Five Things - Thing 3 - Second Base

3. What does getting to second base mean in dating parlance?

People who are unfamiliar with baseball don’t quite understand what it means to “get to second base” when in a dating situation. Actually, it is quite simple.

Baseball has four bases: first base, second base, third base, and home plate (commonly referred to as home). To make it home means you “ went all the way.” The goal is to “go all the way” every time you have the chance.

When applying this to dating, when you get to first base, you are 25% or ¼ there. Depending on the date you have laid out, this might be the act of picking up your date, or being picked. When a person asks if you made it to first base, they are really just asking if you picked up your date, or were picked up. If so, then there you are.

Second base is halfway there. For a typical date, this might be dinner. If you made it to dinner, then you made it to second base.

Third base is ¾ or 75% through. For a typical date, this means a movie or a play.

Going all the way, means making it home. So, if you pick up your date (or get picked up), go to dinner, go to a movie, and go home – then you went all the way through the date.

We are still researching why, when high school kids talk about going all the way on a date, they either brag or blush. When we find out the reasoning behind this, we will let y’all know.

Five Things - Thing Two

2. Why you should always put your left shoe on first?

The explanation of why you should always put your left shoe on before your right shoe is based on some very complicated calculus-derived Physics’ formulae. The Layman’s version is that it basically has to do with the balance and tilt of the Earth’s rotation.

First, four important facts:

1. The Earth’s seasons are caused not by the distance from the sun, but the tilt of the Earth. When the Northern Hemisphere is tilted away from the sun, the sunlight has to filter through more of the atmosphere, and is therefore weaker – hence the colder weather. When tilted closer to the sun, less atmosphere, warmer weather.

2. The Earth spins from West to East at a fairly constant rate. This allows a day to stay very close to 24 hours each.

3. It may surprise you, but most people face the Equator when they put their shoes on.

4. It may also be a surprise, but most people put their left shoe on first in the Northern Hemisphere. Most people in the Southern Hemisphere put their right shoe on first.

The Earth does not have an internal motor to cause this spin. Nor does it have an internal gyroscope to maintain the proper tilt. It relies upon the inbreed, DNA-based tendency of mankind to follow facts 3 and 4 above.

By facing the Equator and putting the proper shoe on first, people are pushing the Earth just a little bit. Yes, you are right to think that this little bit is really, really small, but when you combine it with the billions of people on this planet, its enough.

Somehow, mankind is guided so that just enough people put their shoes on correctly so that the proper spin is maintained. As the population grows, a certain segment of people put their shoes on incorrectly, balancing out the correct people and maintaining the proper spin speed.

How does this affect the tilt of the Earth?

In the Garden of Eden days, it was always Spring, because Adam and Eve knew how to put their shoes on in perfect unison with God’s plan. As soon as they left, incorrectness began, people would face the wrong direction and the small push from putting their shoes on caused the world to wobble, and eventually tilt. God stepped in and limited the incorrectness, stabilizing the tilt to what we have today.

What does this all mean? It means if you face south and put your left shoe on first, congratulations, you are one of the correct ones. But, if you face west, and put your right shoe on first, keep doing this – for if you don’t and you convert over to correctness, you may introduce variables in the spin and tilt of the Earth that could create its total destruction.

Five Things - Thing One

1. How can you tell when you can quit wiping your behind after pooping?

While this question may appear simple at first, it is really quite complicated and varies drastically based on the pooper and the circumstances. To truly address all combinations of pooper and situation would take a full book, here are some of the most common combinations.

Pooper: male
Circumstance: public restroom at a sporting event

1 wipe and you are done. Anything more means you are playing with it.

Pooper: female
Circumstance: public restroom

N/A: females don’t poop in public restrooms


Pooper: male
Circumstance: home, wife does laundry

3 -5 wipes, depending on if wife has been in a good mood. If she is in a really bad mood, 1 wipe is fine since a brown streak won’t worsen the situation


Pooper: male
Circumstance: home, wife gone to visit mother

No wipes necessary


Pooper: female
Circumstance: home, does own laundry

Wipe until paper is completely clean. Then wipe 5 more times


Pooper: female
Circumstance: home, doesn’t do own laundry

Unrealistic, so no data available

Pooper: 8 yr old boy
Circumstance: any

1 wipe is fine

Pooper: 8 yr old girl
Circumstance: any

As many times as it takes to use up the entire roll.

Pooper: redneck
Circumstance: any

One corn cob is enough for any circumstance.

Darkness - Day 5

“Mrs. Daily, you have to make a decision.”

“I can’t kill my son.”

“I know it is a very difficult decision. But it has been six months. And there has not been any change in his condition.”

“He just won’t wake up.”

“Right, he just won’t wake up. No matter what we’ve done, he won’t wake up.”

“Is there another hospital we can take him too? Bigger and better than this one?”

“There are bigger, and there might be better, but I have been on the phone with some of the best experts in this country, and we have tried all of their advice. And yet….”

I seemed to have been in this darkness for quite a while. Who knows though. There are no clocks down here. And even if there were, there is no light to see them with.

I have lost most of my senses. There is nothing to smell, hear, see, taste. Most of my touch has left, I think. Or maybe I still have my senses, but there is nothing to smell, to hear, to see, to taste.

But, from time to time, there is something to touch. That is strange, for I sure thought that when I reached the core of darkness, there would be nothing – nothing at all. And yet, something bumps me. Something big. Something hard. Something dark.

The next time it bumps, I’m bumping back.

“Honey, we have to pull his feeding tube. We are out of money. We’ve already sold our car and house. Your Mom is getting tired of our entire family living with her. I just don’t see any other way.”

“One more day, Tom. Just one more day. Please?”

“You have asked for one more day for the last two weeks. No, now is the time. Nurse, can you bring those forms in here now please.”

“Oh Tom…”

Darkness. At one time it was so inviting. An escape from all the bad things in the world. But it took the nothingness of darkness to finally show me that its also an escape from all the good things in the world.

If I can get out of this place, I will not fear the light. I might not welcome it, but I won’t flee it. Light and darkness – two sides of the reality of life. To live, you must have both.

Now, how in the hell do I get out of here?

“How long will he live, nurse?”

“He is in a pretty weakened state. It is impossible to say for sure, but he probably shouldn’t last past tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tomorrow afternoon……”

Bump.

There it is again. I’m grabbing it this time. Man, its big and slippery. But I’m holding on. I’m holding on. Holding on to where though?

“Nurse. Nurse!!! He is having trouble breathing.”

“Yes ma’am, that is normal. Are you sure you want to be here? He looks like he only has a few hours left. If you want to step out into the waiting room, I can stay by his side until the end.”

“No, I’ll stay. I am his mother, you know.”

Another thing about darkness, is that when you are moving, you don’t know what direction. Where is your reference points to know if you are going up or down? Or just in circles?

But I’m holding on. Not going to let go. No matter how tired I get.

“Tom? Tom!!! His eye fluttered!!! Nurse!!!!!”

“That is normal, ma’am, as his body shut down.”

“Normal? … normal.”

Wait, I think I see something. Just a smidge way away, but it has been a long time since I have seen anything. And just knowing it’s a way, means something, doesn’t it?

“Tom? This time I know it was more than just a flutter. Look at his eye balls. They are starting to move. They haven’t moved since …. since that day.”

More light. Or more gray, which means more light. This has to be a good sign.

“Nurse!!! He’s waking up. Please come in here quick. He’s waking up.”

“Now ma’am.. Hey, he is waking up. I’ll go get the doctor.”

I’m getting so tired, but I have to hold on.

“Hold on Johnny. The doctor is coming. Just hold on.”

My fingers are slipping. I’m starting to lose my hold.

Wait, there is a hand coming out of the grayness. And there is another hand.

They are reaching for me. Hey, I recognize those hands. That one is my Mom’s. I know that scar. And that one is my Dad’s. His finger is all bent up. Over here! Here I am!!

“Hold him Tom. Hold him tight.”

“I’ve got him. We’ve got him.”

They have me. Now I can relax. I’m home.

“You’re back, Johnny. You’re back home”.

Home.

“Can you turn the light on Mom?”

Darkness - Day 4

“I don’t know Mrs. Daily. We have run all the standard tests and his body seems to be fine. We can’t find anything wrong with him at all.”

“Except he won’t wake up!”

“Yes, except he won’t wake up.”

“Is he faking it?”

“No, the EKG shows normal patterns for sleep, though they are the strongest patterns I have ever seen in a boy his age.”

“Can you give him a shot or something to wake him up?

“Well, yes, I guess that is really what we ought to do. Are you sure you don’t want to take him to the hospital in the city?”

“No, we don’t have the money for that. Just give him a shot and wake him up.”

“Okay, let me go it.”

It’s not really floating, when you allowed darkness to be your entire universe. “Floating” implies resisting gravity and floating over something. Being totally dark means there is nothing to float over. In fact, there is no gravity to resist. Darkness is absence.

Other people just don’t understand. If they could release the light and become dark like I am now, all their worries would be gone.

“Here we go. Let me pop this into him. He ought to be wide awake in just a few minutes. He might be a bit hyperactive for a while, but he should be fine.”

“Do you think we caused this Tom? Do you think we let our money worries spill over on him?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. He always has been such a quiet boy.”

“Doctor, its been ten minutes. Shouldn’t he be waking up?”

“Hmmm, yes, definitely. Maybe I should give him a second dose.”

Guess I’d better start letting some of the light back in. I’m starting to get hungry.

Okay light, come on in, but slowly please.

Light? Where are you light? Come on in.

MOMMY!!!!!

Darkness - Day 3

Darkness is a passive state. And it is very patient. It doesn’t fight the invading light. Instead, it just moves to the corners, always there, just not noticed. And when the light loses interest, as it always does, and leaves -- darkness brings forth its fullness and engulfs all.

Today, I am making real progress. It is Saturday, so no gitting to be done. I lay in my conclave, letting the light that remains inside me pass out until all that I can see, all that I can feel is dark.

You can’t push the light out. In fact, you don’t even need to push it out. You just need to open the conduits and wait – it will leave.

And today, I have opened more conduits that I ever have before. I thought I might feel a falling sensation, but that was silly. Darkness is a void. How could it cause you to fall.

Peace. That what I feel. Peace. Peace and tranquility and silence. Engulfed by the basic material of the universe – darkness.

“Johnny?”

Peace where nothing is everything and all is dark.

“Johnny, come up here right now! Its time to eat supper. You’ve been down there all day.”

Peace where the nothing triumphs over the something. How can you worry, when there is nothing? Maybe the first person to say “there is nothing to worry about” was really saying “there is nothing to worry about.”

Clump…clump…clump…clump

“Johnny, come out from there.”

Nothing to worry about. Only nothing.

“Oh my God! Johnny! Johnny! Wake up Johnny! Tom! Tom! Turn on the lights and come down here. Something is wrong with Johnny….”

Nothing but darkness.

Darkness - Day 2

People are so vain. They must have light around, so that they can see themselves. Its like if they can’t see themselves, then maybe they don’t exist. If only they would realize that you can only see yourself, if all else is shut away – including light.

It is light which takes our eyes away from ourselves. It is the perceived brightness that dims our abilities and allows the mundane to rule over us. It is the noise of sight that steals away our inner quiet with its clanging and shouting.

It is the beauty of darkness which allows us to be at peace, and in that peace, find the deepest meanings of the darkest questions.

“Johnny, time for school.”

“Aw Mom, I don’t feel so good. Can I stay home today?”

“If you feel good enough to be in that grungy ol’ basement, you feel good enough to go to school. Now come on up here and git.”

Git.

I was gitting. I was gitting closer and closer to that core that has been calling me ever since I found this part of the basement – this part where the corners and the furnace worked together to shut out all the light. All the light except for that oily window that used to allow whispers through. A flat board, a few nails, and a hammer shut those whispers up.

“Johnny?”

Now, if he could just find a board big enough to shut up that whisper....

Darkness - Day 1

Darkness.

Darkness is such an interesting phenomenon. By definition, it is the absence of light. To many, it isolates, it chills, it reduces. To many, it is a place to avoid, to remove, to destroy.

But not to me. I love the darkness. It holds for me the feelings that light chases away. Feelings I like, such as awareness, aloneness, and power. Those who love the darkness have power over those who fear it.

And right now, I am very powerful.

“Johnny?”

A disturbance. A rock in the middle of my still pond. Waves begin to rock my spiritual boat

“Johnny, time for supper!!!”

“Okay, Mom. Just a sec.”

Even though I knew it was coming, the light at the top of the stairs startled me. Its power drove away my tranquility, allowing the monsters of the light to return.

Each stair I climbed moved me farther from where I wanted to be, deeper into their world.

“There you are, silly boy. Why do you spend so much time down in that basement?”

Silly boy indeed. Soon she would find out just how silly I was.

Steps - Day 5

Step 5 is the final step
Where all realities
Come together,
Merge and

fade

Late again. She was always late. But now she doesn’t rush. She had decided there was no real reason to rush anymore. In fact, she decided to sit back down and finish enjoying her morning coffee.

“Aren’t you late for your hair appointment, Barbara?”

“I guess I am, but I’m just enjoying being here with you Howard.”

Howard smiled and continued reading the newspaper. He again reflected on how two small words can change a person’s life so much.

Howard was not nearly as unobservant as Barbara thought he was. That night, he could tell that Barbara had done something. Her entire demeanor was different. She wouldn’t look at him, and her normally pale face was flush. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was something she didn’t want him to know, since she didn’t blather on about it for 20 minutes. The fact that she was silent was all he needed to notice that she had done something bad.

He didn’t confront her directly. She would just rattle on and on and he would finally give up. No, he had waited.

After supper, once they had both gotten into their computers, he sent a simple email to Barbara of two words:

I KNOW

They never talked about it. He never found out exactly what she did. From the huge change in her attitude towards him, it must have been really bad. But he didn’t really need to know. He was happy with the result.

“Can you pick me up a bottle of that Sharkie shampoo from your hair dresser while you are there?”

“I’d love to, but I am going to a new shop. I’ll check when I’m there to see if they sell it there also.”

Howard wondered about the change in shops. She had gone to the same place for years. He wondered, for just a second, if this change had anything to do with what she did that fateful day. He quickly let it go and turned to the Sports section.

“Want to go to the ball game with me this weekend?” he asked.

“Sure. That would be great,” she eagerly answered.

Howard smiled and thought life was great.

Steps - The Real Day 4

Editor's Note: Due to a technical problem in the publishing of yesterday's installment of Steps, it was incorrectly labeled Day 4. Actually, it was Day 3. Today is Day 4. We regret any confusion this may have caused.
----

Step 4 is the stumbling move
That takes the just
Happened and
Tries to
Hide
it

The afterglow of her encounter with Frank/Roberto took hours to fade from her body, slowing seeping into the void of day-to-day life. It took much longer before her soul would allow it to fade.

That night was just like any other night to those around her. But to Barbara, she was in a different universe – not one of those strange parallel universes – but a softer, quieter universe. Reality faded in and out, and even at its high tide, it was weak.

Barbara had supper with Howard, her husband -- take-out Chinese as usual for Tuesday. He didn’t say anything about how quiet she was, which would have confirmed he never listened to her anyway if she had been paying attention – which she wasn’t.

After supper, they both retreated to their normal spaces – Howard to the den and Barbara to the upstairs office. They both did this out of a habit of doing the same thing for the last fifteen years.

While tonight seemed the same for Howard, it was completely different for Barbara. Her body was on autopilot, but her insides were still experiencing Frank’s touch, his body, his passion. She looked at her hands, surprised to see that her inside trembles were not manifesting themselves in her hands.

As she sat back into her office chair, her fingers automatically got her laptop up and going. Email, Internet browser, task list, calendar all came up as if on auto-pilot.

It was thirty minutes later when her new world exploded … as she read the email.

Steps - Day 4

Warning - the following contains language that some may find offensive. Children and mother's of the author should reconsider reading this one day.

----

Step 3 brings the pathway
From its shadowy past
Into a clearly lit
present that
Blinds.

The quickness of their acceleration from customer/beautician to lovers would have stolen her sanity and hid it away for years if she had made any attempt at keeping it. But she did not.

Frank’s touch traveled oh so skillfully, from the vague attempt at combing her hair, tenderly down her craning neck, gently falling under her cotton blouse until it rested strongly at the valley of her rising/falling breasts.

Only a thin curtain separated them from the rest of the shop, but it might have well as been the pre-Reagan Iron Curtain to the embraced couple. Passion jumped from clutch to clutch, from lip to skin, from pull to push. Clothes were pushed aside awkwardly, with little care. Only the last bit of civility kept them from screaming in their unison climaxes.

And then it was over.

Late again, but this time, she didn’t care.

Steps - Day 2

Step 2 is when the uncaring
Step out of their world
And begin to know
The passion they
Have been
hiding.

“Frank, is that you?” she said timidly.

His warm smile engulfed her.

“Its Roberto now. No one has called me Frank in over ten years. In fact, not since that night…”She interrupted, “That night, ah yes, that night.”

“I see you remember Barbara.” “I remember Frank.”

“Well sit down Barbara. It sounds like you are in a hurry.”

Still in a state of rush, (although a diminishing one), she put her purse down on the side table and climbed into the large, swivel chair. She usually enjoyed sinking into the fine leather cushion, laying her head back against the ample cushion, letting her arms relax into the plush arm rests. She usually enjoyed these few minutes where she wasn’t rushing anywhere.

But today, she barely noticed herself climb into the chair. Her mind kept spinning, as if she had loaded a CD incorrectly into her stereo and it kept trying to read the music, but couldn’t.

“Barbara, its really good to see you again. You look great.”

His voice was low, warm, and right next to her ear.

“Yes Barbara, you look great.”

What Barbara knew but for some reason couldn’t say was that Frank also looked great.

Instead, she just mumbled “Thanks” and kept trying to load the CD.

Spin …. Spin… spin

Steps - Day 1

Step 1 is the beginning of the end
Of a passionate adventure,
Made for those
Who no
Longer
Care

Late again. She was always late. Its not that she didn’t rush around. Rush around was her mantra. But the more she rushed, the later she was. That didn’t cause her to stop rushing though.

This morning, she was late for a hair appointment. It wasn’t that her hair needed it, (she always kept it short and the blonde color was still natural), but she liked the feel of that “just got my hair done” feel. Just like she liked the feel of her stylish shoes, designer purses, and flippy skirts that showed off her legs.

“Oh Mary, I’m sorry I’m late,” she blurted out as she shoved open the Hair Boutique’s glass door. “Can you still fix this mess?”, pointing to her hair which was anything but a mess.

Mary stepped away from the hair washing sink where she had been giving a gray-hair a thorough shampoo. “I’m sorry Ms. Rossick, but I waited as long as I could, then I had to start taking care of the rest of my appointments.”

“Oh Mary, you have to work me in. I can’t face the day looking like this.”

This was a weekly scene between Mary and Ms. Rossick. Ms. Rossick would come in late. Mary would say its too late. Ms. Rossick would pled. Mary would shuffle her appointments, and the day would continue.

Today would be different. Today Mary responded, “I’m sorry Ms. Rossick, I am unable to do anything for you today…”

There was a brief moment of silence, as the entire shop waited to see what would happen with this plot twist that was just introduced.

“… but I tell you what. We just added a new beautician. His name is Roberto. He comes highly recommended and has no clients yet, so I’m sure he is free. How would that be, Ms. Rossick.”

Still stunned by the change in the normal routine, Ms. Rossick just mumbled, “Well I guess …” and faded off.

Mary, in a very pleasant voice (underpinned by “I finally was able to stand up to you” feel) pointed to the drawn curtain in the back. “Roberto set up shop in the back until we can do some rearranging out here. Just go on back and let him know what you want done.”

The entire store seemed quite pleased that Mary had finally stood up to Ms. Rossick – the whole store, that is, except Ms. Rossick herself. She just gathered her self up, rewound her motor, and bustled toward the back of the room.

“He is right behind that curtain, Ms. Rossick.”

“Roberto? Roberto? I need a shampoo and a comb out and I need it quickly. I’m late for a meeting with the developers…”

As she thrust the curtains back and saw Roberto, she stopped completely, and stared.

“Hello Ms. Rossick. I’m very glad to see you again.”

Ms. Rossick didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t even breath.”

“Frank?”

The Dog Days of August - Day 5

Ouch!

Man, my head hurts.

Where am I? Who are y’all? What is happening? Where are we going?

Wait, I hear someone talking. Sounds like a cop. Oh great.

Don’t worry Mrs. Pointer, this guy won’t be bothering you or anyone around here again for a long time. You did a very brave thing, hitting him with that baseball bat.

Thank you Officer Schmidt. I did what I had learned in that class down at the Y. I played like I was blind and hoped he would go away on his own. It wasn’t until Johnny got back from the neighbors and startled the man that I knew I had to do something a little more … active.

Well, you sure did something alright. Cracked him a good one. Do you need any help cleaning up the mess on the stairs?

No, I can get it. Thanks for getting here so quickly.

A blind woman cracked me with a bat? And she wasn’t blind at all?

Oh great. The boys at prison are going to have a field day with this one. Just hope they don’t find out what I was doing on the stairs.

Fight or flight?

Damn it!

I was never good at multiple choice questions.

Dog Days of August - Day 4

WARNING - Contains language and situations which may be unappropriate for younger children

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey Mister! Whatcha doing?

Shit!

Hey Mister, why you got your pants pulled down? You got to pee?

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Hey Mommy, there’s a man going to pee on the basement steps.

How did I get myself into this mess? I just wanted to have a little fun. Just sitting here, watching the mommy give her tit to the baby. Not hurting anyone. Just watching. Okay a little more than watching, but it was harmless.

And now this kid comes out of nowhere. What in the hell am I going to do now?

Fight or flight? Fight or flight?

Where did I put that damn crowbar?

Dog Days of August - Day 3

Hello? Is someone there?

For God’s sake lady, of course someone’s here. I’m standing 10 feet, right in front of you. You come much closer, and this crowbar will convince your head of what your eyes should be seeing.

Oh baby, do you feel that breeze? Daddy must have left the window open
when he left this morning for Portland. It sounded like the wind blew over
the flower vase and broke it. Let’s not go over there. Daddy can
clean it up when he gets home. Let’s go down into the basement where its
cooler. It is hot, isn’t it baby?

Something is wrong here. That lady was staring right at me, but didn’t seem to notice.

Wait, she is walking down the hall with her hand on the wall. Blind! She must be blind.

Oh my lucky stars, she’s blind! And alone, except for that baby. Just blind lady, baby and me for the whole day. Just think of the fun we can have.

Just think.

Dog Days - Day 2

...............................Hmmmpppffff.

This window is stronger than I thought. And its hotter than blazes out here.

How hot is blazes? And how would I know if this is hotter than that?

Concentrate you idiot. Use more weight on the end of the crowbar. More. More.

...................................Snap.

There. Got it. I hope the haul is worth all this trouble. The last house I broke into, (was that just last week?), didn’t have shit. $50 bucks net for a whole night’s work. This one had better be better.

....................................Uggggggghhhh.

I’ve got to cut down on the ice cream. Its getter harder and harder to get in through these windows.

.......................................Crash.

Great! There goes my “get in and out without leaving a trace” plan. Don’t know if that vase was worth anything, but its not worth much now.

Sure glad these guys are out of town all weekend.

.....................................Waaaaaaaa.

Double great. What in the hell was that?

.........................It’s okay baby, Mommy is here.

Mommy? Baby? I may not be that smart, but either they have a very elaborate alarm system here, or someone didn’t go out of town for the weekend.

I think this is a great time to make my exit.

Hello? Is someone there?

Fight or flight? Fight or flight?

Well, I got a crowbar to fight with, and a 250 pound body to fly with. Guess its fight.

Day 1 - Dogs Days of August

It’s the Dog Days of August.

Dog Days?

Who in the hell ever starting calling these miserable stretches of heat and humidity Dog Days?

I’m sure it wasn’t some dog, sitting under a porch, panting, wondering if he had energy for the next breath, just laying there, and saying, “These are really the Dog Days, aren’t they?”

I bet it was a cat. Yep, a cat. Some little black pussy cat, sitting in the windowsill, right by the air conditioner vent, feeling the refrigerated air rumple its fur, looking out the window at the dog under the porch, the dog with the tongue laying in the dust. Yep, I bet it was that cat who said, “It is so hot, only something as stupid as a dog would be outside. It sure is a Dog Day!”

Well, heat or no heat, I still had a job to do. Now, where did I put that crow bar? Oh crap, I left it back in the truck. Now I have to sneak back to the truck, over that fence again, (hope I don’t get caught on the barbs again), through the bushes, over to that side street. Sure hope no one sees me, or if they do see me, they ignore me.

Man, me being this stupid makes it a miracle I haven’t spent more time in prison.

Bugs - Day 5

Timmy could no longer cry, he had run out of tears. He had given up trying to wiggle his way out of his wooden prison.

Timmy was too young to realize what a bad situation he was in. On TV, the good guy was always rescued, and he was a good guy, so he just had to wait. But waiting for an eight year old was hard. Especially when he was so uncomfortable. He leg really hurt. His back hurt. And now his head hurt.

“Mom,” he tried again, with the same result.

“Mom?”

---

“For God’s sake, Jones, you shot him!” yelled the older policeman.

“He was escaping.”

“Escaping from where, Jones. You are a real idiot, you know that. “

“He was …”

“Shut up Jones. Call an ambulance.”

The crowd in Timmy’s backyard grew, beckoned by the sound of the pistol shot. There was a lot of murmuring and speculation, but no real direction.

The man laid face-down on the ground, blood slowly soaking his raggedy pants – pants that appeared to be pajama bottoms.

Timmy’s mother slowly rose from her seat at the picnic table, and the crowd hushed, waiting to see how this next scene would play out. She walked over to the man and bent down, slowly touching his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, so quietly only the two of them could hear.

“I’m fine ma’am. Something happened to may leg,” replied the man. Timmy’s mother just heard grunts and squeals, but seemed to understand he was okay. She helped the man roll over and sit up. By now, the older policeman had joined her and helped get the man to his feet.

“The ambulance will be here in just a few minutes, sir,” the policeman said in a steady, authoritative voice.

The mention of an ambulance seemed to jolt the man. He stood up straight for a minute, shook his head to clear out all but what he had to concentrate on, and then looked around the backyard. There he thought as he pointed to Timmy’s swing set. He pointed and kept pointing until Timmy’s mother finally noticed his wavering arm.

“Swings. That’s Timmy’s favorite thing to do out here,” she whispered just loud enough for the three of them to hear.

The man became excited, trying to jump up and down but his injured leg stopped him. He ended up just bouncing and kept pointing to the swings.

While Timmy’s mother was washed with grief and worry about her son, somehow her natural intuitiveness came forth.

“Timmy? Do you know something about my boy Timmy?”

The man nodded like a monkey who had just told a great joke. He pointed to the swing, and then swung around, almost knocking the policeman over, and pointed to the woods.

“Where is he? Where is Timmy?” shouted the mother, a shout full of the excitement that she might once again hold her son in her arms, and yet underpinned with the dread that her arms might hold a lifeless body.

The man began once again to limp towards the woods. This time he stopped and turned around, looking directly at Jones, the young policeman who had shot him just minutes earlier. Jones looked at the ground; the man continued into the woods.

The mother and older policeman were right behind the man, and the rest of the crowd soon followed.

The man’s leg began to drag more and more until finally the policeman came up and put one of the man’s arms around his shoulder, supporting him as he limped on.

The caravan trekked deeper into the woods, following the strange trio: an raggedy ol’ man being propped up by a blue-coated policeman on one side, and accompanied by a worried mother on the other.

Finally, they reached the site of the lightning strike. The crowd expanded out, peering closely at the burnt ground, watching as the smoke still escaped from small piles, even after the hard rain.

The man stopped and looked around for a moment, his eyes a bit confused. Then he saw what he was looking for and pointed down the hill – down through the brush to a large ball of mangled trees and brush – down to where the lightning had dropped the woods it had picked up from the circle – down to where Timmy was trapped.

The mother knew right away what the man was trying to say. “TIMMY” she yelled as she ran down the hillside, thrusting some of the branches out of the way, letting others hit her, not caring – only wanting to get to Timmy as quickly as she could.

The policeman was right behind her, then the crowd followed at a slower, more careful pace.

The man didn’t join this race down the hill. Even if he wanted to, his leg would have not held up to the angle of descent. He slowly raised his eyes toward the bluing sky, hoping from another communication from God.

None came, but that was okay. The man turned to his right and limped away, listening to the noise of rescue below.

“Well God, looks like we did a good thing today – a real good thing. Thanks.”

No one was around to hear the grunts and squeals.

No one at all.

Epilogue – 40 years earlier

The man sat at the curb side, his blue terry cloth rob covered most of his flannel pajamas. The rain water splashed over his bedroom slippers. The lights from the silent, retreating ambulance tried to dance on the puddles in the street – but failed.

A young policeman walked gingerly up to the man and tenderly held a clipboard and pen down.

“Nothing you could have done, sir. Act of God it was. Though I’ll tell you, that’s the first lightning strike I’ve ever seen actually kill someone. It wasn’t your fault, sir. Your son was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you could just sign here, I’ll be on my way.”

The man never did sign that form.

Bugs - Day 4

Timmy twisted and squirmed and pushed until he was completely worn out. No luck. He was stuck really good.

Timmy had thought he had heard someone outside of his new prison, but after a bit, he knew he was all alone.

Timmy wanted to cry, but he was a big boy and held it back. The poking in his back hurt some, but not as much as the newly discovered throbbing in his right leg. He couldn’t see his leg, but man it hurt.

“Mom?” Timmy tried to yell, but alas, only a whisper came forth. Timmy closed his eyes and wondered what he should do. He thought of his heroes on TV, but he couldn’t remember any episodes where they escaped from being stuck in some trees.

So he did the only thing he could think of – he let himself cry.

---

The man stared up at the light in disbelief. He had always believed in God. In fact, he spent most of his day talking to God. But this was the first time he had actually heard God speaking back. To an outsider, the light was just one of those spectacular beams of light that from time to time peek through the woods and alight upon just one spot. To an outsider, the just finished rain gave the sun beam a brilliant white look, the just finished wind was allowing the particles of the woods to settle slowly back to earth, dancing in the beam. But to the man, it was God talking directly to him.

After staring at the light beam for a full five minutes, the man nodded and headed toward the boy’s back yard.


The man didn’t know that the most of the town was still upset by that thing that happened earlier in the summer. The man didn’t know that that thing was actually just a story fabricated by a group of twelve year boys to scare the girls. The man didn’t know that he was the topic of the boys’ story; that, according to the story, he was naked and had chased the boys, screaming out vulgar comments about what he was going to do with them if he caught them; that most of the town wanted to go into the woods and get rid of him.

The man didn’t know any of this. He just knew God had sent him on a mission and he …. would … not … fail ….

The man stepped out of the woods just about where Timmy had started his adventure. Timmy’s mother, sitting on the picnic table in their backyard saw him and scream. The two policemen who were standing near Timmy’s mother drew their pistols and pointed them directly at the man. The neighbors who had gathered to try to console Timmy’s mother jumped to their feet in shock.

The man took two more steps forward, raised his arms out stretched, and proclaimed:

“Your son is okay. He is down the hill, stuck in a pile of brush. Come on, I’ll show you,” and the man turned to show them where Timmy was.

But all the people heard where grunts and squeals. The same grunts and squeals that issued forth from this man’s mouth over the last forty years.

“BANG”

The policeman’s pistol recoiled and blue smoke floated out of the barrel.

The man stumbled and then fell to the ground.

And then there was silence.

Bugs - Day 3

He had watched the boy come out of his house.

He had watched him as he got interested on the ground and go into the woods.

He had followed him, wondering what could keep the kid so interested for so long. He saw the boy grab his arm, wipe it on his pants, and continue on his way, deeper into the woods.

Then it happened, so suddenly, he first thought it was another of his dreams.

FLASH

BANG

BOOM

CRASH

The seconds of silence which followed seem to stretch into years.

His eyes had been blinded by the flash of the lightning and took a good three minutes to come back to some sort of usefulness. His ears rang for a good ten minutes, the thunder had been so loud.

He shook his head and looked in the last direction he had seen the boy. There was emptiness, as if God Himself had reached down and pulled up a handful of trees like a gardener pulling up a weed.

Memories from way back in the junk pile of his sub-conscious cried out to be brought forth. Strong memories triggered by the light, the sound, the smell. Bad, bad memories he just could not let out.

Then the rain began. It didn’t start as a gentle rain, slowly increasing in volume, but instead began full on. Once again he thought of God. “Did you turn Your hose on to wash Your hands after pulling that weed?” he thought. “You didn’t need to turn it on so hard!” He said this in his mind, his tongue remaining still – a stillness it had maintained for going on forty years now.

It took him a couple of more minutes to turn his mind back to the boy.

“What in the hell happened to that little kid?” he mumbled to himself. “Himself” had been his only speaking partner for a long, long time.

He walked into the newly created clearing, staying away from the smoking piles at the edges of the circle and looked around for the boy.

“The boy was right here, then boom, no boy. No trees either. What in the …” then he stopped. He finally noticed, just down the hill there, a big ball of twisted limbs, leaves, and muck.

“You pick it up God, and toss it over there?” he asked. He waited, but as usual, he got no answer, so he walked carefully down the hill, toward the ball of trees.

The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, but he didn’t really notice. He was curious about the boy, not that he really cared one way or the other, but he was just curious.

“Help.”

He stopped and wondered if God was finally speaking to him. He pondered for a minute and decided if God were going to say something to him, it probably wouldn’t start with “Help.”

“Help me, I’m stuck!”

Now he was sure it wasn’t God. He didn’t think there was anyway God could get Himself stuck, and even if He did, He’d call on Jesus or those angel guys or the host or someone other than a poor, homeless crazy man.

“Must be the boy. The boy must be stuck in the middle of that ball of trees. Yep, must be the boy.”

His curiosity was satisfied, so he turned and started back up the hill.

“Strange place for a boy to be playing, out here in this mud. Oh well.”

His bedroom slippers mad funny sucking noises and he held his robe tightly around him with one arm and grabbing onto tree stumps with the other as he fought his way back up the hill.

“Yep, awfully strange place for a boy to be playing.”