Final Draft October 2003

SPECIAL PERMISSION IS GRANTED TO Prof. Higgins for use in her creative writing class. No part of this document may be

copied without the expressed permission of the author.

The Calling Card 

by R.J. Tanks  Chapter One

 The American

  

One summer’s day, Pete Hawk pulled himself down the

street on a board with roller-skate wheels nailed to the

underside. Although his legs were gone, he still had the

face of a handsome, rugged but war-torn man. Lines of pain

and deep thought were etched into Pete’s face - where one

might assume upon first inspection that only the sun and

fifty-one years had worked their way into his skin.

 The sweltering heat beat down hard upon Pete all

morning, and his body was drenched in sweat as he continued

to pull himself along the scorching asphalt.  A little ways

off, a seven year old named Suzie played hopscotch under a

shady tree that grew near the curb.  Pete heard the laughter

and yelling of children at play, and he pulled up to the

chalk-drawn hopscotch board just as Suzie jumped into the

final square and yelled, “Home!”

Pete introduced himself and asked Suzie to bring him

some water because he hadn’t had a drink since he left his

apartment early that morning.  He waited anxiously for a

drink as the heat from the street rose like the waves from a

convection oven.  It was now noon, and Pete felt the

relentless sun burn the back of his face, neck and arms. He

didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, but he needed a drink

badly because his body had become dehydrated under the

pitiless, blazing orb that the ancients once worshiped as

RA.    

Suddenly, Pete felt faint and he swooned, “Please...a

little water.” As he sat on his board, Pete realized he

could have stayed home on this tormentingly hot afternoon.

The thought of being home and reading a book or watching

television flitted through his mind, but he knew that was

not what he needed.  Pete needed more than that; he needed

to connect with the people he fought and bled for. He needed

to feel the earth underneath the trunk of his body and to

touch life.

     Again, Pete asked, “Please bring some water...I’m very

thirsty.” However, Suzie gasped, “Your legs are gone!” Pete

took a deep breath, held his head high and replied in a

gentle voice, “My legs were blown off in the war.  I’m

thirsty; please bring me a little water.” Suzie’s playmates

gathered around Pete, and he heard them speak about him in

third person.  Suzie’s sister Maria said, “Poor man...his

legs are missing.”  Another child whispered as if he

couldn’t hear her, “I feel real sorry for him.”

Pete knew the spiel.  It was the same in every town. A

look of inner torment loomed over his face like an ashen

rain cloud as he pondered the question, “Should I move on,

or can I handle this?” A feeling of light-headedness from

the heat overcame him, so he pulled himself into the shade

as Suzie screamed, “I’m going to get him a drink” and bolted

up the stairs to her house. “Water!” Pete said aloud to

himself as he turned towards the home where Suzie lived.

Now as he zigzagged up and over the curb, he spotted

his next obstacle which was a bicycle on the sidewalk. As he

made his way up the narrow walk to Suzie’s front steps, the

roller-skate wheels screeched and squawked under his

weight.   With renewed hope for a drink, Pete careened

around a clump of dirt-caked Barbie dolls that were

abandoned on the sidewalk and pulled himself to the doorway

where Suzie lived.

Pete took another deep breath to keep himself from

passing out and wiped his dripping brow with the

handkerchief that dangled from his pocket. He could taste

salt on his upper lip and ran the handkerchief over his

mouth before stuffing it back into his pocket which was

turned inside out in the process. Pete removed is cap

momentarily from his head, but the unrelentless sun made him

replace it immediately.

Suzie exploded down the stairs with eagerness and

extended the cup towards him. Pete took the cup, thanked her

quickly and gulped the contents in haste.  In a second, the

cup was empty. The blinding sun caused Suzie to squint as

she waited.  Suzie was used to squinting when she played

outdoors and did so almost constantly. Suddenly, however,

Pete’s throat made a strange choking sound. Curiously, Suzie

put her hand over her eyes in an attempt at a makeshift

visor.

Pete’s face became blank with shock, “What did you put

in this cup?”  Suzie replied, “I thought you might like what

daddy drinks, so I gave you some of his water.”  Pete’s face

dropped, and he nearly collapsed.  Falteringly, he said,

“Little girl, do you realize that I just drank a cup of

vodka on an empty stomach? I asked you to bring me

water...plain, ordinary tap water.” 

Suzie felt hurt that the man was upset with her.  She

wanted to surprise him with something special to drink and

make him happy.  Squinching up her face, Suzie spontaneously

burst into tears which brought her father to the door.  When

he saw Pete perched at his front steps and Suzie wailing, he

demanded, “What the hell is going on here?”

Calmly, Pete looked up, “My name is Pete Hawk.  I was

thirsty, but your daughter brought me a cup of vodka.” 

Suzie’s dad said by way of an apology, “John MacDonnell.” as

he descended the stairs to shake his hand.  John noticed the

Purple Heart medal pinned to Pete’s shirt and commented, “I

see you’re a decorated war hero. Where did you serve?” 

Pete found it a little difficult to speak as the

alcohol surged into his blood, “Marines...‘Nam.”  John

yelled inside the house, “Laura, make another sandwich.” He

turned his head back to Pete, “My wife is a terrible cook,

but she makes a pretty damn good club sandwich.  You’re

going to have to eat something if you drank a cup of vodka

in this heat.”

Pete told John he didn’t want to impose, but inwardly,

he felt happy and relieved when John insisted he come inside

the house. Suzie and her father watched as Pete undid the

strap that helped steady his body on the board. He left the

board on the sidewalk, and John ordered his five-year-old

son, “Johnny, don’t play on that; it’s not a toy.” The boy

was about to place his foot on the board but stepped back. 

Instead, Johnny ground the end of his rifle in the front

lawn and loaded the end with dirt and grass.

Grasping the handrail, Pete pulled himself up the

stairs. John looked at the platform and exclaimed, “Jumpin’

Jesus! Why don’t you get a wheel chair, Pete?  That

contraption is no way to be getting up and about.” Pete

appreciated John’s instant air of camaraderie, “Believe it

or not, John, that doohickey offers me a lot more mobility,

and wheelchairs don’t always take to curbs as well.”  John

reasoned, “You have a pretty handy gadget there.” Pete

nodded, “It helps me get around.”

The men entered the living room and sat on large, soft

couches that faced each other.  About five minutes later,

Mrs. MacDonnell entered carrying the sandwiches on two small

aluminum tray tables.  John said, “Laura, make iced coffee

for my buddy and myself...and don’t dawdle.” 

Mrs. MacDonnell pulled a few bobby pins from her hair

and placed them in her mouth as she swept up the few

dangling strands of hair that had fallen around her

neckline, “John, if you don’t think I do things fast enough

around here, you can get it yourself.” She pulled the bobby

pins from her mouth and pinned up her hair as she walked

back towards the kitchen. 

John said half-joking and half-exasperated, “I’m a Navy

man, myself...served in the Sea Bees, but after 10 years of

being married...” He threw his head back and his face lit up

with laughter, “I sometimes wish I never left the navy.”

Pete looked at Suzie who was playing with her teddy

bear, heard John’s wife complaining in the kitchen and

replied, “Do you know how lucky you are to have a wife and

kids in a decent home like this...” John replied lightly,

“This wife and 5 kids of mine are costing me a fortune.  My

wife, Laura, spends money faster than I can make it. I don’t

know what she spends it on because we don’t have anything to

show for it.” 

As they ate lunch, Pete glanced around the room, “You

have a family and this house.”  John said in a makeshift

Irish accent, “Me farther from the old sod built this house

50 some odd years ago. He was a carpenter by trade. I own a

sheet metal and central air conditioning business and make a

decent buck or two.  But when I’m invited to the houses of

the men who work for me, their homes look like palaces and

this place looks like a shanty in comparison.  I don’t know

where the money goes.”

Pete noticed Johnny as he bolted into the living room,

“You have five children; that’s quite an accomplishment.” 

John whispered jokingly, “Don’t let my wife hear that or

she’ll have another one.”  Then he half-whispered, “Watch my

son.” John ordered Johnny, “Atten-hup!” and the boy stood at

attention.  John commanded, “Right face! Left face!  About

face!” 

Pete applauded, “That’s pretty good, young man!”  John

said, “Johnny is five, but he’s quite a little soldier!” 

Johnny exclaimed, “I’m going to be a soldier when I grow

up!”  John spied his son’s dirt gun on the floor, “For

cryin’ out loud. Are you crazy?  If mama sees you in the

house with this gun gumming everything up, she’s going to

have a fit!  Take it out of here immediately and keep it in

the yard or I’ll get rid of it, and that’s an order!” 

Laura re-entered the room and cordially handed Pete a

tall, frosted glass of sweetened iced coffee.  The ice cubes

tinkled like Chinese wind chimes as Pete closed his fingers

around the glass. However, when Laura turned to John she

yelled, “This house doesn’t have central air conditioning.

Here we are sweltering in the heat; the air is like pea

soup...you can almost cut it with a knife.” 

John made a motion with his arm to shoo her out of the

way, “Quit bellowing and be up and about your business,

woman.” Laura continued, “And here we are with twenty year-

old fans.  It’s just inhuman.  Why don’t you put central air

in the house or at least buy a few air conditioners?”

John grappled with his newspaper, unruffled the pages

and said unconcernedly, “We’ve already been through that a

thousand times, and as far as I’m concerned, the matter is

closed.” “Well” Laura stammered, “I want your friend here to

know why you won’t...why you refuse to get air conditioning

for this house too!”  John put his newspaper down, looked

Pete straight in the eyes and answered matter of factly, “I

don’t believe in it.”

Laura shrugged her shoulders and exclaimed, “Did you

hear that? He doesn’t believe in air conditioners, but he

works at installing them all day long.  Well, if you don’t

do something to cool off this house...”  John cut her off,

“Shut up, Laura and quit making a scene.”  But she was

adamant, “It’s like an oven in this room, and if you don’t

do something about it, I’m leaving!”  John replied dryly,

“When you do, don’t forget to take these kids with you. I

may just leave myself if you don’t straighten out around

here.  It’s shape up or ship out.”

Laura was incensed, “I’m your wife and this is my

house!  It’s obvious you don’t appreciate all the work I’m

doing...working and cooking and slaving like a dog.  Go

ahead and leave, and don’t let the door hit you on your ass

on the way out!”

Pete adjusted himself uneasily on the sofa, “I’m sorry.

You are having a disagreement.  Perhaps I should be getting

along now.”  Laura barged out of the room and banged pots

and dishes around in the kitchen. John leaned forward and

exclaimed, “Bull shit! I’m the man in this house and what I

say goes...say, Pete, do you like to watch baseball?” Pete

looked toward the kitchen somewhat apprehensively as Laura

clanged pots and slammed cabinet doors.  He cleared his

throat, “Occasionally...Once in a while I go to the Yankee

Stadium.”  John replied, “Well...you better not get married

or that will be the end of that.  I can’t remember the last

time I had time to go to a real ball game.”

A little later, Laura returned with two large bowls of

raspberry sherbet and stood there as if she were waiting for

her husband’s cue.  “John continued, “I love my wife and

kids...it’s just that my wife is a little bit of a nut.  All

women are a little flaky.”  Pete wasn’t sure how to respond

and said, “This is very delicious on such a hot summer day;

thank you, Mrs. MacDonnell.”  John chuckled, “Don’t

encourage her, or she’ll go off on another one of her

rampages.”

Laura turned toward Pete, “A little appreciation once

in a while is all I’m looking for.” John interjected,

“Laura, don’t go off on a tangent and be up and about your

business.”  Mrs. MacDonnell ignored her husband’s remark and

said earnestly to Pete, “From this day forward, you are

always welcome in this house.” John threw his head back and

his face lit up with laughter...he always closed his eyes

when he laughed like that, “My wife is constantly making

proclamations like she’s the Queen of England!”

Laura stomped back to the kitchen, yelling, “If you

want anything else, you can get it yourself!”  John snapped,

“Quit parading around like a horse's arse and bring me some

more iced coffee.”  Laura hastily clomped back into the

living room and screamed, “If you don’t like what I do

around here, you can kiss Pete’s ass!”

Pete felt his face turn pale.  John noticed his

discomfort and laughed, “Laura, for Christ sake...his name

is Pete.”  Mrs. MacDonnell growled, “Why the hell didn’t you

tell me?”  John replied, “I thought you knew...you’re always

snooping around...”  Laura refused to allow herself to

become ruffled and took it in stride.  By way of an apology,

she looked out the living room window and retorted matter of

factly as she bit into a carrot, “It’s a common

saying...don’t take it personally.” Pete answered honestly,

“I’ve never heard that saying before, but I’ve heard quite a

few in my day.”

Laura glared at her husband, “You! This is all your

fault!” Then she turned to Pete, “Do you see what I have to

put up with?” Pete didn’t want to get caught in the cross

fire and ate his sherbet a little more quickly than was

necessary. Laura stomped into the kitchen and immediately

returned with a large mixing bowl staked with mounds of

sherbet with a large wooden spoon stuck in it.  Pete had a

little left in his bowl, but Laura took it from him and

pushed the whopping bowl of sherbet into his hands. In

amazement, Pete looked at John quizzically, but John

shrugged his shoulders, “Looks like my wife approves of

you.”

John picked up his newspaper and gradually looked at

Pete when he felt like speaking again.  Folding the

newspaper and flopping it back on the sofa, John said with

calm seriousness, “My wife does a hell of a lot around here,

Pete, but I don’t see why I should have to tell her a

hundred times a day or write it in a bloody sonnet...

blast...and double blast!”

Pete barely nodded because he was well aware that Laura

was all ears in the kitchen. John pretended to be hurt and

said in a softer but loud enough voice for his wife to

overhear, “Nobody ever thanks me for all the hard, grueling

work I do to keep a roof over their heads. But it’s my job

and I do it. You don’t hear me complaining about the fact

that I have to get up every morning at the crack of dawn and

keep my nose to the grind stone day after day.”

Laura yelled as she stamped back into the living room,

“And what is the bottle of vodka doing out? Suzie yelled, "I

got that man a drink from daddy’s bottle.”  Pete quickly

explained what happened.  Laura bent down and squeezed

Suzie’s shoulder blade sharply, “Don’t you ever touch those

bottles again. Those bottles are for when mommy and daddy

have a card party.”

Card parties and holidays were the only times the

MacDonnell family did any drinking.  Suzie thought about the

parties and wished her parents would have another one. It

was a festive drinking ritual accompanied with ginger ale,

club soda, mixed nuts, several dishes of assorted candy and

all kinds of goodies.

Pete thought about the days before the war when he

might very well have been invited to such a party.  At one

time, he had a lovely girl named Kathleen who waited

patiently for his return from the war.  But when he came

home, he couldn’t help but notice the look in her eyes.

Pete understood that look for he had experienced

lessons of deeper anguish...when he had helplessly watched

as his combat buddies were blown to smithereens before his

eyes...as he held his best friend in his arms but could do

nothing but watch as the life slipped out of him. Yes, he

understood the look in her eyes and read it well...as she

slipped silently out of his life.

It did not dawn on the MacDonnell’s to invite him to

any card parties.  Pete knew this.  They were nice people,

but he was not part of their world.  To some, he was marked

like Cain.  To others, he was an heroic statue that must 

not be touched.  But he was, to most people, invisible. 

Pete stopped wearing his high school ring the day he

woke up in the hospital.  The ring he once wore with pride

had somehow disconnected itself from him emotionally. As the

Chaplin worked the ring off his finger, it felt like one

more piece of shrapnel to be dug out and discarded.

Yes...Pete understood the permanent change that the

loss of his legs had caused in Kathleen, in others and in

himself. No invitations would be forthcoming from the

MacDonnell’s.  It was no one’s fault.  In some ways, he was

as disconnected from the life of the MacDonnell’s as they

were from his. But once in a while, everything and everyone

seemed to be connected, and the world seemed as unsullied as

Eden...before the fall...from grace.  Yes, there were

moments...like this...eating sherbet and tending to the

matters of being someone’s guest.

Mrs. MacDonnell turned up the radio in the kitchen that

was tuned to an oldies’ station.  Pete heard the Moody Blues

sing, “Once when you were mine...” and thought of Kathleen. 

At one time, listening to a song like that would have cut

him to ribbons inside, but today he received it silently

into his heart...as if he were at the last supper with

Christ. Pete breathed in solemn air as he remembered “Once

upon a time...” when the Purple Heart medal first pierced

the clothing over his heart...a medal that marked what he

had done for his country and what his country was doing for

him.

The Young Rascals came on the radio, and Pete listened

to the words, “Whenever I...whenever I am away from you...”

The words couldn’t hurt him anymore. He was at a place in

his heart where the words could still cut deeply if he let

them, but he had had enough of pain and listened with sober

yet deliberate appreciation. Pete was a survivor. He lifted

another spoonful of sherbet to his lips. 

In the past, Pete couldn’t eat deserts without tears

streaming down his face which often made him stop eating

altogether. He didn’t know why he wept when he ate deserts.

It was such a simple thing for others to eat a fresh piece

of apple pie or a chocolate ice cream sundae, but Pete

couldn’t.  For this reason, he avoided sweets, and it became

a habit for him to eat as simply as possible with no

embellishments.

He had come a long, long way. Pete lifted another

teaspoon of sherbet to his lips and thanked God that he

could eat sherbet without feeling emotionally destroyed.  In

fact, he was at the point in his life where the simple

pleasure of enjoying such a treat and the sincerity with

which it was offered, sealed up any small seams in his heart

that still had an impulse toward devastation and pain.

   The Rascals sang, “How’s the weather, whether or not

we’re together...I love you, I love you forever.  You know

where I can be found...” Pete listened and was

grateful...much the same way someone who is grateful who has

escaped a hideous torture chamber or a nightmare that never

seems to end.  Pete pondered, “The doors to self-made hells

are always wide open, and anyone can always enter or leave,

but it’s not as easy as it sounds.” 

     Pete remembered how he clawed at the walls of his

hellish imprisonment until he was able to gradually pull

himself toward a light that was barely visible...far, far

away. At the beginning, he sometimes wondered if there

really was any light at all.  Was he imagining it?  Day

after day, in complete exhaustion and desperation, Pete

continued to claw and pull himself slowly toward something

that for many years, seemed as if it were a mirage...forever

out of reach.

There were months at a time, sometimes years, when his

heart bled in an isolated darkness that only the totally

destroyed know.  He was one of those who did not put an end

to his life because he imagined that even death, upon seeing

what was left of him, would pass by because there was

nothing left to take. 

Pete grew up an all-American boy and had the usual all-

American dreams. He was an average kid who had grown up in

an average town, and he dreamed of one day marrying the girl

of his heart, Kathleen. He wrapped up his life in her.  When

he was drafted, he never flinched in performing his duty as

a soldier because there was a lot to protect back home...his

dream...just like so many other young men’s dreams...of a

wife, children, home, joy and laughter.

After she left him, Pete was one of those who had no

hope but kept on breathing...not because he embraced life

but because there was nothing else inside him to make a

decision.  For months, he was catatonic.  It wasn’t

something he planned.  Yes, Pete was one of those, but there

was something inside...without even hope...that continued to

pull him slowly and gradually toward a light which flickered

almost imperceptibly...off in the distance. At first, Pete

didn’t know that anything was happening.  It was too gradual

for him to be aware of. 

As the years passed, Pete slowly grasped a sense of

something.  It was not tangible, but there moments when it

seemed to Pete that grace was slowly beginning to trickle

into his life from some indefinable source. He let that

grace strengthen his hands, and he used his hands to pull

himself out of his living hell...slowly...a little more each

day. 

Pete took a sip of iced coffee as he thought about the

countless teeming masses of people who are hurting inside. 

He swallowed the smooth coffee that had been expertly

prepared with sweetened condensed milk, “This is really

excellent, John.”  Mr. MacDonnell chuckled, “Thank God she

didn’t screw up that up!”  Pete took another sip and said a

silent prayer that those who are still on the bottom rung of

hell might find hope, strength, and he asked God that he

might continue to transcend...with the help of God’s

merciful love...the unspeakable pain of what he had suffered

and what he had lost...for he had suffered and lost much.

Pete took another spoonful of sherbet and prayed that

he might continue to find small chinks of light...shining

through the bleakest darkness...that he might lovingly

gather them up to rebuild his world.  Every kindness...no

matter how seemingly insignificant, the sunrise, birds

twittering...a child’s laughter...he would collect it all. 

He knew that when he was quiet inside, he became aware

of a trickle of light that was slowly making itself

available to him as he surrendered to the rest of what life

had to offer him. And he wanted to receive it.  

    Yes, you could say that Pete had come a hell of a long

way.  Words cannot adequately describe what he went through,

but it was rough.  When he first returned, Pete knew his

options for inner-healing were poor.  He watched as his

friends who suffered from shell-shock and nervous breakdowns

lose themselves to the bottle, drugs or dementia, but he

knew that these things would only add to his hell.

     Pete took another sip of iced coffee. He was still at

war, but this was a war he was winning...gradually...as one

slow decade slid imperceptibly into the next. “That’s more

than you can say for most people.” He thought. “I am

grateful that I have survived the worst part of myself.”

Pete never believed the hype that only good people suffer

although he tried to be hard-hearted for a few days in a

desperate attempt to get rid of the pain.

From the kitchen radio, The Monkeys sang, “Cheer up

sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a daydream believer and

a homecoming queen...” Pete thought about his next door

neighbor Carolyn, a flat-assed, metallic-copper-red 40ish 

woman who invited him to her barbeque last week.  The

barbeque was going on right now, but he had no intention of

going. 

He remembered her words when she accidentally met him

as she rolled out a barrel of trash, “Helllllo, Mr. Hawk.

How are you feeeeling?” as if he were still bleeding to near

death in some hospital. “We’re having a barbeque next week

and if you smell anything burning...but of course you are

invited...stiff me. You’d probably be bored silly because

it’s just some old friends and family who will be there...”

Pete avoided people who felt obligated to include him

in their activities because of his missing legs.  He grew

tired of people who felt the need to say something about his

physical circumstances or to treat him differently. To be

blunt, Pete no longer considered himself an integral part of

the fabric of average American society...not like the days

when he had a girl counting on him for marriage...when

friends dropped by to shoot the breeze...when he had legs. 

But sometimes... there were moments...

Pete placed the empty bowl and spoon on the table and

sighed with a contemplative feeling of satisfaction.  John

looked up from his newspaper, “Did that fix you up?  A cup

of vodka on a day like this.  I’m surprised it didn’t kill

you.”  Pete smiled, “This was just what the doctor ordered.

I feel much better.” 

John laughed, “You remind me of the man who kept

banging his head with a hammer, and when someone asked him

why he did it, he said, ‘Because it feels so good when I

stop.’  Why on earth would you go out on a day like today?”

John looked out the window and gasped, “Ye gads! You can see

the heat rising from the street.”  Pete nodded, “Yes, if it

were any hotter, my wheels would get stuck in the tar.”

Laura screamed from the kitchen, “John, the thermostat

says its 102 degrees, did you hear that?”  John yelled back,

“Of course I heard it, you nit wit.  How could I not have

heard your inane yelling?” Laura bellowed as she poured milk

in to the mixing bowl on her lap, “You better get an air

conditioner; do you hear me? That thermometer is in the

shade. I can’t take it any more.” 

John threw his paper down, “For the love of Pete...ah,

er...excuse me, Pete. We don’t have too many people we know

with that name stopping by.”  John turned his head toward

the kitchen, “Laura! For cryin’ out loud. Will you please

shut up?” 

Laura hastily put her mixing bowl down and flew in to

the living room.  “What is it John?  What’s so terrible that

you have to talk to me like that?”  John barricaded himself

with his newspaper and yelled through it, “Your damn mouth

is what! Shut up... I’m trying to have a conversation and

you keep butting in.” Laura hollered, “No, I won’t shut up!

You can take care of the kids from now on because I’m

leaving!” 

John folded the newspaper, “Laura, all I ask is that I

have a little peace and quiet once in a while.”  Laura threw

down the dishtowel that was draped over her shoulder and

fumed, “How dare you tell me to shut up when all I do is

wait on you hand and foot?”  John combed his fingers through

his hair and answered rather meekly, “You almost caused me

to say something unseemly in front of our guest...” 

Laura stormed out of the room, “I’ve heard enough out

of you!”  John yelled back, “That will be enough out of

you!” and little Suzie yelled, “Everyone, please be quiet!” 

John replied calmly, “Now don’t you start.” He turned his

head toward Pete, “Do you see what I have to put up with? 

Sometimes I think I’m living in a nut house.”

Pete finished the last of his iced coffee and placed

the glass on a paper doily on the aluminum tray.  John put a

tooth pick in his mouth and stood up to offer one to Pete,

“Now what was I saying before I was so rudely interrupted?” 

Pete felt as if he were in a verbal mine field, “We were

talking about the heat.”  John exclaimed, “For the life of

me, I can’t understand why you would be out and about on a

day like today.” 

Pete felt his stomach pull in, “I had to go out...” 

Hiding his concern for Pete, John chided, “Well make sure

you don’t get run over by a car!”  Pete laughed. “I’m pretty

careful.” John nodded, “Good. We don’t want anything to

happen to that Purple Heart.” Pete laid his hand over the

medal, “Don’t worry, John. I won’t let anything happen to

it.” John lightened the mood, “Let us be up and doing, ever

achieving, ever pursuing!”

The smell of something burning in the kitchen wafted

its way through the pea soup into the living room.  Pete

became slightly alarmed and then bewildered, “Excuse me

John, but don’t you smell something like badly burned

toast?” John dropped his newspaper below eye level so he

could see Pete, “What’s that?”  Pete repeated, “John, do you

smell something burning? I can see a smoke coming from the

kitchen!”  John sat up straight, opened his eyes wide and

whispered, “For Pete’s sake, don’t say anything!”  Pete was

perplexed but kept silent.  John barely spoke as he mouthed

the words, “My wife is cooking; don’t make an incident out

of it.”

John took two White Owl cigars from his top shirt and

handed one to Pete, “Where were you headed before my

daughter gave you a cup of vodka?”  Pete answered

truthfully, “I didn’t know where I was headed.  I didn’t

have any shopping that needed to be done...I guess I didn’t

know where I was headed. All I knew was that I had to get

somewhere.”  John offered, “I know the feeling; you just

have to get out and about.”  Pete nodded, “That’s right,

John.”  

As Pete brushed a breadcrumb off his shirt, he thought

about the fact that when he awoke that morning, he would

never have imagined ending up in the living room of John and

Laura MacDonnell.  What were the odds?  The MacDonnell

people were an in your face bunch, but Pete was never very

talkative.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have profound, deep

thoughts.  Quite the opposite. 

Pete had always been rather introspective and

contemplative. However, it was this trait that most people

misread as an air of slight disinterest. And even though it

was no one’s fault, they would probably never meet again.

But today was the first time, in a long time, that he was

treated as normally as one could expect. He had eaten lunch

with John and talked about baseball. Mr. and Mrs. MacDonnell

shared a piece of their lives with him, and for one brief

hour, Pete felt immersed in the fabric of life itself.

As he made his way up the street on that scorching

summer afternoon, Pete said softly to himself, “This is the

American dream...”

Chapter Two

 That Same Day...

 Pete’s Brother Jeff

     Pete has a much younger brother named Jeff.  He is a

tall, chestnut-haired man in his late twenties but has been

secretly traveling to different worlds since he was just a

boy. As odd as it may sound, travel to other dimensions

seemed as normal to Jeff as boarding a local bus.  For the

longest time, he thought everyone traveled, and he took it

for granted that everyone did...like brushing one’s teeth,

or eating breakfast or dreaming.

It wasn’t until Jeff was almost twenty that it dawned

on him that he had better keep his travels to himself...if

he didn’t want others to think he was insane.  That’s when

he purchased a notebook and decided to start a kind of

travel log that he later named, Jeff’s Scientific Journal.

That same Sunday afternoon, Jeff focused his

consciousness on travel, and his astral body immediately

floated into deep space 200.  He felt as if he were drifting

on a sea of calm, slippery cucumber seeds until he hit a

time warp which caused him to shudder involuntarily. 

However, in a second or two, Jeff snickered as he slipped

into an alternate world of etheric light wisps which quickly

took the shape of a world resembling the Mojave Desert. 

  In a moment, Jeff untwisted his body which sometimes

happens during these transitional phases and kicked a few

pebbles aside as he looked around.  To his left was a being

that resembled a young woman.  She was five feet tall and

slender.  Jeff observed her long, blonde hair, aqua blue

eyes, and he quickly made a mental note of her ankle-length

muslin cotton dress that flowed around her sandals. 

     Jeff was careful not to concentrate on the being too

long because it was his habit to simply observe and collect

data, and he did not want to get its attention.  The alien

woman was picking flowers, but when she saw him, she

stopped. Jeff suddenly took an impulsive step back when he

realized he had been seen.  The woman looked away and then

back. When Jeff showed no signs of leaving, she asked, “What

are you doing here?”  Jeff didn’t feel like explaining

anything.  The thought of speaking to this being gave him

the chills for he knew from experience how unpredictable

alien behavior can become.

After an awkward moment, Jeff replied, “I’m from

Earth.”  The woman walked toward him but faded away

increasingly with each step she took until nothing was left

but a bouquet of flowers that hung suspended in mid-air. 

Although at one time this may have fascinated Jeff, he

walked past the bouquet that floated about four feet from

the ground.  As Jeff looked around, he felt disgusted that

there was nothing worth investigating in this particular

realm. 

Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, Jeff wished the

woman hadn’t evaporated.  He shifted his stance, leaning on

his left leg and turned to peer under the bouquet.  Jeff’s

face flushed as an absurd thought traced itself through his

mind...as if examining the bouquet, even in private, would

somehow compromise his manhood. Without warning, the woman

re-appeared and stood beside him cooing, “Congratulations,

Sir...” She added, “Go ahead and smell the flowers; they’re

quite extra-ordinary.”

   Jeff leaned forward but hesitated for a moment because he

wasn’t sure if the woman was mocking him. Then he thought

about his scientific obligation to collect new data and

plunged his nose into the flowers.  As his face descended

into the bouquet, the flowers trembled.  He felt the cool,

soft petals envelope and twitter about his nose but felt

disappointed because the flowers had no fragrance.  In fact,

the bouquet had no smell whatsoever. 

     “Miss” Jeff retorted, “These flowers have no

fragrance.”  The woman snatched the bouquet and looked at

him as if he were an insect.  Jeff’s cheeks flushed even

more and thought to himself, “This is what I have to put up

with” and turned his back to the woman. He pondered, “The

bouquet has properties that are more akin to water...which

is tasteless in its purest form.” 

     Jeff relaxed his body into a slouch and sighed because

he felt that he didn’t have enough data from that travel

encounter to log anything meaningful enough into his

scientific journal.  Very few individuals had ever read his

findings because he knew the reports he wrote would seem

far-fetched even to the most scientific minds. 

For a few moments, Jeff looked around and noticed that

the atmosphere was clear...the setting sun cast orange-

yellow embers that reached into the sky in zigzag strands. 

In a few moments, the sunset morphed into an effect that

resembled a yellow-lined note pad, and he pondered the

reason for it.

     After watching the last embers fade, Jeff returned to

Earth (World I [One]) and stopped to get a few tostadas, a

package of cinnamon twists and a Pepsi at Taco Bell.  As

Jeff pulled his car to the drive-up window and spoke his

order into the microphone, a teenager replied, “No

tostadas.” Jeff was stunned, “What? Have you run out of

them?” The teenager jeered, “Taco Bell does not make them

anymore.” 

Jeff sat in his car with his mouth hanging open,

“You’ve got to be kidding me! No Tostadas?  What happened?”

The order taker replied, “Sir, Taco Bell hasn’t served

tostadas in over a year; where have you been?”  Jeff

sputtered, “This is the most unheard of thing...it’s

unthinkable! I simply don’t believe it!”  The voice replied,

“May I take your order please?” 

Jeff grabbed the steering wheel and shouted as he

pulled his car two feet ahead of him, “Not if you stopped

serving tostadas; that was the only good thing on the

menu...and your food has too much salt!”  Jeff tried to

drive out of the line and rid himself of Taco Bell and its

changed menu, but there were several cars ahead of him

blocking him in.  While he waited impatiently to get his car

out of their drive through, he remembered how Taco Bell had

been skimping on quality over the years.  At one time, you

could order a pretty good tostada.  The shell was strong

enough to pick it up and eat it like a piece of crunchy

pizza. 

However, the Taco executives obviously wanted to cut a

few corners and made the tostada shells thinner and thinner

until they would literally fall apart in your hands or they 

already came broken in the box.  At one time, the tostadas

had the bean paste neatly spread on top of the tostada.  But

soon afterward, the bean, lettuce and sauce were clumped and

scattered as if the preparation had been executed with the

use of a shot gun. Once Jeff tried a bean burrito, but the

beans were watery and dripped onto his shirt and clothes. 

“They’re closing down if they don’t shape up. They can stay

open until sunrise, but the average person isn’t that stupid

to keep visiting junk food places that don’t give a damn

about their customers.” Jeff frowned as he thought about the

fact that Taco Bell stopped offering a wedge of lemon with

their sodas, “I guess they think they are established to the

point where the customer doesn’t count anymore.  Most

seniors can’t eat their food because they don’t offer low-

salt choices.  Those insensitive hacks!”

After about ten minutes, Jeff’s car whizzed up

Belleville Avenue.  By the time he hit 280 West, he was

famished. “I’ll go to The Olive Garden and order angel hair

pasta, eggplant, salad and a cold drink.”  After parking his

car slightly askew, Jeff jumped out and darted into the

restaurant.  Much to his amazement, there was no line or

waiting list. 

A young woman in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks

greeted him cordially, “Will that be one or two?”  Jeff said

quickly, “Just myself...Listen.  I’m starving and haven’t

had a bite to eat since early this morning and it’s past

8:00.”  The waitress walked quickly past him and motioned

with her hand for him to follow her.  As Jeff grabbed a

chair, the waitress extended the menu toward him, but he

waived it away, “No thanks.  I want angel hair pasta,

eggplant and Coke with lots of ice.  Please bring my salad

and bread sticks immediately and thanks.” 

The waitress replied, “I’m sorry, sir, but I only seat

the patrons.  Your waiter will be with you shortly.” A young

man with the same attire as the hostess arrived with a

bottle of wine in his hands, “House wine, sir?”  Jeff said,

“No wine! I’m hungry!”  He quickly repeated his order and

added, “Please bring me my bread sticks, salad and soda

right now.”  The waiter sped off.

Within two minuets, Jeff chunked his straw into the cup

of iced soda as he tore into a bread stick.  However, as he

was beginning to chew, Jeff’s face tightened as he looked

across the room.  At the opposite table sat the woman...the

alien woman being he had just left on World III about an

hour before.  The woman put a cup of Orange Slice to her

lips and gushed, “Sweet!”

Jeff was too peeved to worry about his manners and

said, “Who are you?”  “I Am.” was the woman’s matter of fact

reply.  Jeff sat motionless while the woman shoveled food

into her mouth and finally managed, “You...mmm...entered my

world...num...um...and now I’m entering yours.” 

The alien woman shuffled the straw from its paper

sheath and pointed it at Jeff, “Don’t worry...umm this is

good...I’m quite tame...num...although I...ahh...don’t

conform to anyone’s expectations. Aahhh!  I’m a free

agent...ahh...Period.”  She plunged the straw into her soda

and siphoned half of the cup’s contents in one slurp. Jeff

winced and furrowed his brow as he thought, “Pig!”

     Jeff watched “I Am” scarf down three sticks of garlic

bread and twist half a plate of pasta around her fork as he

mumbled to himself, “This is terrible...I don’t like the

idea of this alien woman following me to Earth...to The

Olive Garden.”  The half-chewed bread stick in his mouth

felt like a clump of decaying leaves. He spit it into his

napkin and sarcastically replied, “Thanks for the tip.” 

The woman looked as imploringly as one might possibly

look with her or his mouth exploding with pasta, “I hope

you...num num...don’t mind that I told you...hummm...

straight out how I feel...” Jeff replied hastily, “Nothing

unusual...” The woman smiled, “My name is Knott.”  Her face

minced the words as she carefully watched his body language

for affirmation. 

     Jeff made a tremendous effort to appear

complacent, but he couldn’t help tapping his fingers on the

table while feelings of resentment welled deep from within. 

He felt it would be exhausting to engage in the feeble

gesture of conversation to insure Knott that she was an

alien acquaintance of his own choosing. Pulling himself away

from the table, Jeff jumped up and tossed the napkin onto

the table.  However, as he started out the door, Knott

hopped up and followed behind.  Jeff turned around and said

sternly, “Look Knott, I don’t want to deal with you; go

away.”

Knott wasn’t moved and replied in a tone of authority,

“Look mister; there is a whole other thing that is going on

right now in the left side of your consciousness, and I want

a piece of it.”  Jeff stopped in front of his car in the

parking lot and turned to face Knott with a feeling that was

more defensive than defiant.

“No, you look! I’m like you and demand my complete

freedom.  What’s more, I don’t feel anything going on in the

left side of my consciousness. My name is Jeff.  Hi and

goodbye.”  He made a motion to turn away, but Knott flung

her arms around him and cried, “I’m tired and you can

refresh me.” 

Jeff froze; he was worried that Knott might be the kind

of alien stalker who drains humans of their energy for their

own selfish purposes.  He could predict what might happen if

he wasn’t careful.  Actually, nothing horrible had ever

happened to him yet as far as he knew, but he wasn’t taking

any chances...he’d seen Body Snatchers. 

     Jeff heard a faint clicking sound behind his head;

Knott tapped her fingernails together as her arms clung

about his neck. “Common, now,” Tup whined. Jeff furrowed his

eyebrows and pursed his lips.  Seeing his reaction, Knott

tapped the ground coyly with her foot and whined a little

louder.  Jeff realized he would have to rely on the use of

additional dialogue to get away from her and said, “No

thanks.” On cue, Knott dropped her arms to her sides and her

body drooped into a mope that matched her sulking face.

     Jeff almost ventured to say, “Good luck” but stopped

himself because he didn’t want to encourage her in the

least.  He didn’t know the woman’s assignment for energy

needs, and while Jeff had at times given a tad away here and

there in the past for the sake of knowledge, he was in no

mood to placate this alien with such a gift. 

Knott rung her hands urgently, “Do you have any idea

what it feels like to grow up alone in space?”  Her face

pouted to the point where she looked ugly, “Please let me

stick around; I’m really a wall flower and won’t get in your

way.”  Jeff stammered, “No way, sorry babe.”

     Knott’s large eyes dropped tears, and then they

squirted them into the air like an oven turkey

buster...splattering Jeff in wetness.  He gritted his teeth,

thinking, “I’ve had it with this weirdo” and mumbled

obscenities as he turned towards his car door. 

Jeff raised his hand to wipe the tears off his arm, but

the wetness remained.  Knott waited patiently while Jeff

rubbed furiously at his arm but the tears wouldn’t budge.

Whatever she did had worked, and a look of smug satisfaction

welled up on Knott’s face. Suddenly, abject fear ran down

the back of Jeff’s neck.  “It’s rose water.” Knott said with

a droll smile.

“What can I say to this monster?” Jeff said out loud to

himself. He stood by his car for a few minutes and waited

for a solution to rid himself of her tears. “Face it.” Knott

pronounced with certainty.  Her urgent and morose

countenance was suddenly replaced with one of confident joy.

“You’ll do!”

     Jeff screamed, “I don’t want to help you.  I’d like to,

but I’m too busy.” Then he improvised, “I have a date and

can’t cancel it.  You understand.”  Knott looked down at her

sandals and pleaded, “Why don’t you like me? I promise I

won’t cause any trouble and just need to be with you for a

while.” 

Jeff smiled smugly, “No you don’t. I promise I’ll call

on you next week. Now get this water off me!”  Knott

whispered between instantly manufactured sobs, “No you

won’t...they never do.” Without hesitation, she hiked the

tail end of her dress up to blow her nose on it.  Jeff

responded tersely, “Put your dress down!” The alien woman

let the dress flounce to her ankles. Jeff implored, “Look

Knott, I don’t know you, and we aren’t even the same

species. What’s more, I am not giving you any energy; forget

it.” 

     Knott stormed off and marched into the street in front

of the Olive Garden...right into four-lane traffic. Vehicles

honked as they braked or careened out of her path.  Some

drivers yelled obscenities.  Instinctually, Jeff lunged out,

grabbed Knott and pulled her to the other side of the

street.  She mumbled that it was an honor for him to meet

her...in between sobs...as Jeff held her in his arms.  “Why

do you hesitate?” She wailed.

     A few hours later, Jeff thought, “This was her idea” as

he lay next to this alien being in his bed.  Knott was very

persuasive.  She put her hands on Jeff’s face and looked

into his eyes, “My nick name is Tup.”  Jeff monitored his

body for any changes that might occur during alien energy

depletion encounters but felt as intact as could be

expected. 

He knew that he should have many questions about what

was happening, but he had traveled almost to the point that

‘whatever’ was gradually becoming his emotional response to

alien encounters.

Tup gave Jeff the once over and asked, “Are you

selected by your species as an extraterrestrial researcher?”

Jeff responded hastily, “No. I’m an investment broker

because I have to make some bucks to put food on the table.”

Tup was suspicious, “But you’re a researcher, no?  You can

tell me. Are you on a mission?” Jeff felt it wouldn’t do any

harm in telling her a little, “I work alone most of the

time...I know a few others who have individual projects

but...there is very little you can actually measure

qualitatively.”

His voice faded out and then he continued after some

thought, “I studied advanced astrophysics and mind mechanics

in post doctorate studies but left school to put together my

own personal scientific dissertation. My work is in secret.”

Tup ventured, “It must be hard work running in and out

of different dimensions.  What methods and technology do you

use to travel?”  Jeff responded absentmindedly as he looked

up at the ceiling, “Manipulation of consciousness mostly...I

flush my awareness along any one of the limitless strands of

conscious awareness that permeate the universe.”

     “Oh.”  Tup pulled back a little and grumbled in a

defensive tone, “Then this universe is one giant microscopic

slide for you to experiment with?  A test tube?”  Jeff

thought this was a dumb remark and flopped over in the

opposite direction, leaving Tup with his back. 

“Besides” Jeff continued in his own defense, “You

certainly have your own agenda.”  Tup punched Jeff in the

arm, “That isn’t fair.”  Jeff flinched from the sharp jab

and snapped, “Control yourself!” Then he turned to face her

in an attempt at a peaceful reconciliation. “Remember that

we are both free agents and can do as we please.”

In a choked-up voice, Tup stumbled over her words,

“Jeff...with you...I’m almost alone.”  Jeff exhaled his

words in a clearly uninterested tone, “Tup, I think you

might need someone who is more your type.”  The alien woman

became hysterical, “Do you mean you’re leaving me just like

that?”  Tup struggled to control her voice but became

furious as she jumped to her feet and pointed down at Jeff

menacingly, “What do you want?  A swab of my DNA, you

bastard?”

Jeff felt too apathetic to take it personally, “I’m not

that kind of a scientist although I am very much interested

in gene-tip extension research on this planet.”  Tup grabbed

her dress, crumpled her dress over her head and growled,

“I’m leaving.” 

Jeff was inwardly delighted that Tup was going to be

out of his hair.  A feeling of happiness welled up inside

him.  “At last...peace and quiet.”

 It was 10:00 p.m. as Tup slammed the door behind her,

and Jeff made a vow to himself never to bring aliens to his

apartment again for any reason.  Later he would look back on

this vow and wish he had made it sooner.

 

Chapter Three

Intrigue

     Spokes of light streamed through Jeff’s window as the

sun spread its rosy fingers across the sky.  Jeff shuffled

to the bathroom sink, slapped cold water on his face and

dragged his hands over stubble.  As he shaved, Jeff greeted

himself in the mirror, “Good morning Odysseus!  How goes

it?”  As usual, Jeff had no trouble snagging the unwaxed

floss between his teeth and cursed like a sailor as he spat

blood into the sink and thought, “I’ve got to make a dental

appointment soon.” 

Jeff suspected that his lower left second molar had

developed a small cavity because it was sensitive to

sweets.  He filled the water pick with luke-warm water and

rinsed around the area thoroughly.  Tup flitted through his

mind and he shuddered as he thought, “Never again will I let

an obsessive compulsive, domineering and manipulative alien

into my life again. It’s true what people say about me.  At

least I guess they say it about me...I’m just too nice.”

In the shower, Jeff reached for his translucent Pears

soap and lathered his body up.  He smelled the soap and

exclaimed, “Ah...smells great!” Although Jeff was a

traveler, he took the time to enjoy several of the small

things that made up his everyday life, “I love the natural

ingredients and the fact that you can see through it.” After

rinsing off, he opened a jar of Anoxia and put it on his

face and neck, “This is a great balm after shaving.” He

enjoyed the fresh menthol fragrance and the way it felt cool

and made his skin tingle.  After drying off with his

favorite seascape towel of many colors, Jeff went into his

bedroom, climbed into faded blue jeans and slipped into a

cotton, button-down shirt. Most investors dress more

formally, but Jeff was tops in this field and insisted on

cotton and comfort. As he sat on the bed to lace up his New

Balance running shoes, Jeff congratulated himself for

getting rid of the creature from World III. He spoke out

loud as he tucked his shirt into his pants, “Never again

will I sleep with an alien being.”

     But just then, the phone rang.  Jeff downed a quart of

mandarin orange juice as the answering machine picked up the

message, “Hello, snookums...this is Tup...call me.”  Jeff

haphazardly grabbed the phone, “Look Tup, It’s over and I’ve

got to go to work. Don’t call me again.” However, Tup had

already hung up. He slapped the phone onto the receiver,

grabbed his keys and stood there as he ran his fingers

through his GQ hair cut.  Jeff didn’t bother combing his

hair and it was just short enough for him to do nothing in

particular to it.

     As Jeff drove to Wall Street where he worked at a

prestigious firm, he drank a liter of spring water that had

the juice of a lemon, lime and three oranges added to it. He

drank this every morning to cleanse his body and start the

day off right. Usually, he had time for a bowl of Total or

Captain Crunch. He always tried to choose Total, but

sometimes his lower right second molar, which was a sweet

tooth, acted up and demanded a bowl of the Crunch.

    Regardless of his choice in cereals, Jeff always cut up

a banana and threw a handful of blueberries or raspberries

into the mix.  If he hadn’t had any dinner the night before,

he usually made a few pieces of Freinhoffer’s 12-grain toast

with soy butter to prevent himself from having another bowl

of cereal.  Because Jeff arose later than usual, he hadn’t

had time to eat any solid food and grumbled when he realized

that he hadn’t event eaten dinner the night before. 

    Although Jeff could have made time for breakfast and

shown up for work a little late, that was not his style. 

And while it is true that he traveled frequently to other 

worlds, he was always punctual at work and took his Earth

job seriously. About twenty minutes into his drive that

morning, Jeff passed an auto accident on the other side of

the street where the traffic was headed in the opposite

direction.  A co-worker, Tammy, later told him that five

people were killed in that crash. 

A pained expression painted itself across Jeff’s face

as he recalled Earth statistics that approximately 40,000

people die each and every year on U.S. roads.  Jeff thought

of his friends and neighbors who were killed in such

senseless accidents. At the office, Jeff stalled as he

finished up his conversation with Tammy. He had had a secret

crush on her for the last six months, “Tammy, we must all

take extra care and patience when behind the wheel.” Tammy,

an attractive, forty-one year old, divorced, tall, redhead,

smiled sweetly at Jeff, “I feel better now that I talked to

you.  Everyone else seems like they don’t care.”

Jeff raised his voice admonishingly, “That’s because

they have gotten used to senseless acts of tragedy and are

too stupid to make tougher driving laws.” He spoke loudly

enough to be heard over several cubicles.  A grumbling voice

came from the other side, “Go preach somewhere else, creep.”

A few snickers here and there made their way over the

partitions and then another co-worker said, “Go hawk your

wares elsewhere, hawker.”  Snicker. Whispering. Chuckle.

Giggle, giggle. More whispering. Belly laugh.

Tammy rubbed Jeff’s back, “Don’t let them ruin your

day.  You’re a good man.” Jeff could feel Tammy’s hand glide

up and down his back and wondered if she was coming on to

him when he felt her long nails slowly trace up and down his

back bone. Jeff seized his window of opportunity, “Aahhhh!

Tammy! If you keep that up, I’m going to need a cold

shower.”  Tammy giggled, “Since my divorce, I’m free as a

bird...my place or yours?” 

Jeff would have been overjoyed with the first half-

dozen words and almost swooned at the invitation.  He

quickly braced himself and gave her a warm, friendly hug. 

He didn’t want to seem too icky, “Either would be fine with

me.  But let’s say I take you out to a nice show and dinner

in a few weeks.  Then we can discuss what comes next over

drinks...I’ve named the time. You name the place.” 

Tammy’s radiance beamed through the freckles that

innocently scattered the palette of her nose and cheeks,

“I’ll find just the right spot.  I’ve always been rather

attracted to you.”  Jeff gushed, “Really?  I’ve always been

very attracted to you but didn’t know your divorce came

through.”  Tammy kissed Jeff on the cheek, “I’m free as a

bird.” Jeff wanted to say something equally quippy but was a

little nervous, “Me too.” He kissed her on the cheek and

returned to his computer.

As he worked, thoughts of Tammy filled his mind. “Now

that’s the kind of girl I want to go out with.  Beautiful,

unattached and from Earth.  No more alien chicks for this

dude.  Tammy.  Totally hot!  Yes!”

     Jeff dabbled with stock market data for a few hours and

then went to the cooler for a drink before ordering lunch. 

However, much to his utter shock, Tup was waiting for him

there and snuggled her hand into his. “We have a lot to do,

hon!” 

Jeff was beyond exasperated.  He wrenched his hand away

from hers while his other hand clenched the cup of water

which splattered them.  Tup ignored Jeff’s theatrics and

adjusted the faux-tortoise barrette in her long, blond

hair. 

     Jeff’s co-worker, Tim, walked over and said brightly,

“This is Tup, our newest financial specialist.  She was

hired this morning and is heading a team on market research

and analysis.”  All Jeff could manage was, “No. That’s

impossible.” Tim took Tup by the arm and they walked away

laughing together down the hall to Tim’s office.  Jeff

followed in a huff, but Tim closed the door on him.

Jeff’s chest felt tight and his head was light with

confusion.  He tried to calm himself as he burst into Tim’s

office; his breath became short and choppy as he demanded,

“I won’t have Tup working here. Tup! I don’t want you at my

firm!” 

     Jeff felt overwhelmed at the sight of Tup who was now

perched on Tim’s lap and began rolling and unrolling his tie

in a flirty gesture.  Jeff stood there stupefied as he

groped for something to say. “Forget Jeff.” Tim coaxed Tup,

“Just do what you feel...”

Tup continued to toy with Tim’s tie and giggled like a

little girl.  Jeff stammered, “She can’t work here; I know

her.”  Tim looked at Jeff incredulously, “You don’t own Tup

or this company, and besides, it’s two against one...sorry

old chap.” 

     “Tuppy Tup...” Tim sighed, “Would you like to get a

bite of lunch with me?” He gently nudged her off his lap and

stood, slipping his arm around her waist.  Jeff felt anger

fill his stomach.  “Yes, I’d love to lunch with you, Tim!”

Tup giggled.  As the couple walked past Jeff, Tup snapped

her fingers and called to him as if he were a dog, “Come

along, Jeff...come on!”

Jeff staggered backwards with his mouth open.  Tim

snapped, “Leave him behind; he’s a spoil sport,” but Tup

momentarily dislodged herself from Tim, walked up to Jeff

and brushed him with her body adding, “Besides, honey, I

need a job now...now that you got me pregnant!  Little baby

Jeffie’s hungry!  Let’s go...”  Tup reunited herself with

Tim and they headed for the elevator.

     Jeff bolted to the door as it started to close, and he

just barely made it.  He squeezed himself inside and

confessed, “This is all too much for me to handle, whoever

you are.” As the elevator made its slow descent down 82

levels, Tup gave Jeff a hard stare and said between clenched

teeth, “You’re not the only one who is capable of

extraterrestrial species experimentation. In fact, I’ve got

my own scientific data to collect.”

Tim hadn’t the faintest idea what they were talking

about, assumed it was double talk for something sexual and

hoped he would be included in the experiment.  Then he

suddenly pouted because he considered the possibility that

Tup was trying to rope Jeff exclusively. Tim sighed as he

straightened his tie and made an attempt to stand taller

than he actually was.

     Tup noticed Tim’s reaction, gingerly patted his cheek

and said, “I need Famous Rays badly and only you can lunch

me!”  Tim’s face brightened.  Tup added, “I’m from out of

town and need to depend on the kindness of strangers right

now.” Tim remarked, “You can depend on me for extra 

toppings too!” Tup liked the fact that Tim was taking her

out of that office which contained more stuffed shirts than

she had ever seen on any planet and enjoyed walking down

city streets.  Besides, there she felt she had more control

over Jeff and could say what she wanted...not that anything

ever stopped her before. 

Suddenly, Jeff though about Tup being pregnant and

wanted to vomit.  Then he realized that he hadn’t eaten

anything solid since yesterday morning and thought, “Indeed,

this has all been too much for me...that monster!” Jeff

remembered that Tup’s appearance at The Garden caused his

stomach to close like a fist; he couldn’t have gotten any

food down if he tried.  As Tup and Tim raved about pizza

toppings, Jeff’s stomach growled in spite of his intense

disgust for them both. 

Tup and Tim merrily talked, laughed and walked at a

fair clip while Jeff awkwardly trailed behind. “I hate you.”

He said involuntarily.  Tup turned around and gave Jeff a

wink and continued her conversation with Tim.

As the trio strode down the street, Jeff thought about

abandoning everything and moving to another city without

giving a forwarding address while his stomach growled loudly

for pizza, a salad and pineapple soda.

Unexpectedly, Tim pulled Tup into a deli and ordered

sandwiches, pickles, potato salad, soup, bottled sweet

drinks, tossed salad and blueberry pie.  There was a small

table in the corner, and Tim spread the food across it.  The

three of them sat on wooden stools and unfolded the

sandwiches that were wrapped neatly in white, waxed paper. 

     Tup eagerly mashed her teeth into a three-cheese,

lettuce and tomato on rye and moaned with obvious pleasure

at the flavor of the Grey Poupon that was slathered on the

cheese. Jeff bit into his sandwich but haplessly pulled a

piece of lettuce that flapped ridiculously over his chin.

Tim laughed and pounded his fist on the table, “Did your

dentures slip?  Get a grip.  A polygrip!”  Tup slapped her

thigh while raspberry-lemon iced tea splurted from her nose

with a snorting sound.  In a rage, Jeff clenched a napkin in

haste, wiped his face, crushed the napkin in his fist and

bounced it off the table. 

     As Tup ate, Tim ogled her slightly protruding cleavage

and Jeff clenched his teeth in a rage. Something in his mind

snapped, and he felt an uncontrollably strong impulse to

throw the table over, beat Tim to a pulp and slap Tup

squarely across the face...alien or not.  He felt this

strong impulse for violence surge outward from the pit of

his stomach.  His head felt like it would explode and he

wanted to destroy something or hit someone.  However, Jeff

knew he would regret any violence on his part and tried hard

to control his temper. It took several minutes for the

feeling to pass, “Common, Jeff...control yourself.”

He tried not to visualize himself striking either of

them because he was on the verge of acting out his

aggressions as it was.  Jeff bit his lower lip as he

attempted to get his breathing back to normal.  Still,

thoughts of striking the duo came intermittently between

breaths that were excessively charged with tension and

stress. Jeff knew he was not a violent man, but there were

rare moments when he had to work hard at preserving his

humanity.  In moments such as this...his body was ready to

act aggressively as an excessive amount of adrenalin surged

through his body.

   When Jeff finally looked into Tup’s eyes, he flinched. 

She was stone silent and had observed enough to know where

he was coming from.  He grappled his disheveled sandwich

with trembling fingers and clumsily shuffled the flopping

cheese and lettuce back into it.  Tup calmly picked up a

half-stick of celery, crunched into it and gulped down two

bottles of Brambleberry Juiced Tea. Then she pointed the

celery at Jeff and said, “Did you notice that the tears I

splattered on you yesterday afternoon have disappeared?”

Jeff looked at her angrily and said, “No, but I wish you

would.”

     Jeff wasn’t sure at what time the tears vanished, but

he secretly felt deeply relieved.  Tup added, “And I’m not

pregnant, silly goose! We’re not even from the same

dimension...loosen up Jeff!”  In a flash, Jeff realized Tup

was teasing him, and he burned with a new sense of

determination to rid himself of her at all costs. 

Tup grabbed Tim’s bottle of raspberry-lemon iced tea,

slugged it down and looked knowingly into Jeff’s eyes.  She

pushed the empty bottle to the center of the table and

tapped Jeff on the arm with her celery, “Selective amnesia

is what you need.” Then she tapped Tim and repeated the same

words. 

     Instantly, Tim and Jeff looked at Tup and both felt a

little awkward.  They remembered seeing her from somewhere,

but they weren’t sure who she was or how she happened to be

with them.  Tup immediately introduced herself as an

acquaintance who often ran into them because they frequented

the same lunch spots.

With another tap of the celery, both men had a faint

but pleasant remembrance of her imprinted on the edge of

their consciousness.  Each recalled a hazy sense of having

seen her around town. 

Tup tapped the table and a subtle, gossamer etheric

strand of consciousness rippled across town and throughout

Planet Earth, giving everyone who met her same faint,

pleasant remembrance of having met her before. 

     She bit into the celery again and lightly touched

Jeff’s arm, saying, “As water into wine, I’ll taint thy mind

to do my bidding.”  Jeff looked up from his sandwich and

said sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Miss, I don’t recall your

name.”  Tup turned to Tim and said, “You’ll please excuse

Jeff; I want to speak with him in private.”

     A little dazed, Tim said, “Sure…a…”  She interjected,

“Tup.  My name is Grizzle Knott Tup, but my friends call me

Tup.”  Jeff re-wrapped the sandwiches, bagged the goodies

and exited the deli with Tup into the street.  The two

walked arm in arm as they headed for a nearby park bench. 

Jeff was almost curious as he shuffled across the street and

wondered, “Where did I first meet this woman...who

cares...?”

What happened next isn’t possible because next doesn’t

happen in non-linear space and time.  Suffice it to say that

Jeff thought many things and one day reasoned that all

events in the past and future are happening in the eternal

present. You see, what unfolds before your basic Earth

perception has already unfolded in another holographic

dimension of universal perception where all is. And Tup

utilized the knowledge of this knowledge for her own selfish

purposes.  Some beings are selfish. And some beings are

stupid.  But all beings are learning.

 

Chapter Four      

The Next Morning...

Somewhere in the Middle of Things

Jeff lay on his bed with a woman he barely knew and

tried to piece together the events that had happened the day

before by mulling them over in his mind. All he knew was Tup

was an acquaintance he had met in the deli and knew of her

as a regular gal. His mind recapitulated the events of the

previous day, “Let’s see...” he began, “Yesterday we met at

the deli, picked up some sandwiches and headed for the

park.” 

Jeff remembered that yesterday, he didn't have a desire

to impress this woman and allowed himself to yawn as they

crossed the street. It was at that moment that a seamless

leap in time occurred.  One minute Jeff was crossing the

street with this acquaintance, but an instant later, they

were in his apartment. It was as though a rubber stamp

imprinted a seamless glitch of events on his memory of what

had transpired.

Jeff thought hard as he recalled this holographic

experience which consisted of going to his apartment and

jumping into bed with the woman.  He bit his lower lip in

disgust since he had not experienced the events linearly. 

Jeff glanced out the window at the sunrise and surmised that

he had slept well because he felt refreshed. It was 6:30 and

he had an hour before he had to get ready for work.

Jeff glanced at Tup and instinctively realized there

would be perceptual problems concerning their shared

experience together.  He thought about the fact that he had

spent the night with this woman but was not that much

interested in her.  In fact, Tup was just another girl like

many others he had run into.  Suddenly, he felt the need to

get her out of his apartment and pretended he had to

leave.   Jeff’s eyes met hers, "Well...uh...” Tup answered

sweetly, “Yes, honey bunny?”  Jeff jumped up and dove into

his jeans and tee shirt. Then he grabbed his jean jacket,

"I've got to do a lot of things.  Thanks for coming up."

His words obviously troubled Tup as she sprang from his

bed and began to pace the floor and flail her arms about. 

As she contorted her face into a snarl, it was clear that

Jeff could no longer observe what was happening in a field

study manner which was something he did with humans as well

as alien beings.

     While Jeff zipped up his jacket, Tup’s face contorted

with jealousy and rage, "What are you going to do now, throw

yourself at more women?"  Jeff adjusted the collar on his

jacket and replied calmly, "No, I just thought you might be

busy." 

His answering machine was blinking on the coffee table,

so Tup defiantly pushed the button to hear all of his “women

and their tawdry messages.”  Much to Jeff’s relief, there

were three or four messages, but none were of an overtly

sexual nature.  Jeff secretly gloated as he considered

himself to be quite a ladies’ man, but then suddenly, he

became apprehensive.

He leaned down and pushed the play back button to hear

the last message again, “Hello, snookums...this is

Tup...call me.” Jeff was stupefied as he wondered how Tup

obtained his unlisted phone number.  He wondered, “Who is

she?” Tup grabbed her dress at the foot of the bed and

quickly slipped it over her head before plopping herself

back on the mattress.

Because of Jeff’s experimentation in the world of the

paranormal, he had taken excursions into alternate parallel

realms before, but he almost always traveled alone. “How had

this woman made quantum leaps in time and space with me?” 

Dismissing this thought for a moment, Jeff concentrated on

the fact that Tup was a woman who was pursuing him, but she

had played her hand badly by leaving that presumptuous

message on his answering machine.

“You’ve got a lot of experience, Tup.” Jeffrey offered

coldly.  “You were waiting for me at the deli and were sure

of yourself...sure enough to call me and leave that absurd

message. Who gave you my number?”

Without hesitation, Tup threw her arms around his neck

and cried, “I don’t know how it happened, Jeff! All I know

is that I was going to the deli for some lunch and we ended

up in your bed.” Tup began to bellow while she thought,

“this one won’t be difficult to control...”  Jeff pulled her

closer to him, “It’s okay, Tup. Here’s a tissue...wipe your

nose.”

Jeff reclined on the bed with her and propped a pillow

under his head as he looked up at the ceiling and thought,

“Somehow or other, Tup had fallen between the cracks and

traveled with me through a time glitch.  On one level of her

awareness, she must have been willing to travel, but it was

obviously not a conscious decision.”  Tup whimpered, “I

really don’t know what’s going on. Please believe me.” 

Still looking at the ceiling, Jeff patted Tup gently on

her hand and thought, “This woman’s phone message was

obviously part of the holographic travel experience...that

explains her ignorance of the event...It isn’t her fault.”

Tup sniffed, “I’m really innocent of any and all

allegations.” Jeff’s mind continued, “She’s just a simple

human woman man-hunter who is looking for a meaningful

relationship.”

 

Jeff was sure he had never at any time discussed travel

with her, but had half-forgotten that when in a certain

ambiguous state of mind, it was sometimes possible to travel

and unwittingly take others with him.  Usually, Jeff’s

excursions were pre-meditated, but auto translation is,

although quite rare, a phenomenon that sometimes occurs. 

Jeff was confused but tried to block this disturbing anomaly

from occupying his mind for the moment; he had company.

It was not clear to Jeff whether Tup could recall

everything that happened in the time glitch.  Keeping this

in mind, Jeff found it safer to assume that she had total

recall. To smooth things over, Jeff said, “You’re a nice

girl.”  The smile forming on Tup’s face made it clear she

was pleased with his words, and her voice took on a sultry

tone as she apologized for acting possessive.

Jeff felt he had the upper hand, was in control, and

allowed himself to be tempted by her.  In an instant, they

were undressed, and without interruption, they were

transported to an open field and lay on an army blanket. 

Then just as suddenly, the couple was transported back to

Jeff’s apartment, but now they were on the couch. 

As they lay in an intimate embrace, Jeff toyed with the

idea of some day forming an attachment with a nice girl. But

as he scanned the length of her body, he felt guilty for

imposing himself on her. Jeff thought, “This poor girl

doesn’t know what she would be getting into. I can’t drag

this simple earth-woman around with me into alien worlds!”

For some unknown reason, Jeff suddenly forgot her

name.  He tried hard to remember and wondered, “Is it Tip?

Top? Tweek?” Clearing his throat, Jeff said apologetically,

“I’m sorry, I know this is a very awkward moment, but I

can’t recall your name.”  He winced and got himself ready

for a barrage of insults and tears, but the woman snuggled

closer and whispered, “Tup.” 

“What are you thinking?” She purred.  Jeff’s mind

raced.  He wanted to yell, “You numb skull!  Don’t you have

any response to the fat fact that you have just had an

inconceivably intense paranormal experience?” His face grew

taught. It was painfully obvious to him that Tup, if that

was her real name, was only interested in getting her hooks

into him and was too dumb to care about anything else.

He imagined her chasing him through galaxies in her

wedding dress and flowing veil...blissfully unconcerned

about anything else that is happening in the entire

universe! This thought in particular made Jeff inwardly

livid, but he insisted,  “I’m not really thinking...this is

nice.”

As Tup kissed Jeff on the lips, she was well aware that

the intent behind her reply was mechanically poised to

condition him further--as she had done with so many others.

Jeff vaguely sensed that he was in a game of chess. Propping

his head with a couch pillow, Jeff looked into her eyes and

instinctively recoiled as he thought, “This woman wants to

trap me.” 

As a traveling scientist of paranormal and

psychological events, Jeff made a mental note to log his

reactions about the woman in his scientific journal...as he

did with all his reactions to paranormal and mundane

stimuli.  Oddly, although some of the information that Jeff

wrote in his journal was of an extremely personal nature, he

intended not part but the whole of it for scientific

purposes only.   

Tup pulled Jeff’s lips to hers and they kissed as

obtrusively as one might imagine. And while Tup’s loud

moaning took place, Jeff imagined writing about it in his

scientific journal. The next-door neighbor banged on the

wall yelling, “Hey! Cut out the racket!” Tup moaned even

louder without the slightest hint of trepidation, and Jeff

allowed himself to think, "Yes, this is the process.”

Then he felt a little uncertain as to whether he should

analyze the kiss during or after the coupling.  Deciding to

analyze it later, Jeff pulled back because he had now become

almost curious about woman.  With a gentle interruption of

the kiss, Jeff asked in a half playful mood, "What are you

thinking?" 

Tup’s tone was almost defensive but only ever so

slightly.  "I wasn't thinking anything."  Jeff quickly

responded, "Neither was I." Tup looked searchingly into

Jeff’s eyes, and he felt a sharp pang of guilt as he

suddenly remembered the redhead at work.  His mind wandered

in thought, “Hummm...Tup is okay, but I really like Tammy.

Now why couldn’t it be Tammy I am with right now instead of

Tup? I’ll have to break it to her gently that we’re not

meant for each other.  I can’t bare hurting anyone.”

As they lay together on the soft, billowy couch,

Jeff’s   mind raced at warp speed. Suddenly, Tup pulled him

closer and Jeff’s mind screamed, “Or perhaps my fate is

sealed. For some inexplicable reason, I may eventually get

to the point where I want it sealed.  Making love can be a

destiny changer, but I don’t want a commitment...maybe I’d

want a commitment with Tammy but not yet...at least not yet

because...” While Jeff’s mind was doing what Jeff’s mind

does, Tup’s mind formed a picture.

She visualized them sitting by a warm fireplace,

holding hands, perfectly content. Jeff thought, “Tup’s not

the one for me.  I can’t keep my mind off that tall, lanky

redhead with innocent freckles sprinkled everywhere...I want

to carefully map each and every one of them out like Louis

and Clark. I want to go on a freckle safari.  I want to

excavate for hidden freckles. I want to...” Suddenly, Jeff’s

mind momentarily stopped as he noticed the calm, quiet

expression on Tup’s face.  He enjoyed feeling her calm,

relaxed breathing much the same as any two primates would,

and he suddenly wanted more of it.

 Yet as he groped at her body in an attempt to meld

with it, Tup pressed her body closer to his in order to

assist their wish.  Jeff saw it coming and his mind plunged

itself into a downward spiral of apprehension.  He jumped up

and took a quick, sharp breath as he remembered his friend's

warning from another world, “Beware of the hideous perils of

forming unions.  Two people must be equally yoked.”

 

 

 

 

An Untoward Peek in the Middle of Jeff’s

Scientific Journal

Entry 1,555

Introducing Tony

 

Humans are so proud that they landed on the moon, but

there is an entire field of energy surrounding the moon that

they haven't even discovered yet.  Journeys are interesting,

but the reason we travel is ultimately to become free

inside.  Tony would frown on such preaching.

 Tony is an old man who never preaches.  However,

sometimes he acts as if he is a kind of guide in spite of

himself.  To him, travel is much too personal a business to

talk about with anyone...hardly anyone.

End of Journal EntryUniversal Time: 00:00:00Respectfully submitted,Jeffrey Hawk

 

Journal Entry 1,556

                 The Wonderful Realm of World ^

Mostly everyone knows what a photo album looks like on

World I (Earth), but on World ^(Carrot), they have photo

albums that you could spend years looking at.  I'm not

talking about millions of pictures.  The first five photos

on the first page of any album in ^ has the power to grab

your attention and keep it indefinitely, if that’s what you

wish. 

Someone on ^ showed me a picture a while back.  It was

my first experience with ^photos.  When I glanced at the

picture, I did not care for it too much.  It was a

photograph of a young girl posing in a ballerina outfit, and

it appeared as if some overzealous parent had taken this

all-too-ordinary picture.

But then the girl started to dance.  She wasn't

particularly good, but life was edited in a way our video

cameras cannot.  Pictures on ^ are viewer-interactive or

viewer sensitive.   The mother in the photo was talking

sweetly and softly to the little girl as she moved slowly

from one uncertain pose to the next.  I watched the picture

for about two minutes, but suddenly the sound and movement

in the photo ceased.

 In an effort to get the photo moving again, I stared

really hard at the picture to see if the girl would dance

again, but the mother got her coat and the little girl's

coat and they left the photo. All that was left in the

picture was an empty dance studio.

End of Journal Entry

Universal Time: 00:00:00Respectfully submitted,Jeffrey Hawk

 

Chapter Five

Jeff Visits ^

A few weeks passed and Jeff felt relieved that Tup

agreed to leave him alone if he promised to see her once

every three months for a date.  He looked at the calendar

and put an X on the Saturday night three months from two

weeks ago. Instead, he wanted to concentrate on the freckle-

faced redhead. Last week, Jeff took Tammy out to a fabulous

show, dinner and drinks, but it ended rather strangely. 

Tammy suddenly cooled and said she needed to think things

over but would see him again soon. Jeff thought about it and

figured Tammy was playing hard to get.

Tonight was Saturday and he had another date with

Tammy, but she was supposed to call him at 6:00.  It was now

7:30.  For half a second, Jeff thought of calling her, but 

decided to leave well enough alone and thought about the

photo album on World^.  “I don’t want to push my luck with

Tammy.  She just went through a bad divorce.  The first date

ended coolly.  I’ll let her make her excuses to me on

Monday.”

After cooking a pot of organic, unbleached pasta and

heating up half a jar or garden vegetable organic tomato

sauce, Jeff took a large plate and piled the pasta onto it. 

He had already made a drink that consisted of a package of

frozen raspberries, canned pineapple juice, ginger sugar and

spring water and began to eat his dinner with relish. When

he was nearly finished, however, his sweet tooth began to

have what was quickly becoming ‘that old familiar feeling.’ 

Jeff jumped up and rinsed his mouth with warm water, “I

think I’ll leave a message on my dentist’s answering machine

for an emergency appointment. I need to get this taken care

of before it gets any worse.”  Jeff dialed 973...“Hello, Dr.

Patel?” The dentist was friendly, “Yes, yes. How are you

today evening?” Jeff was surprised, “I didn’t think you

would still be in.” 

     Dr. Patel chuckled, “Then why are you calling me?” 

Jeff laughed, “I wanted to make an appointment because I a

have a tooth that is bothering me when I eat or drink

sweets.  Dr. Patel replied, “You’re right around the corner,

and I have a cancellation.  Why not stop in right now if you

aren’t doing anything?”

Jeff jumped at the chance to get this over with because

unlike most people, he absolutely hated getting a needle and

having his teeth drilled. Even more shocking, Jeff didn’t

even like root canals even though they were 80% covered by

his dental insurance.  

In ten minutes, he was seated in the chair and Taffy, a

dental assistant of five foot seven, brunette, 22 years old

and 487 pounds, slipped a paper bib around his neck, “Mr.

Hawk. You have a cavity?” Jeff didn’t seem worried, “I have

a sweet tooth that needs a tiny filling.”  Dr. Patel asked

Jeff to open his mouth and he looked inside, “Hummm.  Looks

like all your teeth are sweet teeth.  You eat a lot of

sugars?” Jeff hesitated, “Of course I eat sweets. I’m an

American.” 

Dr. Patel chided, “And for the last 12 years, I am an

American too.”  Jeff confessed, “I just like sweet foods, I

guess. That’s what I and many people were brought up on in

this country. Check out the food aisles.” Dr. Patel joked,

“And that’s why I decided to become a dentist.  All glories

and obeisances to Shri Twinkies Ji, Shri Funny Bones Ji,

Shri Swedish Fish Ji and Shri Shri Gummy everything Ji!”

Jeff laughed and Taffy said, “I have to stop eating

sweets too...especially when I go to the movies after dinner

at Charlie Browns or South of the Border with my fiancée. 

At the theater concession stand, my man gets me five boxes

of ice cream bon-bons, several boxes of Junior Mints,

Strawberry Twizzlers, Assorted Licorice Bites, Planters

Peanuts, M&M’s Plain and Peanut, Snickers, Milkey Ways,

Nestles Crunch, Hershey’s with almonds, Reece’s Peanut

Butter Cups, Mars Bars and a super-sized designer soda.”

Jeff thought about Taffy’s weight and how it must

compromise at least some of her mobility, “Why don’t you

just order popcorn instead of candy and those snacks when

you are at the movies?” Taffy stared at him incredulously,

“Popcorn! Popcorn?”  Jeff replied sheepishly, “Yes,

popcorn.”  Taffy pinched Jeff hard on his upper arm and

shouted, “Popcorn just makes me mad!” 

“Ouch, she pinched me!”  Dr. Patel raised a needle to

Jeff’s mouth, “Oh, Mr. Hawk.  You should know better than to

give advice to a woman about food.  Are you from another

planet? Open please and do not speak. What were you

thinking?” Jeff exclaimed, “Aah.  Oww!” 

Dr. Patel put the needle down, “You got off easy. 

Consider yourself lucky.” Taffy popped a Peanut Chew into

her mouth, “I’d never work for a guy like you, you

insensitive monster!  And my fiancée loves me the way I

am.”  Dr. Patel ventured, “For every duck, there is yet

another duck to keep that duck very good company and in good

relationship.” Taffy responded curtly, “My fiancée is not a

duck.” 

Dr. Patel tried to placate her by scolding Jeff, “Mr.

Hawk, Taffy’s boyfriend bought her that beautiful diamond

ring she is wearing, and he pays for her car every month to

boot. The upshot is that he likes her like that and it is

none of your business what they do or don’t do when they are

alone together.” Taffy looked at Dr. Patel askance, “He’s

not my boyfriend; he’s my fiancée.”

Jeff concentrated on the smell of dark chocolate,

molasses and chopped peanuts, “I didn’t mean to criticize;

I’m really the very worst offender when it comes to sugar

and junk food.” Even in the dental chair with a wad of

cotton in his mouth, Jeff half-hoped Taffy would offer him a

Peanut Chew. It wasn’t that he went out of his way for this

particular candy, but the siren call of the nougat called

out to him, and he looked up at the assistant rather

sheepishly. 

Taffy shouted, “Now I’m an offender?”  Dr. Patel shook

his head, “Please, Mr. Hawk. Try to remember that men are

from Mars and women are from Venus.” Jeff felt his lower jaw

becoming numb, “I don’t need a book like that to get a

date.” Dr. Patel picked up the drill and said excitedly,

“Hey Bhagwan! It’s not to get a date. It’s to stay alive!”

Jeff thought about all the conversations that had

somehow gone wrong when he was trying to be rational or

helpful and gleaned a vague notion as to what the dentist 

was talking about, “Yeah, I think the best advice any book

could give at this point is to warn men to be as quiet as

possible and just observe women in a field study manner.” 

Drill.  “Ow!” Taffy’s pinch. “Ow!”  Drill. “Ow!”  Pinch.

“Ow!”  Drill. “Ow!”  Dr. Patel removed the drill in a huff,

“Mr. Hawk, please cooperate. I cannot drill if you are going

to be distracting me with such exclamatory remarks and

fidgeting in the chair.”

Jeff pouted, “Taffy’s pinching me on purpose! Please

tell her to stop.”  Taffy said tersely, “Look Mr. Wall

Street Executive.  I understand English.  All you have to do

is ask.”  Jeff was confused, “Okay, please don’t pinch me.”

Taffy demanded, “After you apologize.” 

With the pinching, drilling, Novocain and stress, Jeff

accidentally apologized for what he was thinking, “Okay,

Taffy. I apologize for thinking you are fat.  I mean I’m

sorry I said you eat too much. I mean I’m sorry I suggested

that you have popcorn...” Dr. Patel dropped the drill and

backed away, “Hare Om! Now you are in trouble, man. You know

how she feels about popcorn.” Jeff became defensive, “I’m

sorry I mentioned popcorn.” Dr. Patel gasped, “You mentioned

that word again to her! Whether it’s with extra butter or

Cheese Wiz, it’s not what’s for dinner, honey!”

Taffy removed her facemask, “How dare you talk about me

in third person, Dr. Patel?  That did it.  You can finish

this one up yourself. I refuse to work on this monster.”

Taffy stormed out of the room, grabbed her purse, car keys

and cell phone. As she exited the waiting room, she screamed

back for her boss to hear, “I’m leaving early to go see my

fiancée.” 

Dr. Patel was lost in thought and replied as if it were

a regular chant, “Yes, Jeff! What you say will be held

against you!” Jeff was concerned, “How big is the cavity,

Dr.?” After prying around a little and blowing air into the

freshly drilled tooth, Dr. Patel replied, “It was not that

bad.  It’s good you came to see me when you did. Taffy,

please mix me one portion of amalgam.”

    He looked up and remembered she had left, “That’s

right.  I have to mix it myself because you are too rough

around the hedges.” Jeff commented, “I think that’s edges.”

Dr. Patel packed the tooth with amalgam, “Let’s not beat

about the bushes. You need to get a teeth cleaning.  Call in

a few weeks to make an appointment. By then Taffy will have

forgotten the whole ugly incident you caused this evening.”

    Jeff couldn’t believe his ears, “What?! Me?!”  Dr. Patel

stuffed a small tube of Pepsodent Super Clean, a container

of Cinnamint floss and a medium toothbrush in a baggie for

Jeff, “Good dental assistants are hard to find.” Jeff said,

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” Dr. Patel dropped another tube of

toothpaste into the bag, “That’s my story and I’m sticking

to it.” 

     Jeff was feeling much better.  As he entered his living

room, he glanced at the clock.  It was only 8:30 and he had

the entire evening ahead of him. “I think I’ll pay ^ another

visit. I’ve had enough of earthlings for one day.” Jeff

threw a large flat pillow on the floor next to the wall and

made himself comfortable on it.  As he positioned his body

for meditation, he could hear the faint, distant sound of

neighborhood dogs barking intermittently.  Jeff allowed

himself to meld with the sound of the barking and the

silences that came in between. Barking...silence...bark,

bark...silence...^.

In the second picture was a little barefoot boy clad in

a pair of slightly tattered shorts.  He was about five or

six, had long, dark hair and dark, warm eyes.  As soon as

Jeff looked at him, the boy began running with a wild,

frightened look on his face. The setting was tropical and

very wooded. Flowers, fruit trees, butterflies and birds of

many  kinds filled the picture. 

Jeff thought, “This setting is beautiful, but not as

beautiful as the little boy.  I have never seen such a child

before.”  The boy was out of breath but kept running as fast

as he could.  

However, as soon as Jeff felt concern for the boy, he

was immediately transported inside the picture and the boy

ran straight into his arms.  Jeff embraced him, but before

he could ask the boy why he was so afraid, the lad said,

"I'm sorry I'm late, Daddy."

“Daddy!” Jeff wondered. “How could this little boy

think I am his father? I’m Jeff, the traveling scientist!” 

However, when Jeff looked at the little boy, his heart made

him stay.  Jeff thought about his mission, “Besides, as a

scientist, I have an obligation to explore this new avenue

and examine how my feelings will be altered by the

experience.”

Surprisingly enough, being a father came easier to Jeff

than he anticipated as he told the boy, “Go into the house

and get ready for supper.”  He answered, “Okay, Daddy.”  For

some reason, it felt natural for Jeff to immediately accept

him. As usual, Jeff did not fight it as his mind absorbed

the instant memory history records of that ^photo.  In an

instant, he had total recall of a parallel existence that

imprinted itself on his consciousness. Jeff looked at his

son lovingly and added, "Make sure you wash your hands and

use soap this time."

 Right behind Jeff was a small house of three rooms

that was made out of thatch.  It was quite nice and he knew

that house was where they lived.  He glanced at their abode

made of straw and twine and somehow knew his son had

disobeyed him today.

A woman who lived a few huts away walked towards him,

“Your son went deep into the woods again.”  Jeff replied, “I

always forbid him not to go into the hills because there are

monsters there.” The neighbor Lela exclaimed, “Maybe you

will have to speak to him again about wandering far from

home.  There are monsters.”  Jeff said, “Yes, but my boy had

to go and see for himself.” Lela continued, “Yes, but do you

know your son is tracking monsters into our village? Can you

guess what he brought home with him?” 

The boy ceased listening from the doorway and ran into

the house as Jeff looked over to his right. About thirty

feet away, a creature was hiding half in and half out of the

bushes. It was your typical monster.  This one was about

five feet tall and three and a half feet across.  The

monster was all fur and had ten large round eyes, no nose to

speak of and a big wide mouth with lots of rows of pointy

teeth.  Jeff knew that ^ monsters are telepathic, and his

eyes sent this message, "Are you teasing my boy?" 

The monster's eyes widened, beaming with pure joy, and

his teeth became more pronounced as he grinned shyly from

ear to ear.  He was kind of cute and scary at the same

time.  The monster immediately respected Jeff as the boy's

father and sent this message with his eyes, "I like the

boy". 

Then Jeff spoke verbally to him, "Look.  You do not

belong in this part of the forest and should go home for

dinner.  You can play with him tomorrow."  However, the

monster beamed with his eyes, “Monsters eat all day long and

I don’t have to go anywhere.  I will wait here for the boy.”

Jeff’s son called for him, so he entered the hut and

gave him some rice on a few leaves that were pinned together

with thin, strong twigs.  He took another leaf plate and put

some food on it for the monster and went out of the house. 

It was a little unnerving to approach the monster because of

his teeth, so Jeff left the food a few feet from him and

told him to go home after he was done.

  The monster rolled up the plate of food like it was a

burrito and ate it, leaves and all.  When Jeff re-entered

the hut, his son fibbed for the first time.  Jeff asked,

“Son, what were you doing so far away from the house?”

Pouting, the boy climbed on his lap and replied, "I was

lost."  Jeff could see the boy was afraid he was going to be

scolded, so he pretended to believe him. “You have to be

careful next time and not go past the grove of mango trees

at the foot of the mountain.” The lad hugged his father,

“Okay, daddy.”

Jeff had the boy lie on a mat stuffed with straw and

fresh kusha grass and went into the next room to meditate

on  the experience, “My son will go out tomorrow...after I

give him his breakfast...of forest fruits...wrap up

lunch...in leaves for him...” Jeff’s breath gradually became

slower and deeper...his pulse and heartbeat slowed and his

thoughts came only intermittently now.  “...He feeds his

lunch to the monkeys...and eats wild berries instead...He

doesn't know I know this...Yes...he will go out...to find

the monster...of the mountains...and tease him...by throwing

rocks...until Ten-Eyes chases him...home.”

 

Journal Entry 1,557

   

On ^ I have been given a precious gift.  There are many

other pictures in the album, but I can’t get past the first

page.  I can't even get past the second picture! 

 On ^, my boy is eternally only five or six and I am

eternally his father.  We have a dirt floor and it rains

there sometimes, but that is also very beautiful.  The air

is clean and it is always the perfect temperature.  To my

knowledge, everyone lives peacefully there, and even my

son's naughtiness in teasing the monster by throwing stones

is thoroughly enjoyed by Ten.

End of Entry.Universal Time 00:00:00Respectfully submitted,Jeffrey Hawk 

 

Journal Entry 1,558

This month, I have made several trips to ^ to be with

my son and have decided to name him "Vishnu," after the

Hindu deity Who is known for His transcendental beauty and

loving qualities.  Today, Vishnu made mud pies and put one

at the feet of Ten, whose many eyes shot out bright lights

in all directions.  This is Ten’s way of sharing his joy

with others.  They are getting to be such good friends that

I may have to invite the monster into the house. I know the

villagers might not like the idea, but it's only right.  I

never anticipated such a thing, but when you have a son like

Vishnu, anything is possible.

Everyone has access to that picture if they wish. 

Whoever enters becomes a close relation to Vishnu.  What you

might be I couldn't say, and it may be possible that even

you couldn’t say.  You could be another mother, a father, an

uncle, a best friend, or even another Ten. Maybe some day

there will arrive a great soul who will take the album in

his or her hands and be able to enter all the thousands of

pictures and then say, "What's next?"  However, on ^, the

tests you pass are the ones you fail to pass.

End of Entry. Universal Time 00:00:00Respectfully submitted,

Jeffrey Hawk     

Journal Entry 1,559Role Models to Help Facilitate the Getting Ready Process

Living in Harmony with Your Planet

 

Positive role models can help inspire travelers to go

their way in love and in light.  Tony would never claim to

be a role model.  He is going to be 92 this year, but I bet

he is stronger and smarter than most people half his age. 

Tony isn’t a fanatic about anything, but he lives each

moment as if it were a total consecration to the truth and

beauty within him.  By the way, he is the one who taught me

how to cook.

End of Journal Entry   Universal Time: 00:00:00Respectfully submitted,Jeffrey Hawk 

 

Chapter Six

Dandelions

It was an April Sunday morning when Jeff awoke on World

I.  He stretched for a few moments, showered and dressed. He

was rather happy this particular morning because the night

before he had taken Tammy to dinner and although he only got

a kiss good night out of it, she promised to have dinner at

his place.  Today she was getting her hair and nails

done...After dinner they were going to watch Sleepless in

Seattle together on television. He had already mentioned

that he has only one tube...in the bedroom. Yeah, he knew

where that was headed...Exxcelllent!

 After downing a quick cup of tangerine juice, Jeff

returned to the bathroom and lathered up his face for a

shave.  With his razor in hand, Jeff went in the living room

to turn on the news.  As he pushed the remote button, he

happened to glance out the window. A slight breeze moved the

curtains and gently played about the sill as Jeff noticed a

senior gentleman crouched over on the sidewalk.  At first,

it looked as if he was tying his shoelace.  However, after a

few seconds, Jeff became curious and went outside to see

what he was doing. 

Jeff volunteered, “Hello, neighbor; I’m Jeff.”  The man

straightened up and pulled the dirt off a dandelion root he

had just dug up in the small patch of grass between the

sidewalk and the street, “Most people know me as Tony.” 

Jeff had soap on half of his face, “What are you doing with

weeds?” He drew the razor down his cheek in small

increments, which was his habit when shaving. Tony wielded

his penknife and carefully uprooted another dandelion.  As

his fingers worked the soil from the roots, he replied,

“These are very good in a salad.”

Bending over again, Tony grabbed a hold of a clump of

green leaves and dug around the plant with his penknife,

carefully uprooted it and brushed the soil from the roots. 

Jeff asked, “How do they taste?” and Tony explained,

“These greens are bitter, but they give strength to the

body.” Jeff was slightly curious, “Do you boil or steam

them?”  Tony shook the greens to remove any stubborn dirt,

“They are eaten raw.  When I get home, I am going to wash

them thoroughly, cut them up and make a tossed salad with

some tomato, cucumber and romaine lettuce.  Then I’ll add a

splash of vinegar and olive oil.”

Jeff winced, “I don’t like bitter foods.” Tony smiled

and held the greens up for Jeff to examine, “In this state,

they’re quite abominable.  But after they’re prepared in a

tossed salad, the taste is very agreeable...I guess you

could say it grows on you.”  Jeff replied, “Interesting. 

I’ve never tried dandelion greens.” Tony suggested, “If you

aren’t busy at 1:00, stop by my place and have lunch.” He

handed him a card.  It was a standard-sized business card,

but the particulars were hand written in pencil.  Jeff read,

Tony

Above the Bar

 

In a confused gesture, Jeff waved the card around,

“What street do you live on?  Which bar?”  Tony replied as

he shook the a fresh clump of dandelion roots, “Don’t worry,

you’ll find it.”  Jeff was perplexed for a second but soon

convinced himself, “Yeah, he’s senile...I’ll humor him.” 

“Thanks Tony.”  He was as nonchalant about it as possible

and slid the card into his top shirt pocket.  Tony looked

strangely at him and said, “Then you accept.”  Jeff nodded,

“Yes, of course.”

The rest of the morning, Jeff spent mulling through the

Sunday Times and dozed off in his easy chair.  It was 

twelve noon when his doorbell rang, “Jeff wondered, “Who

could that be?” I didn’t make any plans for company.” He

opened the door and his next-door neighbor, a woman, named

Tilley with three children.  She cried frantically, “My

husband Nicky is at the airport to be picked up, but my car

won’t start and what am I to do now?” Jeff asked, “What’s

wrong with it?” “I think the battery is dead or something.

My husband is going to be very upset if I don’t pick him up,

and I’m very worried.” Jeff locked the door behind him,

“Common, I’ll start your car.” 

However, he soon realized that starting Tilley’s car

was not a possibility since neither of them had jumper

cables.  He had loaned his to a friend, never got them back

and didn’t care to ask for them. He made another mental note

to pick up a new pair of cables. Jeff reached in his pocket

for his keys, “Common, I’ll take you in my car.”

Tilley jumped up and down with elation, “You don’t know

how much I appreciate that you are taking me to pick up my

husband; it means a lot to me.” “I wasn’t doing anything

anyway,” Jeff commented nonchalantly.  Tilley exploded, “No!

When a nice person, such as yourself offers to do a big

favor like this, it is really something and...”

Jeff waved his hand, “Please, it’s okay.” But Tilley

was picking up speed and spoke rapidly, “What a nice,

thoughtful and caring person you are, Jeff.  I knew I could

count on you for help and...blah, blah, blah.” She followed

him with her three kids, Nicholas Louis Theodore Junior,

Joseph Arnold Portnoy Thomas, and Anthony Paul Francis

Xavier.  The kids climbed into the back seat, and Tilley sat

next to Jeff.

“You know, Jeffrey, I never get out much except to

drive the kids here and there or to do shopping or go on

errands.  When’s the last time I have been out of the house

to do anything for me?  It’s always for the kids and my

husband. When is the last time I did anything for me? I

can’t tell you. Go ahead. Give me a million dollars and I

still can’t tell you, blah, blah, blah.”

     Jeff said a little sternly, “Okay, Tilley! Now if you

don’t mind, I need to concentrate on driving” and started

the engine. Tilley continued, “You know I always demand that

my kids remain absolutely silent when I’m driving or trying

to read the directions on a box of macaroni or whatever and

what have you.  My husband works hard for the money and God

forbid, the dinner didn’t turn out right.  You know he

deserves a good cooked...blah, blah, blah.” 

     In the moment of Tilley’s emergency, Jeff forgot about

Tilley’s gift for gab but remembered it soon enough as he

thought “What a motor mouth!”  Often, he peeped out the

living room window and waited until she was in the house

before taking out his garbage or getting his mail from the

mailbox. What was worse, Tilley had the irritating habit of

shouting intermittent exclamations like, “Wow! Hey!

Alright!” and “Been there, done that!” over such

trivialities as removing junk mail from her mailbox.  But

now he was driving her to the airport to pick up her

husband. 

As Jeff pulled away from the curb, she screeched,

“Nicholas Louis Theodore Junior, Joseph Arnold Portnoy

Thomas, and Anthony Paul Francis Xavier! Fasten your seat

belts right this minute or I’ll thrash you a good one!

Nicholas Louis Theodore Junior, Joseph Arnold Portnoy

Thomas, and Anthony Paul Francis Xavier! Did you hear me?!” 

The smallest child said, “We are doing it mommy! Don’t

yell!”

Tilley bellowed, “Did I tell you to talk back to me? 

What is Mr. Hawk going to think...my kids are back sassing

me? I don’t know what to with these kids.  First came

Nicholas Louis Theodore Junior seven years ago, and I was

only eighteen years old.  God was that labor terrible!  I

groaned and moaned.  Thought I was going to die with that

one!  He weighed in at 10 pounds, two ounces.”

Tilley pulled the sun visor down, “My husband told me

that I didn’t have a baby;  I had an oven roaster turkey

with all the stuffing.  And the stuffing blew out all over

the doctor and the nurses.  You know what I’m saying...the

after birth.  You should have seen it.  Looks like blood and

snot. Some tribes...nomadic tribes in Australia...you know

that out back people...they eat the after birth. Probably

tastes good to them. They eat grubs too.  I saw it on

Discovery Channel.  Did you catch that one? I know they put

it in creams and hair lotions over here.  It’s good for the

skin.  Placenta extra it’s called.  I couldn’t eat mine. 

The nurses swabbed it up before I had time to think about

it.” Jeff felt queasy and gritted his teeth as he thought,

“Don’t say anything to encourage her.”

She pulled on the visor and it snapped off, falling

onto her lap. Tilley held the mirrored visor up to her

face,  “My water broke early, and I had to give dry birth. 

For twenty-eight hours I suffered.  One contraction after

another.  A whole day of it.  And you think you can sleep in

between the contractions?  I was too busy screaming in

pain.  Besides, my favorite soaps were on and I can’t miss

those. My husband doesn’t like soaps.”

Tilley applied some lip-gloss which was tied to a long

cord that hung about her neck.  “Do you remember when Missy

the home wrecker on Once in a Life Time was cheating on Hank

the brain surgeon and he was in love with her younger

sister, Betty, who was in rehab and pregnant with Hank’s

father’s sextuplets?  I almost blew the baby out right then

and there when Missy found Hank and Betty bouncing on the

sheets.”

One of the kids sneezed and there was a muffled giggle

coming from the back seat followed by a whispered “Shush!” 

Tilley belted out, “What’s going on back there? Do I have to

undo my seat belt and turn around to see what’s going on?  I

don’t want to hear another peep out of you!” Jeff said, “God

bless you before he could stop himself.”

Tilley whined, “I wish someone would have blessed me

when the crown of the baby’s head was showing, and I begged

the doctor to give me something for the pain.  But he said I

was too far-gone and the baby would come any second.  What a

long second, Jeff...what a long second.  Have you ever given

birth?  No, of course not. You’re a man. How would you know?

Do you think it’s a picnic going through labor?”

She tossed the visor on the floor at her feet, “My

husband said, ‘You can pop one out with no problem.  My

mother had seven kids and I want a son.’ Now he has three

sons, but I did all the work.  Did you know how long I was

in labor with my second? Go ahead. Take a guess.  Jeff?  I’m

TALKING to YOU!”

     Jeff tried to get her to calm down, “I guess Newark

Airport will be a little crowded because of the weekend.”

Tilley blasted his ears, “Newark?!  My husband is at

Kennedy!” “Oh.” He began to feel desperation filling his gut

because Newark Airport would have been a thirty-minute ride,

but Kennedy was more like two hours with traffic. 

Tilley exclaimed, “Sorry about the visor. I’ll have my

husband fix it for you.”  Jeff retorted, “I can fix it

myself.”  Tilley turned the radio on loud and tuned into a

rap station and rapped to the rap, “You neva’ know what, if

you neva’ put up. Alright! Alright! Groove to the move, take

the slack off your back, Jack!  Tune up your steel, Mack. 

Smooth your lube and get a move or your b b b b b b b b b b

b b b or your b b b b b b b b won’t be a comin’ back.  Quit

dealin’ crap, that ain’t where it’s at. It’s a jab in crack

rehab then off to the slab if you don’t forget ta lose the

stuff that you puff.  You’re a man in the slam by the heat,

you got beat and your b b b b b b b b b b b b b b won’t be a

comin’ back ‘cause she’s inta my sack, Jack!” Tilley turned

the volume up more, “I just love good music! I’ll have to

get the CD for my husband.” The loud sound made Jeff wince,

“Tilley, please turn the radio off.” 

Tilley brightened, “Okay, we can talk instead.” Jeff

grasped the wheel hard and almost drove onto the curb, “No! 

I mean, that was a good station, but it was too loud.” 

Tilley ignored him, “It’s been a hard morning with the kids

and doing laundry and all. Oh my God, I hope I’m not getting

my peer-re-ot!”  Nicholas Louis Theodore Junior, Joseph

Arnold Portnoy Thomas, and Anthony Paul Francis Xavier had

to be washed and dressed.  Like today is different than any

other.  And right in the middle of my wash load I run out of

Tide.  The bottles keep getting smaller and smaller and the

prices keep going up and up.”

Jeff tried to interject, “Please not now.  You can talk

at the airport.”  Tilley responded with, “You can’t tell me

the soap is THAT concentrated!  What do they think I am, a

moron!  And it always says improved.  What the hell was it

before?  What did they use before it was improved and how

improved can it be?  Grass stains still don’t come out. 

Man, if I am getting my peer-re-ot, I hope I don’t get

cramps.  You  don’t want to see me on cramps! And you know

what, those commercial people are a bunch of crooks.  That’s

what they are.  Big time crooks rakin’ in an extra ten cents

on every bottle of soap every year.  You do the math.” 

Jeff sighed and Tilley continued, “And bread is three

dollars if you don’t want it white and raw.  I can’t give my

kids Wonder Bread. It’s like Playdough when you squeeze it. 

If you can’t squeeze your bread, Jeff...you know, the way

Mr. Whipple used to squeeze the Charmin before he had a

coronary?”

No response came from Jeff but Tilley wasn’t concerned,

“I heard the old geezer was bopping his next door neighbor

like Spencer and Tracy.  My husband likes Spencer and Tracy

movies. You know the thing about the girl next door.  Every

man is in love with the girl next door.  What do you think

Jeff? 

My husband works the night shift.  That reminds me, I

gotta get a new shower head.  The old one got worn out.  Mr.

Whipple, the old koot. Imagine him doin’ his neighbor.  I

think it’s cute for two neighbors to be doin’ it, but at his

age, what was he thinkin’?  Would you be boinkin’ a twenty

five year old hot chick if you were an old fart, even if you

were a commercial television star and made lots of cash?”

Tilley removed a small vial of perfume from her bra and

put some behind her ears and on her wrists, “It’s vanilla

scent. Drives every man wild...mimics female sex

hormones...you know, down there. My husband can’t keep his

hands off me when I wear it, especially after he’s had a

few.” She stuffed the vial back into her bra and screamed,

“Do you like soft doughy bred, Jeff? I can’t work with it.”

Jeff pretended he didn’t hear as Tilley put her hands

out and made fists, “You got to squeeze it and make sure

it’s good and firm, or when you put the peanut butter on,

the bread tears apart.  And then all you have is peanut

butter in between your fingers.  It’s like changing a

diaper.  Have you ever changed a diaper and got it under

your finger nails?” Jeff cringed, “Please, Tilley! I’m

trying to drive, and you’re distracting me.  I need to

concentrate.” Tilley continued, “Peanut butter makes me

think of baby poo poo.  Yeah, you got to put it on good

hard, solid bread or the peanut butter rips it to pieces

which reminds me of my third pregnancy.”

Jeff asked again as politely as he could manage,

“Please, I’m trying to drive and need a little cooperation

here.  Tilley exclaimed, “Don’t worry, hon.  I’m not a back

seat driver.  My husband cured me of that. Wow, was my third

pregnancy the worst in history!  I could compare it to my

cousin Gertrude’s third, but I’ll fill you in on all the

details about Gertrude when I’m done telling you about what

I thought was triplets...was I big!  And when I say big, I

mean humongous big not just big big.  After that, my husband

agreed that it was okay for me to get my tubes tied.  Do you

know what he calls me when we snuggle up?  Lincoln Tunnel. 

My youngest was fourteen pounds two ounces.  It’s always the

two ounces that do the worst harm in the end.”

The light turned red and Jeff unrolled the window.

Tilley turned the radio on but yelled over it, “My doctor

put me on a diet, but I couldn’t stop eating like a horse. 

It was Chinese this and Italian that and Mexican this and

American junk food that.  I’m not into pickles and ice

cream.  I hate pickles and ice cream.  Have you ever met a

woman who ate a pickle sundae? I’d sooner have a chocolate-

tuna shake or a gizzard on rye.  Speaking of which, we can

stop at MacDonalds on the way back.  I heard they’re using

gene parts of mosquitoes and spiders to keep the potatoes

and vegetables longer...gives them longer shelf life. I

think it’s cool...like little surprises in your Happy Meal.”

Jeff uttered involuntarily, “I know and it’s revolting.

I’m going completely organic.” Tilley was unconcerned, “It’s

called gene engineering or gene splicing or something. Makes

me hungry.  Sure God made the veggies and spiders to live

side by side, but if you can get a tomato or potato that is

bigger, who cares if there’s a mosquito gene or rhesus

monkey in it?  Is that where those peanut butter cups come

from?  Who cares? We grew up with gummy worms and gummy

bugs...what’s the difference? And do you really care what

will happen 50 years from now? I’ll be in Florida. By then,

the strawberries will be as big as watermelon. Yum! Now, let

me tell you all about Gertrude’s complications...we got tons

of time to shoot.”

Jeff panicked and pulled into a gas station about three

miles into the trip. He had to get out of the car and used

any excuse, “I must use the men’s room. Please excuse me.”

He sprang out of the car with the motor still running and

darted into the station to get the restroom key. 

A minute later, Jeff stood in front of the stall, put

his hands on his head and began pulling hard on his hair

with both fists, “Common, think!  I can’t handle her mouth

all the way to Kennedy and back. She’s driving me crazy!” 

     Pacing the floor, Jeff looked at himself in the

scratchy mirror and noticed a slight nick on his jaw from

shaving, “Blood!”  Without hesitating, Jeff attempted

something outrageous.  He made a fist and tried to punch

himself in the nose. He figured that he could excuse himself

from driving and take a cab home. Tilley could take his car.

It was his only way out. “Okay, here goes.” He tapped his

nose slightly and yelled, “Ow!”  He paced the floor, “I’ve

got to psyche myself up.  What’s worse, a bloody nose or

Tilley’s mouth all the way to Kennedy and back?” He made a

fist and held his breath. Then again, “Now!” and then “Okay,

this time, this is it!” and...“Common, Jeff. You can do

this.” But lo and behold, he couldn’t make his fist hit his

nose any harder than a ping-pong ball.

     After about ten minutes passed, Tilley banged on the

bathroom door, “Jeff, what’s going on?  What are you doing

in there? Are you all right? Don’t you know my husband is

waiting for me at the airport and...blah, blah, blah.”  Jeff

was frozen with fear.  He was not a good liar by anyone’s

standards and knew he had only one chance to escape Tilley’s

mouth. Yes! He had a chance but sighed, “There are many

unforeseen events affecting each and every one of us at any

given moment in the universe.”  Bang! Bang! Bang! “What are

you mumbling about in there? What about the universe?! Open

this door immediately!”

Jeff raised his voice, “I’m sorry Tilley, but I have a

nose bleed. You can take the car and go on without me.” 

Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!     

“Open the door this instant, do you hear me?”  Jeff felt his

body tingle with adrenalin, “I can’t drive with my head

tilted back.  I have a nosebleed. There is text missing

here, comptuter glitch, fix. easff literally quaked

in his running shoes, but took several deep breaths and held

his ground, “No. The gas tank’s full. I insist you take the

car.”  Tilley screeched, “Jeffrey Hawk! You come out of

there this instant! I forgot my purse and don’t have a

license on me!” Jeff almost cried, “You don’t need me!  I

promise to pay for any and all tickets, fines or points. 

Please just go.”

Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Bang! Bang! Bang! Pound!

Pound! Pound! Pound! “I can’t go to the airport by myself. 

Louis Theodore Junior, Joseph Portnoy Arnold, and Anthony

Francis Xavier! Get back in the car this instant and SIT

THERE!”  Jeff shuddered, “Why, Tilley? Why can’t you go to

the airport by yourself?  I know you can drive, and my car

is automatic.” She snarled, “Will you open the door before I

lose my temper...and believe me, you don’t want to see

that.  Just open the door and talk to me.” Jeff improvised,

“I can’t open the door right now.” Tilley shrieked, “And why

not, Jeff?” 

At this point he was badly browbeaten, “I’m using the

toilet.” He felt his face turning red. Bang! Bang! “Jeff, I

can hear that you are right by the door.” Jeff fidgeted,

“Yes. It’s a small bathroom and I’m going.”  Tilley

screeched, “You don’t sound like you’re going. I can hear

through the vent at the bottom of the door.”  “What are you

talking about?”  “I have kids, remember?  There’s no tinkle

sound.  When you make a pee pee, there is a tinkle sound in

the toilet.  Hey, you’re not pissing in the sink, are you?”

Jeff improvised again, “I’m doing something else...” A

huffy voice came through the door, “And what is it that you

are do-ing?” He cringed, “I’m relieving myself.” In total

consternation, Tilley singed her vocal cords, “Listen, Jeff,

if you expect me to believe you have a nose bleed and are

sitting on the toilet, going poo poo at the same time, I

just don’t buy it. O-pen the damn door at once!”

 Frantically, Jeff Screamed, “I am too going poo poo.

Why can’t you just take the car and go?”  Tilley paused for

a moment and replied blankly, “I don’t have any money for

tolls or parking, and my husband is waiting. I’ve got to see

my husband. I am going to have the door unlocked.” Jeff’s

heart almost stopped, “Wait!  Here’s my money!  He quickly

reached into his back pocket and yanked his wallet out.

The man of several worlds trembled and his hands shook

as he looked inside.  There was a 50-dollar bill and two

singles. “Tilley, I’m sliding a 50 dollar bill under the

door.  Take it with my blessings and go see your husband.”

There was silence for about ten seconds.

Jeff grew frantic and folded his hands, “Dear God!  I

don’t pray that much; please forgive me for any sins I may

have committed...I know I haven’t been to church lately, but

please don’t let her get the other key if there is another

key! Tilley?” Bang! Bang! Bang! Pound! Pound! Pound! This

time it was Jeff who pounded on the door in an attempt to

speak her language.  Bang! “Tilley? Pick up the bill at your

feet and go see your husband!” 

Thirty seconds passed and Tilley kicked the door once,

Bang! “Okay, Jeff.  But I don’t believe for one freakin’

minute that you got a nosebleed. I’m going to see my

husband.”

There was a faint sound like receding footsteps, “I

don’t trust her.” Jeff reclined on the toilet seat and tried

to compose himself.  Five minutes later, another knock at

the door startled him, “Sir!? This is the Police. Please

cooperate and slowly open the door, and step out of the

bathroom with your hands above your head.” Jeff was

stunned,  “The Police?! Why has Tilley called the police?”

Another rap sounded on the bathroom door, “Sir!  You’re

going to have to step out of the bathroom.” Jeff heard the

police officer talk on his radio, “We have a

situation...appears to be a domestic dispute.” Jeff yelled,

“There is no domestic dispute!”  At that point, he almost

felt relieved the police were there and decided he would

rather be arrested for suspicion than go with Tilley to the

airport.

Jeff heard a different man’s voice, “Hey, man! You

coming out or what?” It was the attendant, “Hey man, other

people gotta go, man! You can’t do that kind of thing here.

I run a respectful business.” Jeff sheepishly exited the

men’s room with a wad of tissue covering his nose.  The

police officer repeated, “Put your hands above your head and

face the wall.”  Jeff dropped the tissue and stood spread

eagled against the bathroom wall while his eyes darted

around for Tilley. “Honestly, officer.  This is all a

mistake.  All I wanted to do was use the bathroom.” 

The officer spoke into his radio after patting Jeff

down, “This is Officer O’Reilly.  The situation is under

control.” He told Jeff to turn around and asked, “Your lady

left you stranded, buddy?” Jeff was relieved, “She’s gone?” 

Officer O’Reilly nodded, “I’m sorry.”  Jeff was confused,

“Why are you here, officer?” O’Reilly adjusted his hat and

placed his radio on his belt, “Your woman caused a scene and

the attendant thought there was an altercation of some

kind.”

The attendant, Louie exclaimed, “After all that yelling

and kicking and banging, I didn’t know what to do.  All I

heard was ‘husband and blood and husband and blood’. I was

afraid to approach the scene.  And then I saw the woman jump

in the vehicle and drive off with you not in it, and I

called 911.” Officer O’Reilly said, “What is your relation

to the woman?”

Jeff felt silly, “She’s my next door neighbor, and I

was giving her a lift to the airport to pick up her husband,

but she went berserk.”  O’Reilly wrote some notes on his

clipboard.  “Do you want to file a complaint about your

stolen vehicle?” Jeff replied excitedly, “No! She can keep

the car!”  O’Reilly gave him a side-long glance and said,

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to see some kind of

identification.” 

A little frightened, Jeff took out his license,

registration and insurance card, “Officer, I told her she

could take the car by herself.” Officer O’Reilly wrote down

the particulars and gave Jeff his credentials back, “Try to

be a little more careful when offering someone a ride next

time.” Jeff exclaimed, “For crying out loud! She’s my

neighbor.  Can’t a person be neighborly?”

Officer O’Reilly replied, “After what I’ve seen in this

town, you have to know your neighbor at least a little

before allowing yourself to be placed in a vulnerable

position.” Jeff’s mouth fell open, “What are you TALKING

about?!” The officer patted the gun in his holster, “Sir!

You allowed an hysterical woman who you obviously do not

know as well as you think you do...you allowed a totally

hysterical woman with three small children to enter your

car, but did not think there would be a problem.” 

Jeff stumbled over his words, “But I’m a man, and she’s

a woman with three small children.  It just isn’t supposed

to turn out like this.”  Officer O’Reilly tapped his hat

slightly and looked at Jeff incredulously, “Precisely...and

with three small children.”  Jeff was incensed, “What are

you driving at, officer? I have no interest in that woman!” 

The officer lightened up, “Mr. Hawk.  That is not what I am

saying.” Jeff was perplexed, “What are you talking about

then?”

The officer confided, “Might I suggest that the next

time someone asks for a ride, see if they have any next of

kin who might be willing to help out first.  Did you know

that if you got in a vehicle accident that she could sue

you?” Jeff felt a little embarrassed, “I never thought of

that.” The officer continued, “Do you have insurance for

another driver?”

Jeff’s eyes opened wider, “No.” O’Reilly asked, “Just

what do you think will happen with your insurance if she or

her children become hurt in your car?” Jeff nodded, “I

see.”  O’Reilly added, “What if she hit another vehicle or

struck a pedestrian?” Jeff understood the seriousness of the

situation, “You’re right.  I have to be more careful.”

The officer looked at Jeff, sizing him up, “It seems to

me that you make a lot of decisions on the spare of the

moment.” His words shocked Jeff to the core of his being,

“How do you know that?” The officer laughed, “Don’t worry,

I’m not a psychic. What you did here today points to your

general personality profile. Single male, intelligent,

spontaneous...a little too spontaneous at times.”

Jeff questioned, “How do you know that?” The officer

replied, “Simple. You let that woman take your car and leave

you stranded three miles from your home.  That’s not

premeditated is it?” Jeff said, “No.” O’Reilly said, “I’ve

been an officer of the law for thirty two years, and I’ve

seen all kinds.  You name it.  And there’s one thing I

know.” 

Jeff combed his fingers through his hair and asked,

“What’s that?” The officer patted Jeff on the back, “Other

people’s business.  And in all my thirty-two years on the

police force, I have never seen anyone act with such

spontaneity as you did today. Now how will you get home.

Have you thought about that?”  Jeff opened his eyes wide,

“Don’t worry about me.  I can walk from here.  It’s only a

few miles.”

Officer O’Reilly nodded as he glanced at Jeff’s feet,

“You have your jogging shoes on.  Okay, Mr. Hawk. But in the

future, try to think a little the next time you feel like

making any snap decisions and try to stay out of trouble.”

Jeff felt relieved, “Okay, officer. Thanks.” 

He put his credentials back into his wallet and glanced

at the spot where he had parked his car, and the attendant

said, “Your woman up and left you man; fight or no fight,

you took too long.”  Jeff felt euphoric, “Thank You, Jesus!”

“Yeah, she got a big mouth and you used the bat’ room for a

cathedral.  Looks like your prayers are answered.

Jeff walked down the street and noticed sparrows

twittering in the eves of a house, “Free! Free! This is how

Frederick Douglass must have felt when he escaped his insane

captors.” Jeff didn’t know exactly where he was because

Tilley’s mouth distracted him and he had made a few wrong

turns when she mentioned Kennedy Airport. 

“Let’s see...I have a general sense of where I’m

going.” He turned right and left and right and decided to

stop in a corner store and grab a Cherry Coke.  Across the

street from the store was a pay phone and as he walked

towards it, he noticed a bar with an apartment above it a

few buildings down, “No. Impossible.”

Inserting a quarter into the machine, Jeff dialed 411,

but heard a slightly familiar voice behind him, “Hello,

Jeff. Glad you’re on time.” He turned around and it was

Tony. Jeff was amazed, “Tony, I wasn’t sure you lived here.”

Tony looked at him as if to tell him that that level of

conversation was unnecessary.  Jeff remained silent and

glanced at his watch.  It was 1:00. This was the first time

Jeff had lunch at Tony’s.      

 Since that day, Tony has been showing Jeff many things

about vegetables.  At first, Jeff didn’t care for the taste

of the ones Tony chose, especially bitter melon, which Tony

regularly purchased at a Chinese grocery store. Tony said,

“Cut up bitter vegetables and add them to rice or soup as

well.” Jeff ventured, “And make sure to add bones and beef

or chicken stock.”  Tony didn’t answer and Jeff was puzzled,

“Don’t you add bones or meat?”

 Tony shook his head, “I don’t care for it.”  Jeff

thought out loud, “I guess when you get older, you can’t

digest it.” Tony took half a dozen raw almonds and popped

them into his mouth, “I can digest a tank; meat contaminates

the body, but don’t let me influence you; I’m not a

preacher.” 

Jeff asked, “How is meat bad for you?” Tony replied

flatly, “As soon as an animal is killed, it becomes a

corpse, and what is dead rots.  There is no such thing as

fresh meat...only fresh kill.  And those who eat meat, eat

the animal’s diseases and health problems.”  Jeff was

stunned, “I’ve read something about food dyes, antibiotics,

growth hormones, carcinogens and mad cow proteins that can’t

be destroyed by any amount of cooking.”  Tony replied, “I

won’t interfere with your preferences, Jeff, but I stay away

from it.”

    Tony never told Jeff to quit smoking, drinking or

eating meat, but his example gradually rubbed off on him. 

Jeff became more focused in Tony’s presence and felt foolish

doing things like that around him.

     As Jeff walked home, he remembered his date with

Tammy and stopped at a cash machine to get some money for

groceries, flowers, candy, a scented candle for the bedroom

and a few bottles of good wine.  Tammy was coming over in

four hours, and Jeff thanked God that he had a spare house

key hidden in his mailbox.  He had just enough time to make

everything perfect.

     It was 4:00 p.m.  Tammy had gotten her hair done

earlier and was just finished with her manicure.  She exited

the small Oriental Nail Salon on Halsey Street and glanced

in the quaint shop windows as she walked leisurely to her

car thinking of Jeff. “He’s such a nice, handsome man.  I

know I’m about ten years older than Jeff, but he doesn’t

seem to care.  At least, I hope he doesn’t mind.  I know I

mentioned that I’m 41.  We look good together anyway.  Who

cares now a days, common.” 

     Tammy glanced in a window and saw a woman at a table

talking to a woman in her twenties.  The window had bright

red letters painted across it, “Special today!  Readings

only $2.00.”  Tammy walked past it and looked in a shoe

store.  “No, forget it. I’ve heard rumors about those

places.”

     However, in spite of her rational response to the

situation, Tammy walked back to the window and looked at the

woman reading a fortune.  The lady looked up, smiled at

Tammy and waved her to come in.  Tammy was in a good mood

and thought, “What can it hurt?” as she descended the three

steps into the small room.  There were a few statues of

saints on a small table in the corner.  The rest of the room

consisted of three wooden folding chairs and a folding card

table.  Tammy took the empty seat. Madame bid her, “Make

yourself comfortable. I’ll be with you in one minute.” 

Madame finished up with her present customer who was a young

woman she was reading for, “That’s all. $2.00 and see me

next week...” 

     There was a smaller room in back of that one which was

separated by plastic hanging beads.  Tammy glanced into the

room that was about 8 x 10’ and noticed a dim red light

burning and the end of a single bed which protruded slightly

into view.  She adjusted the her necklace as she heard the

squeak of what sounded like a badly over-used mattress. 

Someone had been lying down and shuffled to their feet. 

Tammy looked away as a large man with a mustache exited the

room. As he walked past her, their eyes met for a fraction

of a second.  Brown. Deep. Mysterious eyes. She looked away

in haste, blushing.

     He started to walk up the stairs, but the Madame called

him back.  This is my son, Oogie.  Master Oogie Balooga.  He

is 21 years old and is strong like an ox.  My name is Madame

Loofa Balooga. Oogie nodded to Tammy and exited before she

could introduce herself. The other woman was ignored in the

introduction, noticed it and grabbed her purse in a huff.

     Madame snapped at the young woman as she turned to

leave, “If you ever want your man to come back to you,

you’ve got to let me do work for you.  I must take the

terrible curse your cousin placed on you and put it in a box

and bury it up in Canada where it won’t be able to reach

you.”  The woman wavered, “I don’t know. What about the poor

people in Canada?”

Madame was terse, “Who do you want it to be, you or the

Canadian women to end up walking around manless?  Who cares

about Canadians anyway?  A country that fixes everything

with duct tape deserves what it gets.”  The young woman

thought for a moment but then nodded, “I’ll be back next

week with the money.”

     Madame turned to Tammy and said, “Come sit here.  I can

see that you want the $2.00 reading.”  Tammy exclaimed,

“Yes, that’s true!”  Madame continued, “I can also see that

you have man troubles.”  Tammy became suspicious.  “What man

troubles?  I have a date tonight!”

     Madame dug, “Yes, but it won’t last because you have a

curse on you.”  Tammy shook her head, “No.  That’s not

true.”  Madame Balooga got serious, “Oh really? Isn’t it

true that your last man left you flat?”  She carefully

watched her mark’s face, and sure enough, it had suddenly

fallen.  She continued to grill her, “Isn’t it also true

that...sit down here and show me your left palm.”

   Tammy stumbled to the other chair at the table. “Look at

this line.  It means that your last man and you were

together, but he left you and made life hell for you.  Isn’t

that true?” Tammy stammered, “Yes, he did.”  “You cared a

lot for this man.”  A flood of feelings came rushing forward

that Tammy hadn’t anticipated. 

Tears feel silently as she nodded in agreement. The

woman peered into her eyes, “I see your very soul. You are a

very good person, and you always try to be strong by acting

like you are happy.  But inside you are not happy.  Because

of this man who hurt you.  You are strong for others, but no

one is strong for you.”  Tammy looked at Madame Loofa

Balooga in utter astonishment, “Yes! Yes! It’s all true. 

How do you know this?” 

Madame sat back in her chair, “We are Gypsies.  It is

our business to know. We have the gift, but you have a

curse.” Tammy shook her head in disbelief, “But who would

want to put a curse on me?” Madame shuffled the cards and

told Tammy to pick one.  “You see?  You have jealous

friends.  A man and a woman have put a curse on you.”  “Who?

What man? What woman?  What curse?” Mrs. Balooga hissed

through clenched teeth, “They put a curse on you to turn you

gay.”

Tammy burst out laughing and wiped her eyes on a

Kleenex Triple-Ply tissue with aloe and rare botanical

extracts.  “Oh. For a minute, I thought it was something

serious.  I’m not gay although I kissed my best friend once

in fifth grade when we were practicing spin the bottle at a

pajama party.  I didn’t even enjoy it, and I assure you I’m

not gay nor will I ever be.” 

Madame drew another card. “You will end up gay unless

you have the spell removed. I can help you.” Tammy said,

“Don’t worry; I’m as straight as six o’ clock.”  Madame

frowned, “Unless you make love with a red hot-blooded 100%

pure Gypsy man in his prime, you will end up gay.” Tammy

spouted, “That’s ridiculous! Besides...I don’t know any

Gypsy men.”

Madame jutted her head towards the window.  Oogie stood

in plain view and turned his face to the left. Tammy

involuntarily traced his cameo with her eyes.  Oogie was

strikingly handsome, tall, sturdy and rugged.  She couldn’t

help but notice his handsome mustache, full, sensuous lips,

intelligent brow and adorable cheeks. 

Oogie slowly turned his head toward the street, and she

noticed his dark brown hair that had a slight wave to it. 

His hair was just starting to curl a little behind his ears,

and Tammy suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to cuddle him.

She tried to keep the thought from forming in her mind but

it was too spontaneous, “He looks really kissy.  Those

cheeks.  Those suspenders...”

Oogie took a fat cigar out of his pocket and Madame

briskly said, “Excuse me.” She darted up the stairs to talk

to him.  Tammy overheard Madame Loofa remark, “No. Don’t

smoke now. I want you to smell nice for her.”  Oogie ignored

the command and struck a match.  He slowly raised it to his

mouth with a certain air of defiance and gave her a look as

if he had it all under control.

In a huff, Madame descended the stairs, more perturbed

that Oogie had ignored her request than the fact that he

would smell like putrid burned tobacco residue. She smiled

to herself as she thought, “No woman can resist Oogie. If he

were a homeless man living in a garbage dumpster, he would

be in a Park Avenue penthouse the moment any woman of means

noticed those eyes, those lips, those adorable cheeks.”

Madame Loofa took her seat, “You have a serious curse

and must not delay.” Tammy ventured, “I am sleeping with my

new boyfriend Jeff tonight after we watch Sleepless in

Seattle.  He is not a Gypsy, but I think he is part Irish or

something. Will that help break the spell?” 

Madame gathered her cards together and folded a silk

cloth around them, “No, and if you go to bed with Jeff, you

will be sleepless in New Jersey but not from satisfaction.” 

Tammy sputtered, “How do you know that?”  Madame retorted,

“His name has no staying power. Ha! What kind of silly name

is Jeff?  Sounds like a peanut butter. Do you want to be

bedded down with a sandwich spread?  That’s

disgusting...ugh!” Tammy exclaimed, “Jeff’s a beautiful

name.” 

Madame sighed, “But it’s not manly...or sexy enough for

a real woman such as yourself.  Now Oogie is the kind of

name that just keeps on giving.  Real staying power. He will

make beautiful love with you all afternoon and all night

long until the sun comes up. And I don’t have to mention the

magic number of Balooga, do I?”  In spite of herself, Tammy

was intrigued, “What magic number?” Madame gave Tammy a

wink, “Think in big round numbers.  What number do you come

up with?” Tammy thought of the first round number that was

big. She thought of the round zero in ten. “Is the magic

number ten?” 

Madame nodded, “Oogie is ten and three quarters.” 

Tammy gasped.  Madame continued, “But with Jeff, what kind

of loving do you think a funky, smelly wad of peanut

butter...oh, forget it.  I am all out of metaphors and

hyperboles. It has to be a Gypsy or the spell will never be

broken.  And it has to be in the next twenty-four hours.” 

Tammy was dazed, “Why does it have to be in the next twenty-

four hours?” 

Oogie snuffed his cigar out on the stair handrail and

went into the back room.  Tammy could hear him testing the

mattress.  The springs squeaked louder than she could ever

imagine any mattress springs could squeak under any

circumstances.  Oogie squeaked and squeaked and continued to

squeak the mattress, squeaking louder and louder, squeaking

faster and faster, squeaking... and... squeaking...and guess

what?  Correct! 

Well! Tammy was a very good girl and wanted to be

faithful to Jeff who had taken her out to a show and to

dinner and to drinks and to the movies and dancing and to

another dinner and drinks and another show and movie, but

Oogie was squeaking with such confidence and energy that

Tammy forgot herself and moaned, Aaaauuuuuuhhhhhh!”

Quickly realizing that she was slipping away, Tammy

clutched the cardboard table and dug her fingernails into it

until they almost bled and screamed aloud to herself, “Stop,

you bitch!” and tried hard to suppress her feminine call of

the wild that reached across the short distance between her

chair and Oogie’s bed.  Oogie heard her moan. No miracle

that he had heard it; he had engineered it. 

Now, the squeaking became insanely hard and fast and

furious as Oogie took squeaking to a whole new level:

Squeak! Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK

Squeak! Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!

The chalk-board wall separating the two rooms shook. Tammy

took her three-ply tissue and nervously wiped her forehead

and neck.

Still it continued: SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak! Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!!! The plastic beaded curtain trembled and the rod that held it swung

downward, causing the beads to slap Tammy’s thigh. She could

tell that Master Oogie Balooga was now gyrating his hips as

the sounds became more descriptive: Squeak! Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak!  SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK! Squeak! Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak!

SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!

The statues of saints danced up and down like Krishna

devotees on the table in the corner. Squeak!

Squeak! Squeak! Suddenly, the squeaking caused them to jump off the table and land at Tammy’s feet.  SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak!  SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK! Squeak! Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK

SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak! SQUEAK Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK Squeak! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK

SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK… Squeak!!! Tammy thought the bed must collapse any second or

Oogie’s head must hit the ceiling! As if on cue, a street-

sweeper machine brushed its bristles down the

street...spurting water shamelessly. Tammy said out loud to

herself, “Please...think about good old Jeff.” But alas! The

thought of peanut butter turned her off.

Madame, who had taken an undergraduate course in

classical conditioning studies in humans in order to

increase her powers of persuasion, smiled to herself.  She

took a long, confident breath and continued matter of

factly, as if the two of them were well-polished British

ladies having tea on holiday, riding the Oriental Express,

“There are a lot of rich women who are going crazy to see my

son.  They are willing to pay $2,000 for just a few hours

with Oogie.  He is a big man.  A big, very big, stout,

strong, young, hot-blooded, insatiably passionate man. And

you saw with your eyes how handsome he is!  You hear with

your ears, how horny he is. To boot, he is extremely

affectionate because I babied him all his life.  You can

noodle him up constantly, and he’ll never be bored with it! 

Don’t settle for a damn lap poodle for affection.” 

Tammy exclaimed breathlessly, “I don’t even own a

poodle...I don’t know what it means to noodle.” Madame

implored, “Listen. You don’t want to end up as a gay chick

with a poodle on your lap.  Now what kind of life is that

for a woman?”  Tammy replied sternly, “We aren’t even

allowed to have pets where I live, and I am not planning on

getting a poodle!” She tried hard to get her breathing back

to normal.

Madame slid a piece of Double Mint gum from the pack

into her mouth and offered a piece to Tammy.  Tammy took the

gum; her fingers trembled as she slid the gum out of the

wrapper. Madame gently picked up the saints and placed them

lying down on the table. She stepped closer to Tammy,

“Oogie is what no woman can resist--a triple Plutonian

Scorpio. Triple Venus in everything...exceedingly strong,

yet affectionate. A triple Mars in his eighth house of

steamy, hot, perpetual sex...He can take care of any number

of women. A mench, if you will. Do you have any idea what

that means in terms of lust and machismos?”

Tammy stuttered, “Wa-women pay $2,000? I can’t afford

that.”  Madame quickly pulled Tammy from the chair which

folded and collapsed to the floor as she stood up.  The

cardboard table, which bore the imprints of Tammy’s nails,

wobbled as the chair banged hard against it. “Don’t worry.”

Madame confided. “Oogie loves to help remove evil spells for

free when women can’t pay.”

Tammy exclaimed, “For free? I didn’t know it was that

wide-spread.” Madame lost her patience, “What the hell is it

now?  What wide-spread?” Tammy asked, “Do that many rich

women also have a spell on them to turn them gay and

purchase lap dogs?”  Madame Balooga looked at Tammy

incredulously as she nudged her into the back room and

replied dryly, “Yes...”

Madame turned over the sign on the window to “CLOSED”,

locked the door and went home to be with her husband. Later

that night, Jeff ate dinner alone, watched Sleepless in

Seattle by himself, got a little drunk and went to bed.

   During the next several hours, Jeff tossed and

turned but couldn’t stop thinking about Tammy and her

freckles...how he wanted to play connect the dots, look for

buried treasure, and be where no man had ever ventured

before. In frustration and anger, he twisted himself up in

the sheets.

As he lay bound, he noticed that the night had become 

very hot and sultry...as if a mysterious something from

somewhere were generating torrid, sweltering, sizzling heat!

He felt it come in hot, successive waves.  Two bats flew

past his window...squeaking...

Jeff kept hoping Tammy would show up with some

explanation, anything would do, but he knew he was kidding

himself.  He had been stood up. In a huff, Jeff tore the

sheets off, jumped up and opened the windows on either side

of his bed and flopped down again. He glanced at the quartz

alarm clock which blinked 2:02 a.m.  “Maybe I should

travel.”

Jeff closed his eyes and tried to go to ^, but a man

yelling from the apartments to his left distracted him.  The

man’s voice sounded exactly like Rodney Dangerfield’s,

“Oh...yes...that’s it, baby...that’s the spot...don’t stop

now...don’t looose it!” Jeff glanced at the clock again.  It

was 2:07. 

He heard Tilly’s voice entering in from the other

window. She yelled, “Aaaahhhh!  Oooooooh!  Aaaaaaahh!” Jeff

was a little confused because he knew her husband was

working the graveyard shift and was not at home.  Then he

listened more keenly and heard Tilly’s shower running and

she screamed again, “Whatever and what have you!” Jeff

jumped up, slammed both windows shut and blasted the AC. The

rest of the night, the man of many worlds spent the 

night...sleepless...

 

Journal Entry 1,560

The Svowzeek Birds of V  

There is a realm called World V (Five) which is

inhabited by extraordinary animals, plants and people.  A

certain strange bird called the Svowzeek lives high in the

tree tops and does not look like any bird I have ever seen

on World I. 

The males of the species have regular beaks and

feathers, but the females have two mouths full of even teeth

and wear pony tails of hair which they tie up with the twine

from strong, young vines.  Although the Svowzeek females

have the feet of birds, they can tie a knot behind their

heads.  I do not know why the females wear their hair in

this way, but it is quite spectacular to behold them perform

their grooming habits. 

The males of this species ritually bring fruits and

berries to the nests but aside from this, they leave the

rearing of their young to the females.  Svowzeek females 

chirp occasionally to their mates but have an incredibly

strong network amongst the other female birds who have young

to tend for. 

The teenage females who are too young to have offspring

are pretty much ignored by the adults, but two mothers

chatting together is really a sight.  Their speech is very

rapid, and when a bunch of them join in the conversation, it

sounds like thousands of corn kernels popping

simultaneously.  They are generally a light hearted lot and

love to comment on anything and everything.

For instance, a husband flew to his mate to bring some

fruit, but one berry fell from his beak missing the next. 

All of the females saw this and so much joking and chatter

commenced among them, the sounds emulated a rain storm of

teeming millions of rain drops hitting leaves and bushes.

However, I am not sure whether or not any of the birds

choose to understand what the others are saying in any given

moment.

It seems quite impossible that there could be an

understanding among them because each bird speaks in nonstop

rapid succession for several minutes from two mouths, and

intermittently laughs from one mouth as they speak with the

other.  On some occasions, all of the birds laugh from both

mouths and when they do this I have to laugh myself.  When

this occurs, it sounds like rushing waves breaking on the

shore and the popping of many champagne corks.

Upon closer observation, I could determine that the

young females who can not yet bear young sit quietly on

nearby branches, attentively listen and practice repeating

as quickly as possible whatever they can pick up.  It seems

obvious that this is their learning phase, and once they

become parents, they use what they have learned in the past

to join in on the social fun.  The strange thing is that

even though these Svowzeek adults do not have an actual

exchange of conversation and can only translate what they

have learned in the past, the general atmosphere is full of

gaiety as if they are sharing the most hilarious jokes with

one another.  I don’t think they really care a flea what

their neighbors are saying, but their spirit of togetherness

and rapport is stronger than I have ever seen among any

other species.  In some indefinable way they remind me of

humans on world I.

I suppose that the ability to speak does not always

necessitate the application of an actual exchange of ideas

as long as the parties involved exist in a realm where all

of their needs are met and enough mutual trust is

established among them.  What might happen if the young

birds tried to develop a two way communication?

Regrettably, the young birds ignore each other because

they judge one another as second class citizens until they

have mates and offspring, and they are dazzled by the

torrents of chatter among the mothers.  Who can say what all

this adult talking has to do with the evolution of the

Svowzeek species?

Perhaps their verbal adaptation is a trait which was

acquired to insure continuation of the species.  Indeed,

perhaps it is a way to lure young female Svowzeeks into

early parenting and nesting so that they too can be included

as acceptable members of the group.  These young females

will know when they are accepted because the other birds

will make eye contact with them when they have nests to

perch on, and some of the chatter will be directed their

way.  Then the young mothers will speak and laugh out of

unceasing mouths, a cornucopia of syllables which have been

straining to rush forth since they first learned to tie

their hair into pony tails.

The Svowzeeks are very dear to me, and I could never

hurt such an animal even though it is theoretically possible

that they taste just like chicken.  Maybe some day all of

the peoples of World I will learn to love the lowly chicken

as I love the Svowzeeks.  Then we will hear and understand

the chicken when it speaks to us because we will learn to

listen with our hearts instead of our stomachs.

 

 

Chapter Seven

Jeff’s Second Visit to Tony’s

The next time Jeff visited Tony, he was transported to

his apartment.  Some people call this kind of travel 

translation, and it sometimes happens to Jeff when he is in

a relaxed state of meditation.  Thus, Jeff was translated

into Tony’s apartment on World I and decided to take a seat

on his bed and meditate for a few hours.  His mind was

slightly clouded as sometimes happens during the translation

process.

As Jeff approached the bed, he noticed that it had one

flat pillow, clean sheets, two wool blankets and a white

quilt with little raised dots on it.  The bedding was worn

quite thin but was clean.

Tony sat in a hard wooden chair about five feet from

the bed, but he seemed surprised that Jeff appeared.  It was

about 11:00 p.m. Jeff fell asleep for a few minutes, but

when he awoke, Tony asked, “How did you get here?”  Jeff

felt a little awkward and wasn’t sure if he was intruding,

“I can visit another time if you like.”

Tony smiled and said, “Stay. I’m not at all annoyed at

your unexpected arrival...just look around the room and tell

me if you see anything unusual.”  Jeff glanced around the

room and then went over to the window which is his usual

spot when he visited and sat on the radiator cover. 

However, when he looked out of the window, he realized that

they were not in the same neighborhood. 

The neon bar sign that was directly below the window

was gone and the buildings were different.  Jeff asked,

“Have you moved to another apartment?” Tony smiled slightly

and said, “Look out of the window again.” When Jeff looked

again, he saw the blinking light of the bar beneath the

apartment.  Tony hadn’t moved to another residence after

all.

What Tony was doing, Jeff was not completely sure

because he never created a realm; he enters them.  Tony

explained, “Through the process of meditation, I have split

my awareness into two distinct fields.  The first is the

collective field we have been trained to perceive and the

second is the creation of my intent.” 

Jeff walked to the bed and wanted to sit down on it

because the radiator was beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

Now the bed had no pillow on it, one sheet and a steel blue

wool blanket.  Jeff was at a loss for words so he

improvised, “Got any popcorn?”  Tony laughed, “I had no idea

you could enter the creation of my intent.  That’s why I

asked you to notice your surroundings.”

At the time, Jeff hadn’t the slightest notion as to

what he was talking about and said, “You take too much for

granted with me and always assume I know what I’m doing.”

Tony looked at him quizzically as Jeff explained, “I had no

idea about your intention of forming a second awareness.”

  Without preliminaries, Tony said, “Do not tease

people with your theories.”  Jeff was so taken off guard he

felt paranoid, “Were you spying on me? What do you mean by

that?” However, Tony gave him a look that insured him that

the matter was already closed.  Jeff sighed and thought to

himself, “That’s Tony for you – the God Father of the

Spiritual Sky.” 

Tony’s friend Al, who used to be a street corner

newspaper stand salesperson was listening attentively in the

corner of the room.  Twelve years ago, a drunk smashed his

car into Al’s newspaper stand and nearly killed him.  After

two years in the hospital, Al was released as a blind

quadriplegic.  Jeff thought about how tragic it was that Al

had to get around in a wheelchair with the use of a straw he

puffs his breath into.  Jeff glanced at him and noted, “Al

loves toothpicks because he always has one in his mouth.” 

Al used to love to take long drives to the beach and go

fishing.  He loved to garden and mow the grass.  He loved to

bowl and play cards.  Now he had a toothpick. Since Jeff

first met him, Al seemed a little elusive for some reason,

but tonight Al took Jeff aside, in a manner of speaking and

spoke in his heavy gravel voice, “Do not be angry at Tony.”

Jeff straightened up and explained, “Tony never lets me

defend myself...knowledge should always be shared.” But Al

replied matter of factly, “If Tony tells you not to annoy

people, then listen to him.”  Jeff continued to argue his

point, but Al put his foot down, “Look.  Rule Number One. 

What is it?”  Jeff didn’t have the faintest idea so he took

a guess, “Always listen to Tony?”

Al responded in a firm and slightly perfunctory manner,

“Rule Number One is, do not do anything to upset the

people...you got to show some respect for where they are

commin’ from...they take their lives very seriously.” 

Jeff interjected, “I know...” but Al cut him off, “What

I mean by where they are commin’ from is their present

levels of awareness and ego-identity. People can't afford to

scrap their view of the world because they’ve spent

lifetimes building upon an illusion which could collapse all

too easily.”

Tony added, “Al’s right, you know.  It is sacrilegious

to try to enlighten them.” Al continued, “For this reason,

most people feel threatened by anything that will help them

to break out of their cloistered shells.”

     Jeff felt slightly despondent, “Perhaps you’re right.

Besides, there are too few people who are aware or caring

enough on World I”, but Al said, “Listen, Jeff. There are

always many wonderful scattered pockets of genuine human

beings, hidden in the empty-headed junkyard of humanity, who

are aware and caring. Not everyone is a total skank, not

even the irresponsible driver who damaged this body.” 

Jeff looked at Al in his wheel chair and felt outraged,

“Al, you have a perfect right to hate the person who ran you

down at your newspaper stand”, but Al said, “The skank has

done damage to my body, but I am not going to allow what he

did to sour my soul as well.  It may be difficult for you to

understand, Jeff, but I am Okay now because I have found

something to keep me going.”

Jeff replied, “I still can’t understand what you are

referring to as many wonderful pockets of genuine human

beings.” Al chuckled, “You do not know how to recognize them

because you are looking for something which fits your pig-

headed notions about who is worthy and who isn’t.  To say

the least, you are not the best judge of character, so do

not try to make people interested in growing your way.  Just

accept who the universe sends to you...don’t waste your time

on the others.”   Jeff felt ashamed and made a mental note

to be ten percent less didactic in the future.

He looked at Al who was in the process of taking a

fresh toothpick out of his top shirt pocket. Jeff mentioned,

“Al...forgive me for mentioning this but, this is the first

time you have actually spoken to me. And up until tonight, I

was never sure that you knew that Tony is a traveler.” Tony

said, “You should know that most travelers are so secretive

that not even their own families or best friends know.” 

Al ventured, “Keeping secrets isn’t so difficult to

accomplish because most people chose to deny their own

perceptions.” Jeff sighed, “Tell me about it. Okay, guys, I

think I’ll walk home. It’s a nice night out and its pretty

late.  I have to get some sleep.” 

Tony looked at him strangely, “Jeff, you are sleeping.”

“What?” “Think about how you came here tonight...” “What?” 

Jeff thought back to earlier that evening and remembered

dozing off while he was meditating.”  Tony’s voice became

liquid, “Close your eyes and concentrate on the body you

left behind at your apartment.”  Jeff closed his eyes and

concentrated hard. 

At first, his body at Tony’s seemed stubbornly fixed.

Jeff concentrated harder.  He felt his body grow

light...lighter...lighter.  Jeff tried to open his eyes, but

they felt like they had heavy weights on the lids.  He

struggled with all of his will to open his eyes and felt his

body tingle as if a soft flow of electricity tingled up his

spine to his brain.  Soon his entire body tingled.  He

continued to struggle to open his eyes. 

The tingling dissipated slowly and then was gone.  Jeff

opened his eyes and was right where he left himself when he

began meditating in his living room on his favorite

cushion.  He got up and went to bed.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Vishnu and the Ancient Sage

The next day, Jeff went to ^ because he wanted to spend

some time with his son.  As soon as he arrived, he noticed a

group of about twenty men who had just come to the small

village.  Some of them looked as if they were young enough

to be in their late fifties, and there were also men who

were so old they could barely walk.  The men were sparsely

dressed in light, airy robes, and some of them had shaved

heads while others wore long, unkempt tresses.  Jeff watched

as the neighboring village women ran here and there with

pots of food and water to serve them.

Jeff asked Lela why everyone was making such a big fuss

over these people and she said, “These are not just people;

these are holy men!” and ran with a milk pot in one hand and

a pot of water in the other. 

For a few seconds, Jeff experienced a twinge of

competitive jealousy because the women were making such a

fuss over these men and were giving so much importance to

their mere presence.

The men found places to sit beneath trees or over by

the turquoise stonewall which was built for decorative

purposes.  They were quickly settled in and started

meditating.  Jeff entered his hut to feed Vishnu, and while

he was pouring some milk into a cup the boy asked him,

“Daddy, who are those men who came here today?” 

Jeff replied, “I have been told they are saints.” 

Vishnu asked him what that meant so Jeff explained, “Saints

are very good people who always love everyone and are always

nice.” 

After lunch, Vishnu started to walk towards the wall

where the saints were, but Jeff caught him by the hand and

said, “No no.  Find some other place to play.”  Jeff knew

from experience that saints do not like to be disturbed,

especially when they are meditating, so he took Vishnu to a

small pond near their hut and gave him bread to feed the

ducks and goldfish. 

On the way back to the hut, Jeff decided to stop at

Lela’s house to find out more about the holy men, but she

had already taken her wash to the river.  After meeting her

there, they talked for about twenty minutes.

Suddenly, three neighbors came running down the

riverbank yelling, “Vishnu is a naughty boy!”  Jeff

retorted,  “What are you talking about?  Vishnu is the best

boy in the village.” 

One woman said, “Your son is taking handfuls of dust

and throwing it in the faces of the saints while they are

trying to meditate.”   Then another woman said, “Yes, I saw

it with my own eyes.  Vishnu even spit at them before he ran

into the bushes and hid himself.”  The third woman

exclaimed, “Your boy must be scolded for this.  Why haven’t

you taught Vishnu how to behave properly?”

Jeff jumped up and ran to the place where the men were

meditating and was about to call, “Vishnu!” when all of a

sudden, he saw the boy run out of the bushes by the wall

and  kick over an old saint’s water pot.

The sage opened his eyes and gently waved his hand in a

gesture to shoo the child away.  Vishnu didn’t care too much

for this gesture and he spit at the old man.  Jeff thought,

“He needs more practice in spitting because he didn’t get

anyone but himself.”

  As Jeff ran to catch him, Vishnu still had time

enough to grab some dust and throw it right on the head of

the sage.  Jeff quickly took both of his hands and said,

“Vishnu, why are you being mean to these saints?”  The boy

replied with the utmost sincerity, “I’m playing with them,

Daddy!”  The old man looked up and said, “He is your son?” 

Jeff apologized quickly and took Vishnu home. 

In the living room, Vishnu sat on Jeff’s lap, “You

cannot play with everyone the way you play with Mr. Ten.” 

Vishnu didn’t understand and said, “Mr. Ten loves me when I

throw stones and dirt at him.”  “Yes, that’s true. But don’t

forget that these men are saints!”  Vishnu seemed puzzled

and asked, “Are they special?”  Jeff nodded.  Vishnu looked

very disappointed and said, “Okay Daddy, I wont play with

them any more.”

A few days later, Jeff sat meditating on his mat in the

hut. He was about to return to Earth when the sage who

Vishnu teased appeared above him.  As Jeff looked up, the

sage pitifully cried, “Oh please help me!”  Jeff was

terrified that Vishnu had done something even worse this

time, and without hesitation said, “Please forgive my

child.  I promise I won’t let him near you again.  What has

he done?”

 The old man replied between sobs, “It is I who am

sorry that I shooed the boy away.  I am repentant.”  Jeff

stood up and asked, “Why should you be repentant?”  The old

man replied, “Every time I close my eyes and try to

meditate, all I see is the sad look on the boy’s face.  He

is pouting so that it breaks my heart.  When I walk to the

river or among the groves, I think I see him there watching

me from the bushes with such a pitiful look...I tried to

call him over to me, but he always runs away.” 

Jeff exclaimed, “Vishnu is in bed sleeping.”  They went

to the boy’s bed, but he was not there.  After a moment,

they found him in the kitchen, playing with a little wooden

cart that held three teddy bears.  They watched for a moment

as Vishnu took his friends for a ride and spoke for each of

them in a squeaky voice.  The sage threw himself down at the

boy’s feet and grabbing his ankles cried, “Please forgive me

Vishnu!”  Vishnu looked up at Jeff and asked, “What is he

doing Daddy?”

  Bending over, Jeff gently tapped the old man on the

shoulder and told him to stand up, “This is not the way to

approach him and besides, Vishnu doesn’t remember from one

day to the next about anyone but Ten!”  The sage stood

motionless and wiped his eyes.  Vishnu asked, “Daddy,  why

is the man crying?”  Jeff took Vishnu in his arms, “Because

the saint wants to be your friend again.”

They went outside and Jeff asked them to pick flowers

for the house.  From the door he could see Vishnu running

here and there.  Every time he picked a flower, he ran and

gave it to the sage who graciously accepted it.  Then Jeff

couldn’t believe his ears.  Vishnu yelled, “Here, Grandpa!”

as he offered the sage another flower, and the old man put

his arms around the boy.

 Jeff returned to World I and rested on his bed while

he thought, “Now the only problem is, I’m not sure if this 

sage is supposed to be my father, but one thing is for sure.

If the old man is still special, he ain’t gonna be my

grandpa!”

 

 

Scientific Journal Entry 1,561

The General Philosophy on World ^

 

On ^, no one in their right mind is special.  When

people think of themselves in this way, they are creating an

imposition on love by setting up hierarchies of pseudo-

importance. Mr. Ten does not create hierarchies of

importance for himself and is forever transcendentally pure

from all of the contaminants of false ego.

 It is my finding during my travels that I have become

more introspective and no longer trust the human ego which

is largely a false construct. The false ego of an individual

rests ultimately on the illusion of specialness, which leads

to separation, and disunion of the perceiver and the

perceived. 

Before the holy man could become grandpa to Vishnu, he

first had to remove himself from the state of exile which

affected both of them due to thoughts of specialness.  Now

that the exile is over, each can perceive the other as part

of themselves or as part of that love which they are.

 Vishnu never keeps any part of himself special or

separate from another; he is the embodiment of love and

wisdom.  Vishnu, as the embodiment of love personified, is

difficult to resist, and I can attest to this first hand. 

However, do not forget that he is still a child.  This is

the mystery of having a son or daughter on ^. 

Vishnu is totally uncompromising in his love.  Yet, at

the same time, he respects the illusions that others have

about themselves.  This is why Vishnu said he wouldn’t

bother the holy men anymore when he found out that they were

special.

 Even so, Vishnu, being the embodiment of love, must

continue to extend himself as that love which he is.  This

is why he continued to stalk the old man in his meditation

by appearing before him and pouting so pitifully. 

 However, a miracle occurred when the sage placed more

importance in the boy’s feelings than in his own. Now I know

why the women in the village called these visitors holy men.

Although it is true that Vishnu is still a child, he is a

good teacher. Henceforth, whenever I visit ^, I’m going

straight  into the second picture to be with my son. 

End of Journal EntryUniversal Time 00:00:00Respectfully submitted, Jeff Hawk

 

 

Scientific Journal Entry 1,562

A Disturbing New Phenomenon on World I

 

A new phenomenon has been occurring during the last

month or two on World I.  Sometimes it happens that while

I’m about to doze off into a slumber, another parallel realm

opens up just as an airplane happens to be flying overhead.

 The exact mechanics of the phenomenon are unclear to

me at the present moment, but the sound of the plane cutting

through the air causes a shift in my consciousness, which 

trails along the sound waves. 

When that occurs, the split in consciousness is

automatic.  This is something completely new to me because

heretofore, I always assumed that the gateways to other

realms were based primarily on personal impetus.

The disturbing aspect then, is not the existence of

more parallel realms, but the very nature of the door which

lends such experiences to my consciousness.  The avenue

itself is completely impersonal. 

What is it in the power of the sound that causes the

universe, as it were, to split into two?  Perhaps I have

been traveling for so long, I have inadvertently worn away

all natural locks to that anchoring mechanism that keeps

humans grounded...just as a key sometimes wears its own

vital structures away through over use. 

Suddenly, I feel both annoyed and humbled about the

occurrence of these shifts, which are due to some outside

agent, that is nothing more than a simple air machine!  If I

speak to Tony about this, he’ll most likely stare at me and

offer no explanation. 

End of Journal EntryUniversal Time 00:00:00Respectfully Submitted:Jeffrey Hawk     

Chapter Nine

Visitations by Angelic Beings

After work, Jeff had signed up for a class in advanced

calculus and met a man in his class named Ted who became his

study partner.  Three months later, they became good

friends.  It was a Friday afternoon when the two walked a

few blocks from the school to a local pizzeria. 

As they meandered past small stores and hawkers selling

their wares, it was then that Ted opened the topic, “Jeff,

do you believe in angels?”  Jeff was caught off guard but

intrigued, “Yes, but I’ve never met one. Did you?”

 Their conversation was interrupted briefly as they

stood at the pizza counter.  A stout man in is fifties

asked, “What will it be?”  Ted answered, “A large pepper and

mushroom pizza.” The man asked, “What eltz?” Jeff

interjected, “Two pineapple sodas with lots of ice.” Ted

laughed, “Pineapple?  Okay, I’ll try it.” Shortly, both were

seated at a booth that had just become vacant, and Jeff

wiped the pizza grease off the table, “You saw an angel?

Tell me everything!” 

As Ted separated a slice from the steamy pie and began

his story, “About three years ago, I was spiritually

unfulfilled and asked my wife if I could leave home for a

time in order to find God. Tara was very understanding and

said I could go, so I left her the car and hitch hiked

across the country.” 

Jeff leaned forward, “That’s very interesting. How did

you support yourself?” Ted took a sip of his drink, “As the

need arose, I took odd jobs like sweeping floors and washing

dishes in order to get enough money to live on.  For several

weeks, I traveled from one small town to another.

Eventually, I found employment as a gasoline attendant.”  

Jeff’s eyes opened wide, “Didn’t your wife become upset

that you left your job?”  Ted replied, “To this day, I can’t

understand why she was that cool about it...I mean, we had

two children...now we have four.  She had a full time job

but had to live on half the usual income.  I wanted to make

it as easy for her as possible, and as soon as I got a

little money, I sent most of it to her.”  Jeff became

curious, “Then how did you pay for a place to live?”  Ted

bit into his pizza and took a drink, “I slept in my sleeping

bag on the floor of the gas station and washed up in the

sink.  I kept just enough money for food.”

Jeff became slightly excited and almost bit into his

own finger as he crunched into the pizza, “But what about

the angel?”  Ted replied, “There was a diner that served

good but inexpensive meals a few blocks down the street, and

I went there every day. In fact, I frequented the place

daily and met an elderly man named Joe who was sitting alone

at the counter. As the weeks passed, Joe and I became good 

friends.”

  Ted sat back in the booth and had a far away look in

his eyes as he remembered, “This man was so intelligent and

spiritual.  We talked about God for hours on end.”  Jeff

asked, “Didn’t the waitresses think you were overstaying

your visit?” Ted laughed, “Actually, I had hundreds of

questions and Joe invited me to continue our conversation at

his apartment.”  Jeff looked puzzled, “But what about the

angel?”

 For a moment, Ted surveyed Jeff’s face and retorted,

“You are an impatient person, but I’m getting to it.  Let’s

see, for about a month, I visited Joe and we talked about

God, heaven, forgiveness and angels.” Jeff felt exasperated,

“Then all you did was talk about them?” Ted replied

jokingly, “If you don’t let me finish my story, you’re going

to see angels sooner than you expected!” Jeff said, “Okay,

okay!  What happened?”  Ted wiped the crumbs off his mouth

and said, “...Then one morning, I went to Joe’s apartment

and rang the doorbell.  However, a woman came to the door

and said that no such man had ever lived there.  In fact,

she had been the sole occupant of that apartment for the

last 42 years.”

Jeff blurted, “Maybe you made a mistake.” Ted shook his

head, “No. At first I thought the same thing, but I  checked

and re-checked, and there was no way I wouldn’t have found

my mistake if I had made one.” Jeff was dumbfounded, “Then

what about Joe?” Ted got up, ordered a bottle of spring

water and returned, “I was sure I had the right address and

knew the neighborhood thoroughly...I knocked on every door

on that floor in that building. And then I went door to door

in that neighborhood, but no one had ever seen or heard of

Joe.

Jeff wondered if Ted was a traveler, “Do you do this

sort of thing often?”  Ted said, “Stop kidding around;

honestly, I was upset and walked quickly to the diner.  When

I got there, I asked a few of the waitresses, but no one

remembered Joe even though he ate breakfast, lunch and

dinner there every day.”  Jeff threw his soda cup in the

garbage and ordered a bottle of water, “What did you do?”

Ted looked at Jeff point blank and replied emphatically, “It

was then that I realized that Joe is an angel.  Joe had even

told me repeatedly that angels appear all the time, but I

never suspected Joe was an angel himself.”

 Jeff was amazed, “How come you couldn’t tell Joe was

an angel?”  Ted thought about it for a few moments, “I

guess, if angels do not want to be recognized, all they have

to do is dribble some soup on themselves; it’s their own

version of slight of hand.” He took a card of Dentine Ice

and offered Jeff some, “The angel was brilliant in

portraying an old man to the hilt. But that still doesn’t

explain why no one remembered seeing him.” Jeff ventured,

“Perhaps Joe had somehow created a parallel world for you to

enter.”

They exited the pizzeria and walked down the street

back to the college.  Jeff broke a pizza crust he saved into

small pieces and tossed it to the starlings that gathered by

his feet.  “Ted, I understand how this could happen, but do

not tell anyone else because...” Ted agreed, “Yes, I agree.

It seems rather fantastic to conceive of the possibility of

parallel worlds. I don’t even know why I told you.” Jeff

replied, “Because you were meant to.”

Jeff threw the pizza crust to the birds and rubbed his

hands together to brush off the remaining crumbs, “However,

if you think about what you already know about the

possibility of co-existing alternate worlds, this phenomenon

is not so difficult to conceive of.” Ted laughed and patted

Jeff on the back, “Already know? I know nothing of other

worlds.” 

Jeff replied, “Bear with me for a moment, Ted.  You

understand a lot more than you think you do.”  Ted smiled,

“That sounds good to me; what do you got?”  Jeff said, “For

example, what we can do with sound waves, we can also do

with those things which affect our other senses and

understanding as well.  For example, take a radio.  If you

turn the dial on a radio, you can change from one radio

station to another without going anywhere. All music

stations are all around us at every moment.  All that is

necessary is a transmitter and a setting.”

 Ted thought about it for a minute and said

enthusiastically, “I get it! Just as radio waves are

everywhere, so are other dimensions.  And what about

television?  I can turn the channel and pick up different

frequencies.”  Jeff nodded, “That’s a perfect example! You

see? You know more than you think.” 

Ted confessed, “Since the day when Joe disappeared, it

always gnawed at my mind to figure out what happened...I’m

happy I had the opportunity to see an angel, and I’ll never

forget it.”  Jeff’s mind wandered in deep thought, “It isn’t

certain at what point Ted entered the realm that the angel

had invited him into...but it is obvious they were dining a

la carte^.”

 

Chapter Ten

The Visitation

Although Jeff had traveled to other realms and met many

beings, he wanted to meet an angel too, but he wasn’t sure

how to go about it.  For a couple of weeks, Jeff toyed with

the idea and wondered how he could run into one, but no

ideas came to him.  However, then one day, he returned home

from a long day at work, ate dinner, and watched a little

television.  But his evening before going to bed, he decided

to do something different...Jeff knelt beside his bed,

folded his hands and  prayed sincerely, “Dear God, I

probably don’t deserve to see an angel, but please send me

one tomorrow and thanks.”  Without another thought, he

jumped into bed, turned out the light and fell into a deep,

restful sleep. 

The next morning, Jeff awoke a little late because he

forgot to set his alarm clock.  As he jumped in the shower,

he thought, “I’ve got only a few minutes before I must leave

for work.”  Because Jeff had slightly injured his arm

playing football with some buddies the week before, it was

difficult for him to wash himself and get dressed as quickly

as usual.

After getting dressed, Jeff slipped the sling over his

right shoulder and went directly to his car because he had

no time for his usual breakfast. Even with missing his

mandarin orange juice and cinnamon-raisin toast, Jeff barely

had enough time to make it to work.  On the way, it was just

his imagination, but the stoplights and traffic seemed to be

a little slower than usual.

Jeff drove onto the highway entrance ramp, but less

than a minute after entering onto Route 21 North, his back

right tire had a blow out.  He knew he would have a very

difficult time changing the tire with his arm in a sling and

decided to hitch a ride instead. Jeff drove his car on the

side of the road, stuck his thumb out and tried to hitch a

ride.  A man in a white van obviously saw him, but the

driver furrowed his eyebrows and accelerated past him.  As

the van sped by, Jeff yelled, “Hey! I would have given you a

lift!”  However, as Jeff’s eyes followed the speeding van,

he noticed that a tow truck appeared out of nowhere about

twenty feet in front of his car.

 The appearance of the tow truck was a physical

impossibility from World I laws.  No vehicle could have

passed Jeff without his noticing it, and there was no

vehicle in front of him when he exited the car.  Jeff felt

too rushed to question the particulars, but this information

was stored in the back of his mind. 

As soon as Jeff noticed the mysterious tow truck, a

male in his thirties jumped out of it and yelled as he ran

towards him, “Open your trunk!!”  The man acted as if he was

in a serious rush.  Jeff as astounded as the man changed his

tire and thought to himself, “I’ve never seen anyone work so

fast in my life.”

The man changed Jeff’s tire and placed the flat and

jack in the trunk in under two minutes. Without a word, he

began running towards his truck.  Jeff yelled, “Hey! What’s

your name?” The man suddenly stopped short, slowly turned

around and gave Jeff the most serene, peaceful smile with

just a hint of ryeness in it, and replied,  “Angelo”. 

Jeff thought, “You are the Angel I prayed to see.”

Their eyes met for an eternal second and Angelo infused Jeff

with feelings of faith and deep gratitude.  Jeff couldn’t

say anything else.  He sensed that the Angel didn’t need

words.  In a second, Angelo jumped into the truck and drove

off like he was on his way to another emergency. Jeff

wondered, “Humm...I guess he has a lot of deliveries to

make.”

  As Jeff drove off Route 21 and onto Route 3 East, he

pondered, “God created the earth and He created all the

other realms too, even the ones that can be opened by an

angel or a 747.”   

  

Chapter Eleven

Jeff Visits Tony for a Chat

Over the next several weeks, Jeff toyed with the idea

of speaking to Tony about the split that occurs when a plane

sometimes flies over his home but figured, “If I speak to

Tony about this, he’ll probably stare at me and offer little

explanation.” Jeff slid his Ace comb from his back pocket

and ran it through his hair, “I’ve met him a few times and

can gauge that he isn’t going to want to talk about it.” He

tossed the comb on his dresser and grabbed his keys, “Guides

like Tony frequently view words as tedious impediments in

the task of transferring knowledge. I’m not sure if he even

wants to transfer knowledge...I’m not even sure he’ll be

home.” 

He locked the door behind him and bolted down the

stairs to his car. As Jeff revved the engine, he pondered,

“Guides like Tony even view worlds as impediments in the

task of transferring knowledge...” He put on his shades and

adjusted the rear view mirror, “Then again, they sometimes

view the task of transferring knowledge as an impediment in

itself.” Jeff pulled into light traffic and turned the radio

on. “Nevertheless, I’ve got to speak to him anyway.”

     As Jeff drove his car in the direction of Tony’s

apartment, he thought, “The last time we spoke Tony told me,

‘What often passes for the teacher-student process is merely

an exercise in temporarily satisfying an undisciplined mind,

and that true learning has very little to do with the

rhetoric of languages.’ However, I’ve got to make him

understand that I need words to make everything clear to

myself.”

    In ten minutes, Jeff was parked two blocks from Tony’s

and began to walk toward the bar.  For some strange reason,

Jeff felt it was a act of respect not to make Tony hear his

car engine running or the slamming of his door.

At the apartment, Tony was in the process of boiling

soymilk green tea leaves and a dash of cardamon.  As soon as

it began to simmer, he poured it though a sieve that was

half full of some other herbs and leaves. Tony’s friend, Al,

entered the apartment and ignored Jeff as he made his way to

the world band radio on the living room table. Jeff drank

the tea and opened, “Tony, I remember our last discussion

and it all makes sense to talk less and everything like

that. But I still feel the need to communicate in words

about my experiences and what I perceive as the truth. I

need to get advice sometimes as well. You’re a guide who can

give me some direction.”

Tony replied with an air of detachment, “Teachers and

students who rely too much on words create an illusion

within an illusion.”  Jeff was perplexed, “I’m not sure what

you mean by that.” Tony pushed a plate of raspberry cookies

towards Jeff, “See?  You are already confused.” Jeff took a

cookie, “Yes, I guess I am.”  Tony sipped his tea, “One

purpose of learning anything is to become more adept in

discerning the less real from the unreal until only the real

is left. The higher the level of knowledge, the more freedom

one attains or has at their disposal.” He looked at Jeff

quizzically and then held his breath as if he were trying to

keep himself from sneezing.  Jeff pondered, “The real from

the unreal...what?”  Tony chuckled lightly, “I was trying to

give you an example as to why you should not get caught up

in semantics.” Jeff said, “Sorry.”  Tony sipped his tea,

“Sorry it backfired. What I am trying to show you is that

words are serious imitations of the truth. They are limited

by their very nature.”  Jeff munched on another raspberry

cookie that oozed fresh compote, “What was that thing you

told me last visit...something mystifying about how all

Earth cultures use language to control the populace?”

Tony answered with disinterest, “There are five or six

basic word chains that happen over and over again in all

human languages.  These word chains are inherently male and

are meant to force the awareness of the individual to

concentrate only on the rational side of ourselves.” Jeff

took another cookie and sipped his hot tea, “Yes, you said

something like that.  What are these word chains and how are

they detrimental?”

Tony poured more tea into his cup, “The word chains are

some of our culture’s strongest deployments against the

creative intelligence of humankind.” Jeff sat up, “Yes, but

what are the word chains?”  Jeff asked repeatedly as Tony

sipped his tea, but he flatly refused, “You’ll have to 

figure them out for yourself.” Jeff’s impatience and

curiosity got the best of him and he complained, “This is

not fair; please tell me just one of them.” 

Tony looked a little peeved, “In order to cultivate

your creative intelligence, you must understand that no one

can teach you anything.  I can offer you a direction but I

can never bring you to truth. You must do that for

yourself.” 

Jeff fell back in his chair, “Okay, but what about the

chains?”  Tony’s voice had a touch of sympathy in it, “Real

truth just doesn’t work that way; you must finish the

equation yourself; you’re the other half of it.”  Jeff

continued to argue that he should be told what the word

chains are but Tony replied, “Just let it happen.” and

refused further discussion.

At times...not often...but at times Jeff had a problem

with letting things slide and he became cranky, “If you’re

my friend, you should tell me.”  Jeff pouted as Tony rinsed

the dishes in the sink.

Tony’s friend Al, who had been listening to his world

news radio channel in the other corner of the living room,

turned his head towards Jeff and said matter of factly,

“Look Jeff, Tony could tell you everything you want to know

here and now, but if he did you would be nothing more than a

pointless imitator of the truth.”

Jeff complained, “I just wanted Tony to tell me the

secret of the word chains.” but Al growled, “There are no

secrets, but you’re becoming such a spoon-fed baby that

you’re missing the entire point.”  Jeff perked up again,

“What point am I missing that Tony told me about?”

Al glanced within the window of his mind, “The

mysteries and wonders of life deserve a hell of a lot more

respect than just taking inventory on these things so they

can be neatly filed away in a note book.” Jeff felt his face

flush, “What are you talking about?  Do you mean me?  What

has Tony said to you?” 

Al continued as if he didn’t hear Jeff, “You have been

brainwashed by formal education to believe that as soon as

you understand something in theory, this is all you need.”

Jeff remembered trying to get Tony to look at his Scientific

Journal. Tony glanced at it for less than a minute and gave

no reply. Now as he listened to Al, he was flabbergasted

that Tony had mentioned his journal to him. Even worse, Al’s

intimation that Jeff was only a travel buff instead of a

dedicated seeker of knowledge hurt his pride.

Jeff was exasperated, “That’s not true.  I try to

experience everything.  That’s why I asked Tony to tell me

what the word chains are.” Al folded a piece of Doublemint

Gum into his mouth, “That’s why you know so little even as a

traveler...you’re an idiotic file clerk of unspeakable

realms.”

Jeff objected, “I know far more than most people about

alternate realms and can write about them if I want.” Al 

shook his head incredulously, “Even so, you are the most

undisciplined person I have ever met for a traveler. Jeff,

travel is not meant to be a three ring circus with cotton

candy, trained elephants and acrobats.”  Jeff blurted,

“You’re trying to dumb down my fantabulous experiences of

the paranormal!”  Al replied, “No. That’s not what I’m

trying to do.  Jeff, you have to become more serious and

staid if you are going to understand the guts of what you

observe. Furthermore, aliens did not create the pyramids;

they were created with the use of ropes, pulleys, greased

wooden sleds and sweat. If you have to comment, at least get

your facts straight.”

Jeff said emphatically, “Listen Al, as a traveling

scientist, I observe things in a very neutral manner.” 

However, Al looked at Jeff like he was completely nuts,

“Traveling scientist?!  Jeff, don’t you realize those beings

are catering to you?”  Jeff objected, “That’s just your

opinion which is obviously limited because you have less

experience in these matters.  The things I observe are

genuine activity in those incomprehensible realms of

unlimited alien life forms.”

Al shook his head in disbelief, “Jeff,…Jeff…do you

really believe aliens would go to all that trouble to put on

shows for you like you believe they do on World!

(Exclamation)?  Look.  They utilized your awareness in order

to artfully rearrange a few events that you took for

reality.”  Tony interjected, “It is inconceivable that your

mind is at all operative because any of those beings could

have made you lose your mind permanently.”  Al added, “You

are very lucky that you have gone relatively unscathed thus

far.”

Jeff felt hurt, “I guess I made a big mistake in

sharing with you about my travels.”  Tony said

compassionately, “Don’t take it personally, Jeff.  You are

too attached to what you experience. A river does not take

credit for the water that passes through it. The water

passes through and it is gone. Why are you writing about

what you can’t understand? And why aren’t you more cautious

with alien energy forms?”

Jeff continued to pout, “It irritates me that you can’t

understand that there really are many nice creatures in

countless realms.  Maybe you meet only horrible creatures

because you go looking for them in order to prove that World

I is the best place to live.” Al responded, “You’re tired,

Jeff.”  Tony interjected, “It is true that you must be very

careful about the bent of your nature when venturing into

the unknown because like frequently attracts unlike.” 

At that moment, it was obvious that Tony placated

Jeff’s ego just a tad, which made Al mumble something under

his breath about Jeff’s not being serious enough to travel. 

Jeff felt pale, “Al, in all sincerity, I am very serious by

nature and about travel.” Al had no patience left, “Screwing

aliens is anything but serious behavior.  You squander your

energy like a damn fool.”

Jeff argued, “That being came on to me first!” Al

quipped, “That’s no excuse.  You are too easily led by

anyone to drop your pants, but what you don’t realize is

that your passions are being absorbed by these aliens simply

as an extra energy boost.”  Jeff gasped, “The being and I

had formed an intimate, loving relationship!” Al laughed,

“The being used you for your energy alone, and if you were

of a more serious nature, you would have been aware of the

being’s true intent to divest you of your energy.”

As a matter of fact, Jeff did feel a slightly lower

energy flow for a few days after making love with the alien,

and it smarted his ego to consider the possibility that

energy was all Tup was after. 

In a desperate attempt to replace that thought with a

good one, Jeff’s mind raced to retrieve a positive memory. 

He threw himself on Tony’s tattered but comfy couch, folded

a quilt into a pillow and thought about the being he met

several years ago...

Once Jeff met an invisible being on World I who was

highly intelligent and communicated with him in a very

friendly sort of manner via pure thought.  After a few hours

of communing with the being, Jeff felt as if they had become

such good friends that he wanted to see and hug the

creature.

The alien took the shape of a human being because it

said Jeff would be too frightened to see its true form.  The

intelligence and sensitivity of the being really touched

Jeff and he said, “It would be unreasonable for me not to at

least try to embrace you as you really are.”  With this the

being warned him that its true form is very weird from a

World I viewpoint, and when Jeff asked, “Well, just how

weird are you!?”  It said, “With extra tentacles…”

After a little more discussion, both decided that the

being would take its original shape and Jeff would keep his 

eyes closed as they embraced in brotherhood.   The being

stepped forward and when Jeff closed his eyes, the creature

gave him such a warm, loving embrace with all of its

appendages and tentacles, Jeff felt as if he were in

heaven. 

Jeff pondered the friendly alien and thought to

himself, “Tony and Al wouldn’t understand Extra Tentacles.

They haven’t seen all the good there is out there and don’t

even understand how an earthling could become enthralled

with alien monsters.   Jeff’s recollection of the weird form

of the friendly alien octopus fueled his argument, “Look Al,

aside from all the jokes you and Tony made up about the

isolated fling I had with the female alien being, I usually

remain celibate in other realms and try to communicate only

verbally with the beings I meet.”

    Al looked at Jeff skeptically, “Don’t be a fool!  Those

beings are not human in the slightest, but you track them as

though they are human.  Their tracks are not human, but you

translate their tracks as if they are human tracks.  Their

communication is not human but you translate their putrid

energy as if it were languageable.  It isn’t...and unless

you become a lot more serious, you’re in a lot of trouble,

Jeff.”

Jeff asked, “If you don’t mind, please explain how I

could become more serious than I already am.” Al replied, 

“Why do you think Tony travels?”  Jeff admitted, “For the

life of me, I never even thought about it.  I have always

traveled as a normal part of my boyhood and used to take it

for granted everyone did.  This may sound immature,

but I’ve always traveled because it was so much fun to do so

and because more often than not, I had no choice in the

matter. Now that I am grown, I travel because I am a

scientific explorer of strange new realms.”  Tony and Al

remained silent.

At this point, Jeff felt that neither of them

understood him and raised his voice in exasperation, “Well,

if you or Tony explained things to me instead of just

staring at me like I was a fool, perhaps I would be more

worthy of my experiences!  Why don’t you ask Tony to tell me

the things I should know about the word chains?”, but Al

said tormentingly, “I want you to take advantage of a new,

upcoming yet time honored, very important message that you

really need.”  Jeff became excited, “What message is that?” 

Al Chuckled, “Just let it happen.”

That afternoon, Jeff drove home thinking, “I don’t have

all the answers but neither do Tony or Al.  For some reason,

they’ve adopted a fatherly stance with me and are obviously

overjoyed in playing their roles to the hilt.  You’d think

they invented travel!  Anyway, as a fellow word-bound spirit

clothed in linguistic symbols, I’m hopeful that future

generations will read my journal and sympathize with my

predicament.”

 

Chapter Twelve

Overcoming Harmful Substances

Over time, Jeff had met other positive role models such

as Honey, who occasionally visits from World III.  As Jeff

was driving to work one sunny morning, he thought about her

influence on his life, “Honey is a timeless master of many

worlds and is originally from World III(Three).  More 

importantly, Honey is the master over her own self and I’d

never see her with a cigarette.”  Jeff snuffed his cigarette

butt into the ashtray and felt a little guilty for

occasionally smoking.

 Without preliminaries, Honey appeared in the passenger

seat of his car and said as if she were there all along,

“Mostly everyone is tempted with substances at one time or

another, no matter what material realm she or he is from. In

fact, I’ve had problems too.” Jeff was caught off guard and

clutched the wheel.

Jeff collected himself, “Honey, you startled me, but

I’m glad you popped in.” Honey laughed, “I was in the

neighborhood.” Jeff exclaimed, “Honey! I find it hard to

believe you ever had a problem with  substance abuse.” 

Honey adjusted the seat belt over her body and clicked it in

place, “While, it is true that I’m originally from World

III, I’ve had to deal with temptations there as well.”

As Jeff’s car careened around a sharp corner, he asked,

“Do they have cigarettes, alcohol and drugs on World III?” 

Honey was pensive for a moment and spoke, “There is a

certain vegetable that when you fry it with oil, it tastes

better than the best popcorn you ever ate.”  Jeff was

curious, “That sounds harmless enough to me. I love

popcorn!”

Honey popped a piece of Dentyne Ice into her mouth and

handed the card of gum to Jeff, “The only problem is that

this vegetable called spid is highly poisonous over a long

period of time.” Jeff asked, “How bad is spid?” Honey

replied, “It eventually makes the consumer vomit blood, and

they lose all their body fluids through dehydration. It also

gives you a light-headed feeling with slight hallucinatory

effects.”

Jeff thought about it, “On World I (Earth), alcohol

kills many people,.”  Honey nodded, “With spid, even though

it sometimes takes an equivalent of forty earth years for a

person on World III to die, the eventuality is vividly

gruesome.”

Jeff pulled into the parking lot, “Here on World I,

they also have heroin and other hard drugs.” Honey added,

“Yes, but on World III they also have a drug called pleek

which is actually a mineral substance that can be easily

mined from the ground in large quantities.” Jeff became

curious, “How do you take it?”  Honey put the palm of her

right hand under her mouth, “They are sugar-like powdered

granules, and the users lick it from the palm of the hand

like this.”  Jeff asked, “Deadly, huh?” “Deadly? Billions

have died from it already.  It’s a slow killer, but too much

will instantly kill a first-time user as well.”

She put her hand down and then grabbed the rear view

mirror to check her hair because Jeff hand’t re-attached the

visor Tilley snapped off, “Of course, there are a few who

have been licking pleek for sixty or seventy years, but look

at how much it has sapped their health!”  Jeff stepped out

of the car and walked with Honey towards the building where

he worked, “What are the problems with this substance?” 

Honey placed the strap from her pocketbook over her

shoulder as she kept pace with Jeff, “The trouble with pleek

is that it ruptures the capillaries in the body of the

individual.  Within only a few minutes of taking pleek, you

can see a massive network of broken capillaries all over the

user’s face.  Eventually, the person can have massive blood

vessel damage and brain dysfunction.  There is usually no

cure for the effects because it is so corrosive to the

body.”  

A feeling of revulsion overcame Jeff, “That’s

disgusting.”  Honey continued, “On World III, it is not

unusual to see several young people hanging around doing

both spid and pleek in large quantities.  Like some earth

teenagers, these young people have little regard for their

bodies, and related fatalities happen just as frequently.”  

Inside the lobby, Jeff signed in and a police officer

scanned his body for weapons, “Honey, you said you had a

problem with substance abuse...”  Honey nodded, “Yes, once

many years ago...”  They paused at the snack bar on the

second floor and ordered two large blackberry herbal decaf

teas and carrot cake.

She continued, “I never cared too much for spid

although I had tried it when I was younger.” Jeff

interrupted, “Then you didn’t have a substance abuse

problem,”  Honey replied, “Jeff, will you please slow down a

little?  I’m trying to tell you...” Jeff apologized hastily,

“Okay, I’m sorry; tell me!” 

Honey lifted the lid off her herbal tea and blew across

the top of the cup to cool it, “At one time in my life, I

became heavily addicted to pleek and it almost took my

life.” Jeff exclaimed, “Honey! This is  difficult for me to

believe because you appear to be someone who was not only

level-headed but a pro-health enthusiast to boot.”

Honey explained, “By the time I was eighteen, I had

been using pleek for several years already.  For a long

time, I had trouble breathing, had frequent dizzy spells and

severe pains in my arms, legs and head, but still...I could

quit pleek.”  Jeff appeared concerned, “What did you do?”

Honey took a sip of her blackberry tea, “Finally, I had a

seizure and fell unconscious for about three earth years.

When I became conscious, I realized I had been given another

chance and decided never to touch the stuff again.”

Jeff asked, “Then you were able to walk away from it

after that episode, just like that?”   Honey bit into her

carrot cake, took another sip of herbal tea and replied,

“Even though pleek did all that damage to my body, I still

have trouble with temptation because pleek is so seductive.”

Jeff became serious, “You never mentioned it.  How do

you keep yourself from backsliding?”  Honey smiled, “I’m 

able to keep off pleek and addictive substances by avoiding

all places where people do pleek and I have joined two

strong support groups.”  Jeff, “Is it like a 12 step

program? I met a lot of people who were helped by it.”

Honey shook her head, “We don’t have a 12 step program,

but we have a three-step program.”  Jeff became interested,

“Why do they have only three steps instead of twelve?”

Honey replied, “Since the average experience on World

III is more like existing in a world of quivering Jell-O

with all of the time-space glitches, translations from one

place to another, instant history imprints and time warps,

it is really too strenuous to have a long, drawn out step

plan, so they only have three steps which they call snaps.”

Jeff asked, “What you have then is a three snap program?” 

Honey nodded in agreement and snapped her fingers three

times, “One, two, three, Free!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

Jeff’s Date

That same evening after work, Jeff was in the middle of

tossing a salad in the kitchen when the phone rang.  It was

Tup.  He had been expecting her call because he hadn’t heard

from her in three months.  Tup came over for dinner and told

Jeff she was not from Earth; she is from World III.  At

first, Jeff was shocked and put off.

However, after a few moments he thought about it and

liked the idea of having an alien traveling companion.

Besides, he was miffed that ever since Tammy stood him up

for their dinner date at his place, she became suddenly

distant at work and offered no explanation. Jeff felt jaded

about Earth women and re-considered going out with an alien

woman.  He confided in her, “Tup, I am thrilled to know that

you are not only interested in travel but are from  another

realm;  I thought you were from Earth!” Tup snickered

because she remembered using a celery stick as a point of

contact and altering his memory, “I know, Jeff.  There’s a

lot you don’t know, but I’m glad you’re happy with my alien

status.” 

The following evening as Jeff strolled to the corner

store to buy a loaf of 12-grain bread, he ran into Tup again

and they went to World III for dinner.  Chance meetings

happened about two to three times a week and Tup started to

become a regular. As time went by, Jeff saw even more of Tup

and they grew closer in their relationship. In fact, they

were seeing each other almost every day until one fateful

day...

  Jeff bumped into Tup on a crowded avenue at high

noon.  After exchanging a few pleasantries, they traveled to

World III to grab a bite to eat and ended up talking for

hours about their mutual experiences in the holographic

glitch.

During the course of having dinner and speaking openly,

Jeff started to become more interested in Tup because she

behaved like an intelligent, interesting woman.  Jeff said

as he munched on a potato chip, “Let’s make plans to travel

together and maybe even travel to World ^.”  Tup was

curious, “What’s on ^?” Jeff cleared his throat, “I’d like

to introduce you to my son, Vishnu.” Tup nodded but had a

far away look in her eyes.

Jeff tried to get Tup to focus on their conversation,

but she seemed to be interested in something else. As soon

as the desert was served, Tup went into her purse and took

out an envelope of powdered pleek.  She immediately poured

some into the palm of her hand and began to lick it.  Jeff

was overwrought, “Tup, that isn’t what I think it is...” Tup

licked the pleek and immediately went off into her own

little world. 

In alarm, Jeff asked, “Why are you taking this horrible

drug?”  Instantly, the smile on Tup’s face turned into a

snarl, “You can’t tell me what to do and besides...it makes

me feel good.”  Tup called the waiter over, “Bring me a

large plate of the spid.”  Jeff interrupted, “Listen, Tup. 

You know that this stuff can kill you.  There are other

things that can make you feel good that aren’t so lethal.” 

The waiter said, “One large plate of spid coming up!”

At that moment, Jeff knew their relationship had hit a

serious snag. He pleaded, “Please Tup, don’t...Why are you

doing this?” Tup slouched deeper into her booth seat and

whined, “It helps me get lost in my own little world where I

get to direct the show.”  Jeff took on a tone of authority,

“That can’t be healthy either.  Getting lost in your own

little world is being unkind to yourself.” Tup did not seem

concerned, “Why not? I can fantasize about anything I want

and pleek makes the images and sensations really sharp and

strong within my mind and body.”

 In a huff, Jeff raised his voice slightly, “Listen,

Tuppy, One of the greatest mysteries of the universe and the

different planes of awareness is that all of creation is co-

interactive.

Tup yelled, “Shut up, Jeff; you’re boring me to tears!”

Jeff raised his voice even louder in an attempt to drown Tup

out, “Tup! The very essence of learning comes when two

beings interact...not when they are alone in their heads on

drugs!  All of the teeming countless life forms that are at

our fingertips were not created so we could shut them out

with drug addiction.” Tup sighed in total disinterest,

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...go preach to someone else. You want to

know why I’m a drug addict?  I can’t stand your big fat

mouth! Shut up!”

However, Jeff was adamant, “Tup! The mind was created

for experiences of oneness and diversity, and it is

especially in diversity that the mind learns to flourish

until it unites in wisdom and perfect knowing with

everything.”  Tup licked more pleek from the palm of her

hand and said, “Please pleek, do your stuff...I got a

walking, talking encyclopedia over here and he’s boring me

senseless!”

Jeff continued, “Tup, you can’t be happy with a drug-

dazed, isolated mind.  Let me explain. In isolation, the

mind is like a closed loop circuit, and when it is in that

state, all it can do is play and replay the same old stuff

like an eight track tape. You need a doctor!”

Tup licked more pleek, “Where is the celery?  Why don’t

they have celery on World III?  I’ve got to get rid of this

creep.”  She lifted a forkful of spid to her lips, chewed

and said with her mouth full, “Yeah, I should see a doctor? 

I guess I’ll have to give you a taste of your own

medicine.”  Jeff asked, “What are you talking about?”  Tup

swallowed more pleek, “If you take me to an insane asylum,

you can see all the crazy people running their eight track

brain impulses day after day after day.  Yeah...it’s really

depressing to see, and it’s not just the doctors and nurses

doing it; sometimes it’s one or two of the patients too!” 

Jeff stammered, “Stop this nonsensical brainbation or I’m

out of here!” 

Tup responded, “Who cares? I don’t care to co-interact

with anyone or anything but this.” and she licked more pleek

from her palm.  It was obvious to Jeff it was the pleek

talking and he suddenly regretted having met her,  “Look you

moron!  Pleek is making you live an existence that isn’t

real.”

Tup began to sing off key, “Unreal is real when you

unreel your mind, unreel the reel of the real and it’s all

unreal...” Jeff’s eyebrows furrowed as he replied tersely,

“Tup, you are warping your mind and living in a closed

loop...don’t you see that this is the beginning of what we

know as insanity?” Tup mocked Jeff by looking up at the

ceiling and wheezed, “Duh!” Jeff left World III and fumed

all the way back to World I by himself. 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

A Breach of Trust - The Dissolution of Friendship

It was a bright, clear Saturday morning when Jeff

slipped into his blue jeans, tee shirt, New Balance running

shoes and picked up the phone.  Tup had called a few weeks

before and said she was going to give up substance abuse. 

Jeff half believed her but agreed to have lunch with her

that afternoon on World III because he wanted to see for

himself if she had been in earnest.

It wasn’t that Jeff hoped for a solid reconciliation

with Tup, but he wanted to be a friend and help her if it

were at all possible.  For some reason, she made him feel a

little guilty.  Perhaps he hadn’t said the right things to

get her off drugs...maybe he should have tried to be more of

a friend...like that.

That same afternoon, Jeff met Tup at a restaurant of

her choosing on World III, but as soon as he found her

seated at a booth he yelled, “Stop! Stop!” Tup licked the

powdered pleek and whined, “You are acting like a little

boy.  Grow up and try some!”

During the time Jeff sat with her, Tup’s  nose bled

constantly and blood trickled out of her left ear while red

fluid rimmed the bottom of her eyelids.    

Jeff gagged and braced himself, “Listen, Tup, we aren’t

going to see each other again until you give up substance

abuse.”  Tup pounded the table angry and screamed, “I can do

what I want; who are you to boss me?” Jeff tried to explain,

“There is no sense in traveling if you have to enter a new

realm coughing, choking, and bleeding from every hole in

your head.  That is not the way I want to introduce you to

my son, Vishnu.” 

Tup screeched, “Wimp!” as she smashed her empty glass

on the table.  On World III, what they use for glass 

shatters into perfect squares about the size of three-karat

diamonds.  The glass captured the rainbow in a translucent,

shimmering glow of colors, and Jeff suddenly felt he should

thank Tup for this breath-taking scene.  He opened his mouth

to speak but then wondered, “Why am I having such an oblique

response to this ordeal?” 

Moreover, no one in the restaurant seemed to care that

Tup was acting insanely.  Jeff looked around the room and it

slowly dawned on him that he had met Tup in a pleek and spid

bar and grill!  It was a place where you could order food,

but everyone there was doing pleek and a few were eating

spid as well.  A feeling of apprehension came over Jeff

because he knew he had been given a mind-altering drug.

 

 

Journal Entry 1,563

What I recall from The Pleek and Spid Bar and Grill

On World III

 

Tup sat across from me in the restaurant booth and with

a knowing smile on her face, called her friend Plip over. 

Plip, a gangly, unkempt male in his early thirties, slid

into the booth, sat next to Tup, and I watched them watching

me. I snarled, “What did you have them put in my food,

Tup?”  

Tup...Tup...Tup...echoed in my ears as a Venetian sheep

and ram of royal siege pranced through my head, doing

unspeakable things, “Shakespeare, what of love’s sweet

innocence hast thou made?” I had eaten something like

waffles and drank a glass of what is called guzzleberry

juice.  Tup must have told the cook to put something in the

food when she placed the order.  I was a fool to have

trusted her.  The juice tasted a little funny but this was

never a conscious thought until I started to feel weird and

got lost t t t t t t  in the broken glass s s s s. 

Plip brought his plate with him but when I looked at

the omelet-sized serving of spid, it sneezed like a puppy

and then made quick, jerking movements like a lizard in an

attempt to escape.  Plip stabbed it with his fork so it

couldn’t escape. It cried out.  I had to turn my head away

because I couldn’t watch.  The squeaking sound the spid made

resembled that of a frantic mouse pressed under cat paws.

 I turned my head in an effort to regain composure and

across from us, I noticed two people at another table.  The

man was unwrapping something tied up in newspapers, string

and wax; the woman was docile and complacently picking her

fingernails with a steak knife.  Now I’m reliving the

bizarre experience. 

The man lifts a paperweight of Chicago out of the

papers and tears stream down his face, forming kings’ crowns

in the soup dish, which has already attracted Royal

Canadian, ducks who are presently nibbling at printed

flowers on the tablecloth.  I turn back to Plip and the spid

is now tightly pressed against the window to my right.  The

glass outlining it is slightly tinged with a veil of

perspiration due to the spid’s attempt to diffuse itself

through the molecules of the window. 

 Plip mercilessly extends his arm in order to take

another, but I lunge forward in an attempt to save it. 

However, as I extend my hand and touch the window, there is

nothing there…it was then that Plip and Tup laughed

hysterically at me.  Tup looked more and more like the snake

that she was. I said to Tup, “You are a bastard.” and went

over to the cashier to pay my bill and order an ambulance.

Blood was dripping down my shirt.  I glanced over at

Tup and Plip who were greedily licking pleek that was 

becoming mixed with the blood which dripped into their

hands.  The cashier looked amused and said, “You don’t need

medical help.  Just go home and in half an hour you’ll be as

good as new.”  I screamed at the top of my lungs, “But I’m

hallucinating!!” 

For about ten seconds there was dead silence in the

restaurant.  It wasn’t the kind of silence you experience

when there is an emergency.  It was the kind you experience

when you are only fifteen years old and your friends take

you to a party and suddenly you realize you are in a sleazy

cathouse and you yell, “Hey!  These are all whores!!”  Then

everyone stares at you blankly like you’re too stupid to

respond to.

Turning to the cashier I pleaded, “Look.  I’ve just

been drugged against my will.”  The lady smirked at me under

a died-white 1950’s teased-bubble hairdo as if projecting,

“Who the hell are you asshole?”  It was quite evident that

money was only a partial payment and  realized I’d have to

say something to balance the moment, thus re-establishing

environmental homeostasis.

 The cash register bell rang as she spiked the bill

with the rest of the poor bloody bastards stacked

underneath.  Holding out my hand for the change, I bit in a

breath of air for courage, smiled and said, “Gee, I really

love your cotton candy head.” and ran outside into the

street.

It was then I believe I started to have an anxiety

attack and began to scream.  Within minutes a male and

female medical team of four appeared and tried to calm me

down.  However, as I was in the process of telling them what

had happened to me, the pleek started to wear off and the

medical staff looked as if they were trying to suppress

their grins.

 I apologized for making them come there for nothing,

but suddenly a man in his early forties had some kind of a

seizure inside the diner.  I followed the team inside and

when they inspected the man, they said he would not make

it. 

After approaching one of the medical people I asked

her, “Why are you smiling when this man is going to die?” 

She gave me a warm, sunny smile and said, “Everyone has the

right to kill their own body.”  We talked for a few minutes

and she told me “Some beings are so ignorant that when they

have problems, the only solution they can think of is to

kill their bodies.”  She laughed out loud when she told me

this.

  I told her that I didn’t think it was funny but she

said, “You can’t help people who don’t want it.  All you can

do is love them, but that does not mean you have to be

morose about it.”  She said this with true disgust in her

voice, looked at me for a fraction of a second with hard,

cutting eyes, and then resumed a pleasant, controlled smile.

“What ever made you become a medical person if this is

your attitude?” I yelled in her face.  The drugs I had taken

had worn off but I was starting to feel the after effects

and was very irritable.   She replied brightly, “Your

depressing attitude doesn’t help any one so why waste so

much psychic emotion on them?  Cheer up!”

 I told her that I couldn’t cheer up while I was

standing in front of a dying man so she added, “You are only

miserable when you see or hear about these people, so by

close proximity, you are ineffectually caring and by the

lack of it you are, dear sir, a simple-minded hypocrite. 

Now run along and don’t tell people how to do their jobs.”

It was then that I beat a hasty retreat back to World I.

End of Journal Entry

Universal Time 00:00:00Respectfully submitted, Jeff Hawk

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

Honey Gets Real

The previous incident upset Jeff so much that he

searched for Honey everywhere and found her in a few earth

weeks at Walgreens in the personal hygiene aisle.  Just as

he walked into the aisle, he noticed her as she read the

label on a stick of Ban with soothing botanicals. She

removed the cap, tore off the silver protective seal and

smelled the contents. “Hummm” Jeff exclaimed, “Honey! I’m

glad I finally found you.  We’ve got to talk. 

Honey smiled,  tossed the spelling deodorant into the

shopping cart on her arm and walked into the next aisle.

Jeff followed.  Honey patted Jeff on the back, “You’ll be

okay. Tup  betrayed a sacred trust when she took you to the

pleek bar and grill...I used to frequent that place because

the food and drinks are always heavily laden with spid and

pleek.”  Jeff was dazed, “I still can’t believe you did

drugs. By the way, how did you know about my problem at the

spid and pleek bar?” Honey looked at him incredulously, “I’m

from World III, remember?”  Jeff didn’t understand, “What’s

that got to do with it?” 

Picking up a tube of Tom’s of Maine toothpaste, Honey

said flatly, “There was a small article about it in the

paper.” Jeff was stunned, “What did it say about me?” Susan

took a tube of Plus White off the shelf and hesitated a

moment, “It was an article about passing a law.” Jeff

exclaimed, “Good! It’s about time someone did something to

close down those spid and pleek bar and grills.

Honey cleared her throat, “Ahem!” “What?” “The article

was in favor of banning non-residents from hot spots of

entertainment.  You have to understand, Jeff, that World III

is, in some ways, as backwards as World I.  Jeff stammered,

“That’s preposterous!” Honey picked up a roll of dental

floss, “How many liquor stores, bars, crack houses, prisons,

smokers, dopers and tokers does World I have?”  Jeff felt

slightly numb, “It really upsets me that someone from my own

inner circle is killing themselves on drugs, and I can’t do

anything to stop it.”

Tossing the floss into her basket, Honey grabbed Jeff’s

arm as she bent over laughing, “Inner circle! She’s not even

from your planet!  Jeff, you can’t stop an addict and you

should avoid her at all costs because she has no respect for

your or herself at this point.” Jeff thought out loud,

“We’ve been in a hot and heavy thing for several months and

it will be tough stopping it cold turkey.” Honey reiterated,

“You can not trust Tup and should avoid her until perhaps

you meet in a future life.”

Jeff looked Honey up and down and stammered, “I want

nothing to do with Tup!”  As he spoke, Honey walked to the

checkout counter and paid for her items.  Jeff wanted to

spend several hours talking with Honey, but she excused

herself, “Some other time Jeff; there are a few other

encounters I want to make.”  Jeff’s ego felt bruised a

little, but he tried his best to hide it. 

Driving home, Jeff thought about their conversation,

“Hummm...When I verbally rejected Tup, I hoped it would make

points with Honey, but she gave me as if she saw right

through my ploy.” Suddenly, Honey appeared in the passenger

seat, “Don’t try to impress me, Jeff. We know each other too

well by now.”  Jeff opened his mouth to speak, but she

laughed as she disappeared from the seat. Only the smell of

Shalimar perfume and the faint echo of her laugh

reverberated in the thin air. Jeff was annoyed with

himself,  “Honey knew even as the words came out of my

mouth.  I felt like a chimpanzee because I am out of my

league with her and we both knew it.” 

At home, Jeff spent the rest of the next several hours

writing in his scientific journal because he had several

entries to catch up on. As Jeff wrote, his mind kept going

over the last few minutes he spent with Honey, “Now that I

think back, I was surprised I couldn’t impress Honey...I

conquered Tup without any effort.  Is it possible I

unconsciously clumped all World III women together as

somewhat easy?  Because Honey was once a drug user, I guess

I thought she wouldn’t be that difficult approach. Hummm.”

Jeff wrote fastidiously in his journal and thought

about burying it in a time capsule for future generations to

read.  Who he was writing to was not certain, but he wanted

to tell someone something about his findings. “Incidentally,

if you’ve gotten this far, I guess you’ve noticed that I'm

not perfect. I am spewn (Revelation 3:16).  It was touch and

go there for a moment.  Regardless, perfection dwells within

each one of us.”  As Jeff wrote these words, he made a

promise to himself never to let Tony see his scientific

journal, “He’d have a fit!”

Jeff continued writing, “For anyone who reads this

scientific journal...as much as humanly possible. If you

want to prepare yourself for travel, the process will be

greatly facilitated if you adhere to a drug free lifestyle

and adopt a vegetarian diet.   As you are making these

changes in your life in order to prepare yourself for

travel, you will definitely look, feel and become much

healthier, but who cares about that?”  At the stroke of

midnight, he closed the notebook and set his alarm clock.

As Jeff pulled the blankets over him, the little brown

teddy bear he won at the Italian feast when he was seven

fell off the shelf above him and landed in his arms.  He

looked into the teddy’s eyes with the help of a few

moonbeams that trickled through his window. Teddy still had

the same old, familiar smile.  Jeff was aware that Honey

might be listening somewhere in the ethers but it didn’t

matter that much any more, “What the hell...Good night

Teddy” and Jeff kissed the bear on its nose and tucked it I

bed with him.

He felt strangely comforted as if he were camping with

an old buddy.  As he began to doze off to slumber land, Jeff

wondered if a friendly spirit had tossed the bear to him as

a gesture of inner emotional healing.  After all, he had

just been through a draining ordeal with Tup.  But that

night something else had happened.  You see, Teddy bear had

been given enough love when Jeff was a little boy...to toss

himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Journal Entry 1,564

World@ - The Horrible Dimension

 

There are very few realms I actually fly into -- that

is so dated, but I always remember that I go to World@ via

astral travel.  When I go to World II, it is via mind

transference.  Astral travel takes some time.  No matter how

fast I fly, there is a lapse of one or two seconds.  Mind

transference, or MT, is instant.  When I go to World@, it is

a world about twelve times the size of the earth, but it is

insanely overcrowded.  Still, everyone is clothed and fed. 

As far as species reproduction World @ people can’t have

babies unless they obtain special permission.

 What happened was that @ was only about 2,000 years or

so ahead of us technologically, but suddenly, they made

quantum leaps in science and in medicine.  Now, nobody ever

dies there unless they are killed in an accident.  The rule

is that there is no revival for accident victims, but if you

are ever sick you are instantly reorganized.

People can live for thousands of years on @.  Because

of this, the population caught up with the maximum number

the planet could hold.  It’s so crowded there that, in

comparison, the streets of Calcutta look like a ghost town. 

If you go for a walk in @, you have to break into a line of

people.  Whether it is day or night, you have to break into

a line.  There are several shifts, and every two hours a new

set of people starts pushing like a stampede, here, there

and everywhere.  People still get their hair done.  That is

a luxury they take very seriously. 

The most amazing and yet horrifying things about @ are

their advertisement signs.  There are no streetlights. 

Instead, huge billboards weighing millions of tons float

about 300 feet in the sky. So bright is that blinding

light!  It is as if there are 100,000 police car lights

flashing from it. 

The signs don’t just hang there in the sky, but they

spin and spin and spin.  In this way, you are forced to be

aware of them at all times no matter where you are going,

and when you escape one sign, there's another and yet

another.  They're all over the planet and they always give

me a headache.  It's the ugliest thing.  These rotating

signs also have a loud voice that speaks out of them

constantly. The absurdity of it, however, is that nobody

much notices them but me!  The people there are used to

them.

@ is run by one central organization that speaks out of

the signs.  The messages are stupid, but seemingly

harmless.  The message is always a variation of pride in

long life because they have overcome death for thousands of

years.  This message is constantly being played without

ceasing. The problem, however, is that they have not really

overcome death.

 The propaganda insists that life is eternal, yet

accidents occur all the time.  Explosions happen and 35,000

or 2,000,000 people will be killed, but there is no mention

of it. You hear an explosion far off as if there's a war

while a nice, idiotic message comes over the public address

system attached to the revolving, revolting, blinding signs.

People don't seem to care that there was just an

accident.  They seem to project, "As long as it isn't me or

my own personal unit...more room for us."  These beings lack

humanity skills so much that they make people on World I

look like they are normal!  @ people don't hate or kill. 

All their needs are met except for space.   However, no one

on @ questions anything.  It is not in the atmosphere or

water; it is due to political programming.  And yet I must

assert they are not really evil because they are brainwashed

into complacency.

At this moment, I’m reliving the experience of my last

trip to @. The billboard directly overhead is not spinning

correctly today.  It's like a gyroscope that's winding down

and it's about to topple over on everyone, including

myself.  Nobody below it seems to care, but I'm strongly

apprehensive.  There are no chains, wires or fail-safe

mechanisms holding it up there.  In size it looks like a

side view of The Empire State Building...suspended in space,

and if it falls thousands of people will be killed both by

its impact and from the fires and explosions that will

ensue.

As I am reliving the experience, it is becoming too

stressful, so I must distance myself a little and retrieve

the events from memory.  In recalling this dreadful event, I

tried to warn people to get away but no one acknowledged my

presence.

 Overall, being on World@ was so terrifying I almost

forgot I was only a visitor there and could leave at any

time, so I got out of there pronto!   Usually, my exit is

via astral travel, but this time I didn't even think about

it and used MT.  Now I'm wondering if my astral body was

damaged by the trip.  You are supposed to leave by the same

travel methods as you arrived. 

For days on World I, I felt sick and knew that @ had

another catastrophe.  Not thousands, but millions and

millions of people were killed.  One explosion set off

another and then another until hundreds of square miles had

been destroyed by firestorm.  The survivors are brainwashed

not to care, however, so they do not fear accidents. 

It is possible the government on @ might be manufacturing

faulty advertisement signs, in order to thin the

population.  @ gives me the creeps, but why would God allow

such a terrible thing to happen?  They do not reflect like

this about God on @.  It used to irritate me when World I

people said that, but now it's comforting because although

World I people are sometimes shallow, at least they are

caring enough to say something!

End of Journal EntryUniversal Time: 00:00:00Respectfully submitted,Jeffrey Hawk

 

 

Journal Entry 1,565

 

Lately, I’ve had the vague sense that I’m being put

through some kind of a test.  I wish I knew what kind it was

but Tony won’t talk to me about it and my friends who exist

in other worlds rarely talk of earth issues or problems of

the human psyche. Their discussion is usually about yet

other realms.   Unfortunately, our earth is not the most

fascinating thing on the agenda.  It is perceived as a kind

of boot camp for beings who have to learn very basic

skills...like how to find food and eat it.  A few of the

beings I meet are human but very few. 

A human traveler is someone who is from our world who

exists in another dimension or travels there frequently. 

There is a definite Internet between realms that can be

accessed.  Travel has always made me feel a little alienated

in this world because I've met only a handful of adept

travelers from Earth.

Many people do not even question the miracle of their

own conscious being and what it can mean in terms of

individual and collective growth.  I believe in God and

God's grace, especially God's Love.  

There's also I lot I do not know, but as a

conservative, I believe that one must make sure foundations

and formulate an expanding opinion of "what is".  I'm still

examining the foundations of my own awareness and know I

have a body, but it is just a temporary vehicle. 

Essentially, I am awareness.  What happens to my awareness

depends on how I interpret paranormal and mundane

experience.  I am responsible for my awareness and feel the

need to be responsible for my actions. 

Usually, I’m at peace within myself, even when I

experience feelings of alienation.  Many people feel this

way for different reasons.  Mine are no more noble or

ignoble.   Reading is a form of meditation and can help a

person obtain a certain amount of peace and understanding.

Word-based understanding has its limitations, however.

If the writing is genuine enough on one level or

another, there, you can thrust your hand into the side of

humanity and see what lies within.  Connection is possible

and also learning from another's experience.  Minds can

connect with minds, so to speak, through the written word. 

It’s the closest thing to entering other realms that

collective humanity has to offer. 

That's why I must continue with my scientific journal;

share the connection.  In another world, there are beings

that can come to this planet, pass over one of our

libraries, and merely by saying "See!  Set!", and they

absorb the entire contents of all books, magazines, and word

storages, including pictures, graphs, indexes and post

scripts.  This makes me a little jealous.  I’ve been told,

however, that the fastest way to get started in being able

to “See! Set!” is to first become a good team player in

order to get on the right track.

One universal secret about obtaining anything is that

entities, individual units of awareness, accomplish goals

far more easily my connecting with other units of

awareness.  The universe is not composed of a bunch of

awareness units that are at war with one another.  This

perspective is warped.  We are as different cells working

together within the one body and cooperation is always the

key to understanding anything of significance.

Incidentally, our planet is not a good place to set up

shop.  I doubt if any planet or realm in the material

universe is worthwhile as a permanent retreat.  There is a

"place" that "you", that essence that is you, can go. There

is no suffering or death there and you get to exist for

free!  Unfortunately, however, I'm so attracted to the saga

of my own little life that just like most people, I want to

try to enjoy this world and other worlds forever. 00:00:00 

Chapter Sixteen

World V

One day during his scientific travels to the distant

dimension of World V, a great windstorm arose from seemingly

nowhere and suddenly blew Jeff into an old Texas-type saloon

towards the close of the 1800’s. 

As he collected himself, a slender, dark, attractive

female in her thirties sauntered over as if she was waiting

for him and began picking small, round briars or burs from

his flannel shirt.  “You got the burs all over your

lonesome…and they’s laughin burs.  Boy they sure did get cha

this time didn’t they?  Look at em stickin' all over your

performin' areas.  They gonna play you from A to Z young

man.”

Jeff replied, “What are these things? What do you think

I should do about them?”  “There ain’t nothin' you can do. 

When you come to a place like world V, and you go take a

walk in the bramble burs or you walk out into those big,

sunny open fields, then you can be sure that there’s gonna

be lots and lots a funny stickers stickin to you and silly

stickers workin their silliness all over you.”  Jeff asked

her to explain but she ignored his question.

“Yep. There ain’t no way, no how any man, woman or

child can get past the silly stickers…not on this planet. 

Nope. And you just about covered yourself from head to toe. 

Uh hum, you sure did get your self in a thicket.”

A senior at the piano called Ol’ Joe looked up, glanced

at Jeff and spoke to the woman Carla, “He must be new to

these parts to go and stick himself up so.”  Jeff responded,

“But I don’t remember walking in any burs.”  The piano

player took a long swig of beer, wiped his mouth and said,

“Well, if you ain’t been walkin in no burs, I don’t know how

you got all of these on you.”  Carla pulled off little round

sticker-like things about the size of a chickpea.

As Carla gently removed the burs from Jeff’s legs, he

observed that they were stuck to his clothing in many groups

and piled themselves on top of one another.  After about

twenty more minutes of picking, Carla removed so many of the

burs that the cluster she put on the table was almost as

large as a basketball. 

Jeff wondered, “How on earth could so many of these

have stuck to me without my noticing them?”  Carla worked

her long fingers through his hair in order to dislodge the

more stubborn ones. “You sure did get stuck today!” she said

in a long, drawn out easy breath.

Jeff was perplexed, “How could this have happened to

me?” Carla said, “Every one of these burs that got stuck to

you today ain’t leavin until they tell you what they got to

say and honey, they is outrageously insane so don’t eva

expect nothin too deep from the burs because their only

business is to tease people.”  “What do you mean, tease

people?” 

“That’s why they takes these shapes because they think

there is nothin sillier and funnier than to become a little

sticker just so some day someone will walk by and get the

burs stuck all over their trousers.  You know when you got

the burs that there’s somethin silly comin...”

Carla held up a bur between her two fingers, and said,

“This here is their calling card and once you been called,

you been enlisted, ready or not.”  “What do you mean;

enlisted for what?” 

Again Carla ignored his question, “And you got so many

callin cards on you right now no tellin what they gonna do

to you, boy!  My, my...you got so many on you that you could

just wander off into the woods and become one yourself, but

don’t you go hanging around with the Ol bramble bur bunch

any more or you neva will come out of there again.”

“Are they violent?”  “Heck no, ha ha, but they’s a

sticky, clannish sort of critters and if you hang around

with them too much you might forget who you are and think

you are one of them yourself.  Then you’ll be out in the

field waitin for someone to come by just so you can attach

yourself and do your funny business all over them.” 

 Jeff insisted, “I have no intention of becoming a

bur!”, but as Carla was pulling off one bur and then another

from his legs, arms and hair, “Why you got yourself into a

nest of them!  That means they are out for you…you got

yourself colonized.  There ain’t no way you eva gonna get

away from the bramble bur bunch…you’ve been called!”

 

Twenty-Nine

Carla’s Insight

Jeff informed her that there was some mistake because

he wasn’t actually from World V  [as he believes she

suspected], but was only a temporary visitor from World I.

“World I!”  Carla said surprised, “You from that sickly dog

of a place!” 

Her remark offended me, “I don’t see what’s so wrong

with it.”  “World I!  Well, you just better stay here.  At

least the burs will keep you safe…and at least you won’t be

hurtin no body.”  “I have no intention of hurting anyone.” 

Carla put her hands on his face and said, “Sweetie

lamb, if you are from World I, every kind a shit hit the fan

every time you takes a breath.  Ain’t that the place they

say all good intentions end up in hell?  Don’t your

religions teach people to see each other in hell?”  Jeff

quipped, “I do not believe you are paraphrasing it properly

but although that is sometimes true, I have a responsibility

to work things out as best I can.”

 “Well, unless we get these burs off a you quick

enough, you will never be able to see anything with a

straight eye again.”  “What do you mean by that?”  “Why

you’ll be makin silliness even at things you hold dear like

cherished beliefs and creation, the way you see yourself,

what to speak of the horrors of the universe...all that

stuff. 

You just won’t believe what a mere handful of the burs

could do with that.  Maybe that’s why you had to end up in

the bramble bur patch when they was havin a convention…

Honey, you’re their lamb…one of their sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices!?”  Jeff was becoming more and more

apprehensive.  “Well every year or three the burs congregate

and try to search out a willing but unsuspecting being…some

miserable sum bitch from some planet who got a morbid mind…

someone who needs help desperately.  And as a challenge,

they generally accept the worst cases that come here, and

once they spot one it’s a free for all.”  “What is their

purpose?”

 “Well, the purpose of the burs is to get rid of some

of your seriousness and wickedness.”  “Are you saying I’m

wicked?”  “Naw, naw, we don’t think you’re wicked for

certain.  You got to have a certain amount of smarts to be

wicked.  You know, seriousness on our planet is just about

the capital sin, and although you might take a poke once in

a while at your own weird brand of humor, you have no idea

what it means to be truly light.  You too uptight, honey

child, unwind yourself a little!”  We talked for a while but

Jeff became more confused and exasperated. 

Chapter Seventeen

Ol Joe’s Take

Jeff continued his argument with Carla, “It just seems

inconceivable to me that even semi-intelligent beings would

make their bodies into little round stickers and spend all

their time waiting in the bushes giggling, laughing and

waiting for a person to walk by so they can go jump on

them!  They have nothing better to do?”

  Carla looked surprised at his remark but it was Ol

Joe who spoke as he ran his fingers down the keys, “Well

what do you think they should be doing?  Can you tell me one

thing that’s better than what they’re doing?”  “For

starters, they could be trying to save the universe.  There

are too many bad things going on and I don’t like what I

see.”

Ol Joe laughed so hard, he bent way over and nearly

feel off the piano stool.  “The universe got to be saved!” 

He finally choked out.  “Well, Prof. Hawk, you got to be one

of the most arrogant som bitches I eva did see.  No wonder

the burs stuck so to ya.”  “I’m not actually a professor;

I’m a traveling scientist of sorts.”  “Well, you sure do act

like you think you know a lot for a backwards earth person. 

Yes sir!  I believe you tore your ass on this one, and your

new friends are gonna fix your wagon but good.”

“How can you accuse me of arrogance?   I’m only trying

to be a good person by correcting the mistakes and evils of

the planets as I see them!”  Carla sat down and slapped her

thigh, “Oh that’s rich…that’s rich!”  “As I live and

breathe.”  Old Joe laughed and lit up a cigar.

“Let me tell you something young man!  This universe

ain’t no 8 ½ by 11 piece of writin paper and you just can’t

go cuttin up here and snippin’ there and cuttin’ there and

then call it doin’ good.  You don’t know what the hell this

universe is made of!  What’s more, you don’t even know what

you are.  One of those burs stickin to your legs knows more

about the universe and what’s in it than all you people on

World I combined.”

Jeff replied, “Well, you have a right to your own

opinion but I don’t want these stickers bothering me.”  Ol

Joe looked up and became more serious,  “Mr. Hawk, you don’t

realize this but there are many sentient beings far more

gifted and intelligent than you, who travel great, great

distances to get here.  And when they come, they walk out

into those fields just to hopefully get attacked by one of

the burs that they may lovingly bring it back to their place

of origin and share it with their kind.”

Totally stupefied, Jeff asked, “Why would they want to

do that?”  Ol Joe paused for a moment and said in earnest,

“Mr. Hawk, if I could answer your question, I guess I

would.  But I know there ain’t no sense talkin’ to a man who

went out into them fields and reaped such an incredible

harvest on his arms and legs…that can only mean one thing to

me…you are invariably stupid.”

At this point, Jeff was past exasperated so Carla

interjected.  “What Ol Joe only means is the lessons you

gotta learn are so incredibly simple there ain’t no sense

talkin’ to you in pragmatic, logical terms of deep

significance, so let’s leave all your learnin’ up to the

burs, because they already got their stamp on you.”

 Jeff protested all of this was nonsense but Ol Joe

insisted, “There ain’t no way that you ain’t gonna learn the

lessons ‘cause one thing those bramble bur people are is

persistent.  They will dog your tracks and appear in the

most uncommon of places until they teached you the lessons

you need to be teached.”

Jeff asked him what he was talking about but he just

started singing, “Bramblin’ Rose” to the tune of  “Ramblin’

Rose” and said it was his new name.  Jeff yelled that he did

not want to be called a rose because it is a name for a

woman.  Ol Joe taunted him, “Hell, roses ain’t female nor

male; they’s ambidextrous, and if I were you, I’d consider

it an honor to be called one of the prettier and more

fragrant flowers of the universe.  Ain’t that so, Carla?”

Don’t tease the poor dear.  Sit down in this nice

chair, Prof. Hawk and let me comb the rest of those briars

out a your hair.”   Jeff sat on a wooden chair and Carla

continued to remove the burs with her long slender fingers. 

As she groomed, Jeff thought, “I must admit that her

soothing light touch upon his scalp is putting him in an

altogether different state of mind.  I feel like I am

floating inside each touch and feel more relaxed...”

 Chapter Eighteen

Suga’ Bear

Suddenly, a tall, dark, large-framed man sauntered into

the saloon, walked over to Carla, kissed her on the cheek

and said, “Hello, honey.”  Carla beamed, “Hello, Suga’

Bear!” and the man went to the bar and got himself a tall

beer.  Jeff asked, “Carla. Who’s that man who kissed you?” 

“Oh, that’s my husband.”  “Don’t you think your husband

is going to be upset with you for fixing my hair?”  Suga’

Bear heard his remark and said without even turning around

from the bar, “Upset with the likes a you?  Why you ain’t

nothin’ but a child!”  “What do you mean a child?  I’m a

grown man!”

Suga’ Bear just let out a healthy loud laugh and said,

“You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like that if you

had one.  All you want is the things a child would want…

havin a great woman like that fussin’ an playin’ with your

hair.  Now sit still before she pulls you by your ear and

makes you behave.” 

Suga’ Bear lifted his mug of beer to Jeff and toasted

him from the reflection in the mirror with a genuinely

infectious smile, “Here’s lookin’ at you kid.”  For a

moment, Jeff felt really foolish sitting there but Carla’s

long slender fingers were working their magic through his

hair.  Her gentle touch was so therapeutic, and he felt so

relaxed and natural just being in her presence, Jeff allowed

her to do whatever she wanted.

All the burs were off his person by now, but Carla

wasn’t satisfied until she combed Jeff’s hair for an hour or

so.  She took out a big, wide-tooth comb, worked it through,

combed out all the tangles and smoothed away all the snarls

that the burs had put in there. Jeff hadn’t had a haircut in

a few months, and his hair was two inches longer than he

usually kept it.

Suga’ Bear looked over from time to time and commented,

“Yep, that man love to be fussed over just like a baby…he’s

one a Carla’s babies.” and they all smiled at Jeff.  He

tried hard not to laugh, himself, but it was no use because

it was a humorous moment. Then Carla put little braids here

and little braids there, and Jeff kind of liked the feeling

of having his hair braided.  Ol Joe said, “Yep! Lil’

Bramblin’ Rose over there sure like to have his hair combed

and fussed ova.”

When Carla was done she said, “Now don’t you run out

into the bramble bur patch again and get yourself all

messied up, ya hear?”  At that moment something just dawned

on Jeff and he asked, “Why is everyone in this bar black?” 

Ol Joe said, “Didn’t you know that there were people of

color on other planets?” 

Everyone looked at Jeff as though he was just hatched

out of an egg.  Suga’ Bear said teasingly as if he was

really angry, “You think that white people own the

universe?”  Carla chimed in, “It may come as a surprise to

you Prof. Hawk, but white or Caucasian is only one of many,

as it were and as it is.” 

 

Chapter Nineteen

The Argument

Another woman who had been playing solitaire, jumped up

and stood there with her hand on her hip,  “What made it git

inta your head that there could only be white people?”

Sylvie from the cranberry bogs added quickly, because she

didn’t want to be excluded from the fun.  “Look around! 

What got it inta your head that there could only be white

people floatin’ around the universe?”

 Ol Joe sang and ran his fingers up the keys like he

was in the process of making creation itself.  “White man…

white man…” Ol Joe sang teasingly to the tune “Georgia”.  “…

don’t got a clue to de Lawd’s cosmic plan…”

Jeff thought, “I can certainly see their point and

guess I had been deeply steeped for decades into white male

society so much, I naturally assumed beings in other

universes would look more like myself than people from other

countries.  But then again, the majority of Americans are

people from other countries...” 

Jeff asked Carla, “Are there Chinese people and Mexican

people and American Indian people in this realm too?” The

burs danced up and down on the table top.

Carla looked at him with sympathy in her eyes and said, “Yes

honey lamb, and there’s many more kinds a people than you

could possibly ever imagine.  And this may be hard for you

to understand, but there are so many different kinds of

beings in the universe that we as a people, no matter what

our color or particular belief system or religion, are a

very insignificant minority.  And as far as intelligence is

concerned, we are, on a scale with all other beings,

something like dust mites…you have no idea about the vast

diversity which exists in creation.”

 Jeff interrupted, “Be that as it may,” but Carla

interrupted his interruption, “It’s not May; it’s June. I

feel an urge to talk about September.  You don’t mind if I

improvise a World V poem, do ya?” Carla stood straight and

spoke calmly and with purpose. “I call this The Second

Coming.

 

My sweet September, O’ April winter

thy blossoms sleep under sweet surrender.

Each leaf harvest breeze doth shed

with the waxing of Saturn's countenance

whose ethereal tides blow more subtly than moon wisps.

Is it any wonder then that 'man' has not known this...

that from afar an appointed King waves his scepter

and so deftly, all the world becomes a sepulcher.

The clinging season is at an end

for were there no end, could the snake shed its skin

or the mare bare her colt, man his apeness

or Christ mortality?

And if Christ be immortal,

the subtler yet is Saturn's silent sway...

and this makes my sleeping sweeter.

For as Christ is arisen, most surely thou art in Him!”

  Jeff liked the poem, “That reminds me of Yeats or

Eliot or someone.” Carla interjected, “Oh please! World I

people...that bunch is grossly remedial compared to the

average universal intelligence quotient, so don’t trouble

yourself too much about the arts and sciences because more

intelligent beings view your achievements as something akin

to Vaudeville comedy.”

When Jeff asked Carla to tell him about some of the

other kinds of beings who are more advanced than people, she

got up, went over to the table and gently picked up a

handful of the burs, “This is a more advanced people.” Jeff

told her that was ridiculous and couldn’t see how a bunch of

burs and stickers could be a people.  Carla explained to him

that they are nomads, and are a very advanced civilization

even though they are sometimes a silly one.”

 “That’s for sure.”  Suga’ Bear said.  “But you better

remember that they are more intelligent than you are, so it

would behoove you to have some respect for them.” Jeff

asked, “But what about technology?  They don’t have

any...and what about libraries and art and music and

education and skyscrapers?  Burs can’t do anything but stick

to people, so how could they possibly be superior to us?”

Ol Joe banged both of his hands down on the keys, and

looked at him with a menacing frown,  “Now you’re showin’

true ignorance, boy!   You got the prejudice of digits and

dexterity in you!” Jeff asked him to clarify and he said,

“Because the burs don’t build things don’t mean that they

aren’t as smart as you are!  That’s the problem with you

earth people.”

Jeff started tell Ol Joe that he might have a point,

but he became serious, “You eat or abuse every life form

that does not imitate your own ridiculous behavior and you

have the balls to say that you are smarter than what you

eat…besides, the burs don’t need to build anything.  They

can exist in temperatures that are freezing with no problem;

they can exist in sweltering heat and they don’t even need

to eat or drink…so what’s the big deal with them not

botherin’ to build anything?”

“But what about the fact that on my planet we can read,

write, work complex mathematical problems, discuss

philosophy, history and are capable of doing so many

things?  And yes, we do have art, literature and music. 

What do the burs and burs have?” 

Suga’ Bear interjected, “Your art and your music and

your literature haven’t gotten you anywhere, and you’re at

the tail end of the intellectual pantheon as far as life-

critters are concerned.”

Jeff began to protest but Ol Joe picked up the Suga’

Bear’s train of thought and became solemnly grave, “People

in your world are just as violent and just as selfish as

ever, so what good are your ridiculous paltry achievements?”

Jeff began to stutter something, but Ol Joe continued,

“Lookie here! Your world I planet equates violence,

strength, and the eating of flesh to manliness.” 

“Wait a minute” Jeff screamed, “I’m a vegetarian!”

However, the group was on a roll and Carla yelled, “How

savage, brother!”  Suga’ Bear pronounced, “This is as close

as the average man, black, yellow, brown or white can walk

with the Christ which is bound and gagged within him.  Some

planet and some society!”

Jeff was reeling at this point.  Ol Joe noticed his

state and lightened up a little, “Now the burs have their

own kind of society, their own kind of music, and their own

kind of singin’ and dancin’. That you are gonna find out

about soon enough.  Yep!  They gonna fix your wagon!”

JEFF asked him, “How are they going to fix my wagon?” 

Ol Joe turned around on his stool in a 360-degree circle and

answered, “Oh don’t you worry about that.  The burs and burs

know what they doing, and they know where and when to do

their stuff.”  “What stuff?”  “You know, do their magic, but

don’t you worry because burs are smart little buggers and

are twice as determined.”  The burs and burs Carla gathered

together on the table started laughing and giggling in high

tiny voices like elves. Jeff found that to be absurd because

he doesn’t even believe in elves.

“Will you listen to that.”  Carla said in a dreamy

voice.  “The way they’s gigglin’ and laughin’ sounds like

they is already under the bed covers, and mama already

tucked them in and daddy already warned them not to make a

peep…there’s so many of them under the covers, kickin’ up

the blankets that they just can’t help gigglin’ and gigglin’

and gigglin’ until their sides hurt…as it were…”

Jeff didn’t know how he knew this but the burs enjoyed

being picked up by Carla and talked about.  She was gentle

with them and took extra care not to hurt their delicate

little points, and sang to them lovingly, “We shall bear

witness unto one another in a universe that some would, if

they could, paint everything over white.  But we shall

continue to run in place, marking time, so what they claim

is human progress shall not taint our hearts with striving,

selfish wickedness, nor make us invisible by the white man’s

blind, eager hunger to get beyond the place where we are

now…in the beautiful, eternal present.”  Jeff couldn’t

understand why this seemed humorous, but the tiny, sticker-

like creatures giggled until Jeff thought they would burst

wide open.

 

 

Chapter Twenty

The Burs Have a Strong Hold

As Carla collected the burs, she placed them on the red

and white checkered table cloth and said she would take them

back to the field and place them carefully on the plants and

bushes.  “There they will make themselves happy singin’ and

gigglin while they wait for another customer to come walking

by.  Until that time, they will soak up the sun and share

the little stories of what they are gonna do and what they

already done…laughin and tellin stories all day in the warm,

golden sun.” 

Well, after Carla made a final inspection of his socks

to see if any of the burs got under the legs of his jeans,

Sylvie from the Cranberry bogs sashayed over to Ol Joe to

make light talk and he grabbed her around the waist and

pulled her onto his lap. 

She leaned forward and yelled over to me, “Hey Mista

Hawk!” as if she were calling to him from down the other end

of a city street, “Why you didn’t criticize our relaxed an

easy Ebonic way of speakin’?  You think we don’t know no

better than this?  Ain’t they no educated black people where

you come from?”

Jeff was too dumbfounded to speak and Carla broke

through all the laughter, waving her hand, “That ain’t fair,

ha ha.  Now don’t you worry lil’ lambie.  Sylvie from the

sweet an sour cranberry bogs will git cha for what you do or

don’t say.”  As usual, the burs thought hat was a good one

too.

Jeff was finally about to get up and leave but first

wanted to express his gratitude.  “Carla, I want to thank

you for helping me get rid of these things.”  Carla took his

hand and said, “Honey, you may not see them attached to you

any more right yet, but they went and done their business.” 

“What?”  “They done their business!”

 Carla looked down at the pile of burs.  “Look at em

all stuck together conspirin’ in a big heap.  You see, these

burs left part of their consciousness with you and now these

shells are the mother host of what is now attached all over

your soul shell.”

JEFF asked, “Soul shell?  Soul shell?  What’s that?” 

Carla took on a didactic attitude, “As ye sow, soul shell ye

reap.”  “I haven’t sown anything.”  “No but you been sowed

and that means the same thing in these here parts.”  “And

what the hell does that supposed to mean?” Jeff was 

becoming perturbed.  Carla said in a soft, drawn out, sweet

as Sugar voice, “It means that now you gonna be reaped.”

Apprehensively, Jeff asked Carla, “Has anyone else from

earth been reaped before?”  “There have been others who

stopped over for a spell, but most earthins’ don’t usually

hang around these parts; they too busy.  Fer the most part I

don’t like ‘em because they tries to trot on us…but some of

the youngins; they’s Okay.”

“Young people come here?”  “Oh yes.  They go inta the

fields and get their ankles stuck up and is always passing

the burs back and forth, trading an swappin’ ‘em and the

burs just love it.”  “Why do the burs love for them to do

that?”  “For cryin out loud!  That’s how the silliness

spreads…don’t you know much at all?”  “I am not entirely

ignorant to this experience.  I’ve seen young people laugh

about nothing at all in church.” 

“That’s right honey.  They’s always a couple a burs

hidin’ in the pews and sometimes they even hide right smack

under the altar which keep the preachers hands full for an

hour or so.  They’s so bad, they’ll hide right in the good

book and their favorite spot is Revelations; they just love

it there!”

“Have they ever attacked you like that?”  “Well, one

Sunday me an my husband, Suga’ Bear was standing up in

church and singing a hymn but when I got to signing the

line, ‘Oh Lawd I is a sinner, bring in your lost lamb’, a

burr flew out of the hymnal and stuck to my gizzard.  I was

laughin so the tears were running down my face and everyone

thought I got born again or had a revelation of some kind.”

 “But is that right?”  Jeff questioned.  “Heck.  Don’t

matter what’s right or what’s not right to the burs.  They

are no respecta’ a people or what they beliefs is…They

figure, if there is a God, He got a sense a humor and made

all things and gave all characteristics of traits to things

including them.  Tell me young man!  Does the alligator

bite?  Does the kite flight?  Does the dust mite?  You got

no right to judge God’s creation according to your own

selfish, limited concepts because God does everything

right!”

Jeff was just about to tell her that she sounded like a

back hills cross between God speaking to Job and Alexander

Pope’s Essay on Man, but something altered his thought

pattern.  For no apparent reason he experienced one of the

silliest thoughts that went racing through his head, and

before Jeff could stop himself he asked, “Do you think any

of the burs are saved?”

As the words came out of Jeff’s mouth, he realized how

ridiculous they sounded, and the little burs went nuts

gigglin and laughin.  As Carla warned him, their spirits

were stuck all over his soul shell to the point where his

thoughts and even some of his actions were no longer his

own.

She added, “I knows you didn’t expect to say that

because you is too conceited being made proud by what you

think is your God-given talent at investigatin’ life-society

without realizing that you are part and parcel of it

yourself! Jeff thought, “I should say something, she’s

right.” He signed and took a drink of draft birch beer with

a twist of lemon.

Carla added, “What’s more, it ain’t male or white that

you should be expectin’ ta see in particular, and to cure

yourself of this specialized area of retardation on your

part, you should go back to school and research human

reactions from a whole earth culture of conditioning.  Try

to be more holistic, Jeff.  Now that’s something that would

be more scientific!”

 The burs laughed like crazy at Carla’s remark, and

everyone at the bar laughed at the antics of the burs.  Jeff

was too upset, “To tell you the God’s honest truth, Carla, I

really do not remember sowing, but I guess it is my fate

that as I have been sewn, ‘soul shell I be reaped’ by

strange burs from another realm who come with gentle, yet

tenacious, sticking feet to grab ahold of me when I least

expect it.  Lord help me!”

 

Chapter Twenty-One

An Attempt at Practical Applications

 in Making a Scientific Journal Entry 1,566

vs.

“I Was Conceived in a Little Red Minute” By the Burs and

Grapes

We are presently existing on a planet which is in

itself temporary.  All of us know what it is like to be

living a transient existence.  The mind desires stability

and peace but these are difficult to acquire when humans

are  figuratively shot from cannons into this world. And for

a brief moment, our bodies exist and are then no more. 

Life on World I is far more tragic than in other realms

because earthly bodies are so seemingly dense which

strengthens the entity’s belief system around it.  If I

could take you by the hand and lead you from this place of

misery and death I would gladly do so but alas, I am also

one of you.  It is my hopeful speculation that...

I don’t know how to write this, so I’m just going to

write it as plainly as possible.  I cannot continue with

this Scientific Journal as I have originally planned it

because the grapes (what the female burs call themselves)

and the burs (what the male burs call themselves, and also

frequently the general name which includes both sexes) are

creating such a din that I cannot concentrate. 

The following is being written in present tense so you

can see what I had to go through in order to produce it. 

Now I am getting some work done, only it isn’t mine.  Their

thoughts are being transferred to me, and although I can

interject my own thoughts on occasion, I am literally at

their mercy.  A bur can transfer thoughts via touch, sight

or sound.  However, as long as I keep writing, the burs and

grapes will sit quietly...for just a moment. 

One of the grapes sitting on my knee is watching me

intently while two of the burs have just rolled inside one

of my shoes which is across the room.  Now they are playing

with the laces. 

The grapes and burs are watching me with rapt attention

as I write.  It is as if they are hanging on every movement

of my pen and are waiting for me to take a second to think

about what I’m doing.  Whenever I pause even for a second or

two, the grapes and burs jump all over the room and make so

many giggling sounds, I’m forced to leave my own home in

order to get a little peace and quiet. All that inane

giggling! I’ve got to ask Tony for help.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Coming to Grips With the Responsibility

of Being a Traveling Scientist

vs.

Not everything in the Universe is meant to be Funny;

The Burs are Finally in Rows

                                                      

After several weeks of being under the power of burs,

Jeff sought Tony’s help to see if he could get some advice

about how to get rid of them.  Tony thought deeply for about

twenty minutes and then spoke gravely, “I was infected with

such a bunch of burs, I made a professional painted clown

look like a poor, miserable slob.”

Jeff perked up with interest, “What did you do to get

rid of them?” Much to Jeff’s disappointment, Tony said, “In

dead seriousness, there is never a way to get rid of the

burs once you have been infected with them.”  Jeff was

aghast, “What?”  Tony reiterated, “Oh yes.  When they come,

and they’re always coming, what you have to do is temper

seriousness with compassion and they’ll become peaceful and

sit quietly in rows.”  Jeff asked, “How can I accomplish

this?”  Tony replied matter of factly, “It takes practice.”

Jeff was dumbfounded, “Tony, forgive me for saying this

but, I have never seen you or do or say anything funny or  

silly ever.” Tony looked at Jeff compassionately, “Be that

as it may, Jeff, I must insist that more burs...and grapes

have stuck to my soul shell than you could possibly

imagine.” 

Tony stretched his arm out and placed his hand about

two feet from Jeff’s right side.  As he moved his hand in a

perpendicular movement parallel to Jeff’s solar plexus, he

remarked, “I’m feeling the vibration of your energy field. 

Yeah...you’ve got quite a few, but they didn’t hit you as

hard as they could have.”  Tony put his arm down and sat

down across from Tony with a serious look in his eyes,

“You’ve got your cross to bear, but you shall learn to bear

a different cross.”

Jeff felt disgusted, “I really don’t see myself as a

person who needs to learn the lessons of burs.” Tony said

disinterestedly, “You’ve got to have the gift of silliness

first before you can overcome it.” Jeff pondered, “Maybe the

lessons in life that I learn from the burs will help me

become a better person in some way.” Tony chuckled softly

and reached for the loaf of bread on the sofa. 

As they talked, Tony broke the bread into small pieces

and put it in a paper bag.  Jeff confessed, “More than

anything, the whole concept is very confusing to me, but you

talk about handling the burs as if the solution requires no

more dialogue than giving simple instructions on how to clip

one’s toenails.”

Tony stepped outside his apartment and into the soft

sunlight, “Here, Jeff.  Take some bread and toss it to the

sparrows.”  Jeff felt the cool small pieces of wheat bread

touch his fingers.

That night, Jeff wrote earnestly into his scientific

journal, “At this moment I feel as if I’m writing a message

from an abandoned space ship in one of the Twilight Zone

episodes where I am the sole survivor…I feel rather foolish

writing this account and don’t expect anyone to believe what

I’m about to say.  It’s so difficult for me to write these

words, and I have struggled with my conscience many nights

because I did not want to make a full report.

 However, I have an obligation to World I as a

scientific traveler into new and different dimensions to

disclose all that I perceive.  All I can do is promise in

all seriousness and earnestness:  Do not travel into world V

or your ordinary consciousness will be invalidated from time

to time, or most of the time by units of silliness which are

strongly inappropriate to the rational, logical and thus

moral essence of the human intellect as we know it.

The most distressing thing about being attacked by burs

is once one returns to earth, burs can appear at spurious

moments.  Fits of inane action or laughter is all one can

hope to accomplish under the bur’s whip.  Most of the time

the laughter does not even have a point of reference...there

is little or no theme to bolster up the outburst. 

 You have no control over it, but the difference is you

are aware that it’s happening.  However, you have no other

choice than to become a helpless observer of thoughts, words

and actions which are largely no longer your own.

I saw Tony again yesterday and he said the burs can be

used as a kind of medicine for creating alternate points of

reference.  When the mind cannot conceive of alternate ways

of thinking and disclosure, one can resort to the burs funny

business in order to obtain a different view of things. 

They are dislodges of the intellect which frequently

creates negative think scapes which are highly destructive

to the individual.  Thus, it is a good practice to clear up

all poor programming as soon as humanly possible; it’s like

decoding a computer virus.

Tony said that babies are naturally big collectors of

burs, as if they needed any more.  People just love to come

over and give them all they have.  The strangest thing is

that people who have only one or two really need about a cup

full, but the nature of World I people is that they want to

give theirs to people who don’t need them instead of people

who do. 

The odd thing about burs is that they love to be given

to people who don’t need them because that’s the nature of

the creature, although they will gently cling to a miserable

person if they are placed there with great skill and

patience.  It is possible to give them away.

In the course of our conversation I learned that there

are actually two ways to overcome burs.  Tony said he

doesn’t want to waste time and energy giving them away

because they can always come right back unless one is very

careful.  

However, I think I’ll take my chances in giving them

away because I don’t have the high level of spiritual

attainment Tony has to be able to control the burs by

tempering seriousness with compassion.  It takes too much

practice for immediate results and I am only successful with

this technique for up to a few hours at a stretch.

In summation, for those people who have plenty of burs,

it’s all too easy for them to get more, and those who have

close to none or don’t know that they have one stuck to them

won’t get too many more.  No one wants to give such a person

a bur because the would-be giver is unconsciously afraid

that the miserable person will pass judgment on him or her

for not being serious.

 Like Carla said, “Unless you got plenty of burs

already, people that’s got em is afraid to give em because

that’s the nature of the critter, unless they attack you in

herds they selves.  Then you been called.”  

Chapter Twenty-Three

Journal Entry 1,567

A Universal Apologia

I realize all of this may sound incredible, but if you

have somehow gotten this scientific journal into your hands,

I guess I may as well tell all. First and foremost, I never

expected to catalogue the most absurd of my experiences, 

especially about the burs and stickers, because honest to

God, it sounds so ridiculous to an objective scientist such

as myself, and I had to undergo great difficulty even

logging these events in my journal.

 Night after night, I labored under the heavy weight of

my conscience and great soul searching before I was able to

share these experiences.

What I’m trying to say is, if the readers of my

scientific journal think I’m crazy, I don’t blame anyone. 

God only knows, that I never intended it to turn out like

this, but in speaking the truth, I guess I condemn myself as

a lunatic.  However, I must log my experiences as they

occur, even if I must be judged as insane.  That is the

cross I will have to bear.  I am, as it were, the great

American tragic hero...the last of its breed.  Yes.  I am

the tragic hero of the twenty first century, not because I

have seen something you have not, but because I am yet noble

enough to make truthfulness my cross.

As Plato gave his heroic ‘Apology’ in ages past, I

stand before you now.  Although time and circumstance has

deemed it fit to work upon the altercation of my mind and

general psychology, whatever is left within me which is

deemed good and appropriate earnestly appeals to you...in

strong scientific defense and moral dedication to the truth,

as it exists in exalted highest principle in each age which

breaks forth, spreads out and winds up. 

My dear scientific traveling friends, from age to age,

a torch bearer for each degree of man and woman, plant and

animal, element and mineral has deemed it expedient become

what others would condemn...even to becoming the buffoon-

like target of pseudo-intellectual ridicule and scorn.

If I am very fortunate, there will be one or two

individuals who will believe that what I say is true.  And I

will count myself graced if those who must condemn me as mad

will at least have a little pity on me, for I am a most

misunderstood individual and have suffered much

recrimination because I am so honest and not in spite of it.

When I started my travels many years ago, I thought I’d

be discovering things much different than what I have found,

and what I found has not been easy to translate for World I

people.  I’m sure there are worlds out there that people can

experience that would give them sane-sounding dialogues to

bring back to Mother Earth. 

Not one of the readers of this scientific journal will

probably believe this, but I always wanted to have something

worthwhile and good to contribute.  However, somehow or

other, I’ve sometimes gotten caught up in realms which defy

logic, reason, and common sense. And cataloging the events

of these realms...the very attesting to their existence

has made me an outcast amongst my own people.

In a sense I feel victimized for what I have

experienced, because my experiences were not always under my

control.  Therefore, all I ask is that you do not pass

judgment upon me for what I have seen, heard and felt in

these different realms.  Finally, those who must condemn me

for the words I speak…I don’t blame you, but it is you for

whom I have recorded this record of travels.

 For those who have taken such journeys or who are

sympathetic towards my circumstances, I have only to add in

all due fairness and honesty that the most difficult

disclosure made in this journal was the confession of my own

human frailty.  Oh how I wanted to appear strong and

undauntingly in control, a man of several worlds, a

conqueror! 

However, I am a rational, intelligent traveling

scientist, and it helps relieve some of the sting when I

remind myself that the male ego is just another aspect of

World I men which is yet to be studied and understood in

full.  I wonder if John Glen ever had this problem.

I am a voice crying in the wilderness…a lone voice,

seeking his own, and if not his own at least perhaps an

eclectic collection of beings who can say, “Yes, I’ve been

there too.”  Or maybe there will be someone who wasn’t in

any of those other realms but will be able to say, “Yes,

brother, I sympathize with you.  I know how it must be to

have visited all of these strange and unfathomable places,

and be yearning to share with anyone who would listen about

these scientific travels.”

  I’m not saying all of it was bad.  On the whole I’d

say I enjoyed most of the experiences.  There were even

times when I had a lot of fun, but God…whether good or bad,

I’m a human being and I need someone to understand me as I

am, even with all of my burs and grapes sticking to me…

Sometimes I think that God must be playing a terrible

joke on me because I know there are at least hundreds or

even thousands of other travelers on World I, but they don’t

have so many of these things happening to them.  No.  They

come back with the kinds of experiences and travel accounts

that others can relate to.  I on the other hand, am

perceived as a weird, distraught duck amongst men...an ugly

duck, as it were.

And while I don’t even have the courage to one-day hope

of becoming a swan, I yearn for a type of inclusion into our

human society where I can be myself and speak about what I

do.  And what I do is travel.  I yearn to speak without any

fear of recrimination, for I am, alas, a very sensitive

soul.

Although I was guided in the way of my forefathers and

respect those earthly traditions which are non-violent and

non-judgmental in nature, my own personal leanings and

abilities have veered me into a complex network of otherness

which sometimes can only be defined as bizarre or the

culminations of an hallucinatory, insane mind by World I

standards.

 It is my great sorrow that most people have pre-

conceived notions about what other worlds are like, and will

therefore become sharply disappointed when they read my

scientific travel journal.  Thus, it makes me feel deep

regret that I have let these people down in some way.  The

last thing I’d ever want to do is let anyone down.

Would that I could visit worlds and realms, which would

have filled your minds and spirits with satisfaction and

contemplative growth.   However, as an eternal neophyte, I

can do little more than to take what comes my way, and to do

my best to translate as closely as possible what I have been

given.  The more I travel, the more I understand that it is

not I who am making the decisions about what I experience.

I am called down an unbeaten path, but would love to

have traveled the roads taken by many so that I might have a

little consoling fellowship. 

Perhaps the nature of my spirit is twisted in such a

way that it is propelled sideways into the most bizarre

situations, whereas other spirits march straight forward

with interlocked elbows, in broad rows and steady flanks

into the collective sharing of eclectic universal data.  I

am livid with jealousy and it pains me to admit this to the

general populace, but I am after all a scientific researcher

and must catalogue all of my experiences. 

While it is possible that I should have made this

personal statement in the beginning, I feared that once

hearing my bizarre confession no one would care to take the

time to continue and find out what the ultimate truth. I

wish I could give you everything, but I can only offer you

what is actually most genuine.  And even that has to be

offered to you under so many guises, trick mirrors, trap

doors…as if I were leading you down an uncertain path.

Please bear with me just a little longer.  It must be

difficult for you, of course it is, to continue on this

bizarre journey. But you’ve gotten this far, and I know you

can do it. For what lies ahead is the mercy and rationality

of the Promised Land.

 Perhaps you know it’s absurd to appeal to your sense

of reason at this point, but I am a reasonable man.  Maybe

if I bore witness to my sincerity and pleaded that what I

have to offer is given truly from the heart, you would feel

and bond with that which reason could only trot upon and

heatedly dismiss as unalterably unqualified.

My travels have so humbled me in ways that you could

never possibly know.  Once I thought I was a valuable

contributor of the human race, but now I often wonder if I

have anything worthwhile at all to contribute.  Will this

journal stop a war?  Will it erase prejudice and hatred? 

Will people stop hurting our planet and the poor, dear

creatures who so depend upon our mercy?   What were World I

people born for?  I say for this and much, more!

I understand why Tony doesn’t go around telling people

how they can save the world.  In all sincerity, who needs to

be told anything at this late date?   Who has not yet heard

of civil, human and animal rights?  We are no longer in a

state of revolution. Stagnation has not run its course; it

has no course.

 Everyone knows the difference between right and wrong,

senseless cruelty and mercy...As Carla asked about World I,

“Yes...World I certainly is a sickly dog of a place...”

Again, I understand why Tony doesn’t go around telling

people that they are capable of making incredible changes

for the better in our lifetime.  Yet, I am a spirit crying

in the wilderness.  I have no other alternative than to cry

out because that is my nature. 

However, right at this very second, I feel strangely

distanced from the process of disseminating information, and

feel increasingly unattached to the process of relating

these events, because on second reflection, I haven’t the

vaguest idea what my account could possibly mean in the

overall scheme of things.

What’s really bothering me right at this moment...is

that the burs have taken hold of my soul shell to such an

extent, that never before in my entire existence have I been

so completely controlled by another being.  This is what it

must feel like to be married.  Ladies and gentlemen, these

creatures are indeed powerful.

 Although what I’m about to say may sound more than

absurd, I am relating these events in full knowledge of that

fact, but please keep in mind that at this time I have

little free will to do otherwise for I am being subjugated

by burs.  Now that I feel more unattached it is only fair to

warn you, while I no longer give a ‘Swedish Fish’ what you

think, you will always have my deepest, unabiding, respect.

End of Journal EntryUniversal Time: 00:00:00

 

Journal Entry 1,569

The Marvelously Zany, Theatrical Realm of World!

 

World! (Exclamation) is a very unusual place.  Its

inhabitants love drama and the stage so much that most of

their time is spent acting out different melodramas, skits,

story telling, slapstick...you name it.  When I was just a

boy, I made my first trip to World! And had the privilege of

viewing an in-house performance which is quite difficult to

explain, because all of the actors and actresses are

originally from other realms.  Additionally, the drama was

imparted holographically, so the events have to be laid out

in a linear manner. Alien children from all over the

universe somehow or other find their way to this realm,

especially when they are sleeping, and I loved to travel

there as a child.

Let’s see...my favorite performance was about Sid the

three-legged spider, and Melvin the chef, who is a reformed

boar.  The drama is a kind of space cartoon that countless

beings enjoy, especially young beings who have still

retained most of their innocence and ability to imagine.

It is indeed bizarre to speak about a spider with three

legs and a boar who loves to cook, but there exists in the

universe...a vast network of beings that simply defy the

imagination!

Anyway, these two characters who ended up on world!

Didn’t start out there; they are from different galaxies

originally.  In fact, No one starts out in this realm called

World!, but as the soul sojourns through many different

dimensions over eons of time, World! sometimes attracts what

might otherwise repel the less experienced traveler. Now I

am ready to record the story as I remember it.  Once upon a

time...

Sid is an old spider especially by earth standards.  No

one knows exactly how long he has inhabited the body of an

arthropod, but it is fair to assume that Sid is quite

ancient.  Nevertheless, he still keeps himself as well as

can be expected.

 The three legs that are remaining have a touch of

arthritis but he still manages to get around okay.  While it

is true that Sid lost five of his legs, it is not expected

that he will lose any more of them.  In fact, Sid feels good

about having only three legs because he is lighter and is

able to get around much better.

Sid was never one for eating flies or mosquitoes.  In

fact, the moment he accepted his present body, he had a

strong hankering for fruits, vegetables, whole grains, sugar

and especially Melvin's home made apple pies.  This is the

only thing that he eats nowadays.

Melvin is ancient as well, but as long as he can

remember, he always loved to cook. Many years ago, Sid, soon

after taking his present form, needed a place to stay so he

used to hang around in Mel's vegetable garden and eat

rhubarb stalks.

 One day, he smelled a pie that Mel put on the kitchen

windowsill to cool. Sid thought to himself, "Why should I be

eating rhubarb all the time when such a nice pie is

available?"  Without wasting any time, Sid let out a web,

floated to the top of the window and slowly let himself

down.

 At first, the heat rising from the pie was too much

for him to bear and it singed his delicate little feet, but

after some time had passed, Sid was able to walk around on

top of the pie with great ease. 

It soon became a habit for Sid to walk all over the

pies and taste the apples where Mel had made slits in the

dough.  Sid felt this was an auspicious sign for him because

the baker always makes eight marks in the pie.

  All went very well for Sid until one day Mel saw Sid

running around on his pie, darting from one aperture to the

next.  Without delay, Mel grabbed his kitchen knife and went

after the spider yelling, "Off my apple pie, you unclean

thing!" and swished the knife through the air.  This was the

first time Sid lost one of his eight legs.

At first, Sid was very upset because he was just

getting used to being a spider, and now this!  What was he

going to say to his friends?  It was from that moment on,

Sid decided to hide himself from the world and become a

loner.

 "I don't want people's sympathy,” he thought as he

made his way into a small crack in the wall above Mel's

kitchen cabinets.  However, Mel saw Sid climb up into the

wall and waved his knife, "What are you doing in my house?" 

In spite of his actions, Mel had a soft heart and knew he

had harmed Sid, so he did not climb up on a chair to finish

him off.

On the contrary, that night, Mel could not sleep.  He

thought about the wounded spider and suffered much remorse

because he had only intended to frighten him away.  Mel got

out of bed and decided to go into the kitchen and put a few

bread crumbs soaked in milk into the crack of the wall for

the spider.

 However, as Mel entered the kitchen, he was aghast to

see that Sid had climbed down from his new home and was

limping around on his freshly baked apple pie!  Before he

could stop himself, Mel grabbed another kitchen knife and

waved it above Sid yelling, "I told you to stay away from my

pies!"

However, the loud yelling in the middle of the night

startled Sid so much that he flew up his string and was

right in the path of the knife.  Slash!  Four more of Sid's

legs dropped to the floor.  Mel was horrified at the sight. 

"Oh my G-d!” he cried.  Sid managed to make it back into the

wall and passed out. 

For the rest of that night, Mel did not get a moment's

sleep. "How could such a terrible thing happen?  I never

meant to harm him."  Thus, he tossed, turned and lamented

until the sun came up.  Mel entered the kitchen and looked

up at the crack in the wall but there was no movement.  For

several days there was no sign of Sid and Mel thought that

the spider had passed on to another form.

As the days passed, Mel continued to bake bread and

cookies and short cake and macaroons by the dozens, but he

couldn't even taste the food he ate.  Then about a week

later, Mel baked another apple pie, set it on the windowsill

to cool, and went in the yard to pick some fresh figs.  It

was during this time that Sid regained consciousness because

the cooling pie sent the fragrance of cooked apples to all

of his bug-like sensors.

 "I am going to taste Mel's pie for the last time and

then give up the ghost", Sid thought.  There was no way that

he would be able to escape a third attack and he wanted to

die with Mel's apple pie in his mouth.

Still aching in his body, Sid managed to slide down on

his web strand, hobbled over to the pie and began to eat it

with great relish.  "Mmmmmmmm!"  "Mmmmmmmm!"  "Num num!", he

hummed.  All of a sudden, Sid looked up and saw Mel standing

over him with tears in his eyes.

 "How are you, Mr. Spider?” Mel asked in a choked up

voice.  Sid replied, "I am shy a few legs and am a genuine

outcast now amongst my own congregation."  It was a little

difficult for Sid to speak clearly because he had so much

pie in his mouth, and Mel was never a great one for

listening (just ask his ex-wife) so he thought he heard, "I

am very shy, but genuinely want to cast a vow for

renunciation."  Mel thought, "This is no ordinary spider; he

is a very religious", so he told Sid, "Be well, Rabbi."

At first, Sid had no idea what he meant by this, but a

few days later he overheard Mel talk to the lady next door

who came over to borrow a cup of flour.  In short, Mel told

Sarah that he had a Ravi-arthropod living in his kitchen

wall. 

Sarah was furious and put the cup of flour down

screaming, "I will not take flour from an unclean kitchen. 

How can the spider be religious? Don't you know anything

about their practices?"  It was at this moment Sid decided

he had to do something, but what?

That night Sid let out some of his web, thought for a

moment, and then wove a beautiful black yarmulke, a

cranberry and earth tone prayer shawl, a black suit and a

set of nice matching black boots.  Sid was a crackerjack

tailor in a prior lifetime and he considered his work a

labor of love.  "I hope I have not gone overboard", Sid

thought as he tried on his new clothes. 

The next morning Mel was in the kitchen rolling out

some dough on the table and Sid, in his religious garb,

gingerly slid down his ‘sacred thread’ because he didn't

want to get any dust on himself.

At first, Mel was so intent on what he was doing that

he did not notice the spider.  Sid became impatient to get

Mel's attention, so he kicked himself away from the wall and

started to swing back and forth.  Out of the corner of his

eye, Mel saw something move and looked up just in time to

see Sid lose his footing and fall kerplunk into the flour. 

"Oh Rabbi!” Mel cried, and gently picked Sid up out of the

flour with his hoof.

Sid felt pretty miserable because he was covered with

flour and had been working on his clothes all night. 

However, Mel obviously fell for the outfit because he placed

Sid on a fresh piece of apple pie and said, "Don't move!”

and ran next door to get Sarah.  Well!  In no time flat,

Sarah came running through the door, and when she saw Sid in

his holy garb she screamed, "A rabbi!”

 I almost forgot to tell you that Sid had also made a

few nice curls in his fur.  "What is a rabbi?” he wondered

as he primped his curls with his right leg.  Sid had been a

loner for most of his life, and since he never practiced

much of anything, he got the idea for his outfit from a

picture he saw once when he was browsing through an

encyclopedia.

Needless to say, from that day on, Sid has been living

on easy street in Mel's kitchen.  Neighbors are always

stopping by and bringing presents of fruit tarts and pies

for the holy Rabbi who lives in the wall.  Sid is very happy

that he has found a home where he is not only well fed but

also dearly loved by one and all. 

The only thing that he cannot understand, however, is

why Sarah is always talking loudly about sacred scriptures

right below his little home in the wall while he is trying

to take his afternoon nap.  Besides this, the only thing

that greatly distresses Sid these days is that Sarah is

determined to find him a nice girl.

Every morning Sarah goes to her back yard and tries to

encourage the young female spiders to come with her to meet

Sid; she's quite a matchmaker in this little village on

world!  So, when Sarah comes over Mel's, Sid climbs up his

string as fast as he can and hides himself as far back into

the wall as possible. 

However, luckily for Sid, Mel has grown so fond of the

little Rabbi that he always insists that none of the young

ladies are quite good enough for his son.  If you look at

the pictures very closely, you will be able to discern that

Sid and Mel are bachelors at heart and are happy that way.

However, I was in my back yard the other day and you

wouldn't believe the nice girl I met who was weaving a web

in the apple tree.  (If Sid saw the legs on that one!)  I'll

have to take her with me the next time I visit world! which

won't be too long I assure you!

The moral of this story is self-explanatory, but

remember that Mel and Sid have transcended all concepts of

form and have chosen these shapes in order to learn more

about themselves.  "Why a spider?” you might ask.  Sid's

answer is "Why not?"  You see, Sid had taken many countless

forms already when he was playing on world*.  

So, by the time Sid had an opportunity to take a form

on world! he simply thought "Whatever...", as his spirit

drifted randomly into the creative light. These beings know

they are pure spirit, but as I said, some souls who are eons

old, sometimes become attracted to the world of living drama

on world!

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

A Parallel World on World ^ 

It was near the Christmas holiday of just last year

when Jeff decided to travel to World III and decided it

would be adventurous to visit ^ again.  Although he had

never done this before, Tony insisted on traveling with Jeff

to World III after an in-depth discussion concerning the

different levels of this spiritual realm.  Tony said in his

usually grave tone, “I have committed myself to be your

guide into ^ because...to be honest, Jeff, I’m a little

concerned about your lack of seriousness on the subject.”

Jeff protested, “I am a very serious traveler and” Tony

interjected, “Enough talk about three-legged spiders and

pigs that bake apple pies.  I want you to take a more

serious attitude when you travel.”  Jeff opened his mouth to

defend himself, but Tony put his hand out and gently pushed

Jeff a few inches forward.

With one step into the light, Jeff was now outside of

what appeared to be his home on World I in the sub-world of

World^.  He immediately ran into the house to see if anyone

was there and thought it would be interesting to speak to

beings from ^ as people he already knew. 

However, inside the house everyone was asleep and Jeff 

got the distinct feeling that these beings should not be

disturbed.  He took a step down the kitchen hallway and

looked around.  On the table was a letter with Jeff’s name

on it.  When he opened the envelope, he read a hand written

message from a friend who had enclosed a free pass to MGM

Studios in Hollywood.

In the back of Jeff’s mind, an instant history of this

friend unwound itself in a linear progression, and as it

unwound, Jeff remembered this friend and the discussion

about the pass, but thought he had dreamt it in World II.

Jeff was aware that Tony was in a state of meditation on

World III and tried to keep this as a point of reference as

he slid the pass into his back pocket.

Jeff walked outside, jumped into his old blue Grand

Torrino, and decided to drive all the way to Hollywood,

California to see, “Yes!” Jeff said out loud, “...to see the

most celebrated and exciting people on World^--movie stars!”

Just to be safe, Jeff ran back into the house, brought out

his sleeping bag, canteen, and backpack and off he went!

After three days on the road, it was about 11:30 at

night when a blizzard appeared instantly as if it were an

entity in itself.  One second, there was a clear, blue sky

with twinkling, albeit frozen stars.  And the next minute, a

snowstorm appeared overhead in one enormous panoramic view. 

A few seconds later, just as suddenly, the sun began to

rise...at midnight, but Jeff kept driving.  Because of the

storm, no one else was fool enough to be out on the road,

but Jeff was still able to do about 40 mph. 

Up ahead, something looked like a tree, but at second

glance, he could make out the figure of a male who was

standing alone.  Jeff became concerned about the stranger’s 

welfare because he was in the middle of a snowstorm but made

no attempt to signal me for help.  After quick deliberation,

Jeff stopped about fifteen yards ahead of him, honking

his horn.

The stranger immediately ran to Jeff’s car, and as he 

pushed the door open for him he said, “Thanks mister!” and

got in the front seat. “Don’t mention it; you’d do the same

for me.”

This was not the first person Jeff picked up on his

trip to California.  There were several others, but they

were of little consequence.  Initially, Jeff decided to pick

up hitchhikers in order to study their closeness to humans,

but they soon proved all too quickly that they were exact

replicas of nice but ordinary people.  This man, however,

seemed to be in trouble. His name was Bear Verdades and was

a fifty-four year old Mexican Native American who was on his

way to a small town somewhere around Barstow, California.

Jeff’s map indicated that Barstow was only a few hours

outside of Los Angeles.  They talked a little and Jeff 

decided to take him there on his way.  Jeff commented, “Luck

was with you tonight to get a ride outside of Denver in this

weather.” After about an hour of driving Bear and Jeff

stopped at an all night diner, ordered salad, baked

macaroni, iced tea with lemon and made small talk. 

While Bear grabbed some corn chips, donuts, Cheese

Waffies, Cracker Jack, two Yoo Hoo’s, Heath Bars, Three

Musketeers and two coffees for the road, Jeff noticed that

his hands were red from the cold with a little black grease

what were otherwise well manicured nails.  "Have any car

trouble out there?” Jeff asked. Bear neatly folded the top

of the large paper bag closed, "My car broke down about

fifty miles back.  Tried to get the engine going, but no

way."  Jeff became curious, “Why are you traveling this late

at night in freezing weather?” 

They walked toward the car, “I’m a traditional man with

deep roots.  It’s almost Christmas, and I’d never let a

holiday pass without visiting my father, Goldensparrow.  He

is old now, and things like that mean a lot to him.  Once

you get to be my age, family is everything.  People and

animals are important because they have heart, and what’s

more important than heart?” 

Jeff fidgeted a little because he was not the kind to

even send a card to his family, but if he happened to run

into them on the street, he’d invite them to lunch or dinner

without hesitation.  He also gave freely of whatever

resources he had when anyone expressed a need. It wasn’t

that Jeff was absentminded or uncaring when it came to

visiting his family.  He was just extremely self-absorbed,

and most people accepted that about him.

Bear placed the bag of goodies in the back seat, and

they drove through the blizzard.  On December 24th, they

arrived about 4:30 p.m. in Bear’s native hometown and Jeff

was relieved he would be able to stretch a little.  When he

stepped out, however, Bear said, "It is my greatest honor to

offer you the hospitality of my father's house."

 It was Jeff’s earnest intention, however, to drop Bear

off, refuel nearby and split.  He put his hand up and

started to wave "no no", but Bear continued, "Please accept

the hospitality of my father.  He is an old man and it would

please him greatly to meet you.  He hardly ever has a

visitor and it is Christmas.”

Jeff gave in momentarily, "Okay, no problem, but only

for a few minutes.” Bear replied warmly, "You have made an

old man very happy." Jeff felt a little guilty as he

thought, “Who wouldn’t set aside a few minutes to make an

old man happy?  I must try to be at least 10% less selfish

with my time.” With that, he tried to ignore the MGM pass

that was burning in his pocket.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Women in Bear’s Family

The small village where Bear lived was actually a 

homestead of twelve or thirteen small shacks.  Bear said

this village was called Villa de El Sol.  Everyone came out

of their homes to greet Bear.  Jeff looked at their faces

and tried to ascertain what their ethnic origins were,

“Humm. Seems to me that the people in this village appear to

be a mixture of Amish, Dutch, Irish, Czechoslovakian, South

American, African American, Japanese American, Central

American, Canadian American, Hindu American, Yiddish

American, European American and Native American.  Bear went

in one of the old shacks and two enthusiastic women in their

seventies came out and greeted Jeff warmly, "We are glad

that you are going to be our guest!"

Again, Jeff tried to explain that he didn't intend to

stay for more than a few moments.  While he was talking to

the two women, Bear asked Jeff to toss him his car keys so

he could go into the trunk.  Jeff absent-mindedly gave him

the keys, not realizing at the moment that Bear had no

personal belongings in the trunk. 

As the two women kept Jeff’s attention on their words,

out of the corner of his, Jeff saw Bear remove his sleeping

bag, back pack and head for the shack.  Hoping to gain the

momentum to break free, Jeff temporarily conceded, went

inside and sat down in the living room, “I can only stay for

tea, to meet Goldensparrow, and then I must be off to

Hollywood, California.”

It was obvious that Jeff’s comment didn’t rile anyone

in the least since no one seemed to pay attention to his

remark.  Jeff took a seat on the living room sofa and

glanced around the room.  The only lights they had in the

entire house were dozens of red electric Christmas candles,

which cast a warm, red glow everywhere.  In spite of its

age, the interior of the shack was meticulously neat,

comfortable and well ordered. A large grandfather clock

ticked softly in the background and Jeff noticed that it was

three and a half hours behind the hour.

Suddenly, a loud knock came from the front door and a

huge man in his eighties entered with a bushel and set it

down in the middle of the living room.  As he stood there

snapping his suspenders, he drank in the admiring smiles of

the women who praised him for the excellent grade of

potatoes.  The man beamed with pride and said, "Ain't no

farmer like a Scotsman!” and left because he had other

deliveries to make.

As the man went out to his truck, however, Jeff could

see from the window that he was emptying a burlap bag of

store-bought potatoes into another bushel.  His look of

surprise was so obvious that one of the women, Nancy, came

over and looked out the window with him. 

Nancy gently put her hand on Jeff’s shoulder and said

in a most compassionate tone, "Poor Pete's crop failed again

this year.  You see dear, California ain't no good for

potato growin' no way, but his heart's in potatoes and

that's all that matters here."  Jeff thought it was very

decent of them to treat old Pete like that and told them

so.  "Clara", Nancy said.  "Why don't you get Jeff, here

some of that apple pie you just made that is still hot in

the oven?"

Clara was a woman in her 80's who'd been sleeping in an

old comfy chair in the adjacent room. When Clara knew that

there was company, she went in the kitchen and came out two

minutes later, now wearing her blue and white checked apron

and holding a plate with an enormous piece of pie on it. 

When she set the plate down before Jeff, he noticed

that Clara had a little flour on her person that dusted her

nose.  He picked up my fork but Clara told him he might want

to wait a minute as she was going out back to milk the cow

for some fresh milk to go with his pie.  As she left, Jeff’s

mind became aware of the fact that while Clara was in the

kitchen, he could have sworn that he heard the distinct

sound of a microwave oven going for about sixty seconds with

the accompanying "ding!" at the end.  Jeff reached out and

touched the pie and it was warm; so was the plate. 

Clara came back through the kitchen door and handed

Jeff a cold glass of milk.  He was quite impressed that they

had a cow on the premises that could give cold milk and made

a mental note to enter this fact about World V cows in his

scientific journal when he returned to Earth. Sarah returned

with a large bowl of hot, spicy potato, spinach, corn,

barley, soy, lentil, split pea, pinto, navy, kidney, black,

white, garbanzo bean and tomato soup and a loaf of hot,

steamy Italian bread with a dish of warm sun-dried tomatoes

soaked in cold-pressed extra virgin olive oil. They chatted

a bit and Jeff wondered why they had served him desert

first, but it didn’t matter because he still had room for

the soup which was absolutely delicious.

A half hour later, Jeff got up to put his dishes in the

kitchen. However when he walked through the door, there was

an empty box right on top of the garbage, which read, "Sara

Lee Apple Pie".  Additionally, still on the counter was a

half-gallon container of store bought milk that had

apparently been opened.

Nancy came in the kitchen and Jeff asked, "Please tell

me how Clara got flour on her nose since the pie was store

bought and put in a microwave"?  He was almost upset.  Nancy

laughed softly, replying, "Oh don't mind us.  We have our

strange little ways among ourselves.  It's just that we have

an unwritten code in this village that our way of life must

be as natural and rustic as possible.  We are nature lovers,

you see, and like to do everything ourselves...but we

compromise with technology, whenever necessary."

Jeff was perplexed, “Is it some kind of religion?”

Nancy laughed lightly, "We don't practice any religion, but

live truth, beauty and strength."  She looked over at the

microwave and added, "It's just that it is not always

expedient to do every little thing from the book...that

would be religion, and we are free, knowing that the laws

are made for us and not vice versa."  Jeff asked, "What

laws?” but she just walked over to the counter, picked up a

small box and walked over to Jeff and asked if Bessie's milk

had been any good. 

When Jeff opened his mouth to speak, Nancy dabbed some

flour on his nose from the little container in her hand and

then closed it and set it again on the counter.  Jeff

pondered, "Is that also why you have no other lights in this

house except electric Christmas candles?"  Nancy looked at

him half-chiding and replied loudly, "Bees wax, dear sir! 

They are all pure, Roman Catholic bees wax!” and every one

laughed from the next room.

 

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bewilderment

Stepping back into the living room, Jeff felt a warm

glow permeating throughout his being.  It was as if he were

totally at peace with these absurd, yet caring people who

were all very happy that they had a visitor.  Suddenly,

Gretchen, a woman of about seventy, came into the house. 

She was holding five or six turtleneck sweaters, which were

folded, neatly in her arms. 

They were made out of thin cotton material and were

slate blue in color.  "Here are the sweaters I made for you

and Clara."  Nancy thanked her and put them on the table in

front of me while Gretchen went to speak with Clara.

"Are these sweaters also store bought?” Jeff asked

Nancy.  She exclaimed, "Oh no!  Gretchen really can sew up a

storm!"  Jeff moved closer to examine her work and could see

that the seams on the right side were sewn outwards, while

the seams on the left were sewn inward. He asked, "Why did

Gretchen sew them like this, Nancy?"

 Nancy picked up the sweaters, and with a far off look

in her eyes said almost absent-mindedly, "Everything in this

village is hokum pocum."  Jeff wondered, "Hocus pocus means

magic, but...” At this point, he was becoming more

bewildered.  Nancy acted as if there had been no pause since

her last sentence and then beamed with intensity,

"Yes!...straight from the yawning mouth of life!"

The sun was setting quickly and everyone insisted that

Jeff stay the night.  He really didn't want to stay because

he was becoming cranky over their use of words, which when

questioned, became even more bizarre and so silly at times

that he felt like he arguing with the Queen of Hearts in

Wonderland. 

In fact, at that moment, Jeff was determined to leave

immediately, but Bear came over and said, "If you leave now,

you won't get to Los Angeles until late tonight, and you

will be all alone.  It is not safe to travel alone to a big

city like Los Angeles.  Just what do you hope to accomplish

by doing that?"

Jeff was used to traveling across universes alone,

but he appreciated hearing someone speak common sense for a

change.  Besides, he was stuffed to the gills with soup and

felt really sleepy. Looking out the window, Jeff suddenly

felt apprehensive about leaving because Nancy and Clara were

hiding in the background, sucking air through their teeth

for special effects and the sounds they made were absorbed

by his subconscious mind.  Jeff watched as the sun was

beginning to set and the women whispered words like ‘safety’

and ‘danger’ to each other.  It worked. 

Nancy pulled the sofa out into a bed and Jeff slept on

it, throwing his sleeping bag over him.  As he lay there on

the sofa, it just dawned on him that Bear and the others had

truly intimidated him into staying the night.  

Jeff thought, “This is unusual because normally I don’t

even think about going anywhere no matter what time it is.”

He suddenly realized that a major part of his decision to

stay was due to the fact that his new friends were

manipulating his consciousness and seemed to be able to get

him to change his mind through the use of simple vocabulary

and food stuffs. “Hummm.  This is very interesting. 

Language and objects of the senses can be persuasive

tools...I never realized how much a lot of my life is

compromised by such silly things...” Jeff fell into a deep,

restful sleep.

The next thing he remembered, Bear woke him up at 4:00

a.m., asking if he could borrow the car for twenty minutes. 

"Take them!"  Jeff growled, throwing the keys at him and

immediately fell back to sleep. 

At 7:30 a.m., Clara came over and sat down a tray with

blueberry buttermilk pancakes, strawberry compote, a sliced

banana, maple syrup reconstituted orange juice with real

orange pulp, rye toast, butter and a pot of triple berry

herbal decaf tea with lemon and honey.  While eating the

toast, Jeff wondered where Bear was, and it just dawned on

him that he had never met his father, nor had anyone even

mentioned him.  Jeff felt like he had been had and jumped

out of bed. 

After a quick shower, Jeff put on a fresh white cotton

shirt, blue jeans, socks and grumbled, “I’m ready to shoot

the hell out of this ghost town.”  But Bear still hadn’t

come back with his car!  At this point, Jeff was getting

angry and yelled, “That good for nothin @#$%^!! Bear better

bring my car back right now!”

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Goldensparrow

Just then, Jeff saw a shadow in the doorway which

blanketed the screen in a rich quietness.  Looking closer,

Jeff noticed the shadow slowly took the shape of an old

Native American with long white braids.  He was wearing a

faded maroon poncho, jeans, sandals and a large brim straw

hat.  Jeff thought, “Who else could this be but Bear’s

father?” He   stood there looking at him, and his heart

began to race because Goldensparrow must have heard him

cursing out his son, Bear.  Jeff quickly sat down and sunk

into the chair, so if he hollered at him, he could look more

genuinely repentant and perhaps get a lesser sentence.

However, Goldensparrow didn’t make a move to come

inside; he just stood there at the screen door with the

sunlight streaming all around his silhouette.  Jeff felt

awkward so he jumped up to open the door for him.  However,

when he put his hand on the latch, he couldn’t open the door

because Goldensparrow was right up against it.

  Looking in his black, piercing eyes, Jeff asked 

meekly, “You wanna come inside?”  Goldensparrow peered at

Jeff intently and replied in a low, clear whisper, “It is

not I who am hankerin’ to be somewheres else. I can stand

right on this spot all day...maybe it’s you who want to be

let out?”  With this, Goldensparrow opened the door to the

outside world as if he was welcoming Jeff into his home.

As Jeff stepped outside, Goldensparrow turned his back

to Jeff and walked around back to the tool shed.  Jeff

followed him thinking, “He probably knows where Bear went

with my car.” Not to appear too upset, Jeff decided to make

small talk.  “I’m going to Hollywood and MGM to see all the

movie stars!”  Goldensparrow stood there, and taking off his

straw hat, ran his fingers slowly around the rim. Jeff

continued, “I think Hollywood is an exciting place, don’t

you?”

 Goldensparrow continued to look down somewhat

nonchalantly at his hat and finally said, “You go be a whore

in that town if you want.”  His words stunned Jeff so much

that all he could do was stand there, looking at him.  After

some moments had passed, Jeff managed to say in a very

indignant tone, “I am not a whore!”  Putting his hat back on

his head, Goldensparrow looked Jeff straight in the face and

said, “Your eyes are whores, mister!”  Jeff was taken aback,

“What?” Goldensparrow furrowed his eyebrows and said

sternly, “Yes, whores!  You want to travel all that way to 

see glittering bull shit, go ahead!”  Jeff didn’t know how

to explain to him that his eyes weren’t whores so he evaded

the issue, “How come everyone around here is so weird?” 

“You don’t like it here?” Goldensparrow asked.   Jeff

shrugged his shoulders, “Sure I do, but there is other stuff

in life to see too, and I already saw all there is to see in

this place!”  Goldensparrow said gravely,  “Mister, this

ain’t no place to see.  It never has been.  Us folk aren’t

sacrilegious whores.  This is a place to live, and that’s

all we do.” 

Jeff told him, “You aren’t bored here because you’re

old now and can’t take the excitement of adventure!” 

Goldensparrow picked up a loaf of bread that was on a small

table by the shed and began to break it into small pieces

for the birds, “Is that so?”  He handed Jeff some bread and

he pinched off pieces about the size of a quarter, “Yeah! 

I’m young and like adventure!”  Goldensparrow tossed the

bread among the hedges and flowering herbs, “Is that so?”

Jeff wiped the crumbs off his hands and jeans, “Of course it

is!  Why the hell you think a man, would drive here all the

way from New Jersey, and this isn’t even my planet!”

Goldensparrow looked perplexed for a moment and said,

“I don’t know.  All I do know is that true adventure comes

only when a person learns to control their world.”  Jeff

replied with impunity, “How can you do that better than I? 

I’m young, free and in control!”  Goldensparrow laughed at

him outright.  Then he looked at Jeff as if he almost forgot

to tell him something.  “If you think you’re so damn free,

why don’t you come with us to the coyote hunt and see how

smart you are with a simple critter?”

Jeff though, “That old Indian, Goldensparrow is smug

and he offended my pride deeply.” He looked straight into

his eyes with an air of consternation, “I accept your

challenge. Sure, Mr. Indian. I’ll hunt coyote with you.” 

Goldensparrow threw the last of the bread to the many

sparrows, starlings, house finches who had already

congregated.

Jeff was amazed, “These birds are not indigenous to

this area.” Goldensparrow retorted, “Neither are you. Get

your gear and meet me here this afternoon.” Jeff asked,

“What time this afternoon?”  Goldensparrow tossed the empty

bread wrapper into the trash can which was beside the shed,

“When your ass hurts from waitin’ around.” Goldensparrow

walked through a crooked door made of sticks, which hung

between the shed and an old tree, seemingly vanishing into

nowhere.

 Jeff went inside and re-rolled his sleeping bag

because the first time he did it, he expected just to throw

the bag in the trunk of his car.  Nancy came in from the

kitchen with a few dozen apples in her large apron.  She

walked past Jeff and let the apples drop on the sofa which

was now folded back into place.

 “We’ll need these for our little trip.  Don’t eat

nothin else or you’ll get too tired from the pace.”  A while

later, Bear spun up in the Grand Torrino, and jumped out,

yelling, “Common!  Huntin’ time!”

Nancy, Clara and Gretchen came out of the shack wearing

Styrofoam safari hats, sundresses, thin white sweaters

buttoned only at the neck and sandals.  Bear grabbed Jeff’s

gear and threw it in the trunk with some other items, one of

which was a riffle.  Jeff was slightly nervous when he saw

the gun and asked, “Bear, what’s that?”  Bear quickly threw

a blanket over it saying,   “Oh nothing!  Don’t bother about

that!” 

At that moment, Jeff was gripped with the worst fear in

his life.  What if these people were really crazy?  His mind

raced trying to plan some kind of escape, but when he saw

Goldensparrow approach, the soft, peaceful presence he

emanated somehow quieted the darker side of Jeff’s

imagination.

They climbed in and headed southwest into the plain. 

Bear drove off the main road and took an unpaved path that

kicked up so much dust that Jeff could feel the grit in his

teeth.  The sun was warm and quite pleasant for a December

day.  After about forty minutes, they pulled over by a huge

clump of cactus.  Bear yelled, “Here we are!” 

The group stopped in the middle of some desert with

nothing but cactus and rocks everywhere.  As they got out

and stretched, each put their backpacks on which were packed

with a thin blanket, rain tarp, water, knife and a few

rations.  The sky was clear and blue as they started walking

southwest and went about three and a half miles when Jeff

asked, “When do we rest?”   “Sundown”, Bear yelled back. 

Jeff was dazed, “Sundown?  That’s hours off!”

The terrain looked mostly flat, but that was only true

if you were a butterfly or bird. For bipeds, the terrain

offered quite a challenge, especially for the inexperienced

desert traveler.  There were nooks and crannies with sharp,

jagged stones everywhere.  In addition, there were countless

small inclines that rose five or ten feet which were

accompanied by shifting sands and stones that gave way as

they were stepped upon.  Then there were small depressed

areas that were full of various cacti and all kinds of

surprises that made travel more challenging than usual. Jeff

did his best to keep up but was unprepared for the hike. 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

                    Gretchen’s Mastery

Amazingly, old Gretchen sprinted along as if some

invisible cord was pulling her. “Do you take vitamins,

Gretchen?”  Jeff managed to wheeze when he caught up to her,

but she looked at me in disbelief like he was the biggest

fool in the world.  Suddenly, a feeling of anger arose in

Jeff’s stomach and he became aware of pain.  “Well, I have

blisters on my feet and want to apply some Band Aids!”

 Jeff sat on a rock that was somewhat level and

unzipped a small compartment in his backpack.  While taking

the Band-Aids out, he felt ridiculous for being the one who

needed aid, but didn’t care anymore. After applying a few  

Band-Aids to each foot and putting on another pair of socks,

he felt much better and got up to continue the hike.

Jeff hoped that no one noticed that he was wearing

Sponge Bob Square Pants Band-Aids; they were the only ones

at the store when he stopped to pick some up. He had Patrick

Star on his left toe, Mr. Crabs on his left ankle, Mrs. Puff

on his right ankle, and Sqidward each big toe. There was a

box of Spider Man and another of Courage the Cowardly Dog,

but someone had removed several from each of the boxes, and

Jeff was not about to pay premium prices for half a box of

Band-Aids. Gretchen said, “Poor Jeff’s been through a livin’

hell today,” and they all burst out laughing.  Jeff tried

his best to keep up with them but lagged a little behind. 

About another two hours passed and Jeff thought, “Want

am I doing...walking around in the desert with a bunch of

strangers...who don’t need sunglasses in the bright sun?” He

took out a Kleenex and wiped his brow as we wondered, “How

many other people did they do this to, and what has become

of them?” 

Jeff stumbled a few feet forward as he tripped over an

embedded stone and thought to himself, “Why aren’t I

relaxing by some nice pool with a bunch of surfer girls and

collecting autographs from hot looking Hollywood movie

stars, instead of getting blisters and being laughed at by a

bunch of nuts? What are they going to do next? Kill and eat

me?”

Suddenly, Goldensparrow whizzed around and yelled in

Jeff’s face defiantly, “If you’re gonna see somethin’ new,

you’re gonna have to shut the hell up!”  Jeff was stunned,

“What are you talking about?  I didn’t say anything!” 

Goldensparrow looked at Jeff in a way, which made him feel

completely paranoid, “The mind out in this wilderness is

like a radio station.  Out in the desert, we all got built-

in receivers and are picking up your stupid channel. Turn it

off!”  Jeff gasped as he thought to himself, “My God! Damn

mind readers!  I’ve got to get out of here!”  Gretchen

cackled, “Ain’t no use tryin’ to run away, sweetie…and we

know you were planning to eat all the apples too!”

Everyone cracked up laughing as though it was great

fun.  They even looked at Jeff as if he should be enjoying

the joke on himself and be a good sport, but he could have

died of embarrassment.  About five minutes earlier, he was

entertaining the fantasy of finding a shady place to sit

down and eat all of the apples by himself and then take a

nap.  What’s worse, he had thought other things too...Jeff’s

mind searched like crazy for all the horribly secret things

he had thought about these people in the last three hours.

Out in that warm, arid desert, amidst the fragrance of

wild cactus flowers and blooming prairie brush, Jeff’s mind

entertained itself by wondering if old Gretchen had a thing

for Bear, and he even allowed himself to wonder if

Goldensparrow could still do it.

It wasn’t that these thoughts occupied Jeff’s mind

constantly. They were only passing thoughts...like many

thoughts...just as thousands of thoughts come and go in the

mind without a particular author.  It is as if collective

society had selected such thoughts for humanity to think, on

occasion. And because such thoughts are collective by

nature, they are more easily discerned than those that are

originally premeditated...as it were.  Regardless, hence

foreword, Jeff’s mind cringed afresh with every step he

took.

The group walked until the sun started so set and then

sat in a cleared area.  Bear took Jeff’s backpack, removed

the apples and passed around some water.  Goldensparrow

motioned with gestures for everyone to form a half-moon

circle and face the sun as it went down.  

It was then that Jeff realized that no one had spoken

for over two hours. They ate the apples and drank the water

in complete silence.  Everyone sat very straight and peered

into the setting sun.  Jeff tried not to fidget, but could

not imitate stone like his new friends could. After the

day’s hike, he felt more like a jellyfish and wanted to flop

for a while. However, he wanted to be part of the group and

tried very hard to emulate them as much as humanly possible.

It was finally dark and the stars were becoming more

visible.  It was obvious to Jeff that his new friends had 

no idea about camping because a fire should be made, but

nobody gathered firewood.  It was starting to become a

little chilly, so Jeff his sleeping bag, got in it and was

about to say, “You guys can do whatever you want, but I’m

going to get warm.”  However, no sooner did Jeff open his

mouth when Goldensparrow gave him such a fierce look that he

knew not to say a word.  Goldensparrow’s eyes shone in the

darkness like the eyes of an animal and this scared Jeff.

For about forty minutes Jeff lay there motionless and

noticed how visible everything had become with the moon,

which was almost full and just beginning to ascend.  The

entire desert appeared luminescent.  Suddenly, his feeling

of peace was turned into fear when the sound of a twig

snapped no more than twelve feet from where he lay.  Jeff

was so still he was hardly breathing and then another twig

snapped about four feet from him.  He thought, “Is it a

rattle snake or something else?” 

Jeff’s mind then pictured a coyote and anticipated Bear

shooting it with a gun.  Suddenly, however, Jeff remembered

that Bear didn’t bring the gun from the car and nobody

seemed to care that something was almost upon him!

Jeff couldn’t stand it anymore and took the biggest

breath of air possible in order to scream. He was already

zipped into his sleeping bag and didn’t have time to unzip. 

It all happened too quickly.  Just as Jeff was about to

scream, however, Gretchen sprang across his sleeping bag and

pounced on a wild cat that appeared to be about seventy

pounds.  

Gretchen made weird sounds like a bird or a snake and

wrestled with the cat with her bare hands!  Jeff looked at

Bear for him to help her, but he just looked on as if he

were watching a football game on TV!  To Jeff’s amazement,

Gretchen pinned the animal down like a pro-wrestler!  The

cat turned his head one way and then the other, but he was

completely pinned. 

With her chin resting on one side of the cat’s head,

she hummed a strange tune into its ear.  Her voice was soft,

low and melodious, and after about two minutes, it sounded

like the cat was purring!

Gretchen deftly stood on her feet in one swift

movement, and then the cat sprang up, ran several feet,

turned and looked at us, and ran up a small cliff about

fifty feet away.  In three successive leaps, he was at the

top and perched himself with his fore paw hanging over the

ledge.  It sounded like the entire canyon was purring!

“Wow!”  Jeff exclaimed. “Shush!” came several voices. 

Then, one by one, they began to hum a low soft tune

together, but nobody was humming the same thing.  Jeff was

ashamed to write this in his scientific journal, but instead

of observing more scientific data, he fell asleep. 

However, after this experience, Jeff could feel himself

changing inside. He thought, “What is my purpose in life? 

Do I really know anything?  What is the meaning of any

world?” Jeff never made it to Hollywood.  

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jeff Goes Home

Jeff decided to leave his car with Bear and then

realized he was in another dimension and returned home to

World I.  As he sat in Pete’s kitchen, he recounted his

entire journey to him over a period of several weeks.  Pete

listened silently to Jeff’s story and leaned back against

the wooden chair as he became lost in thought.  He had just

finished reading carefully through Jeff’s scientific journal

in order to fill in the blanks and was trying to remember

something and find the words for it at the same time.

In an impatient gesture to get Pete’s response, Jeff

repeated, “That’s it...that’s my story.” He drummed on the

kitchen table and fidgeted in anticipation for his brother’s

response.  Pete absentmindedly ran his hand across the top

of his head and knew he must say something to impress upon

Jeff that no matter how weird he was, Jeff was his brother

and he was accepted. Mixing his fingers through his

overgrown crew cut, he looked compassionately at Jeff

sighed, “I guess...” Jeff perked up, “Yes? What is it?” 

Suddenly, Pete did something Jeff had not seen him do

since he came home from the service.  As Jeff watched, it

seemed as though something out of the blue gripped Pete in

is left side which caused him to spasmodically clutch his

stomach.  The Purple Heart on Pete’s chest shook as he

doubled over, and tears streamed from his eyes as his body

convulsed with laughter, “You poor blessed son of a

bitch...” Pete choked out, “...I guess we’re all in the same

boat.”

            Jeff understood, “Yes.” He pushed his chair away from

the table, jumped up and hugged Pete more genuinely than he

had ever held anyone in his life. “It will be alright...I’m

okay, you’re okay.”  Tears of gratitude flowed from Jeff’s

eyes, “Thanks, Pete.  You don’t know what it means to hear

those words...” 

Pete patted Jeff on the back, “I think I do.” He placed

his hand on Jeff’s scientific journal that rested on the

table.  “You...” Pete started to say something but laughed a

laugh of deep significance.  “I’m honored to have been the

one you chose to share your journal of travels with...I’ve

been waiting a long time for you to tell me about what it is

you spend all of your spare time on.” 

     Jeff resumed his seat and thought about all the years

that have passed and how little time he had spent with his

brother. “Pete, things are going to be different. From now

on, we’re going to go everywhere together.”  Pete exclaimed,

“Good heavens no!”  He picked up the newspaper that was

lying on the table next to Jeff’s journal opened it to the

sports page, “Just touch base with me from time to time if

you like.  The door is always open.” 

Jeff could see that Pete was as independent as he was,

“Okay, that’s perfect!”  Pete flipped through the sports

section and said, “There’s a game on tomorrow.  If you’re

not doing anything special, drop by and catch it on TV.” 

Jeff was thrilled at the prospect of watching the game with

his older brother. “I’ll bring a few six packs of Bud.” 

Pete cleared is voice, “That’s perfect!”

 

Epilogue

     If you’re wondering how the story ends, it doesn’t.  In

eternal time and in eternal space, through all the seven

planes and farther on, in all holographic imprints and in

all dimensions, Jeffrey Hawk continued to do what Jeff does,

but he had a new sense of things.  While he still traveled

and made entries in his scientific journal, he felt as if

his life was filled with new wonder and increasing grace

with each passing day. And in his heart, Jeffrey Hawk

thanked God for the miraculous blessing of life.

      Peter Hawk continued to do what Pete does.  One

scorching summer day, Jeff watched Pete as he strapped

himself to a makeshift roller-skate board and pushed his way

up the street. And has he watched his brother, Jeff

realized, “This man can handle the days ahead...on small

wheels...nailed to a roughly cut piece of ply board because

he still has something priceless to give.  He can hold his

head high and teach...not in spite of the world...but

because of it.”

One scorching summer day, Jeffrey Hawk, traveling

scientist extraordinaire, was awakened to the strongest part

within himself or anyone else for that matter...that still,

small, quiet place where there are no walls between us.

The Beginning...