the number

by nick nelson

barlow woke up. the number flashed into his head. he got up and wrote it down before he forgot it. it was 12 - 15 - 93 - 674 - 93. then he called the number department. this is the number department of control central. this call is being recorded. i have the number. what is your name? barrington barlow. what is your number - your number , not the number. do not give us the number over the phone. 90675-43806 - 432. what is your date of entry? 3-13 - 33. a vehicle will be at your residence in fifteen minutes. thank you. barlow dressed and was out in the street in eight and a half minutes. the night was cold. his heart was pounding. this is it, he thought. at last, this is my chance. the black sedan came around the corner. there were two people in the front seat, a heavy set man at the controls, and a stylish young woman beside him. they were both dressed in gray. mr barlow? the young woman asked. yes. get in the back. they drove off. you have the number recorded? the young woman asked. yes. i have it recorded, i have t written on a piece of paper, and i have it memorized. good. they drove in silence. they drove a long way, out beyond the outskirts of the city. it began to get light, revealing vast expanses of flat land with no buildings on them. barlow began to have second thoughts. what do they need me for? he wondered, after i give them the number? a low flat roofed building came into view. the car stopped. the building had windows, but they were dark. there was no sign of activity , outside it or inside it. the man and the woman both got out of the car. stay here, the woman told barlow. he waited. obviously, he had nowhere to go, and no way to get there, out in “the middle of nowhere”. they are going o kill me, he thought. i will give them the number, they will have no more use for me, and they will kill me...

henry morton stanley 2

by nick nelson

henry morton stanley was a sight to behold his eyes were made of ivory and his teeth were made of gold he had a hundred gorillas that he fed green grapes and a castle full of concubines of all sizes and shapes he had a thousand footmen to announce his every move and to set off fireworks when he got in his groove they came in carriages to acknowledge his high station but when they drove away he felt curiously little elation they drank his whiskey and they drank his wine but at marrying their daughters they drew the line

henry morton stanley

by nick nelson

henry morton stanley had a splendid black mustache he dined at delmonico’s and always paid cash the roast duck on tuesday was his favorite entree he ordered oysters on the half shell most other days he strolled down broadway with a gold headed cane the peasants cheered him lustily because he felt their pain he traveled to africa on a slow boat to spain and found doctor livingstone again and again

crack - 15. tell me a story

by nick nelson

part 15 of ?

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

william gripped the pen uncertainly in his fingers what do you want me to write? a story. a story? i don’t know how to write a story. just write something . it doesn’t have to be a literary masterpiece. but - why can’t you just tell me something to write? we have our reasons. do you want to take the test or not? you don’t have to do it. how long does t have to be? not very long. how much time do i have? friday looked at her phone. i will give you ten minutes. give me about a hundred words or until the ten minutes are up. william looked down at the blank pad. do i need a title? you can just call it “a story”. * it was night. it was dark. this guy was walking down the street. his name was joe something. he was just a guy. a guy just like millions of other guys, wandering the earth, wishing he was somebody, even though he was really nobody. it got darker. suddenly he saw something lying in the street. it was a little bit shiny. it looked like a credit card he bent down to pick it up. just as he reached for it, he thought, this is some kind of setup. i am being played for a chump. suddenly everything went dark. when he woke up he was in a strange room. he did not know where he was. the room had no windows. * william’s hand started to cramp up. he had never written so much with a pen or pencil in his life. is this enough? he asked friday. yes, that is enough. she took the pad and the pen from him. can i go now? yes. will i hear from you? probably not. your case is closed. if you want to appeal, fill out the form i gave you and return it within 30 days. the address is on it. to be continued

harry and darrell

by nick nelson

harry was a horse darrell was a dog they took a slow boat to china and got lost in the fog harry had a dream he turned into sherlock holmes darrell was moriarty and collected chicken bones the collection was renowned throughout the universe and beyond darrell took to fame like a frog to a pond they walked along the beach picking up smooth stones when harry woke up he was all alone

application

by nick nelson

adam had an apple he banana’d it to chuck chuck bought a dinosaur and an elephant for luck frank had a gerbil he promoted it to head cook the gerbil ran way with the spoon frank wrote the book george had a washington abe lincoln had a yellow dog they hitched a ride to the county fair and slept in a hollow log i am sorry to inform you your application has been denied in my personal opinion you should switch to the other side joshua hocked his trumpet for a dollar and fifty cents and lost the money in a monte game so he could not pay his rent elvis was not only the king of rock and roll a star rose over easter island to lead him to his goal roger had a sunburn tom had a cigar they got together in amarillo to hold up uncle bud’s bar virtue is rewarded a wind blows from the west the highway is deserted and you know the rest

crack - 14. case closed

by nick nelson

part 14 of ?

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

the day was coming to a close. constantine and friday sat in a small one table conference room at headquarters. constantine took a sip of water from a paper cup and glanced at a small pad in front of him. i think we are done with our friend mr wlliam wilson. i agree. i will call him in, and do the usual. unless you want to. no, you can handle him. all right. i think his friend mr smith is a more interesting case. so do i. but we have nothing on him. he is an employed citizen, with no complaints against him. not even from mr wilson. but i will double check with mr wilson on that when i call him in. yes, do that. * good morning, mr wilson. have a seat. thank you. detective constantine and i have reviewed your case, and, unless you have something to add to it, we have decided to close it. oh. you have the right to appeal the closing. here is the form you can use to appeal. you have thirty days to do so, if you choose to. of course, if you feel you have any new information, you can always contact detective constantine or myself. or any member of the police. do you understand? i guess. why are you closing the case? we have no evidence. except that provided by yourself. what about the note? you provided it. do you think i wrote it myself? now that you mention it, it did occur to us that you might have. your case is far from unique, and in many such cases the complainant did in fact manufacture the note or other evidence provided. do you want a sample of my handwriting? you can give us one if you like. so the case would remain open while you checked it? no, handwriting, by itself, is not considered proof of anything. except in stories. oh. then why bother? it can be considered corroborating evidence. do you still want to give me a sample? yes. all right. friday took a small pad of paper and a pen out of the top drawer of the desk she was sitting at. next