2 stories

by genghis gilgamesh

a vision al parks was a regular guy. he wanted to be different from everybody else. and he wanted everybody in the world to like him. lying on the grass, he had a vision of eternity. brad quigley, a park security guard, came along and asked al what he thought he was doing. al told brad his life story. an election everybody hated al jones because he was the worst person in the world. everybody liked bonnie waters because she was the nicest person in the world. al and bonnie ran against each other for mayor. al won the election in what the gazette termed a “landslide”. connie smith, a reporter for the gazette, was shocked by the result and decided to investigate. what she discovered shocked her even more.

the impostor, part five

by nick nelson

part five of five

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

i woke in darkness to the sounds of boots in the narrow corridor outside the little room I had been placed in. i heard shouts, and doors being broken open. then the door to the little room was burst open, before my eyes could begin to accustom to the darkness… dr eusebius’s bookstore was being raided by some branch or other of the imperial army or police, i never did find out which. i was taken to a dungeon, and then an interrogation room somewhere in the great city, whose layout and streets were of course a complete mystery to me.. so that i was in the last degree of “not knowing where i was.” i never saw any of my companions again. i always assumed they were taken to the same facility as myself, but i never had any way to really confirm this. for all i ever knew they were all killed in the raid. but whether they were alive or dead, a tired looking imperial functionary in a particularly unsightly red and gray uniform urged me, in a manner indicating he had little time to waste on me, to denounce them, and the venerable dr eusebius, for various crimes and heresies whose exact nature i had neither the wit nor inclination to decode. faced with the implacable reality of the imperial torture apparatus, i immediately acquiesced to the tired looking officer’s demands, and signed, without making a pretense of reading them, a series of confessions and denunciations he placed before me. i was then taken away, certain, i thought, to be placed against a wall and shot. but instead, after watching the sun come up over the wall of the jail’s large courtyard, i was trucked with twenty or so other miscreants to a prison on the edge of the desert, where i spent the next fifteen years fastening epaulets to the uniforms of the imperial armies and navies. you can guess the rest. when the empire fell, the prisons were opened, and all such anonymous wretches as myself released, to find our way to the burned and looted capital. such is my tale. in some ways it may seem an outlandish one, but is it not, on reflection, the story of all men? i loved, and was not loved. i was betrayed, and betrayed others. i spent long decades doing repetitious drudge work, interspersed with a few moments of unspeakable horror. i was a cuckold, a murderer, and a coward. i say no more. i hope that this brief account satisfies the requirements of the application.

the impostor, part four

by nick nelson

part four of five

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

we continued on our way across the alternately swampy and desert waste. our party now consisted of six - myself, griselda, dee, cora lee the camel, desdemoma - and the odious badboy the sailor. outwardly all were at ease, but savage passions - mine - simmered beneath the surface, like lava beneath a restless volcano. desdemona, my beloved, to whom i had dedicated my existence, whom i had served so faithfully for so long, and whom i would have happily given my life for, now had no further use for me, and only had eyes for the wretched little twerp badboy. one night, after we had made camp in a particularly swampy spot, and after the campfire had died down and we had settled down to sleep - except for badboy and desdemona who had settled down to less sedentary pursuits - i could stand it no longer. the sounds of their infernal laughter and frenetic lovemaking drifted to my ears through the miasmic night. i rose from the paltry blanket i had spread out on the damp ground - a slight mist was also falling - and seizing a large, sharp rock, crept up on the larger rock behind which the unholy pair were … i refrain from describing what met my eyes… i bashed both their skulls in with my rock. no sooner had i done the deed than i regretted it. i crept back to my blanket and awaited the dawn. griselda and dee did not seem as surprised as they might have, when in the morning i confessed what i had done. “it is unfortunate, abad,” griselda said , “that you could not better control your unruly passions. but what is done is done. all we can do is push on.” “we will hear what dr eusebius has to say,” dee added, a bit more ominously. in due time we exited the swamp land which had formerly been the great lake that desdemona had drunk, and after crossing a couple of small rivers, entered the windswept desert that surrounded the great city. at least we reached the city, and quickly found the celebrated dr eusebius, of whom i had by this time heard so much, that i was rather weary of his name, than curious about him. to my surprise, the good doctor was not a professor or personage of note at some great school or gymnasium, but the proprietor of a small bookstore in a dim back street of the city. the doctor himself was a wizened creature who looked to be about eight hundred years old, and of no imposing appearance. be that as it may, we were all given a warm enough welcome. in briefly describing our voyage, griselda and dee made no mention of either desdemona or badboy or my murder of then, simply referring to the disappearance of the lake as “a fortuitous occurrence.” i was shown to a cot in a back room of the bookstore, and prepared to sleep under a roof for the first time in many months. i fell into a deep slumber… which was interrupted in the hour before dawn… part five

the impostor, part three

by nick nelson

part three of five

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

my companions and I came to a large body of water. it stretched to the horizon, but looked very placid. “how are we to cross this?” i asked. “i do not know,” griselda replied. “i was expecting rivers, with ferrymen to carry us across them. but this looks like a great lake, or perhaps a sea. alas, perhaps we will never cross the great continent and make contact with dr eusebus. i had so set my heart on sitting at his feet and drinking in his wisdom.” “and there is not a breath of air on the sea.” dee pointed out. “even if we had a boat.” “i have a boat,” a voice behind us said. we turned around and beheld a skinny little fellow, clad only in a loincloth and a white turban, with what looked like a board under his arm. he had apparently been sleeping, or hiding, behind a rock we had passed on our approach to the water. “greetings,” the little fellow announced. “i am badboy the sailor, whose renown mayhave reached you, though that is so much applesauce. i overheard your conversation, and you are right, there is no wind to carry a boat, nor has there been for as long as i have been here, which is going on seven years.” “you said you had a boat?” dee asked him. “yes, i do.” he took the board from under his arm. it indeed had a little sail attached flatly to it , which could be raised to make a craft capable of carrying himself. “i thought you meant a boat which could carry al of us across,” dee sighed. “did i say that? but look here, i have another suggestion. just a suggestion, mind you.” “and what might that be?” griselda asked him. “that fellow there,” he pointed to me. “i perceive, with my razor sharp senses, honed by centuries of wandering the planet, that he has what appears to be some sort of living creature coiled in his basket. is it not so, my man?” “indeed it is,” i replied, not much caring for the tone of his voice. “it is a python, one under the spell of a powerful magician.” i did not add that i lived to break the spell and restore her to her true beautiful self. “excellent. such a creature might be useful in a method to get us all across the desert and into the great city.” “she was herself a sorceress of great beauty of power,” i heard myself say, although i had not wished to. the self-styled sailor smiled. “better and better. may i see her, please.” “yes, abad,” my companions all urged me. “let desdemona out, and let us all see what she can do.” at that moment a lone cloud passed over the sun, and i had a feeling of terrible foreboding. but what could i do? the hand of fate was upon me. i took the basket off my back and placed it in the ground. desdemoma slithered out, and without waiting for any instructions from the little sailor, approached the edge of the water… and in a single gulp, swallowed the whole of the lake, leaving a vast expanse of sand, interspersed by patches of marsh, and some terrible looking mossy trees… but this contributed only a liittle to the astonishment we felt, for desdemomna herself had been restored to herself - and was even more radiantly beautiful than anything i had imagined. i was too stunned to speak, but griselda simply turned to the sailor and said, “thank you, sir. we greatly appreciate your efforts on our behalf.” “it was nothing , madam,” he smiled. “ i was only the poor instrument, and spectator.” “oh, but we owe you everything!” desdemona exclaimed. “everything!” thus was my doom sealed. part four

the impostor, part two

by nick nelson

part two of five

to begin at the beginning, click here

i came to a crossroads. i saw a castle in the distance. an old peasant woman was passing by and i enquired of her as to whom the castle belonged to. “to count cagliostro, the snake-charmer.” she replied. “do you think i might find employment with the count?” “the local folk fear and shun hm, so he is always looking for help. a stout looking fellow such as yourself should would most likely be welcomed with open arms.” in due course i presented myself to the count. i found him to be a man of gravity and impeccable manners, though more than a bit aloof. “i could use a man to clean the snakes’ cages, and to clean the vipers’ pit, and to feed the python and clean her cage. do you think you can do that?” “i do.” “very well. but keep in mind, you are responsible for your own safety. if you become incapacitated for any' reason, you may find yourself being made use of by being fed to the python. is that agreeable to you?” i assured him that it was, and embarked on my new career. in making the acquaintance of the python, i discovered that she was a sorceress named desdemona who had been bewitched by her previous owner before being sold to the count. i commiserated with her, but not having any expertise in sorcery or even alchemy, there was nothing i could do for her. life in the castle was not so bad, although punctuated by occasional droughts and tornados, and despite the count’s being a stern taskmaster who demanded good service. in the cold evenings, with my day’s work done, i would often sit beside the fire in the kitchen. the fire was usually tended by a scullery maid named griselda who was a saint, and a man of all work named dee, who was a mystic and theologian. i learned a great deal from both of them during my years in the castle, but they were never able to enlighten me on the best way to remove the spell from poor desdemona, whom i had promised to assist and who remained trapped in the body of the python. one night the castle was rent with howls and shriekings far louder than those routinely visited on it by the forces of nature. a troop of demons, summoned how and by whom i never knew, had descended on it and carried away by the count, for what reasons - if any - i also never found out. the faithful old cook, thais, thus freed from the count’s influence, turned into a blue bird and flew away. i freed the snakes and some other creatures from the count’s menagerie - including a camel, a tiger, and two peacocks - and griselda, dee, and i packed such meager provisions as we could carry and set out from the now deserted castle. griselda and dee were determined to cross the rivers and mountains into the steppes of the center of the world, and reach the great city of go, where they hoped to find and meet the great mage dr eusebius. <> desdemona and i volunteered to accompany them, as did the camel, who had not fled with the other animals, and whose name was cora lee. so on a windy, drizzly morning we set out, with desdemona in a basket on my back, cora lee loaded with water bottles, dried figs, and other edibles, dee carrying his enormous leatherbound book of the prayers and spells of all nations, and griselda confidently leading the way. part three

the impostor, part one

by nick nelson

part one of five

I was born in the city of b—————, in the country of s——————. my parents were honest, hardworking people. they went to work every day and came home at night. when i questioned them about the nature of their jobs, because i was a moderately curious child, they were never able to give me what i regarded as satisfactory answers. when i was old enough i was sent to school. i did nor find schooling to be an interesting or edifying experience. as i can red and write, and have a functional, if rudimentary grasp of mathematics, i assume i learned these things in the school, but have no memory of actually doing so. i did not make friends with the other children. i was big and looked strong (but was not nearly as strong as i looked) and i was shunned but not tormented. the male students walked past me without seeming to notice me. the females often shrank back and rolled their eyes and shuddered. all through my youth i had one idea - to get away. i do not remember that i had any particular destination in mind - i just wanted to get away. at last the day came. i was no longer required by law to attend school. i was free. free to do what? and go where? one day when my father was out of the house - probably going down to the corner store to buy the newspaper - his one form of relaxation - i told my other i was leaving home and asked her if she would give me a small sum of money. to my bewilderment and embarrassment she began to cry . but she quickly dried her tears and gave me a small amount of money (i had secretly hoped for a larger one) and i was on my way. the sign in the storefront window said “soldiers of fortune - recruiting station”. i went inside. a little man behind a desk said, “so you want to be a soldier of fortune, eh?” “i just want a square meal,” i told him. “well, there is no reason you can’t have both,” he replied. i got my square meal and found myself on a ship bound for the continent of c————. the first thing i heard when i got on shore was a voice saying, “look at this fellow. he looks strong enough.” i was taken to a warehouse behind the wharf. i spent the next twenty years - or was it thirty? - lifting bales and other heavy objects. during this period i had a great deal of time to think about things, but did not make such great use of it as i might have. when my period of enlistment was over, i wandered back down to the docks. i decided to become a beggar. i prospered at this trade for a few years. one day a uniformed official informed me that the city had been ceded to another country or empire and that under their laws i could 'no longer simply beg on the streets, but that i might continue to solicit money as long as i was a “street performer”. i purchased a small bear and taught it to “dance”. while the bear danced i recited epic poems which i had composed in my head during the long years in the warehouse and sitting in the street with my paper cup. in this way i got along for another ten years or so. the bear, whom i had christened bismarck, never stopped growing and this proved a problem. eventually we could not make enough to feed both of us, so we parted ways. i decided to explore the interior of the continent of c————, on whose shore i had spent so many years. part two

walter and wallace

by nick nelson

this is a sad story. I do not know if it is the saddest story I ever heard, but it is pretty sad. If you read it, you can decide for yourself how sad it is. walter smith had a pretty good job, as a dispatcher for a medium sized trucking company, but he did not have any friends and led a pretty boring life. he did not really make enough at his job to afford owning a house, but he did not like living in an apartment and so he bought a house and led a frugal existence to keep up the mortgage payments. most of the other guys - and a few women - on the same pay level as walter at the trucking company were younger than he was, and lived in apartments with roommates or significant others, or lived with their parents and spent a good chunk of their paychecks going out at night and drinking. but walter could not afford to do this because of the mortgage payments on his little house. and he was getting too old anyway to go out drinking, and the other guys at work, younger than himself, would not be too enthusiastic about his company, and walter was not the type to strike up conversations with strangers at bars. why, you ask, did walter not join a gym where he could meet other people, or engage in some sort of activity at the ymca? or maybe join a church? i do not know, he just didn’t. maybe he was just too tired after working all day. so he mostly sat at home by himself watching television. he was bored, and lonely. he considered getting a mail order bride from russia or turkmenestan or someplace, or getting a cat or a dog, either from a pet store or a shelter. but he heard bad stories about all these activities. the brides would divorce you and want alimony, the pet stores charged ripoff prices, and the shelters wanted you to sign your life away with promises to observe a hundred rules about the new pet. and the brides might murder you, and the pets, especially the dogs, tear your house apart. one day at the trucking company, one of the other dispatchers, a woman named cindy, announced that her cat had had kittens, and asked around if anybody would care to take one or two of them. on an impulse, walter told her he would take one. cindy seemed a little surprised, and asked him if he would like to take two of the kittens, so that they could keep each other company. “um - i think i will start out with just one,” walter told her. so it was arranged, and after a few perfunctory instructions from cindy on the proper care and feeding, etc, walter took a ltitle tomcat kitten home. walter named the kitten wallace. wallace seemed a quiet sort, much like walter himself, and when he was not sleeping, or eating, with no great enthusiasm, the dry cat food walter provided him with, he spent most of his time at one of the back windows of the house, looking outside and occasionally perking up at the sight of a bird or squirrel or other living creature. he seemed particularly excited one day at the sight of a chipmunk, and scratched at the glass. when walter was home he would place wallace beside him on the couch when he was watching tv, but wallace showed little interest in the images on the screen, and would climb down from the couch and resume his spot at the back window, or sometimes some other window. walter decided that wallace was eager to explore the great outdoors, and although he knew that it was frowned upon in today’s world to let a cat roam free - though they were not subject to leash laws like their unfortunate canine brethren - he decided to start letting wallace outside when he went to work in the morning. things worked out well the first few days. wallace was waiting for walter the first few days - it was summer, and it was still bright day when walter got home. wallace then attacked his water and dry cat food with a little more gusto than previously. on the fourth day, wallace was waiting for walter with a small dead snake. walter was not totally unprepared for this, and tossed the snake in the plastic trash bin he kept beside the house. wallace gazed at the trash bin for a few seconds before following walter into the house. one day in the next week, wallace was not waiting when walter came home. walter was prepared for this, too, but he felt kind of worried, and was very relieved when wallace came scratching at the window when walter was watching a movie about zombies on hbo. the week after that, wallace was again not at the door when walter came home, and this time, he had not returned when walter left for work the next morning. walter mentioned this to cindy when he saw her in the cafeteria at work. she seemed mildly surprised by his tale. “so you let the cat out?” she said. “that’s what they do when you let them out like that. sometimes they go away for a week or more before they come back.” a guy named jeff overheard the conversation. “he wants to get laid,” he announced. “he is still just a kitten,” walter protested. “they grow up fast. he wants to get laid.” walter did not argue. but wallace was at the door when he got home that night. but the next week wallace was gone again and this time he did not return. after almost a week walter resigned himself to the fact that wallace had probably run afoul of a wheeled vehicle or a coyote or some other predatory force. walter considered asking cindy if she had another cat to dispose of. but he felt a little foolish about the whole thing and could not make up his mind to do so. she had probably gotten rid of the whole litter by now anyway, he told himself. and then one evening, after arriving home, walter found he was out of the cans of doctor pepper he consumed while he was watching tv. the weather was pleasant, and he decided to walk the three blocks to the supermarket instead of driving. he was returning home with the twelve-pack of doctor pepper under his arm, and was passing the house three lots down from his own, when he saw a cat sitting placidly on the house’s lawn. it looked like wallace. he was sure it was wallace! he stared at the cat, and the cat stared back at him. walter had no idea what to do, or say. the front door of the house opened, and a heavy set man with a big gut stepped out. “what’s up, my friend?” the man asked walter in an easy manner. “that’s my cat,” walter said. “oh, really? i was wondering if he belonged to anybody. he’s been hanging around, like he was lost.” “he’s my cat,” walter repeated. “hey, i don’t doubt it. take him, if he’s yours. i wouldn’t steal your cat, man. i’m not that kind of person.” walter picked wallace up. he squirmed a little, but offered no real resistance. “his name is wallace,” walter told the man. “oh yeah? i’ve been calling him mike pence, but i guess that’s not his real name. my name is aaron barksdale, by the way.” “i’m walter smith.” walter shook aaron barksdale’s hand awkwardly while barely managing to hold on to wallace with the other and keeping the twelve-pack of doctor pepper under his arm. “i’ve been feeding him a little bit,” aaron said. “i hope you don’t mind. he seemed lost.” what aaron did not mention was that he had not fed wallace any kind of cat food, but scraps and leftovers of his own food - fried chicken, burgers, ham and eggs, salisbury steak tv dinners. “that’s all right,” walter assured him. “thank you, that was very neighborly.” “i let him come in and sleep a little bit. but not all night. i wouldn’t pull an allnighter with somebody else’s cat.” “yes, well, thanks again.” walter took the unresisting wallace back with him to his house. he considered not letting wallace out any more, but the next morning wallace made it very clear that that was not an option. two days later wallace disappeared yet again. after waiting for three days, walter decided to ask aaron barksdale if he had seen him. he didn’t have his phone number or e-mail, so he walked over to his house. night was falling. walter knocked on the door, and aaron barksdale’s wife answered. she looked at walter suspiciously. “yes? can i help you?” “my name is walter smith. um - i wonder if you’ve seen my cat… i was here a few days ago…” “hey, come on in, man,” aaron’s voice boomed from behind his wife. “oh yes,” the woman said. “i remember the cat now.” she stepped aside and let walter in. aaron listened to walter’s brief account and shook his head. “i’m sorry about that. but we haven’t seen him. the little guy probably just has adventure in his soul, you know. i was the same way, when i was a lot younger. he’ll probably be back.” “thank you. i won’t take up any more of your time.” “no problem, i’d be glad to help if i could.” walter went back home. he popped open a doctor pepper and watched the second episode of "a new fantasy epic” with a lot of flashing swords and flying hair. he never saw wallace again. he did not get another cat, or a mail order bride, or any kind of bride, or a dog. he felt he had learned something, but he did not know what.