walter's game

by nick nelson

walter wilson was filled with energy, but it quickly dissipated. he had been born many years ago, as the crow flies. when he was six years old, his contract had been purchased by vince vinson, the richest man in the world. now walter’s contract was up for renewal. walter had hired lillian jones as his agent to negotiate his new contract, but lillian was getting old in her game. naturally, vince vinson did not take any part in these humble negotiations himself. walter was nobody, and lillian was not much more than that. lillian gave walter a date to come to her office to update the information she had, so that she could renegotiate his contract * the date was fourteen days away, but walter only had enough credit for twelve days. what was he to do? he decided to go downtown and hang out on the corner and maybe something would come up. at first, nothing did. walter felt increasingly desperate. he decided to close his eyes and then open them and maybe something would be there. he followed this procedure, counting to ten while he kept his eyes closed. when he opened them again, he was no longer downtown on the corner, but on an ocean liner in the middle of the atlantic ocean. he was leaning on the rail, watching a great white shark frolicking in the wake of the ocean liner. the sun beat down on his head, which was protected by a stiff straw hat. you should throw that hat to the shark, said a melodious voice beside him. but then the sun will beat down on my head, walter replied. those are the chances you have to take, the melodious voice intoned. walter dutifully took the hat off and threw it to the shark. he was accustomed to following orders and had done so all his life.

the proposal, part 3

by nick nelson

part three of three

to read part two, click here

to read part one, click here

johnny turned around. the man in the orange hat was out of sight, with a sigh, johnny began walking back to his abode, where his unfinished proposal waited for him. he was within thirty yards of his destination when a police car pulled up beside him. johnny froze in his tracks. he knew the drill. he waited for the police person or persons to get out of the car, with his hands at his sides like a toy soldier. there were two police persons, a man and a woman. the man wore a purple sash and a black mustache, and with malice his dark eyes flashed. the woman wore blue mascara and a red bandana, and carried herself in a haughty manner. johnny waited for them to speak. after glaring at him for twenty seconds, the man asked - why were you talking to that fellow in the orange hat? johnny tried to remember the details of his encounter with the man in the orange hat. i think he said hello to me first, he finally answered. you think, the male police person sneered menacingly. did you know him? the female police person asked. had you ever seen him before? at first i thought he might be my old friend willie brown, but then i saw that he was not. and then what? the woman asked. i said it might rain. and did it? johnny looked up at the sky. not yet. we are wasting time, the man said menacingly, stroking his black mustache, are you sure you had never seen this fellow before? pretty sure, johnny mumbled apprehensively. let’s find out, the woman said. she took a t-67 out of her pocket and scanned johnny’s brain with it. he never saw him before, she told the man. all right, the man replied grudgingly. and to johnny - didn’t your instructor tell you not to talk to strangers? we have you on file now for a warning, so consider yourself warned. i thought he might be my old friend willie brown. there are two billion willie browns in the universe. most of them can’t be trusted. and with that, the two police officers got back in. their vehicle and drove away, leaving johnny to his thoughts. * with a mere fifteen yards to go to get back home, johnny saw another person coming toward him. what this time. it was a man, neither fat nor thin, with no distinguishing features, wearing a plain gray hat and plain brown shoes. the man came closer. johnny ! willie! oh man, i thought i would never see you again! so, what’s up brother, how are you doing? all right. you live around here? yes, in that building right over there. come on over, i will introduce you to pretty polly. pretty polly? who might she be? she is a great kid, even though she can be kind of a pest sometimes. you will like her. johnny and willie entered the building and took the elevator up to johnny’s room. but polly was not there. johnny never saw her again. and he never finished his proposal. the end

the proposal, part 2

by nick nelson

part two of three

to read part one, click here

johnny decided to walk to the end of the street he was walking on, whatever it was, and if he did not encounter anyone , to turn back. but not, he told himself, necessariiy to work on his proposal. i will close my eyes for ten seconds, he thought, and maybe when i open them i will see wiilie brown or some other friendly human. he closed his eyes. he was not very good at counting to ten without his phone, and gave up at seven. when he opened his eyes, he did indeed see another person heading his way. that worked pretty well, he thought, i should try it more often when i want something to happen. this person had a round head instead of a square one, and wore an orange hat instead of a black one. he was neither fat not thin, and on his face was a foolish grin. he was barefoot. johnny’s heart sank. surely this was not his old friend willie brown. but there was nothing for it but to hope for the best and soldier on, because you never knew. the barefoot man with the orange hat and foolish grin reached johnny. immediately the grin faded and he assumed a rigid posture with his hands at his sides like a royal marine or a swiss guard. johnny had never actually seen a royal marine or a swiss guard and would have been hard pressed to give a detailed description of their respective uniforms. who might you be, out for a walk on this sunny afternoon, the roundheaded man asked johnny, pleasantly enough. i thought it might rain, johnny answered inconsequentially. it might, the man agreed, it always has. suddenly johnny had a frightening thought. maybe this seemingly friendly individual was an establishment spy, walking the streets night and day to draw innocent persons like johnny into compromising conversations. i have to get home before it starts to rain, johnny blurted out. as you please, the orange-hatted barefoot man rejoindered cheerfully, but you are missing out on the chance of a lifetime to engage me in stimulating discourse, as i am - what else? - the last universal genius. some other time, the now properly terrified johnny managed to squeak, and left the man on the sidewalk without looking back. what a narrow escape! he decided to walk another hundred yards before turning back, in order to give the obvious provocateur time to get some distance away. next

the proposal, part 1

by nick nelson

part one of three

johnny white was not making progress on his proposal so he decided to take a break and go for a walk. where are you going? for a walk. i do not think i will be gone long. you do not think you will be gone long? i think you should finish your proposal. i will finish it later. of course you will finish it later. if it is not finished now, it can only be finished later. so why not keep at it? i want to go for a walk. why now, if i may be so bold as to ask? i was thinking about my old friend willie brown, whom i have not seen since he left town. i thought i might run into him if i went for a walk. have you heard that he is back in town? no, but i was thinking about him. why? i just was. i think you should finish your proposal, or at least make some progress on it. i am going for a walk. all right. maybe when you get back you will be more constructively motivated. * the street was deserted, as it usually is in this modern world where nobody has anything to do, anything to say, or anywhere to go. johnny liked it at first. it was a welcome change from his proposal. after a while he saw a figure approaching. was it his old friend willie brown? he realized he did not remember what willie brown looked like, or if he had really existed. the figure came closer. it was a man of indeterminate age, with a square head slightly larger than the average. a black hat sat on the square head. but the shoes on the man’s large feet were a curious shade of purple. hello, johnny addressed the man with the black hat and the purple shoes, are you my old friend willie brown? i most certainly am not. what possessed you to ask such a question? i have forgotten what my old friend willie brown looked like, johnny replied placatingly, and i thought you might be he. i perceive that you use proper grammar, and say might be he, rather than might be him. you must be an educated person, perhaps versed in the classics, eh? i spend a lot of time working on my proposal. that explains it. as well as the fact that you have forgotten what your friend looks like, explains why you thought i might be he. but who are you? that is a rather blunt question. perhaps you are not quite the cultured individual i thought you might be. in which case i bid you good day. johnny, who had thought he might have found a friend, even if was not willie brown, and who had wanted to ask the man with the square head a few questions, was suitably crestfallen at this abrupt dismissal. he considered going back and working on his proposal, but decided to walk on. next

the gathering in the meadow

by genghis gilgamesh

that is funny, eduardo exclaimed spontaneously. francine, an aggressively youthful person, disagreed. it was a glorious morning, with a forecast of heavy rain in the afternoon. none of them would ever be quite so young again. the morning, and the days that preceded it, had been curiously repetitive. gabriel had fond memories of more judicious days. obsolescence was in the air you think it is funny, don’t you, imogene suddenly challenged eduardo it is funny, gabriel came quickly to eduardo’s defense. imogene subsided meekly, and the morning proceeded apace. night finally arrived. after innumerable delays and debates, and in the end nothing was agreed upon. i agree to whatever you all agree upon, eduardo declared wearily. but it is all rubbish, gabriel exclaimed exasperatedly. let us go over it all again, point by point, one last time. imogene said wearily. francine laughed, the notes of their laughter spilling out infinitely over the darkened meadow, the night itself remained implacably silent. we will never achieve glory,eduardo blurted out. curiously enough,francine quietly nodded agreement. the group stopped talking, and each member looked at the sky. which contained no stars, innumerable as they supposedly were. they would never again have quite the same discussions. eduardo and imogene began collecting the empty bottles and putting them in gabriel’s basket. in the distance, a car backfired and a wolf howled. i will remember all this fondly francine thought melancholily, when i am 120 years old. much the same thought occurred to the wolf howling in the night, the driver of the car backfiring in the distance laughed heartily. but he had a primitive sense of humor, and laughed easily. good night.

excuse me

by bofa xesjum

excuse me. you are excused. excuse me? what part of you are excused do you do not understand? i have always understood the phrase excuse me to represent the civilized way of initiating a conversation with an entity not personally known to oneself. but once upon a time it had a different meaning. this is not once upon a time. this is now. unfortunately. what is unfortunate about it? it is the soulless modern world, and not the good old days. there were no good old days. were so, were not. were so. i have had enough of this. what are you going to do about it? i am going to terminate this idiotic conversation. what is idiotic about it? i seem to be talking to an idiot. now you have crossed a line. i demand to know your name so that i can initiate personal proceedings against you. my name is tod ingleby. are you the tod ingleby who won the city-55 lottery 6 years ago? no, that was a different tod ingleby. there are a lot of tod ingebys in the world. my serial number is 496732-t-765. my name is bob yark. and i am not the bob yark who produced and directed the widely heralded revival of my friend sadie in amsterdam in 89. there are a lot of bob yarks in the world too. my serial number is 643297-p-423. my representative will contact your representative. i am sorry we could not have encountered each other under more auspicious circumstances. i do not think so. i think so, and that is what counts. nothing counts. that is what they all say.