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.