keep going, then listen to the tape." Jeff pushes his seat in and turns his back. "Where are you going?" "Back to work."

Being the Janitor

Call me Doug. For all extensive purposes my name is Doug today. Why you ask. Because I am wearing Doug's jump suit. While walking past the janitor's closet, I happened to notice that the door was ajar. Not wanting to be caught again, I took advantage of this golden opportunity.I have no idea what this Doug looks like, but I figure as long as I push this big, grey trashcan, and walk with confidence as if I am him, then no one will be the wiser. Plus, I have a feeling that no one here has the slightest idea of what this man looks like. They are most likely too engrossed in their own work to pay any attention to this lowly janitor. As I exit the elevator and enter micro city of third floor office cubicles, I notice that my theory is correct. No one looks up from their monitors as I pier into their cubicle and take their crash. I don't think they even heard the ding when the elevator doors opened.
This office is extensive. I have only been here a few minutes, but it feels like hours. It is exhausting, and I am about ready to give up when what do I see.... a patch of red hair on a tall man peeking out of a center cubicle. I sneak over to his cubicle with my trash can. "Garbage?" I ask casually as I roll in. "No." He replies coldly. "How about a grandmother?" Jeff turns around, and looks up at me annoyed. "Where is she?" I ask him.  "I don't know." "Bullshit, where is she?" Jeff laughs to himself. "You know there are cameras everywhere." "I don't care, where is she?" I say again sounding like a broken record. "You're a psycho." "That could be true. But where is she?" Jeff shakes his head. " If I talked to you, would you leave me alone?" "It depends on what you had to say." Jeff rolls his eyes. He types a few numbers into the computer and hits enter. "Come on." He says. "Let's get a coffee."

Getting out of Trouble

My wrist is handcuffed to a desk. I'm being help captive in the cop's office. There really isn't much here. Just this desk, a bulletin board, some security monitors, a wall clock and a water cooler. He must be bored out of his mind half the time. No wonder he was so eager to capture me. He probably needed some sort of companion or something do to kill an hour. I'm sure he wants to grill me about why I'm here. He has not said anything yet though. He's just be staring at me intensely for... about an hour. I think he's trying to get me to crack, but I really don't think it is going to work. I can be silent for hours , or days if need be. So the ball is in his court. out of nowhere, he pounds his fist on the desk. Bingo, I got to him. "Who sent you here?"  He demands. My eyes dart across the room, looking for something to piece some sort of story together a la The Usual Suspects. I see a McGruff pamphlet pined to the bulletin board. "Mcgruff." I shout.  "Mcgruff?" he asks. "Yep, Mcgruff."  "His name is Mcgruff?" He asks again, not beiliving me. "Well, that's what we call him."   The cop taps his fingers on the desk. "And does this Mcgruff take a bite out of crime?" "Yeah, he's a great guy." The cop leans in.  "Do me a favor and cut the shit, I want to know why you are really here."  "I need information on one of the workers." The cop laughs in my face. "Fuck that, why should I tell you anything?" I take a deep breath. "Because lives may be at steak."  "Alright, you piece of shit. Tell me exactly what you know." I roll my eyes. I don't have time for this power play nonsense. My head feels 1,000 times heavier just from sitting here. I need to empty it out.  I tip my head and lightly shake it as if trying to release water that was stuck in the ear canal.  A jumble of words literally fall out of my ear. CONFUSION, ISOLATION, DESPERATION, CONSOLIDATION, GREY, GREAT, GRACIOUS.  The cop appears dumbfounded as the words form a pile on the floor. Synonyms, antonyms, verbs, adverbs, adjectives, nouns, pro nouns , they are all falling on the floor. Eventually the pile becomes a mound that is higher than the desk. The last word, TIRED, falls out. I take TIRED, and I stretch it out as thin as I possibly can. I make the end into a needle - like point and I use it to pick the lock on my handcuff. The cop still has a look of shock on his face as I walk over to him. I'm still holding TIRED. Except now I use it as a rope, and I tie the cop tight to his chair. I walk back to my seat and look him straight in the eye. "I need information on of your workers." I state yet again. "You won't get away with this." He threatens. "That's fine, I'll deal with the consequences as they arise. But I need this information." He doesn't say anything. I walk over to the file cabinet. "I could do this myself and completely trash your office in the process."  He sighs. "What's the worker's name?" "Jeff." "Jeff what?" I bite my lip. "I actually don't know his last name." "Are you fucking kidding me?" He shouts.  "I can tell you that he is about six feet tall and has red hair." The cop shakes his head. "If he's who I'm thinking of, he's on third floor. But that's all I'm telling you." "That works for me. Thank you for your time." I start to exit the office, and I look back at the cop. "By the way, I was never in Boy Scout's so you should be able to untie yourself fairly easily." And like that, I take off, once more.

Stowaway

This is a bumpy, bumpy road. I am thankful I don't get car sick, because between the bumpy road, Jeff's God awful muffler, and A.M. talk radio that is currently playing, I don't know how much more I can stomach. All I can do right now is close my eyes and think of my girl, my love. It seems like it's the only thing in the world that can calm my nerves at the moment. I don't think I'll be in harm's way today. For all I know, I'll just be spying at him while he tirelessly punches in numbers on his computer. I get nervous when I go to new places though. I know it's weird to think, but I do. But if I can think of her face, her smiling face. Then it'll all be alright.
The car stops. I hear Jeff's door open and shut. I wait a beat before taking off the blanket and glancing out the window. I am in some sort of parking garage. Slowly, and quietly I exit the car.  I duck down as much as possible, and walk between the cars so Jeff won't notice me following. It should have dawned on me though that this would raise suspicion amongst everyone else. "Turn around slow." I hear a disgruntled voice shout behind me. I do as the voice says and I see a large police officer pointing a gun at me. "Fuck." I think.  "I think you better come with me." He says. Currently out of ideas, and not wanting to make a bigger problem, I comply.

New Info?

I read most the letters. It did not seem to take me too far. I don't seem to be learning any new information. It is mostly stuff that I innately knew or came across on my own. But the letters contradict themselves, much like my mind has been doing on its own. One letter will say the the Angelic Order of Brotherly love is a "wonderful organization that is here to push the world forward in a new positive light."  Then I read another letter. It basically says how the organization is an evil, repulsive cult bent on destruction and raping the wallets of unsuspecting elderly citizens.  It's quite possible it might be all those things and more. However, none of the letters seemed to indicate that this is a suicide cult. So that's good at least.... I don't know. I don't know why I was given all these letters. Maybe it was to confuse me and keep me off track. I know what I have to do. I have to talk to Jeff, get as much information from him as humanly possible. The problem being is that he is a little hot headed.  Scratch that. A lot hot headed. A civilized conversation with this man is out of the question. So, I think a little spy work is in order. Fortunately I have just the idea.

It's 6 a.m. and I am currently on the floor of the backseat of his car with a blanket pulled over me. He does not suspect a thing as he casually drives to work. It's amazing how well this works. As long as you throw some papers and random garbage on top of you as well no one is the wiser about the lumpy blanket in the backseat. This is exciting. I just have to keep my breathing down and not move. Here we go, time to see what this devil really does.

Overflowing Mailbox

Weather is funny. It seems to go from one extreme to another in the blink of an eye. It's just now the first day of Autumn. Though looking at the three feet of snow in front of my mailbox one would never suspect that. I can see that the mailbox is overfilled. I have not gotten the mail in a very long time. I know I should. I know there is most likely important letters for me. Much like the one's in the tunnel. I have also not read those either. It's not that snail mail is a dying  medium. I never check my e -mail either. I'm not really sure why. I know that reading mail is one of the easiest and most important things in the world to do, I just never get around to it. But I can't be lazy anymore. At least not that lazy. I open the mailbox. It proves difficult at first because the door frozen shut. However, I was able to put some muscle in it and yank the door open. The letters flowed out of the mailbox like water. They went everywhere. I peaked into the mailbox to see if there were any more letters. There were, but what caught my attention was an ice sculpture of a snowflake. I was fascinated. I took it out of the mailbox and stared at it in awe.  "Take the letters." I heard a voice pipe in out of no where.  I turned around to see a tall, slim man wearing a 1930's style suit. I grabbed all the letters. Every single one, but I also took the snowflake because ... why not? I turned back around. With out saying a word, he nodded and walked off. Guess I have some work to do.

Blank

Time flies by faster than ever. So many questions. So little sense made. Who is this Ms. Rosalyn? What is this Angelic Order of Brotherly Love? What are Jeff's intentions? Who can I trust? Can I trust myself? I don't know. I don't even know why I accepted this mission. Maybe I was just bored. Maybe I needed a little color in my life. It certainly has been an interesting time. Thankfully though, right now it is starting to quiet down. For the moment that is. It never stays too quiet for too long. Currently though, I am at a fast food joint. I am mindlessly staring at my now cold hot dog. God, I must look so strange. I'm wearing a red cape and have a blank expression on my face. I bet everyone thinks I'm on drugs right now. I don't care though, maybe I do. I mean I am talking to myself and I did just bring that up.
Jeff kicked me out of his house. It's like he likes the idea of his grandmother being found, but he doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want acknowledge that she is missing. There is definitely something going on with him. What it is, I am not to sure of. I haven't been able to think clearly in days. Maybe I abducted her and I don't know it. I have seen many weird things lately that make me question my own sanity. Maybe that's it. Jeff probably knew that I took her, but he didn't want to report me to the authorities. Why wouldn't he though? I think any normal person would want justice, right? Shit, I'm just making circles in my brain. Round and round and round. I'm not making any progress right now. I think I'll just eat right instead.

Tea Time!

The shadow turned out to be an old woman with purple, stringy hair and a glassy eye. I forgot what the word is for it, but one of her eyes has no pigment what so ever. I think this is the kind of eye that Poe was talking about in Tell Tale Heart. Currently I am sitting in her living room. Though I don't know if one could really call it a living room. It looks and feels like a dungeon. It's cold, damp, the walls are made of stone, and rats are rampant. She gave me a warm cup of tea and told me to drink up. She's ever so eager to look at my tea leaves and tell my future. I sip my tea. She folds her long, knotted hands, and stares at me with her glassy eye. I finish my tea and set it to the side. "All done?" She asks. I nod. She grasps my tea cup and studies the remnants carefully. "Interesting." She says to herself. "What is it?" I ask.  She leans back and smiles. "What is it?" I ask again. "It's just about your journey." "But what does it say?" " I don't know if I can tell you." "What do you mean you can't tell me? you said you would read my fortune." She laughs to herself. " I said I'd read it, but I didn't say I'd tell you what it said." I clench my fists. She notices this right away. "All it said was that you are right on schedule with your journey." I shake my head. "How wonderfully vague." She takes a deep breath. "You wanted to ask me about a card?" "Yes" I say. "As well as many other things."  "I'm the piper, and that tunnel was for you." "Jeff didn't build the tunnel?" She snorts.  "You can't be serious?" "Alright, if you are the piper than where are you leading me?"
She, the piper, takes a deep breath. "That's a good question." She says. "Oh for the love of -" "Now , now, " She interrupts. "Do you remember how the story ends?" "Yeah, the pied piper leads all the children to their death." "We don't know they died." "He led them off a cliff!"  The piper shakes her head.  "Only in a few versions, besides who is to say they died?" "Conventional wisdom."  She ignores me and continues. "The pied piper takes away the children and they are never ever seen from again." I see a metaphorical  light bulb  above my head. "You took Ms. Rosalyn, didn't you."  "Calm down, I didn't take her." "Why should I believe you?" " Yes, I could have easily taken her and hid her in another realm where no one would ever find her, but I didn't want to do that."  "Why not?" I ask, still not believing her.
"Because I don't get anything out of it, besides I've been trying to reach you for weeks."  I raise my eyebrows. "You have?"  "Yes didn't you receive any of my letters?"  I take the letters out of my back pockets. "You mean these?" The piper places her face in her hands. "Good lord." She takes a deep breath. "Ok let me explain something."  She sticks out her left hand "This is where you are." She wiggles her right hand underneath her left hand. "That is where everyone else is. Not bad." Then she moves her right hand and puts it above her head. "But this is what you have to learn yet." "Ok, so what do I have to do?"  "You need to go back to Jeff's house. There is more to the story, and you know that."  "Do you think he abducted her?" The piper takes a deep breath. "I'll tell you this, he is a computer analyst. He knows codes. Now go and use this knowledge." I stand up and take off into the great unknown once more.

The Tunnel

It was clear what was needed at the moment, and that was a pawn shop. when I say pawn shop I don't mean a quasi reality shows that you find on History channel. I mean one of those old, dusty shops that you can find weird items, such as a Monkey's Paw. Every town has one. It is just a matter of looking in the right places. Fortunately, I had an idea of where to look. I just had to get something to eat first. Breakfast is the most important part of the day you know. I didn't want anything heavy. Just something light, like Pop Tarts to tide me over. I rummaged through the cabinets. Nothing but plastic cans and cereal boxes. "That's weird." I thought. I checked in the drawers, plastic silverware and fake spices. I opened the refrigerator and looked about. All that was there were plastic fruits and vegetables. I closed the refrigerator door and backed away. I slowly realized that I was in a child's kitchenette set. This could only mean two things. Either there was some sort of reality shift or Jeff is a complete and utter nut. That's when I saw a very real knife on the kitchen table. Without hesitation, I grabbed the knife and headed for the wall. I'm not exactly sure what prompted me to do it, but I thrust the knife into the wall and began to tear the wall apart. It came down a lot easier than I thought it would. It was like tearing off the  paper on a present. Just that easy.
On the other side of the wall was a tunnel. It looked like a coal mining tunnel. Except there where piles and piles of unopened letters. "What could Jeff be hiding?" I wondered. I snatched a couple of letters and placed them in my back pocket. I then proceeded to crawl through the tunnel. It was a lot cleaner than I thought it would be. There were no spider webs. No mice. No rats. No verman of an sort. It was also strangely illuminate. It was so well lit that I could see the path in front of me clearly. I wondered where the light was coming from. Until I got to the end of the tunnel that is. It's a passageway to a castle. Right now I'm looking down at a spiral stone stairwell. It must be in a tower. I hear the footsteps of someone not so far away coming up the stone steps. I can feel the heat from their torch as they walk closer and closer.  I can now make out a shadow of this being that is inching closer and closer by the second. It appears to be a smaller woman with a hunch. Maybe this is who I ask about the card.

Ransacked

Concrete makes for a terrible pillow. Anyone who doubts me should try it out. Though I seriously doubt anyone ever will. Last night I played the part of a good little guard keeping watch over a quiet suburban home. Yes, I did fall asleep. I'm only human. At least I'm pretty sure I am. Anyways the front yard is fine. Everything looks like it is in tact. No one kicked in the front door. As long as I get in the house before Jeff wakes up and make a pot of coffee , no one's the wiser.  I carefully open the front door. Holy shit. Everything, and I mean everything is ransacked. It looks like the whole place was turned upside down. I rush over to the couch. All the cushions are over turned. Then, as if right on cue, I hear Jeff walk out his bedroom and let out a big yawn. I hear Jeff making coffee in the other room. "Good morning Jeff." I shout from the living room. "How did you sleep?"  "Wonderful."  Jeff groggily walks into the living room and sits down beside me, completely unaware that the room is torn apart. He puts his arm around me. " I had my doubts about you, but you're alright." "You sure you wanna celebrate just yet?" I ask.  "Why wouldn't I?"  I point my head in the direction of the surrounding chaos. I see Jeff slowly open his eyes. "What the fuck did you do?" "What the fuck did I do? What the fuck did you do? You were in the house" Jeff shakes his finger at me. "Oh no, don't turn this around. You had one job to do."  "My one job of guarding your grandmother, is like seven jobs."  "I'm sorry if it was a burden to you." Jeff walks off to the kitchen. I attempt to follow. "You stay here and look for clues. I'll get us some coffee." Jeff snaps at me.  I glance at the mess in the living room. I can't help but notice this appears to be the only area of the house like this. "They were looking for something." I shout to Jeff. He comes out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee. "Why do you say that?" I grab the coffee from his hand. "The mess is contained."  "She probably put up a fight." "She probably did, but then why are the drawers open?" Jeff stumbles" I don't know." "What if she knew she was going to be taken? And she came to your house specifically to get something?"  Jeff takes a deep breath. "What could she possibly want from my house?"  "I don't know, what do you do for a living?" Jeff takes a sip of his coffee and smiles. "I'm a computer analyst. Good luck finding something with that." Jeff gets off the couch. I notice a playing card where he was previously sitting. It's different than any playing card I have ever seen. At first glance it looks like a regular face card. But it's a Piper. A piper of clubs. I pick up the card and show it to Jeff. "Have you ever seen a playing card that looks like this?" I ask him. He glances carefully at the card. "No, but maybe it's a tarot card." "I don't think so. I think someone left it for us to find." "Sure, but who?" "I don't know, but it's worth investigating."

Jeff's Place

Turns out her grandson lived nowhere near the park.  After an hour long cab ride, we arrived at this small ranch house in the middle of no where. I wonder if she mistook my question of which family member lives the closest and thought I meant "which relative are you the closest with?" Or maybe he does live the closest. Any rate we arrived Jeff....Jeffy's house. The front yard was neat, and clutter free. On the front door was one of those old fashioned knockers. Even though there was a door bell I decided to use the knocker instead because those things are so much fun. I banged on the door. A tall red head with broad shoulders answers the door. He looks down at me and Ms. Rosalyn. "What are you doing here?" He asks. "You were right. Something is going on. She can't stay there"  "She can't stay here either"  I push Jeff aside and enter his house. "Fuck off, she's staying."  Jeff looks stunned. "This is my house, you know." "Yes, and this is your grandmother and she may be in danger so she's staying."  "I know she may be in danger that's why I called you, to fix it."  Ms Rosalyn interrupts the two of us. "Excuse me, I hope you boys don't mind. I was just going to watch some television." "Yeah, go right ahead , grandma." Ms. Rosalyn walks into the living room with hardwood floors and plops down on the leather couch. She proceeds to channel surf. "Look." I say. "I don't know who you are or how you got in touch with me, but you asked for my help." Jeff bites his tongue. "Taking her to my house at night is not helping." "What the fuck do you want me to do then?" Jeff throws his hands in the air. " I don't know." He sighs. "You both can stay."  Jeff starts to walk away. Ms Rosalyn takes her attention away from the T.V.  "I hate to be a bother but there is something I have been meaning to bring up."  "What is it, grandma?" She pauses for a brief moment then continues. "While we were in the cab, I couldn't help but notice there was a black car following us."  Jeff becomes enraged. "What?"  "Well, it wasn't always there , but it was behind us a lot." Jeff points at me. "This is the kind of shit I didn't want." "No." I begin to explain. "This is good,I think this is what we needed." Jeff clenches his teeth. " I don't know what the hell that means but you better fix this." Jeff exits the room. "I'm going to bed."

Sunset In The Park

After taking two city buses and a cab, we arrived at a park. Not knowing where to start with this whole reprogramming business , I got some popcorn and we sat down at a bench.  We stared at the pink and purple sky. A chill was creeping in. I knew I had to do something, but what? "Ms. Rosalyn, do you like it at Old Oakes?"  "It's alright I sapose, I do miss my family though"  "They don't visit?" Ms. Rosalyn shakes her head. "Not that much, they find it depressing."  "I guess I could see that." She hangs her head.  "Well, would you like to visit them?" I ask. She smiles.  "I would love that." "Ok, who lives the closest?" "That would be my grandson, Jeffey."  I stand up and put out my hand. "Then let's go to Jeffey's."  "Right now?" I nod my head. "But shouldn't we call the home and let them know?" She asks worriedly. " Trust me." I say. " They don't need to know." She grabs my hand. And like we're off... to Jeffey's.

Poor Ms. Rosalyn

Ms. Rosalyn turns around and gives me a nice, warm smile. "Hello dear, come sit down."  I welcome her invitation and sit beside her. We pier out her window into the great nothing outside. After a moment , she interrupts the comfortable silence. "Who sent you?" She asks. "Jeff and Tom." Her eyes light up. "You mean Jeffey and Tommy? My grandsons?"   I nod. "Were they concerned?"  "Very."  "Do you know what it was regarding" I take a deep breath. "Your memory."  Ms. Rosalyn shakes her head in frustration. "My memory is as good as it has ever been."  "I just met you, but I do believe that your memory is sharp. That's not the problem though."  "Then what is?" "They question whether some of the things you talked about actually happened." Ms. Rosalyn's mouth drops. "That is absurd."  "I know." Ms. Rosalyn paces back and forth " My memory is as clear as it ever was. I was born in '32  to Stan and Julia. I married my husband '55. We had three children and someday soon I will give all of my life savings to The Angelic Order of Brotherly Love." That was it.  That must be the brainwashing her grand kids were talking about. "Ms Rosalyn are you aware of what you just said?" "Yes I have three children, their names are -"  "No the part about the Angelic Order of Brotherly Love."  Ms. Rosalyn's expression becomes blank and she continues. " THE ANGELIC ORDER OF BROTHERLY LOVE IS A MOVEMENT TO PROGRESS SOCIETY AS A WHOLE. ONLY THE PURE HEARTED MAY ENTER. BUT FIRST WE NEED YOUR LIFE SAVINGS, BARBARA."
Shit. Someone did get to her. But who? It could be anyone. It could easily be one of her caretakers looking after her. I couldn't trust anyone. I had to get out of there. "Ms Rosalyn, would you like to go for a walk?" Ms. Rosalyn smiles big a bright. "That would be lovely. Where to?" "Somewhere far, far away."

Old Oakes

Got the assignment today to checkup on an 80 year old woman. Apparently they think she was abducted by a cult, brainwashed and reprogrammed. What they are basing this on, I don't know. But here I am at the Old Oakes Assisted Living. Looks like a semi- secluded mansion from the outside, and I'm sure it will look like Disneyland on the inside.  I knock on the front door. A nurse in her forties answers the door. "May I help you?" She asks. "I am here to see Ms. Rosalyn."  "Friend? Family?"  "Neither." I saw cooly and calmly. "Just a visitor asking questions."  "Are you a detective?"  I glance down at my cape. "I guess you could say that." She sighs. "Where is your badge?"  I could not believe that. I could not let this golden opportunity pass, so I shouted out "Badges, I don't need no stinken badges." Nothing. She stared at me stone faced.  "Look, I'm very busy. Unless you are family, or a friend, or have a badge, I can't let you in to see anybody."  I nodded and she shut the door on me. "Sucker." I thought. What did I care? I had seen enough movies. I know that where this is a will there is a way.  I tip toed to the side of the building. Sure enough, there was a drain pipe.  Without hesitation, I started to climb it. Less than a foot off the ground, the drain pipe rips off the wall and I fall flat on my ass. I make a loud thud. Out of no where, a security guard rushes up to me. I don't feel threatened. He's about as scrawny as me and not carrying any weapon. "Just what in the hell do you think you are doing?"  "Right now I'm dusting myself off."  The security guard gazes at the wrecked drain pipe.  "Where you trying to climb the drain pipe?"  "It would be stupid to say no now."  "Who are you and what are you doing here?" "Relax, I'm the good guy. I'm here to see Ms Rosalyn." " Dressed like that?"  "Yeah, she made me this cape."  The security guard smiles. " I know exactly how that is, my nana still thinks I'm 12." He can't see it, but I'm rolling my eye.  "Can you let me in now?"  The security guard pats me on the back. "Of corse, right this way." We start to walk away. He turns around. "Wait, why were you climbing the drainpipe?"  "One of your nurses wouldn't let me in." "Which one?"  "I don't want to tell on her. She was just doing her job."  He laughs to himself. "Women, you give them a little power and it goes to their heads." Not only was he dumb, but also sexist. However, I needed to get in. So I shut my mouth and followed silently. We entered through the front door. Smiled at our nurse friend as we walked past.  We went up an old creaky elevator. The small kind from the 20's that has a gate to close it. He let me off on the third floor and explained that she was the first room on the right. Her door was wide open. She appeared to be a very teeny woman with curly white hair. She sat on the edge of her beige color bed, looking out her window with her back to the door. I crept into the room. "Ms Rosalyn?"

Stomach Alarm Clock

My stomach alarm clock went off again today. Sometimes my stomach gurgles and twists and turns. The nerves aren't always right, and it keeps me from sleeping in. Maybe that's a good thing though. Keeps me productive somewhat. I'm nervous about something. What it is, I'm not too sure of...I guess thinking about something that might make me nervous will only make me more nervous. So obvious and yet so not at the same time.
At this moment it is very quiet. I don't think I've gotten a chance to enjoy a morning like this in a while. It's lovely. The sun is out, I can hear the bird's chirping, and I feel my muscles relaxing. I sip my coffee and take a deep breath. It's funny, I think I'm one the few people who feels more calm after a cup of coffee. I remain confident that one day I will be completely without anxiety. In the mean time I have my coffee and I have my writing.

The War Room

 Miles below the university there is a sub basement. It is filled with computers left and right. On the main wall there is a computer screen that takes up the whole wall. I'm guessing it is for press conferences and satellite surveillance. The whole place looks like a set from a 1980's movie. I can almost hear a general walking by shouting "Get the president on the line." I look closer and I notice that even the computer's look like they are from the 80's. They are the old Apple II computer's with the neon green graphics. There are rows and rows and rows of people staring at these old, archaic computers and gathering some sort of intelligence. The Dean walks me to a vacant computer and asks if I have heard of some sort of program. Naturally I did what anyone would do in my position, I lied. "Splendid." He says, completely believing my white lie. "Your job is to enter a password." "What's the password?" I ask. He whispers into my ear "Parents of the Bird." "That's it?" "That's it." "Why do you need me to do that?" The Dean adjusts his glasses. "We need you to do this because the computer will scan your fingerprints from the keyboard and that will be the additional pass code that we need." I take this in for a moment. The Dean interrupts my thinking "You are more important than you realize." "I guess so." The Dean puts his hand on my shoulder. "Do you think you can do this?" He asks. "Yeah, it really doesn't seem that hard." "Don't be so sure of yourself. This thing has a mind of its own." "I think I'll be fine." He looks at his watch. "You have slightly less than a minuet." "What?" "You're also being timed on this. Good luck." The Dean walks away. Feeling so sure of my self, I type away only to look up at the monitor and see "Purenths uf th Berd." A loud buzzer goes off. I couldn't believe it. That was nowhere close to what I was to write. I glanced at the Keyboard. All the letters were jumbled up. By this point I had about thirty seconds left. I could do this but I had to act fast. I tried typing with just one finger. I thought it was working, but my mind could not process the new formation of letters. I kept making mistake after mistake. Backspace after backspace. Before I knew it a siren went followed by a red flashing light. I had failed.  The Dean sauntered over to my station as if nothing happened and casually deactivated the alarm through a switch in the back of the computer. "Don't feel bad. This was just a test." He assures me. "What kind of test? What did you want me for?" I ask nervously. "You'll know when you're ready. In the mean time, do what you do best. Explore." I look up at him even more confused than before. "It's ok, go."

Campus Security

I never take baths, but I thought today, why the hell not? Just a couple of minuets into this process and I remember why I don't do baths. 1) I highly doubt I actually get any cleaner. 2) It takes forever to fill up a bathtub. 3) Once I'm in the bathtub, I kinda wanna get out. Maybe it is a complete inability to relax on my part, but whenever I'm in there I always think "now what?" I decided to try and relax anyways and enjoy it.  Interesting tid bit, the more you try to relax, the harder it becomes to relax. So I'm in the bathtub and buzzz buzzz. It's my phone receiving a text message. More than likely it's not important, but I can't seem to take my mind off of it. I must try though I must. Back I go attempting to relax. It vibrates against the counter top again. This time, however, the power surges. I take that as a clear indication that baths and I were never meant to be. I get out of the tub and wrap a towel around my waist.  I go to check my text. Very strange situation. At first it's a video of static. The static eventually breaks and it appears to be live video footage of a college campus.
The next thing I know I am on the college campus. Fully clothed, which was nice. Otherwise it would be slightly awkward. And it's a nice quad I'm on. Green grass everywhere. Students playing frisbee and few couples making out here and there. I'm standing next to the Dean of admissions. He's a tall man, though my idea of tall is somewhat skewed. (I'm only 5'8.) He's balding and wears a grey, tweed jacket. We stare at a large flat screen monitor and look for aliens that no one else can see. "There's one." he says. "There's another one." I reply. " Good one." I stare at the monitor and see all these grotesque creatures. They are so obvious to me. So clear, and yet everyone else walks right past them. They don't bat an eye. They have no idea these aliens are there. Am I losing it? "No you're not, because you question." The Dean reassures me. I question my own sanity. That's great, but what if the man standing next to me is a nutcase? "Watch out." I hear him explain as he points to the screen. On the monitor, there is what seems to be a very menacing six foot tall praying mantis slinking this way. I turn around. He's gotten closer. But still far enough away that I can pretend to squish it with my thumb and index finger. It works! I then take the squished green dot and throw it as far as I humanly can. "Great work!" The Dean proclaims. " But they will strike back. We will need a solid plan."

Those Damn Squirrels!

My head, my head. I should have stayed in bed. The pounding sensation is still with me. What was it that I took those days ago? I do not remember much. Fragments only. All I have right now is the faint feeling right now that I was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Ahh my head. The pain is unbearable. It is hard to think of anything else. Now I know how Zeus felt when he gave birth to the Gods. I hope that's not what happens. I hope my head doesn't explode and some sort of being pops out of me. But maybe I am about to give birth to something. Not a being exactly, but rather an idea. I can feel it in there. Ready to come out. Throwing itself against my eyes, trying to squeeze its way out. From the depths of my inner being and on to the blank monitor it goes. Where it stops, no body knows.

Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel

Beaten and bloody, I rest my bones on branch high above the ground. Miraculously I do not fall off. I stay in the exact same spot through the rest of the night. I slowly open my eyes and try not to freak upon the realization of my current location. " Well isn't this a surprise?"  I hear the voice, but I can not easily turn around to greet this person.  I do attempt though. "No, no, don't get up. I'll come to you." I feel a critter skimper across my back and onto my torso. It's a squirrel wearing a bathrobe and holding a tiny cup of coffee. "Are you a squirrel?" He chuckles to himself. "It would appear so." Still exhausted, I try and rest my eyes again. "How did you get way up hear?" He asks me. "There was a storm last night." " I thought I heard something going on last night." The squirrel puts out his paw. "The name's Bob by the way, I live in this tree with the Mrs." I shake his paw.  "Nice to meet you." "Hey, why don't you come inside and get some breakfast with me and the wife?" "Oh, I couldn't"  "Nonsense Diane won't mind. Plus you look like you could use a good meal."  I glance at the small opening in the tree. "Thank you very much but I don't think I'd fit through." Bob inspects the opening. "I can correct this." Bob takes a sip of his coffee and hands the mug to me. He then skimpers off into the opening. A brief moment later he comes back with a little tool box. Bob opens the tool box and carefully reflects on each individual tool before picking out .... a pair of scissors? "Eureka! Just what I needed."  Bob uses the scissors on the opening and proceeds to cut the tree as if it were a thin piece of paper.  He then makes the opening even wider with his paws. "I fixed it." He says to me as he takes his coffee back and heads towards the opening. "Come on." He motions to me with his paw.  The opening was somehow a perfect fit for me. I walk through and there is this long spiral staircase. "Are you a hero?" He asks me. "I don't think so." "Then what's with the get up?" "I don't know. I just like it I guess." "Interesting." At the bottom of the stairs is a library.  What's interesting is that the books and shelves are all done to my scale.  They are not miniature as one would expect when being in a squirrel home. The very second we step foot in the library, Bob jolts off and climbs to the top of a bookshelf. " Do you like graphic novels?" He asks. "Yeah." "Here, have an anthology of Superman, Silver Surfer, and how about the Fantastic Four?" He throws the books off the shelves and into my arms. "You anxious." "A little bit." He throws me a book on anxiety. "You like philosophy?" "I love it."  "How about religion?"  " I think it is always good to know about that stuff." "Art? Music? Movies?" "Yes, yes, yes." Bob stops asking questions and starts throwing me books instead. He throws literally anything he can get his paws on. Existentialism, Quantum Physics, Eastern religion, Western religion, Mid-Western religion, History, Herstory, Psychology, anthropology, zoology, depression, oppression, suppression, Happiness, Wisdom, Joy of cooking, Joy of Sex, and a copy of When Harry Met Sally. I could barely walk. Let alone see. The stack of books was so high in front of me. "That should be enough." I hear him skimper away and carefully listen so I don't trip over anything. We walk into his kitchen. I have to duck down and some of the books don't make it through the door way. "Diane, we have a guest this morning." "Oh wonderful." I hear a female squirrel say. "Let me take those books for you." Bob quickly removes all of the books from my hands and places them in a blender. He does this by putting the corner of a book in his mouth and racing across the kitchen floor and up the cabinet. He is somehow as strong as a bull and quick as lightning. Going back and forth. Faster than ever.  "Sit down, Dear." Diane says to me as she pulls out a little chair from the little table. She is wearing bunny slippers with a bathrobe and her hair is in curlers. I sit at the chair, though it feels like I am sitting on air. "Bob, just what are you doing?" Diane asks as she works on the omelets. "I'm making one of my special smoothies." He says.  Diane's face lights up. "Oh you'll love this ." Bob blends all of the books full force.  Diane walks over to me and serves me an omelette  fresh from the skillet. I start to eat it. " Not just yet." Bob hurries over to me with his concoction of a drink and places it down. "Drink it first." He insists.  I stare at the drink, confused. "It's ok, reading is not the only way to get knowledge." He says to me. The drink is a weird color. A mix of every color in existence. All separate from each other, but existing at the same time. "Go on." He insists. Well if this is poison, then it's its poison. Only one way to know. Down the hatch it goes.

Down the Hill

  Down the hill I must go. Where I stop , I do not know. I do know that challenges await. Will I be ready? Well, I won't be ready at the top of the hill. That's for sure. I'll  be safe, but no new knowledge will be gained.   No triumph .Nothing.  The wind is at my back. This is good I am told. The wind picks up. Getting increasingly faster, and more violent. Eventually, my legs can not keep up. I stumble and fall to the ground. Though I have fallen, the wind keeps pushing me faster and faster. I roll down the hill. Another gush of wind hits me in the face, throwing me back. The first wind fights back and throws me forward. The second wind does not want to give up , and pushes me harder and more violently.  On and on this goes with the two winds pushing me back and forth. I am like a rag doll in the sky. The sky gradually changes color. At this time, the winds tire of playing baseball with my body and throw me  in a tree. They disperse to the East and West, and leave me to the morning light.

The town below

  The city sleeps, but I don't mind.  I stand on top of the grassy hill overlooking the town below. Everything is so small. So unreal. Like a model town. A model town that turned off it's lights and went to bed. The wind blows my cape to the east. Should I venture off into that direction? Into the unknown? Or should I stay here and be vigilante? Answers don't come easy.  I find questions don't always either, but I find my curiosity outweighs anything else at times.  I journey on to the east. Down the mountain of a hill. The wind will carry me. The wind will guide me.

An Old Friend

    It is pouring so quickly and heavily that I can barely see what is directly in front of me. Luckily I have a black bird that soars against the gray sky as my guide. It turns it's head slightly every now and then to make sure I am still following. As I'm walking I notice the small pools of water gathered in the pot holes. I watche them fill up. I examine the falling water splashing into pot holes. There are all sorts of patterns emerging. Swirls, angel wings, and sometimes smiley faces. At this point I don't even realize I'm standing still, lost in the patterns. I'm transported to my bedroom. I'm five years old and can not sleep , so I fix my eyes to the wooden bedpost and stare at the natural swirls in the wood. All sorts of images bounce out. People, creatures, aliens, trees, you name it.
The crow fly's back into my perspective. It lands down by the pot hole. It looks at the pot hole, then looks at me, then back to the pot hole again. I can tell it's confused, but I really don't feel like explaining my actions to a bird. So I start to walk again. The crow takes the hint and leads the way once more.  This time, however, it does not want to give me the chance to stop and look at anything. It flaps its wings as fast as it can possibly go. The crow is now just a black dot in the sky. I throw down my umbrella and try desperately to chase after it. I'm stomping through all the puddles and I'm soaking wet, but I don't care. I must not let this dot out of my sight. I must find out where it is going.  Eventually, the dot stops moving and appears to be hovering over some location off in the distance. I slow down to catch my breath. Feeling almost certain that the black dot won't move from location, I go at a more leisurely jog. It stays at that central point the whole time. After a few winding roads, and a couple of hills, I have caught up to the crow.  It floats high above a dilapidated shack. The crow swoops down in front of me and squaks at me to open the door. The door is only attached to the shack by a single hinge. It creeks and nearly falls off the hinge as I open it. "Took ya long enough."  I look to the center of the room. It's pumpkin head. Pumpkin head is an old friend of mine. We go way back.  I should be very clear here. He looks nothing like a pumpkin. He is a suburban biker. Jeans, white T - shirt with the cigarettes in one sleeve, and a du-rag. I don't think his name is a reference to a literary or cinematic characters by the same. I think he thought it sounded cool. " You were waiting for me?" I ask. " "Yeah." Pumpkin Head walks over to the corner and picks up a shovel that was resting against the wall. "What's this for?" Pumpkin Head points to an X by my feet. " X marks the spot." "What's buried?" "Treasure for you." I stare at Pumpkin Head blankly. "Don't worry, it's a good treasure. You'll like it." He reassures me. I shake my head and start to dig. Being one of my oldest and closest friends, he could very well be playing a trick on me. With my luck I'll dig up dog shit. Or what looks like some sort of red cloth. I pull the cloth out of  the dirt, unfold it and hold it up. It's a red hood and cape. "Pumpkin Head, did you murder Little Red Ridding Hood?" "Don't you remember it." "No." "It's you." "What, I'm not a hero." "Fuck off, I never said you were." "I really don't remember this." Pumpkin Head puts out his cigarette on his black work boots. "Put it on." He demands.  I throw off my hoodie and put on the red hood and cape. The cape is a lot longer than I expected. It goes down to my legs and is taterd, but I like it like that. The hood casts a dark shadow over my face. No one can see in, but I can see out. Clear as day. "Now do you remember?" He asks. "No, but I like it." He laughs to himself.  "Don't worry, you will." Pumpkin Head opens the door to the shack. He walks back to his bike, hops on and revs the engin. "You comin' with?" "No, I think I have something to do." " I knew you'd say that." Pumpkin Head snaps his fingers. The crow flys in, lands on the handle bars. "Don't worry, I'll come back when you need me." With that he takes off into the distance.Leaving me alone in the crumbled up shack. But I don't mind.