j b and salome, part 2

by nick nelson

part 2 of 3

click here for part 1

a security person whose name tag read zoe jones-33 turned salome’s i d card over and regarded it with a steely gaze. salome waited with bated breath for the verdict. this card is out of date, zoe jones-33 observed casually. what then am i to do? salome enquired. i thought it was still good. i have a proposal for you, zoe jones-33 observed, looking salome straight in the eye. and what might that be. you can go back outside and mingle with the crowd of desperate persons trying to gain admittance to the highway. you listen to what they are saying, paying close attention to any expressed thoughts of violence or disruption of the procedure. at the end of the day, when the sun goes down, if you have any good information, state the code word “blueberry” to any security person and they will bring you back here. if the information is considered good, you will be given some consideration to be allowed on to the highway. who decides if the information is good? not you. and who gives what consideration to what? not you again. any other questions? basically you want me to be a snitch. i do not like your attitude. the offer is withdrawn. so what do i do now? you can go back and get a better i d, zoe jones-33 smirked. analog , not digital. i don’t know what that means. what a shame. but wait, don’t go. there is one more option, if you want to try it. which is? at the end of the day, just before the sun goes down on the broad highway, there is a free for all. two sides go at it with sticks - big sticks. they bash each other until only some of the participants on one side are left, and then they can get on the high road to the city - if they have enough strength left. how many on each side? as many as accept the terms, into two more or less even sides. there might be fifty on a side, on a busy day, or only one or two. i have a friend who came with me. does everybody get this offer? only if we like your looks, and you show a little spunk. i would not like to fight my friend with a stick. then this interview is over. next! part 3

j b and salome, part 1

by nick nelson

part 1 of 3

j b and salome were sick of the ugly gossip and vicious rumors being spread about them by ignorant persons. they decided to go to the city. when they went down to the highway they found a large crowd blocking their way. security guards were checking the i d’s of people trying to get on on to the highway to get to town. j b and salome got in line and waited their turn. from scraps of conversation that floated past their ears they surmised that many of the people in line had been waiting for a long time. but what counted as a long time? j b and salome started to get thirsty. an individual named moses jones was selling bottles of water. many of the persons in line heaped abuse on moses jones for the quality of the water and the exorbitant price of the water. j b and salome had very little money and decided not to sample moses jones’s wares. after a while j b and salome reached the head of the line. j b was interrogated by a security gusrd whose name tag read delilah mckinley. delilah had been born on a mountaintop in deepest tibet and come to the big city to preach forgiveness and spread confusion to the gentiles. j b was slow to produce the required i d and delilah scowled upon perusing it. this i d is out of date, delilah informed j b with an ill grace. what is wrong with it? j b pleaded abjectly. the photo does not match your face in my humble opinion, but far more importantly it uses the old digital dating system, which was replaced by the more up to date analog system, countless aeons ago. j b did not know what the words digital and analog meant, or what an aeon was. it is the best i can do, j b replied with a deep sigh do better, delilah barked. next! crestfallen, j b went back outside, feeling lost and alone and downhearted. oh, will i ever get to the big city to pursue my dreams, j b cried to the overcast heavens. all is not lost, said a confident voice beside j b. do not be so sure, another, louder and more confident voice, asserted from behind j b. a veritable avalanche of voices ensued as a dark clouded passed menacingly overhead. part 2

george and misty

by bofa xesjum

eorge underwood was not a funny guy. he walked down the street past the old fire station. a strange menagerie floated in his brain. he implored his brain to forget misty washington, who had so cruelly betrayed him. george’s cousin hespeth from poughkeepsie new york liked to read bus schedules. he persevered in his madness through thick and thin. because at the end of the earthquake is the monsoon. when all allowance has been made for snakes and spiders. curfew will not ring tonight. the professor put down his book. he strenuously tried to forget the howling beast. but the morphology of it all defeated him . the feet emerged from the undergrowth. but the monkey wanted none of it. the pineapple tree protested vigorously. at the obvious bribe proffered by the ghoulish objector. the limpid casualty stared at george. from the window of misty’s recreational vehicle. trying to make him finally understand. that what he had taken to be a cruel betrayal was actually the beginning of wisdom. but, george protested in his curiously deep voice, wusdom has no beginning.

travelers

by horace p sternwall

where are you going, little man with your eyes so bright and blue i am going to the city to seek my fortune because the world is new where are you going, fair maiden with your eyes so soft and brown i am running away from an ogre because i did not like his frown where are you going, old woman with your legs and back so bent i am running away from my children to live in the desert in a tent where are you going, prophet with your beard of snowy white i am going to the high road to spread the news because the future is bright where are you going, little girl with your basket full of flowers i am going to the castle to meet the prince and while away romantic hours where are you going, faithful dog with your eyes so sad and big i am running away from my master because he beat me with a twig where are you going, o philosopher with your air of calm superiority i am leaving the outer world behind to find true interiority i wish you all good fortune as the clouds pass overhead some people call me prester john but i am only uncle fred

sam fletcher and quinley davis

by nick nelson

sam fletcher was a nice guy. he was often seen sitting on the front steps of his building, strumming a beat up old guitar. he always played happy tunes on the beat up guitar. he did not play the guitar or sing very well, but he meant well and always had a smile on his face so most people who passed him by gave him a smile and a wave. occasionally someone who passed by looked for a collection jar or some other receptacle to place money and some even asked sam if he had one, but sam always waved them off with a smile. i ain’t looking for money, i am just singing my song, was his invariable reply . things went on in this way. a man named quinley davis moved unto the building. after a hard day’s work doing nobody knew what, he had to pass sam by on the days, which was most days, when sam was singing and strumming on the steps. quinley davis did not care for sam’s music,. that is the worst singing i have ever heard in my life, he informed sam in no uncertain terms. well, sir, sam replied with his perennial trademark smile, i am sorry if you do not care for it, but other folks express appreciation for it, and it keeps me happy, so what can i say. i think you are a public nuisance and are polluting the air with your discordant sounds, and if you do not desist, i will report you to the authorities. well, sir, do what you think you have to do, sam replied. and with that, quinley passed sam on the steps and entered the building. tessie adams, a long time resident of the building and one of sam’s staunch admirers, overheard the conversation and when quinley had disappeared into the interior of the building she expressed her sincere outrage to sam. he must be the lowest skunk who ever lived, she protested vigorously to sam. well, sam responded mildly, we can only wait and see what happens. the next morning quinley did not report for work, the first time in ten years he had not done so.. the company sent one of their security personnel to the building and quinley was not in his room. he was never seen again, and after a complaint from his company, sam and tessie were arrested and charged with his murder. they were never brought to trial but spent many years without bail in jail waiting for one, until an earthquake destroyed the city and the jail, and no trace of them - or of quinley davis - has ever been found to this day.

shower

by nick nelson

every time i tell you to leave you just come back. because i never left in the first place. don’t you know when you are not wanted i know that that the sun will shine. i know that i don’t like you any more. you should get out more. why don’t you go to a movie? there are no movies any more. of course there are. i watched one on my phone this morning when i was taking a shower. how was it? you mean the movie? no, the shower. it got me nice and clean. i am happy to hear it. thank you. what was the movie like? it was all right. what was it all about? it was about a future society where people are not allowed to take showers. why was that? because dinosaurs from the center of the earth had conquered humanity and put them to work building a great bonfire to attract the dinosaurs’ cousins who were searching the galaxy for them. that sounds stupid. you mean the movie or the dinosaurs? the humans, for losing to the dinosaurs. they should have had somebody like genghis khan or george s patton or batman defeat the dinosaurs. i guess they just didn’t think of it. and what did building the bonfires have to do with the humans taking showers? they didn’t have time they were so busy building the bonfire, bonfire singular, not plural. besides, the humans’ hygiene was not a priority for the dinosaurs. and then what? i got out of the shower and got dressed. that tie doesn’t go with that shirt. you are not even wearing a tie. so? who are you to criticize my tie when you are afraid to even wear a tie because you might look foolish for wearing the wrong one. oh, so you are a mind reader now? of course i can read minds. how else could i carry on a civilized and coherent conversation? there you go again. getting off the subject, and away with murder.

goodbye 26

by bofa xesjum

goodbye why goodbye? don’t like you but you used to maybe, but not any more surely you must have some reason oh, i think you know the reason what are you two jabbering about in there? nothing, dear servant, you can go back to sleep 23-h doesn’t like me anymore, and is threatening to leave. oh, really? and just where exactly is 23-h going to go? i am afraid we did not get that far into the conversation the sun shone bright on the highway as 23-h began the long journey. 34-d felt a curious sadness as the grandfather clock ticked away in the gloom. what are you doing in there, 34-d? the servant called imperiously from the main office. i am feeling somewhat melancholy as i no longer have 23-h to kick around any more. 34-d took a slender volume of verse from the mahogany bookcase in the corner of the room. what sorry rubbish, 34-d thought, turning the almost transparent pages of the book, which contained considerable white space. meanwhile, 23-h had fallen in with a troop of bandits on the highway, who were heading to the capital. the bandits were impressed with 2-3-h’s style and grace and decided to replace their aging leader with the sprightly newcomer. 49-g, the leader, was left behind with a crust of bread and a bottle of water, and wandered into the desert. after many hours, 49-g came upon a white house with red shutters , beside a pool of blue water, under a green tree. the black door of the house had a shiny brass knocker in the form of a gargoyle with a rose in its teeth. 49-g knocked on the door, and was admitted to the house by the servant, who led the way through endless corridors to the library. 34-d had despaired of the slender volume of verse, and was looking wearily out the bow window at the great storm advancing implacably across the desert. after dinner, 23-h returned with the troop of bandits, divers bottles of wine were brought up from the cellar, tales were told, and songs were sung.

checkers

by nick nelson

bradley quietly opened the door to his apartment after a long day of a series of seminars at company headquarters. he sensed that something was wrong. he found his old friend frank turner, whom he had not seen for twenty years, seated at the kitchen table playing checkers with bradley’s ex-wife pauline, whom bradley had not seen in - what was it? - fifteen years. what are you two doing here? bradley managed to sputter. as you can see, we are playing checkers, frank answered smoothly. would you like to play the winner? no, bradley expostulated, i would like an explanation as to why you think you have a right to enter my apartment without do much as a how do you do? calm down, old friend, we have just as much a right to exist as you do. it is not a question of your right to exist, bradley managed to articulate. it is a question of your right to invade my space. pauline spoke for the first time. what about the right of agnes detworth to her own space? agnes detworth! leave her out of this. < p> leave her out of this? the way you left her by the side of the highway in 1985? bradley was speechless. i need a drink, he muttered. there is still some wine in the refrigerator, frank assured him. we were considerate enough to leave you some. pauline laughed, as if frank had said something profoundly witty. which, in a curiously perverse way, he had. bradley looked at the old fashioned clock on the kitchen wall. it read 7:27. just as it had on that long ago day when he had first met frank at ray’s bar, where all the sociology students hung out after class…

walking man

by horace p sternwall

a man he went out walking a-walking out he went his eyes were bulging and his back was bent a maiden passed him a maiden slim and fair she passed him like a breeze and he could only stop and stare next he met a monster a monster from the deep the monster told a story which put the man to sleep he dreamed of a mountain a mountain he could not climb he asked the mountain for a nickel and it threw him a lousy dime the man awoke at midnight beside the highway wide which turned into a river and he was out with the tide o wanderers in daylight and wanderers in the dark you can wander forever and never leave a mark where are the marks of mighty kings and conquerors great and high? they asked the stars to guide them but the stars passed them by

old times

by anonymous

people are melancholy and sometimes they are babies too i have never heard a nightingale sing and do not know what one looks like i pretend to like pizza in the hope that people will accept me i never give straight answers to so-called simple questions my aunt tania had a dog named ralph a curious name for a dog, i thought i suspected it was the name of an old lover or as she would say, an old flame time goes by, and expressions change do you find that sad? - i am afraid i do not

getting late

by nick nelson

it was getting late - very late. harold had been waiting on the corner for walter for hours. it started to rain. harold was a loyal and patient person. and he had put up with a lot from walter over the years since they had been at the institute together. harold and walter and francine and rose had been assigned to a pod when they arrived, bright and smiling, at the institute. francine would go in to a fine career at the institute but rose and walter had washed out on the second day and haroldoin the third day. they had agreed to meet at a motel outside the institute’s walls if they washed out early, and they did. rose and walter had decided to get married during the night they had spent at the motel before harold joined them. harold was a bit disconcerted by this, but being a loyal and patient person, he simply smiled and congratulated them. he really did not care that they were going to get married. what he did care about was that they did not seem at all discomfited by the fact that they had washed out of the iinstitute. they ttalked glibly about starting a new life, and forgetting that the institute existed. harold, on the other hand, wanted to dedicate his life to avenging himself on the institute for the way it had humiliated him and denied the reason for his existence. now, he thought, i will have to walk a lonely road in my quest for vengeance. it was a sobering thought. walter and rose decided to head to las vegas to get married and offered to drive harold as far as flagstaff arizona. harold accepted. the thought of being dropped off in what he imagined to be a desert appealed to him. little did he suspect that fifteen years later, he would be no closer to his goal of destroying the institute, and that he would be appealing to walter for a loan that would simply ensure that he could survive for a few more weeks. but walter was nowhere to be seen. what a dirty rat, harold thought bitterly. he has betrayed me,, just like everybodty i have ever known, starting with …with… what was her name? the rain started to come down harder.