54 - 20. walking in the rain

by bofa xesjum

the storm will begin in twenty minutes and seventeen seconds. i can make it, murchison thought, i can do it. i can get to the center in fifteen minutes easy. he set out, swinging his short but muscular arms confidently. after eight minutes, the rain suddenly began to fall heavily. murchison looked around desperately for a cab or a bus. he was quickly soaked like laundry in a washing machine. the people at the center would have a good laugh. he knew their type - always ready with a heartless smile. along with their rolling eyeballs and obviously fake sympathetic noises. it was the story of his life, over and over. the rain fell harder, almost knocking hin off his feet. the street was now completely empty of people or vehicles. just murchison and the rain and wind and falling darkness. why, he wondered, was life so awful and so meaningless? why did his fellow humans consider him ridiculous and pathetic? < p> his phone came back on, interrupting his despairing interior monologue. the storm will continue for anther twenty-two minutes before ending. how do i know this forecast will be any better? i might as well just give up and go home. home to the loneliest room in the whole wide world. a long black town car appeared in his peripheral vision. it pulled up beside him and the window rolled down. the young woman behind the wheel had a cheerleader smile. hello, bob, my name is cambridge, i’m from the center. we thought you might like a ride in this weather.

54 - 19. the outside man

by bofa xesjum

sarah looked out the window while travis read his book. look, there is a man sitting on the sidewalk outside. you mean he is not sitting on the sidewalk inside? your literal-mindedness gets more tiresome with every passsing decade. duly noted, travis replied, without looking up from his book. he looks so sad - i wonder what his problem is. you can see the expression on his face from here? i can tell from his body language, sarah replied confidently. why don’t you go out and engage him in conversation? that is a good idea - i will do just that. take your phone or your notebook - and take good notes. but sarah was out the door before the parting shot. good morning, my name is sarah , what might yours be? it might be many different things, thank you for asking. you sound just like my husband, sarah replied somewhat disappointedly. is that a compliment - is your husband a nice person? forget him - i came out here to talk to you. if i may ask, in some official or semi-official capacity? no, in a happy spirit of sincere friendship and enquiry. i think those are two different spirits - friendship and enquiry. tell me, what is in your briefcase, sarrah changed the subject. why would you want to know that? the man asked. a history of the world - ir maybe a groundbreaking novel? no, just some socks and underwear, if you must know, you can get the best socks at goodwill, he aded. but for underwear you should go to the salvation army.

54 - 18. beside the lake

by bofa xesjum

i feel i have done all i can do, sir. that is quite a statement from one so young, exeter. many have opined that i have an old soul, sir. so you have nothing for me, then? mister macardle sighed. i thought it prudent not to produce absolute rubbish, sir. feeling, like alexander, you have no more worlds to conquer. exactly, sir, i could not have said it better myself. outside the dusty window of the conference room, birds flew. ' exeter, with his old soul, walked slowly around the placid lake. mister macardle poured a cup of tea with a cavalier flourish. the door opened and proctor walked in quite at his ease. well, what did you make of him? proctor bluntly asked macardle. he just won’t do, macardle replied, he just won’t do. i will have the necessary paperwork done and steps taken. have you heard from parker ? macardle smoothly changed the subject. no, and i do not care if i ever do, exeter met juliana under a tall tree beside the lake. have you made up your mind? she asked without ceremony. i have made up my mind to conquer the world. i do not suppose you wish to take me along. of course not, it is obvious you just won’t do. pray, how any people in the world just will do? i never suspected you were such a philosopher, my dear. is not a philosopher but a person who asks questions? i never ask questions, exeter replied briskly, especially of myself. a sudden breeze stirred the lake, and a raindrop fell.

54 - 17. well furnished

by bofa xesjum

outside, the snow began to fall at an alarming rate. huddled in the grimy doorway, roger valmont felt very unhappy, he turned the collar of his ragged green coat up, how had it come to this? he asked himself speculatively. wet snow began to cover the glass in the doorway. roger could no longer see the people in the street. i am wasting my valuable time, he told himself despondently. the door opened suddenly and roger was confronted by aldington. aldington shook snow off his topcoat and glared at roger. do you live here, fellow,? aldington demanded in his brusque manner. aldington! do you not know me? roger cried out piteously. aldington’s eyes retracted in the way roger remembred so well. yes, of course, he murmured, what do you want now? now! it has been at least thirty years, roger cried. well, what is it that you want, after thirty yrars? shelter from the storm, what else would i possibly want? what could anyone possibly want? aldington muittered grimly to himself. come on up then, he added, pointing to the stairs. the elevator is broken, but the room is well furnished. roger followed aldington up four flights of dimly lit stairs. the room was indeed well furnished, and warm as well. roger sat down on a shabby but soft oriental divan. might i be offered a drink next, he mused hopefully. not yet, for aldington had disappeared into an adjoining room. roger heard aldington’s voice rising and falling, angry as ever. outside the wind joined the snow in a fierce embrace.

54 - 16. olivia and the colonel

by bofa xesjum

after olivia escaped from the dictator, she wanted to relax. she rented a cottage on the outskirts of the wilderness. she liked to look out the window at the grass. beyond the grass was the desert, and a few mudholes. a hippo named the colonel lived in the biggest mudhole. olivia was warned never to disturb or approach he colonel. because he was the fiercest beast in the southern hemisphere. olivia spent a week reading the memoirs of empress josephine. inevitably, she grew bored and sauntered down to the mudhole. the colonel was sitting there, with a supremely indifferent air. a little boy wearing a fedora sat on his back. he was the last descendant of a tribe of vikings. who had terrorized the countryside in king herod’s time. olivia offered the boy one of her hand rolled cheroots. and a light, which he accepted with casually mperial politesse. they smoked for a while in silence under the clouds. do you come here often? olivia finally asked the boy. only every sixth day after the full moon, he replied. if you do not mind my asking, olivia began tentatively - oh, you may ask me anything at all you like. they covers a great deal of territory, does it not? territory is what we have a great deal of here. you seem something of a sage for one so young. there is no youth or age here in the mudhole. is this beast actually as ferocious as he is reputed? why do you not pat his nose and find out?

54 - 15. jennifer and the potatoes

by bofa xesjum

jennifer johnson, the center of the universe, had a dream. one of the strangest dreams any human being ever had. so strange it can hardly be put into coherent words. the economy of the kingdom was based on green grapes. neither the peasants nor the nobles ever seriously questioned this. suddenly an ostrich ran across the road carrying a flag. jennifer realized she was dreaming, and tried hard to wake up. this can not be happening to me, she thought desperately. if i walk along quietly, the underlings will ignore me. and the monkeys will arrive on the mayflower in time. i have always tried to be an innocent good person. and not surrender to farmer fred and his ferocious friends. very soon, the ships will return with their precious cargo. suddenly the pile of potatoes blocked jennifer’s right of way. they never go completely away, now, do they, jennifer? it must be a judgement on you, don’t you think? a camel carrying his back to old virginia suddenly appeared.’’ need some help with those potatoes, miss, he enquired soliticiously. get behind me, devil, jennifer hissed, i know your ways. the camel turned into a rabbit and loped casually away. jennifer tried to be brave, despite all that was happening. maybe it was all meant to be, she mused hopefully. a rider appeared on the horizon, all by his lonesome. faster and faster he approached the expectant pile of potatoes. jennifer finally accepted that she was only a potato herself. even a potato needs a friendly word now and then.

54 - 14. out on highway x

by bofa xesjum

are you lonesome tonight, blackbeard sang softly to the moon. you should get a new song, little john advised him. i can remember the words to this one, blackbeard replied. the man will hear you if you sing too loud. he can hear me anyway if he dang so desires. i see we are dropping all pretenses this fine summer evening. in response to little john’s words, rain began to fall. the drops plopped on the windshield of the old vehicle . blackbeard and little john had been waiting for a while. since the beginning of time, according to some accounts. not quite so long as that, per other interested parties. in any case, blackbeard continued to sing his lonesome song. before dawn, right on time, a highway patrol car appeared. sheriff jane brown got right to the point, as usual. have we not encountered you two fellows before? she asked. and have we not previously told you to move along? officer mary white nodded her agreement in her forthright way. we have moved along, blackbeard replied in his imperturbable manner. but we have moved back again, little john added smoothly. why do you persist in your persistence, officer white demanded. you have a deeper purpose, sheriff jane brown insisted adamantly. and we will never give up until we unearth it. and that goes double for me, officer mary white concurred. we have the same purpose as the stars, blackbeard reorted. just to keep on shining, and to be lonesome tonight. oh, are you lonesome tonight, are you with me tonight?

54 - 13. eddie in the river

by bofa xesjum

the big guy watched from the window as benny parked. benny took his sweet time getting out of the truck. so how did it go? the big guy growled menacingly. it went smooth, how did you think it would go? so both packages were safely delivered, the big guy persisted. of course what else would i presumably do with them? the big guy took a small notepad out of his pocket. and a sharpened pencil, and handed them both to benny. write down exactly what you did, the big guy commanded. and keep your back to the window, he added peremptorily. benny rolled his sleepy eyes at the big guy’s paranoia. but did as he was instructed and quickly wrote something. let’s go for a ride, the big guy’s note read. the big guy absolutely never talked in his own car. they headed down the broad highway into the setting sun. benny pointed, then turned down a barely visible dirt road. they bumped along for about two miles, and then stopped. dirt was carefully smoothed over under an old black tree. looks like an awful big hole for a small package. i did not think eddie was that small a package. eddie! you moron! you were supposed to bury the money! and dump eddie in the river down by the mill. my mistake, i thought it was the other way around. the other way around? so then where is the money? benny’s trusty old .45 suddenly appeared in his steady hand. you can guess the rest - under an old black tree.

54 - 12. gilroy and jared

by bofa xesjum

the waiting room in the bus station was strangely quiet. the man behind the ticket counter exhaled slowly and menacingly. the young man with the ticket to indianapolis slept peacefully. his name was gilroy and he was called laughing boy. he was in love with a girl named olive branch. whom he had left behind in a state of expectation. somewhere in wyoming, or maybe somewhere else outside of montana. the heavy breathing of the man behind the counter continued. the name on his drivers license was jared hunter yancey. he was a direct descendant of the conqueror genghis khan. behind his counter, he often dreamed of being a conqueror. when he did not dream of being a hit man. or a trained deadly assassin, or a drive by shooter. or a movie star, or president of the united states. right now his mind was focused on gilroy, the sleeper. he read gilroy’s mind like a newsreel and a cartoon. he saw olive running down the road with outstretched arms. and saw and heard gilroy pledge his eternal heartfelt love. jared’s brain began to bubble like a witch’s black cauldron. i have to pull myself together, he suddenly thought desperately gilroy woke up and sat up - the connection was broken. jared took a deep breath and blinked his bulging eyes. gilroy got up and walked over to the coke machine. he carefully considered its bright red exterior surface and paused. he inserted the required coins and received his icy bottle. he slowly ,returned to his seat without looking at jared.

54 - 11. arthur and jennifer

by bofa xesjum

arthur jones was sort of different from the other boys. most of them wanted to be astronauts or omnipresent oligarchs. arthur aspired to be a kind person or a prophet. what those occupations actually involved he was not quite sure. so he saved his money and took to the highway. suddenly a black tornado appeared in the hitherto blue sky. this was an exceptional event in arthur’s stolidly uneventful life. he felt a vast something or other overwhelming his being. a gremlin in a red tuxedo made a sudden appearance. the gremlin made a sincere effort to articulate his message. and yet in the end he failed miserably and spectacularly. and poor arthur, none the wiser, headed into the maelstrom. all of these things happened a very kong time ago. they happened under the long reign of good king henry. and many of the details have been lost to time. despite this, arthur soldiered on down the ever broadening road. arthur’s mind was essentially shapeless at this point in time. so far his journey had not changed this smple fact. on the seventh day he met a woman named jennifer. she carried him away to her cave in the hills. jennifer had a vision of the way things should be. and she was not to be denied, then or ever. arthur's grand dreams became obsolete in no little time. a river ran from jennifer’s cave to the blue sea. in the end, arthur never made a single accurate prophecy. but he did always try to be a kind person.

54 - 10. barton the dreamer

by bofa xesjum

boris barton, a highly regarded disciplinarian, seemed a sad fellow. he made a good living whipping recalcitrant lordlings into shape. those who employed him thought he must harbor some secret. the lads whom he disciplined were sure that he did. and had many sniggering speculations among themselves on the subject. but the lords and their offspring were both quite mistaken. barton waked slowly home in the evenings through the fog. very occasionally he stopped at a pub for a pint. he never spoke to anybody, and nobody spoke to him. he slept eight hours every night, and dreamed seven hours. he never remembered the dreams, or knew he had them. the dreams were never of persons he encountered by day. or of persons he had known in his earlier life. or of famous persons, or persons recently in the news. or of familiar animals — cats, dogs, horses, cows, pigs, sheep. or of lions tigers, leooards, jaguars, elephants, hippos, or dionosaurs. or of clowns, ballerinas, vampires, werewolves, zombies, or mad scientists or of being famous himself, or of performing heroic deeds. very well, then, what, if anything, did he dream of? i think we both know the answer to that question. pray, why do you not just tell me the answer? a woman named jenkins lived across the hall from barton. unknown to both barton and herself, she shared his dreams . they never spoke, just nodded, if they passed in the hallway. barton ate breakfast every day at the same corner cafe. he said good morning to the waitress - neevr anything else.

54 - 9. a picture in a hallway

by bofa xesjum

hortense escorted miss garberson into wroth towers, hortense’s ancestral home. a row of framed paintings lined the long dim hallway. most of them were portraits of long deceased unsmiling ancestors. but one depicted a hooded man hanging from a gallows. miss garberson stopped and considered it with a furrowed brow. forgive me for asking, what is this a picture of? it is a picture of great-grandfather walter wroth’s untimely demise. he was hanged? miss garberson asked with a perplexed air. the picture is clear enough, is it not? hortense replied. was he hanged for any particular reason,? miss garberson persisted. it was widely accepted that he was an unloyal citizen. but of course, miss garberson murmured softly, yes, of course. of course what? hortense replied, perhaps a bit too sharply. of course he was hanged - it was in his stars. what do you know about it? hortense, now amused, asked. we knew each other, quite intimarely, in a previous life. how can you tell, when he is wearing a hood? because i would know him anywhere - we were in love. we met on a summer evening, under a pale moon. i was an orphan - he was heir to a dukedom. walter was npt heir to any dukedom, or to anything. he was heir to my heart, miss garberson asserted confidently. but the old duke did not approve of my existence. and arranged for poor walter to be unjustly accused of - . of something dreadful, but it hardly matters now, does it? thank you so much for sharing, shall we move on?

54 - 8. bigboy and tulip

by bofa xesjum

bigboy liked to go for long walks in the rain. especially at night, when a cold north wind was blowing. and the lights behind the hills flickered and went out. because the new so-called humans had all gone to sleep. what a sorry bunch of pathetic sponges, bigboy mused contemptuously. how would they have fared, back in the old days? bigboy had roamed these same hills for a million years. he had seen a lot, but not so much lately. the signs were going out of the sky, night after night. it was good that the rain blotted out the sky. and that the wind blew away the ashes of mountains. and the great beasts were hardly more than a memory. by day bigboy worked at a savings and loan association. when the sun went down he forgot all about it. and returned to his beloved hills and wind and rain. things went on in this way until they did not. tulip tucker was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. all the daughters were ladies maids at the mountaintop hotel. they each worked at the hotel for thirty years . and then retired and married a game warden named troy. tulip was a maid at the hotel for thirteen years. miss jack was the oldest resident of the mountaintop hotel. one night miss jack asked tulip to walk her dog . it was a fearfully dark and rtainy and windy night. tulip and the dog lost their way and met bigboy. you can just guess what happened next - or maybe not.