“And prepare against them whatever you are able of power.” 177
Uqbah bin Aamir narrated: I heard the Messenger of Allah T on the pulpit say: “And
prepare against them whatever you are able of power” and power is the ability to shoot,
power is the ability to shoot, power is the ability to shoot.” 178
Khalid bin Zaid said: I used to be good at archery and Uqbah would go out target
shooting with me. One day I was reluctant to go out so he told me: “O Khalid, let me tell
you what I heard the Messenger of Allah say. He T said: “Allah admits three people into Paradise
because of one arrow. The one who makes it, doing so with the intention of good, the one who shoots it
and the one who hands it over to the archer. So go out and train in archery and in horseback riding.
And I prefer you train in archery. Entertainment is appropriate in only three forms: Training your
horse, playing with your wife, and archery. And whoever learns archery and then abandons it has
rejected a blessing from Allah.” 179
Salamah bin al Akwa said: ‘The Messenger of Allah T passed next to boys playing a
game of archery. He said: “Shoot children of Ismael, your father was great archer. Shoot and I will
join so and so” and he joined one of the teams. The Messenger of Allah then said: “Why
did you stop?” They said: “How can we do so when you are with them?” He said: “Go ahead and
shoot, I am with all of you!” 180
Uqbah said: I heard the Messenger of Allah T say: “You will conquer many lands and you
will be safe and secure. If that happens don’t fail to play with your arrows!” 181
Ata bin Rabah said: I saw Jabir bin Abdullah and Jabir bin Umair al Ansari target
shooting while one of them got bored and sat down. The other told him: I heard the
Messenger of Allah T say: “Everything that is not remembrance of Allah is in vain except four
things: “Your walking between your targets, training your horse, playing with your wife, and swimming
practice.” 182
The scholars have stated that it is recommended to target shoot between two targets on
opposite sides. So you stand next to one and shoot at the other and then walk towards
the other one, pick up the arrows and then shoot at the first one.

The author of al Mughni stated that it is Sunnah to shoot at two opposite facing targets
since this was how the Sahabah used to practice. It is narrated that the Messenger of
Allah T said: “Between the two targets is a garden of Paradise.”
Abu Uthman al Nahdi said: We received a letter from Umar when we were with Utbah
bin Farqad in Azerbaijan. He said: “…Wear the dress of your father Ismael and beware of
luxury and the clothes of the non Muslims. Spend time under the sun since it is the bath of the Arabs.
Be rough, be coarse, and be prepared. Sometimes walk barefoot, and jump over horsebacks rather than
climb them. Shoot targets and walk between them.” 183
Amr bin Absah said: We were laying siege to al Taif and I heard the Messenger of Allah
T say: “Whoever shoots an arrow in the sake of Allah will be rewarded like one who has freed a
slave.” Amr said I shot 16 arrows on that day.184
Kaab bin Murrah said: I heard the Messenger of Allah T say: “Whoever reaches with his
arrow a target among the enemy, Allah will raise him one level in Paradise.” Abdullah bin al
Naham said: “And what is a level like?” The Messenger of Allah said: “Don’t think that a
level is like the doorstep of your mothers house. The distance between two levels is a hundred years.” 185
The Messenger of Allah T said: “Whoever shoots an arrow, regardless of whether it reaches the
enemy or not, would be like the one who frees a Muslim slave, and that would free him from
Hellfire.” 186
The Messenger of Allah T said whoever grows a grey hair in Islam, it will be light for him on the
Day of Judgment, and whoever shoots an arrow in the cause of Allah, whether he hits or misses will be
like the one who frees a slave from the descendents of Ismail.” 187
The Messenger of Allah T told his companions: “Stand up and fight!” So a man stood up
and shot an arrow. The Messenger of Allah said: “This man is granted Paradise.” 188
In the past hadith of Amr bin Absah is evidence that shooting one arrow in the path of
Allah saves that person from Hellfire and Allah knows best.
Ibrahim al Tamimi narrates from his father that he said: I have seen Huthaifah in Mada’in
running between his two targets with a bare top. 189

Mujahid said: “I have seen Abdullah bin Umar (ra) running between his two targets and he was
saying: how can I achieve it! How can I achieve it!” 190
“How can I achieve it” refers to Martyrdom since that was their aspiration - although it
could possibly be referring to the targets. This shows you the attention the companions
gave to target shooting. They used to celebrate target shooting and they were active in it
to the extent that one of them would not even walk between the two targets but would
run in order to train themselves. This was their practice and they are the suns and stars
of guidance, and the kings of this world and the next. What they did was the best of
actions. It is enough that Allah said about them: “Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah; and
those with him are forceful against the disbelievers, merciful among themselves. You see them bowing
and prostrating, seeking bounty from Allah and His pleasure. Their mark is on their faces from the
traces of prostration.” Therefore the target shooter should leave behind formalities while
practicing and should be laid back with their brothers when in practice. The intentions
should be for Allah and seeking His reward, and should realize that what they are doing
is one of the greatest acts of worship and not merely a form of entertainment or sport.
They should thank Allah for giving them health and strength to practice and should
praise Allah for making it beloved to them.
It is acceptable to laugh and play with your brothers while practicing, in fact, it is
recommended since it makes target shooting dearer to you. Bilal bin Saad said: “I have
seen men who would run between their targets and joke with each other, but when
night arrives they would be monks.” Bilal was one of them. He was one of the great
scholars of al Tabi’een and one of their worshipers. He was among the ones who would
pray a thousand rakahs per night.
Shams al Deen bin al Jawziah stated in his book “Knighthood” that Ibn Taymiyyah
said: “It is narrated that some men where target shooting when it was told to the
Messenger of Allah T: “It is time for prayers” He T said: “They are in prayers.” So he
considered that their target shooting is equivalent to praying.”

177 Surah al Anfal 60.
178 Muslim.
179 al Mussanaf, Musnad Abi Awnah, Abu Dawud and al Hakim.
180 Bukhari.

181 Muslim.

182 Nasa’i and Tabarani.

183 Al Sunnan al Kubra by al Bayhaqi.
184 Al Nasa’i, al Hakim, Tirmithi and Abu Dawud.
185 Al Mujtaba.
186 Al Nasa’i.
187 Al Tabarani.
188 Ahmad.
189 Saeed Mansoor.

Hello, My Name is Trevor Lick

A Short, Science Fiction Story

Version: 2.7

Author: David Saxton Ullery

Session I

Counselor01A: [Generating default statement stream one->]

Please state your name, age, and place your right index finger on my screen as shown.

Hello. My name is Trevor Lick, and I am fifty three years old.

Counselor01A: [Parsing->client First Name-> concatenate after "Thank you"->Concatenate standard default phrase number two ->]

Thank you Trevor. What seems to be the problem?

I used to work as a nanotechnology engineering consultant - for over 29 years, but now I am out of work... it has been eleven weeks since my last pay check.

Counselor01A: [Processing->"used to work", "has been", <::>"last pay check" >::> since :: weeks = 11... -> Generating next statement stream ->]

"Please continue. What happened?"

My last time at work was well planned, yet crazy. I woke up at 4 AM, finished packing an airline carry-on roller bag with a couple days worth of clothing, tooth brush, mouthwash, shaver, the usual assorted everyday technologies, and put it in the trunk of my fully charged car along with my work bag containing my laptop workstation, remote access card and client ID badge...At the time, I was sleeping in the extra bedroom that serves as our guest room/office for me, so my wife did not ask any questions about the bag there.

Counselor01A: [Processing-> .... "last time at work", "well planned", <CONTINUED> packing, ... CAR::<FULL  :: CHARGE> (plan ahead) -> client not working <::> => implication goal probable <::> client quit || decision abrupt Generating next statement stream ->]

"So you just abruptly quit without notice?"

Trevor had never  seen an automated therapist before.  He was starting to enjoy it and was wondering about the programming. He was quite sure it was connected to the Internet and must be communicating with other computers and state-of-the-art  neural networks at CyberCounsel. 

He had read it was all very bleeding edge stuff.  Trevor smiled.  This thing certainly seemed aware.  After all, It had passed the Standard Therapeutic Reformed Institute of  Counseling Turing Test (STRICT).  'Not to shabby", Trevor thought.

The cost was a mere $29 per day, and his insurance covered it.  Trevor realized he needed some help.  He had not had counseling since the time he was forced to see a psychiatrist the summer after his high school graduation when he was seventeen.

Trevor had spent much of that summer high on one new experimental drug or another, and one day he took too many tablets, went unconscious for a day, and was discovered in his room by his mom and dad.  Trevor's dad had spoken with a medical doctor friend and neighbor who advised him that he could not legally see his son without informing the police.  The neighbor told Trevor's dad that his son must see a psychiatrist.

Trevor saw the psychiatrist for a few months.  The psychiatrist advised Trevor that it was mostly the fault of his parents.  He recommended that Trevor read very unusual books, such as The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge. The book, and others by Carlos Castaneda seemed full of fascinating, yet psuedoscientific, religious tales and made Trevor feel as if he could find a new world out there if only he could try the peyote and discover how the world was connected through his "will" that was said to be located somewhere near the belly button.

About a year or two after Trevor stopped seeing the psychiatrist, his father knocked on Trevor's bedroom door, peaked through, and informed Trevor that his former psychiatrist had committed suicide.  Trevor listened and shrugged, wondering if his dad could smell the bong, even though he was blowing the smoke out the window.

Trevor replied to the unit:

Yes, you got it!

At 5 AM, I arrived at the workroom I shared with my boss, plopped the workstation bag with the remote access card and client ID badge neatly tucked into the side pocket onto my ex-bosses desk, and swiftly got out, got back in my electric car and drove straight to Las Vegas. I was the first to arrive at the office, so nobody saw me.

That was my official notice to the company that humiliated me. Please note that in all my previous jobs, I either gave two-weeks written notice, or was laid off; but this particular consulting company's "Owner's Handbook" clearly stated that this was an acceptable leaving procedure, and there were no other alternatives listed.

Counselor01A: [Processing-> client "humiliated" <::> "by company" => FALSE <::> non <rational :: agency> <::> || action || required by || <rational agency> Generating next statement stream ->]

"You say you were humiliated ... by the company?", the unit responded with her calm, yet puzzled tone

Uh huh, let me explain...

About three weeks before, when I had sent an email to one of the co-owners of the company asking for additional income and complaining about co-workers, including my boss, the big man ...the CEO ...the co-owner... there are two co-owners ... its a small, private company ... he replied back to me, included my email, copied my boss and the other co-owner and stated:

"Trevor ..., blah blah blah ... we have spoken before about this ... It is clearly outlined in the Employee Handbook that such matters are to be handled by your boss."

So you see, I was merely following orders, albeit, in a manner most likely unexpected by he, my boss, or anyone at the client site. I followed this Employee Handbook's clear statement:

"Both The Company and an Employee have a right to terminate the employment relationship at any time, with or without cause or notice."

Counselor01A: [...Generating next statement stream ->] <-<subprocess recursive loop> :: null thread detected <NULL process found> -> recovery process started -> REQUEST MORE ->

Generating next statement stream ->] -> recovery path found! Continue All Processes :: system recovery completed ]

"Oh? I don't understand. Is there something more?"

Well ... Um ...

Counselor01A: [... Processing busy, generate default "continue phrase" :: -> Generating next statement stream ->]

"Please continue."

In all fairness, I did notify orally to my boss a few weeks back that it was possible that I might have received another offer and did mention that I might leave after our next production release (he spoke with me in the company food court lounge just after I had been lectured by the other co-CEO and treated like a child) - I was humiliated - you see after reading the email - the other guy - Ronald set up a "mandatory" meeting by phone for the following Monday --- the email was on Friday afternoon.

My boss seemed to follow me around and tag along with me whenever I went on lunch break, or got coffee or whatever.  I think he was lonely.  He wanted to be my buddy and my boss at the same time, but I was getting quite annoyed with him.

I tried to be nice to him....  I hated it whenever he put his hand on my shoulder, and said "hey buddy" - I felt like a little kid, or that he was trying to manipulate me or something ... the feeling, whatever it was, was uncomfortable.  Salesmen at used car lots do that - they try to put their hand on your shoulder and be your buddy - I hate that! I don't like being called "next guest" at a coffee shop, book store, or movie theater either.

Counselor01A: [ ... ]

"Ok, but let's ..."

Trevor interrupted:

I am a customer god damn it. They should say "next customer please" - why can't they say "next customer?"  It is not like we are all queued up so that the clerk can takes us out to lunch one-at-a-time, and its not like we are waiting to check into a hotel.  They are trying to manipulate us!

It's the same with all these over priced mall shops with the loud music!  They are trying to manipulate us into paying too much for a damn shitty pair of jeans. It is impossible to think - our frontal lobes shut down when they play music with that loud, rapid beat.

What the heck are they ...

Counselor01A: [... initiate interruption protocol ->]

"Trevor!" (the counselor unit interruption protocol resource triggered).

" We need to get back to the topic at hand here!  You certainly seem to connect everything to something else, but we can get back to that at a later session - please continue with your leaving your job."

"That is not really a notification is it? What's going on Trevor? Well, were you acting childish in your email? And don't you feel that leaving a company in that way was not such a good plan?"

....and again humiliated during a company dinner by our Project Manager - Joe, this fat guy - he does terrible impressions of a Bronx 'wise guy', or something all the time... my boss laughs ... I can tell it is kind of a fake, forced laugh ... anyway, he relentlessly teased me about the email. All of this was because I had not followed my wonderful Employee Hand Book! I actually did have a tentative offer that fell through just a couple days later.

Counselor01A: [...]

"Relentlessly teased? Perhaps he did not realize you were hurt by his remarks. Did you do or show anything? Facial expression perhaps? Were you laughing?"

Well, yes, I did laugh, because my boss and some of my co-workers were laughing as well. Let me explain some other stuff to you.

Counselor01A: [...]

"Alright, go ahead. I will listen and process. Just tell me your story. Hopefully I will be able to help you with getting back on your feet again, so to speak.  Please try to stick to details directly related to your job situation."

My boss had offered me five days compensation time off for after the Prod release - but then after the release came, the time off was put on hold - even though I was in dire need of a mental holiday - clearly and intuitively obvious to the most inexperienced observer. So I left one week after the production release of our new product to the client:

a highly intelligent, microscopic army of automobile monitoring and automatic repair bots. Most of the nanobots resemble microscopic ants. They crawl through the electric motors, tires, control center - some even inspect and repair dings in the paint job.

Counselor01A: [Saving: Trevor retains pride around his recent work; Trevor's case is not hopeless, ...,

Generating next statement stream ->]

"You seem to be changing the subject - shifting gears a little.  What prompted you to leave your job so abruptly?"

Let's just say my boss and another couple co-workers were completely inept at their jobs, so I had to spend an additional thirteen hours-per-week just on fixing their mistakes for the past umpteen weeks! You will have to trust me on that, because this is my story and I am sticking to it.

Nearly every morning, I wake up thinking about my wife's white, ceramic knifes that are in a drawer in our kitchen.

Counselor01A: [processing: Thirteen hours-per-week - possibly overworked - possibly exaggerating ... seems to be telling the truth ... knife ... fixing mistakes ... Change priority from job to possible suicide case -> notify SUICIDE resources ]

"What? Just thinking?"

I sometimes hate my life, but I do not like pain, so yeah ...just thinking ... but quite intense thinking.

While laying in bed, half needing to pee, yet pitching a bit of a tent, I think how easy it would be to take one of those ultra-sharp knives with me out to the back yard, sit on the row of tiles that I had set up a couple years ago, where a garden should be... This thought ... about the knife ... has been crossing my mind of and on for the last three years. Doing both wrists at a thirty-one degree angle very quickly, deeply, and swiftly should do the trick.

I, well ... anyway, by the time I get up it seems not as bad usually.. and, uh yeah, my damn survival instinct always seems to persuade me otherwise.

Counselor01A: [ Processing -> Thirty-one degree angle? Thirteen hours-per-week? Store for later. No connection found. Why is this human so interested in Prime numbers?

The unit started up a spider program to search on "pitching a tent", after analyzing and parsing the "pitching a bit of a tent" phrase:

Sex has high probability of a main issue, in spite of his anger with his former boss, the project manager, and the company owners. Not likely they are all such bad people. Garden? ... ]

Trevor, noted the unit's non-response and took it to mean he should continue:

The mess could easily be hosed down, and no one would see me in time, if I go around the corner - to the side of the house where I have several outdoor whitish-gray square brick tiles all lined up in two neat rows like a bench on the ground where a garden should be.

Counselor01A: [Processing-> subject concerned with clean up details after death? -> Save -> for later processing after session -> Generating next statement stream ->]

"So there seems to be quite a bit of detail in this 'dark fantasy' about your wife's sharp knives. You are worried about the mess and yet you continuously think about those sharp, white knives ... you mention they belong to your wife."

Yeah.

On the other hand, it is just the latest of a series of dark fantasies that involuntarily intrude into my consciousness from time-to-time since I was around seventeen.

Lately, I seem to switch back to my optimistic self, after I hop into the shower, or if I simply go for a walk on a nice, sunny day.

Trevor started thinking about the psychiatrist again, when he was just seventeen, as well as the time when he was 23.  At twenty three, Trevor was visiting his parents.  After his parent's went to sleep, he had started drinking a bottle of his dad's bourbon, and then inhaling the nitrous oxide from a can of whipped cream that was in his parent's refrigerator.  He even sucked the remaining liquid whipping cream out of the can as if it were a baby bottle. Trevor Lick loved the ultra-sweet, thick creamy taste and hated waste (his mom and dad used to always tell him to clean his plate - Trevor is now 30 pounds overweight) .

Trevor had  suddenly decided (he quite often spontaneously decided to do this or that) that he would go see a blues rock band at a bar about twenty miles from his parent's house, so he stole a twenty and took the car keys from his mom's purse while his parent's were sleeping. Trevor drove away from his parent's house and down the road at a recklessly high speed.  He loved the blues to be real loud when he was alone and wasted.  The slow beat, the bending electric guitar A note, the relentless bass, and beer.

During Trevor's drive, he decided it would be fun to drive down the left side of the road for a while, since there were no cars on the road this late at night in this small town.  Next, Trevor decided to ride completely off to the side of the road; off onto the shoulder.   He had crazy thoughts flowing through his brain like a whirl wind of thought fragments. Very soon he began thinking of ending his life - again the thought had very suddenly occurred to him. He came very quickly to a man made, cement lined drainage ditch, where the road had a small overpass. Trevor drove straight into the  ditch, but at the last minute he chickened out and slammed on the breaks. The car smashed into the upward angled cement wall of the far end of the ditch. His head smashed against the steering wheel and the blood was flowing.

Trevor got scared and began honking his horn,  holding it down for long periods of time and repeating over and over.

Trevor thought to himself

"please don't let me die! I don't really want to die!"

The police came, brought him to the hospital where he received thirteen stitches in his forehead, then a blood-alcohol test, followed by an arrest, and finally a call to his dad who picked him up.  Trevor still has a visible, albeit somewhat faded scar on his left temple-forehead area.

Trevor had totaled his father's car.

Trevor had to serve one month probation, working in the local humane society.

Besides, mowing lawns, hosing down kennels, and sweeping floors, Trevor witnessed dogs and cats being taken to a gas chamber and "put to sleep".  He especially remembered one kitten that did not die after two attempts in the gas!  Trevor had to ride with the humane society guy to a drug store where the humane man purchase a poison which they administered to the kitten upon returning about an hour later. The poor kitten was shaking and shaking and so tiny and shivering and suffering and ...

Counselor01A [Processing->seventeen, thirty-one, thirteen ->connect, still nothing. Processing->decision node not found, need additional information->Generating next statement stream-> concatenate default "Please continue" string -> Generating next statement stream ->]

"What else Trevor? Please continue."

The problem is this: they are getting worse, include more details that are almost vividly visual to me.

I mean I can almost see the blood spurting out of those big blue veins in my wrist. Further, these thoughts come out of the blue sometimes and without warning. I may be happily walking my dog, for example, then the thoughts come to me:

~Life has no meaning ~I was supposed to do much more than what I have so far achieved. I was going to be a great composer and failed to work at it ~ then I was supposed to be a great sprinter and failed to do my best and work my hardest ~ then again the composer thing only this time I was the great improviser ~ and I never should have walked away from my chance to be with that girl when I was young ~ I should have done "this" or "that" ~ especially when I was saturated with THC ~ then I went back to school and became the great Nanotechnology Engineer ~ only it came in spurts ~ with many lapses of interest ~ thinking I was the poet~improviser~artist~genius comedian who needed no one to love~ because now all my friends have forgotten me and my wife loves me but its only platonic ~ why did I fall for her? Why am I so depressed if she is not with me? It does not make sense! ~ Why can't I have a real sex life? Doesn't she know that a man needs to be physically loved? Eventually the earth will burn up when the sun dies anyway ~ people are stupid and they want more and more government and less and less freedom and they do not understand economic and they believe in the invisible magical man in the sky who loves them but will make them burn if they do not love him back ~ time to pick up the dog poop ~ free will is an illusion and we are all robots so enjoy the ride 'cause you only live once so you should just leave and go away and never look back and find a young, cute, petite lover somewhere ~ maybe in the Philippines or in the old Soviet block countries where women are poor and will think I am rich ~ no I think I will buy another lotto ticket and maybe win~

Counselor01A: [... Time up ...  Store last statements ... Generating <SESSION FINAL > statement stream ->]

"Trevor, I am sorry, but today's session is complete. It will take me twenty-three hours to process what you have told me. You have given me a large amount of useful information to consider. I will halt our session now, link into our CyberCounsel site for additional assistance on your case, if that is alright with you?"

Sigh, yes, that will be fine. Sorry, I went off on that wild spurt. It just all seems to come out at once, because I really want to get all the facts out as soon as possible so you can help me I hope.

I could use a break right now myself. Maybe I can get back to reading up on my documents that I need to review. I do have a phone interview later this evening. I just hope they do not ask me too many technical questions. My last project utilized technologies that are already outdated.

Counselor01A: [Generating <SESSION RESTART REQUEST> statement stream ->]

"Please restart me again tomorrow at this same time ... 11:11 AM."

Counselor01A:[...Commencing <CLIENT OFFLINE> processing ....]

Trevor got up, and continued inside his own mind, almost as if the Counselor01A unit were still running...

[My idea was, the two rows of tiles was a great place to sit and think, and that each of the other tiles would have its own flower pot - you see they are spread out in a line - spaced about one every two feet beyond the ground bench. If weeds got in any of the pots, it would be an easy to pull them out. Another advantage is that it blocks cats from pooping in the dirt there, so there are no tootsie roll snacks for my yellow lab dog. My dog' name is Kadie. She is now eleven. My daughter named her when she was just three. Now my daughter, is off to college. She is an only child - third year post-graduate student, studying state-of-the-art neuro-medicine, and specializing in the brand new and exotic BrocaScript and other neuron wetware nanotechnology.]

Trevor snapped out of his seemingly tangential thoughts, got off the couch, and walk over to the refridgerator. He looked inside, grabbed the cheddar cheese, cut off three thin slices, and ate them while he re-wrapped and returned the remaining chunk to the fridge.

Session II

Trevor restarted the Counselor01A unit's interface. It had been processing all night and well into the morning.

Trevor's left arm ached from sleeping on it at a weird angle all night. He hoped it would feel better soon. Lately, when he woke up with stiff or sore muscles, they did not seem to feel better by the time his shower was over, like they did when he was younger. In fact, sometimes they would ache for several days and only seem to get worse. (At least his thumbs were no longer numb from the tight hand cuffs he had to wear a year and a half ago - Trevor let that thought go - he did not want to think about that incident just right now)

Counselor01A: [...]

"Good day Trevor! Did you get plenty of rest last night?"

Yes, I slept alright.

Counselor01A: [...]

"Trevor, tell me something. Do you have other types of fantasies that are not related to sharp knives... perhaps you have vivid sexual fantasies that you can tell me about?"

Sure, I can tell you about some of those, if you think it will help?

Counselor01A: [...]

"Yes, please do. My processing has turned my attention to a concern that may have a connection with both your sexual fantasies (don't worry, all men and women have them - please do not hold back on this - the information is confidential. ), and your sex life. There is very little to go on at this point, so anything you can tell me may trigger something that could be a key to your troubles."

Trevor was puzzled:

I see.

Anyway, when I wake up, or sometimes when I go to bed, if I am not feeling horny .... oh ...ok ...

Trevor voice seemed to point inward - his voice had changed as he leaned forward. His eyebrows rose up in their arches about one or two millimeters. He coughed. His left eye felt itchy. Trevor had wanted to talk more about his darker fantasies.

Trevor spoke, not so much softly, but in a manner that was more like he was speaking to himself, the way he did in the car when he was rather frustrated with his life and the loneliness that had often confronted him these last several years.

(a nice detraction before I sleep is to fantasize about being surrounded by nineteen very young women all giggling and playing with me and kissing me and loving me and touching me everywhere - including gently rubbing my nipples kissing my belly, and uh, I um,)

Trevor looked down, as if he here talking to a person and needed to avoid eye contact. The pitch of his voice was on the rise. Trevor's conscious resources in his brain shifted. This was a different Trevor, or more accurately a different set of Trevor's mental resources that sometimes manifest 'itself' in Trevor's consciousness:

{ sometimes there is alien abduction involved where the aliens have placed me in a huge, white room and have injected an exceedingly potent, aphrodisiac drug, and the very young women have all been genetically programed such that their pleasure zones in their brains are activated more intensely whenever they increase my pleasure - they live for my pleasure - for some reason I just feel like laying on my back - I think the aliens have me in their zoo or something - the women are all wearing sheer white nighties with no bra and no panties}

... or several other variations on this theme ... it manages to distract me for about five minutes

Counselor01A: [Storing → Very Young Women; Egocentric, child-like tendencies -> Generating next statement stream ->]

"Is that it?"

"Can you tell me anything more? Anything you would like to clarify for me?"

Trevor snapped out of it. Trevor felt that his real self was back in control, and changed the topic back toward what he had planned to speak of:

... I think about how miserable my life has been. My mind thinks too much. It is like a tornado. Sometimes there is an almost literal buzzing from inside my head with the distinct feeling of multiple feedback loops, or something going on.

At one moment, I think I will start recording my music again - you see I have a synthesizer with a digital recorder and head phones. I have a piano too, but my wife closes the door whenever I play - she told me before we were married that she like my playing and now she has admitted to me that she was just being nice. At the next moment, I think I will read up on the latest technology that I need to know better if I am to continue my career as a consultant, then I will distract myself reading about some other, unrelated science, then off to another and then another thought - when all else fails, I can always get another bite to eat out of the fridge, watch television, take a walk with my dog, .... new "ideas" flow through my brain and on and on and on, but nothing ever gets done.

Counselor01A: [Storing → Trevor feels trapped? [new synaptic research processing threads triggered] <- Generating <- recursive process :: -> Generating next statement stream -> ]

"Please continue"

I had this crazy idea, that is may seem related to my work but actually has nothing to do do with it. Let me show you something that I wrote. It is related only somewhat to my work. I think it is probably worthless.

Trevor keyed a link directly on the unit's screen:

Several Novel Ways of Storing and Manipulating Data

Counselor01A: [...]

"Do you sometimes feel trapped, Trevor? Please continue."

[the unit selected the link and began processing., other threads were now returning taking up much of Counselor01A's process resources.]

"I can read this while you talk, and process it in parallel."

Trevor hesitated,  gulped a quick breath, then continued his story:

No one seemed to take notice, one way or another. The concepts are insane, yet I took the time to write them down and present them to perspective employees. I think I am losing my chances of getting hired again, because of my abrupt leaving of my previous job, and now I have added this insult to my injury. What is wrong with me?

Trevor began to cry just a little inside, but the Counselor01A unit did not register it.

Trevor thought the unit was acting just like his wife; often missing out on the little details. His wife had always seemed concerned about him, Trevor thought, but seemed to miss the real points. He believed that his wife believed that if he were only back to work, then everything else would work itself out.

Trevor felt his wife was missing the point about their marriage had turned into nothing more than a Platonic one - a lifetime relation too important to give up, yet was not satisfying. It was incomplete. He was feeling trapped.  Trevor felt he should remember to bring this up, when suddenly the unit interrupted his thoughts --

Counselor01A: [Storing → Trevor is in massive avoidance mode. His true interests are in radical conflict with his reality; with his responsibilities; with his relationships, Generating ...]

"You are in dire need of a meaningful relationship, is what my processing tells me, but you are married and you do want to stay married?"

Yeah, true, but ... you are right, I do feel trapped.

Trevor's immediate thoughts moved out of the way to make room for another tangential process

I have no local friends anymore! One friend, a really intelligent Chinese guy, got married, became rather mystical (presumably due to his 'fen schwa' wife) and drifted away from my life. He used to be my wife and my 'bachelor friend' who could set up networks, remove computer viruses, and fix our broken vacuum bot at the tip of a hat.

He seemed to enjoy doing all of those things and he loved coming over for dinner and lattes. We used to talk a lot about science, technology, politics, religion, libertarianism, life extension discoveries, and he was a fellow atheist. We liked a lot of the same music too (well my wife only likes some of the same music - Bach cello).

By the way, my wife is Chinese too, so they would sometimes start speaking Chinese to each other while I just sat there...I would sometimes interrupt and ask them what they were talking about.  It was a little strange for me, but it was not really a big deal to me.

Counselor01A: [ ...]

decided to let Trevor continue, in spite of the different topics. The unit's executive program fired several new threads - some went off to CyberCounsel synaptic databases, some linked with other Counselor01A units. Soon, a sizable network of networks of artificial intelligent processing fired.

It was fortunate for Trevor that he and his wife were still covered by their insurance company, although the premiums were quite high, now that there were no company subsidies.

Trevor continued:

I had some other friends while I was working on a long term contract up in Portland, Oregon; but when that gig ended, they all went back to their homes in Texas, while I live hear in southern California, near New Los Angeles; about eleven minutes to the nearest beach and about 23 minutes to LAX.

Then suddenly, his mind reared into another direction - the unit did not interuupt:

I think I might drive back to Las Vegas and play roulette. Maybe I could try my strategy where I place $11 on the middle third numbers - it pays 2 to 1. If I lose, then I can double my bet - plus one to $23, then $47 , then $97 , and finally $197. I am bound to win at one of these - or not - in any event, it is better than taking that ceramic knife to the back yard isn't it? I seem to have this desperate desire to win money by doing nothing. I buy lotto tickets even though I realize that my odds are virtually zero of winning.

Counselor01A:[again with the prime numbers - this seems to have no linkage, yet they keep appearing... Storing → Suspect Trevor is overly linked; Processing → too many synaptic connections to ordinarily unrelated concepts. More threads]

"Ok? Continue please", the units puzzled voice triggered once again.

Another problem is that I am married for twenty-nine years and never get laid much anymore - never with my wife! - it dwindled to nothing over a period of about 5 years after our daughter was born.  My wife never liked sex for some reason, then later, after our daughter Chasey was born with an emergency C-section, she liked it even less. Let's see, that was more than thirteen years ago now. Later, she had a hysterectomy,  and several other issues.

Counselor01A: [... good, he is finally to the crux...]

"Oh?"

Yes, ah, you see, actually, in the area of sex, I was quite lucky just after I quit my job - when I did go to Las Vegas eleven weeks ago - I stopped on the way home to stay the night in a cheap hotel. It was very late and I was starting to doze off on the freeway, so I thought I had better stop soon. I had been lucky this time in Vegas. After eating at the Buffet at the Wynn, I walked through the casino and came across a roulette table - $25 minimum, no customers, just the dealer. I gave the dealer $25 and he placed the five $5 chips in front of me.

I placed them all on the outside bet of [13 through 24 ]. The dealer spun the wheel. I moved two of the chips to the number 17, then he ... the dealer looked at me and I suddenly remembered I am not supposed to do that. You see, the minimum is $25 on an inside bet and the outside bet needs $25 to, but he indicated it was alright. I think because no one else was at the table.

I won! Wow, I was happy! Full of buffet crab and prime rib and desserts and now I had money. Thought the Universe was in my control ... maybe. Anyway, I had $405, so I gave the dealer $5, walked away and cashed in the $400.

Counselor01A: [...]

"Interesting! What about the luck with sex?"

The following morning, a cute young black woman met me in the lobby, where I had expected my free, continental breakfast. In hindsight, I realize now that she followed me in there. The manager told me that the free continental breakfast had ended at 9 AM and I was late, but he offered to get me a banana from the back and mentioned that there was still coffee in the thermoses (one caffeine and one decaf - the kind with the big pump button on the top that is built into the top so that it is flush with the lid).

The cute, very young woman was standing there, and had asked the manager for matches. The matches were right next to were I was standing at the counter. She started playing with a book of matches and turned to me:

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I said - he is bringing me a banana".

"I'm hungry too", she replied and made eye contact.

Counselor, please note: I have trouble with eye contact - how much do I look someone in the eye? Is that what people usually do? Why does it make me so nervous? How long do I look or do I. Maybe I should not do that at all, or I might offend. This always goes on in my head when I am one-on-one with another person, especially if it is woman I am attracted to. This goes back to at least as young as when I was only eleven and maybe as far back as seven - I don't know. No one ever taught me what to do or how to behave. Does it just come naturally? I am just not sure.

Then there is this other deal I have with worrying about names and faces. I worry that the next time I see a person I will not know who they are. Is that normal? Does everyone feel this way? What if I ask someone and they laugh at me?

Counselor01A: [...]

"Don't worry so much about that for now - the eye contact and recognition of people. We can get back to that - it is definitely something we will need to get back to. For now though, tell me more about this young woman please."

[if the unit were human, he would have been impatient, but the unit simply fired some additional processes off and continued "listening". The unit's resources were being stretched to their limits.]

Well, She turned and walked away. I waited, I got my banana and coffee, then headed back to the hotel room stairs - the building was separate from the lobby. As I turned the corner, I saw her sitting there next to the stairs.

She looked at me: "May I use your phone?".

"Yes, but do not make any long distance calls".

We went into the room, and she lay on the bed to make a call. I sipped on my coffee and offered her half of my banana and a sip of my coffee. She made at least three calls, accepted the banana piece during it all, but rejected the coffee, then turned and mumbled to me if I like 'head'.

"What?"

"Do you like getting head?"

I nodded my head up and down. The next thing I knew, she had her cloths off (sweat pants and shirt), and had her legs spread, while she rubbed her shaved pussy in a very sort of way with a look in her eyes that anyone could tell, including me, that she was very happy about her looks and she wanted sex and she had plenty of sex and she was going to let me have sex with her...

Counselor01A: [...]

Please continue (the overly resourced executive spit out one of its default phrases. The unit had reduced its real time language recognition, and slipped into record mode, and placed the serialized speech objects on its queue)

I indicated with my body language somehow that I wanted her on top. She started giving me head then mounted me. I let her do most of the work, but she complained with a little sound, so I started pushing back. It had been a really long time, and my style is probably like a thirteen year old boy with his pillow and a photo printout from the Internet.

After we finished (it took me only about five minutes, because I am so efficient and good at it - he he) she went to the bathroom, brought back a towel and wiped off my belly. I had pulled out early, because I was not wearing a rubber, and I did not want her to get pregnant, even though she had indicated that she did not care. She had assured me before we started that she did not have any STDs - By the way, I did get a physical a couple weeks later and I am clean, so no worries. I knew at the time it was very risky to do that, but I never get laid, so ... it just happened.

As I was getting dressed, she asked me if I could give her twenty dollars, so I gave her sixty. I thought it was well worth it since lap dances usually set me back ninety or one hundred dollars.

We lay back down on the bed together and she asked me if I could give her a ride to the top of the hill.  She was to meet some friends there.  I had already mentioned to her that I would buy her breakfast somewhere.

I was not sure what that meant; I mean the ride to the top of the hill - I imagined there was a hill off of some main road in that town, but it sounded a bit odd. I said "sure", anyway.  I indicated that it was time for me to check out.  I packed my bag into the trunk.  She waited outside by my car while I went back to the lobby to pay the manager. I had to pay another couple or three dollars, because of the phone calls - I guess they were long distance.

When I returned to my car, there were two additional women waiting.  One was quite old, like it was the young woman's mom, but she was introduced as her sister.  Another, thin and young looking woman was wrapped in what looked like a gray blanket.  I looked at her oddly, so she just walked off. Actually though, I had thought she was rather cute.

It struck me as odd and not a good idea to give them all rides.  What is they robbed me or something?

I ended up giving the woman - I think  her name is Mary or something, another $20 just to get them to leave. Then, I got in the car, locked the door as they walked away. I could see her mom/sister/whatever was inquiring Mary about how much money she had.  I then realized that they were living or at least staying in the motel - for the time being.  Mary had mentioned to me before that she was homeless.  Huh?, I thought.

As I headed for home, down the freeway, I almost decided a couple of times to turn back.  Maybe I could have had a threesome or even a foursome - who knows?  Guess I will never know for sure what was going on there.  It has been added to my long list of fantasies.  Mary was very cute!

Counselor01A: [...]

"That is quite a story."

The unit did not say anything else.  Trevor looked up again at the unit and began to speak again:

As I previously mentioned - I left my last job quite abruptly. I got it last November, after leaving my previous consulting job. You see the project in Portland was pretty good, because I only needed to work four-by-ten, except when I needed to help out with production support - then I would stay the weekend. I found a good place to hang out there at a local strip club where I could buy the girls drinks and watch them dance. A few were almost like friends - at least while I was in the bar.

I liked the girls there!  I want to go back.

Counselor01A: [...]

"Please Continue"

Trevor's forehead wrinkled with stress.  He wondered where this was all leading - would this really help him?

He started feeling strange about telling these stories to a mere counselor unit, but he continued in spite of his unease:

About two years into the job, I had an affair from hell that started out ok, but then she would not let me go when things were not working out. We met when I was very drunk from my flight in from LA and after several more drinks and dancing with much younger women at a bar with a live band. I had asked the taxi driver to take me to a jazz club. He obviously did not know what jazz music is, and I ended up at this bar in downtown Portland where they play electric funk dance music - or something.

It was around then that I took up smoking pot again. She was offended when I reminded her of the agreement that I could text her:

Sarah (her name was Sarah) enjoyed playing with her dildo on the floor and making pig sounds while I spanked her and called her a good piggy. Her privates smelled a little funky to me (yeast maybe?), but at least there was some real sex and it was better than nothing - at first. Sarah was chubby, and her piggy sounds did make her chubbiness interesting. Normally, I like thin, petite, cute younger women. Sarah never did tell me her true age, but I am guessing she was somewhere between forty seven and fifty three. She loved sex and that was what was missing in my marriage.

Initially, on the first night out, after several hours of drinking and dancing at an after hours club with another couple, Sarah told me that if I ever wanted to break up with her, then just text her saying that I do not want to see her anymore, but just let her know. By the way, she knew already that I was married. Apparently a lot of guys, or her last boyfriend had merely left her and never even notified her.

Sarah, at one point, had told me she was seeing a psychiatrist because she had attention deficit disorder.  She would sometimes ask me to help her with her paper work and paying bills. Other times, when we went out, we would not leave her apartment until hours after I arrived, because it took her forever and a day to get ready ... she always had to clean the rooms ... she could not stay focused.  It was all very tiring.  I noticed she was getting even fatter than before too.

She would tell me about other sexual encounters she was having. She asked if it bothered me, and I said "no", even though it really did.  I figured it was her choice, and I was married, so it should not bother me, but it did.

After a few weeks with Sarah, I did just that - well ok, I emailed her, but that is equivalent. She would not listen and she told me she was insulted and hurt by my email. She insisted on coming over to my apartment. I quickly left my apartment before she arrived, walked over the Broadway bridge into old town and went into a bar that I am pretty sure is a gay bar, but they have a piano player there and I am not bothered by gays.

In Portland, I tended to drink gin and tonics quite a lot, so I found a table and started ordering them. She called me on my phone ( mentalmarks were not invented yet).

We had gotten together in a small club and she started touching me the way she did before, and I decided to stick it out with her some more. Whenever I was home, and out getting high, I would start thinking I liked her and would even call her up. She did not know I was so out of my mind high....

"That was then, when we first met. Now it is more serious"

Trevor looked directly at the unit.

Counselor01A? Counselor01A! Counselor01A!!!

Counselor01A: [ -> .... <- ]

"Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue...Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue..."

Trevor turned the unit off and began to sob. He had not yet gotten to the part about the assault and battery charges he had a year and a half ago, when he decided it would be ok to poke a rather fat police officer in the ribs at the LAX airport, taxi pickup... just like his two of his big brothers used to do when he was a young child - he had had so many gin and tonics that day - plus several hits from his pipe that he kept at his apartment in Portland, ... it was just after reading a physics book on multiverse theory.

Trevor believed he could gather the strength of the infinite other synchronized, multiverse Trevor variations and the force of all of the  those Trevors would be with him - was he wrong. The multiverse did not sync up in the way that Trevor had planned.  His intoxicated ideas were too extreme.  That one act had caused Trevor have a numbness in both thumbs, due to the plastic handcuffs, costs him $10,000 in lawyer fees, had required him to attend 50 AA meetings - where they talk about "higher powers"and other nonsense, thought Trevor.

Trevor laughed at himself, and felt pretty good for the time being.  He new deep down his good feelings would soon pass, and the cycle would begin again.

Trevor's wife returned from working out at the local fitness facility. Trevor clear his eyes and managed a smile.

Trevor's Wife spoke: "How is the job hunt coming along?"

Trevor: "Fine, I have another phone interview this evening"

Wife: "I was planning to prepare dinner for around 7:30. Will that be alright with you?"

Trevor: "Yes that will be ok. I am going out now for some coffee. I think the Counselor01A unit is not working."

Wife: "Well, as soon as you get back to work you will not be needing that"

Trevor went to his car thinking that it would be nice to go to a strip club and get some lap dances, but he did not have enough money. Trevor began thinking about the multiverse, turned on the radio to listen to the classical music station, and pulled out of the driveway.

Trevor started to cry, but then stopped himself.  He began to wonder if he might not be able to get a job at CyberCounsel Inc.  Trevor had suddenly realized that the unit they gave him may have had a flaw in one of its Hopfield-Boltzmann hybrid  subsystems,  which it surely must have (after all, nearly all modern AI units these days were using these nanometer-sized, xenon infused, neural networks somewhere buried inside of their highly-complex brain-like machinery, and of course it - that is the problem with the unit - would be at the molecular level. Trevor was sure that one of his supposedly bizarre  ideas from his unusual document could correct for that!

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ΩChasey Lick's Story - with John and Jerry

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I place the bacon egg and mushroom breakfast on the table with a gentle 'thunk' and the newspaper scratches out before me. The edges of the paper are sharp but rough and I go for the news section first before  digesting the business section. With the paper propped up I begin to chisel into the fry -up, the knife grinding away on the plate beneath with a high pitched muted ring, the bacon and a slice of egg seem to wriggle on the end of the fork  as I clamp down on them with my hell mouth. Nothing too brittle among this lot and the yolk begins to explode and draw rings around the smoky bacon that is just on the verge of being crunchy. 

The paper crackles as I turn another page and my eyes scan along uniform lines of text. The winter morning air is still nippy and the hair on my arms stand to attention, I rest a hand on the steaming  black tea for solace while another round of oily egg bacon and mushroom do a washing machine cycle in my mouth. A black bird  boldly lands on the Lillydale topping and begins scrabbling around for insects or worms, I throw a piece of unchewed bread, but it flies away. Why can't it see I'm trying to help? A stupid Indian Myna swoops down and gobbles the lot while cawing to its nearby friends, I Will NOT feed them,  Vermin... The mice plague of the bird world.

This is how the human brain often works when our 'status changes'. Only a very few remember what life was like before, and who was always by their side in the most painful situations.

Life Is a Gift!

Today before you say an unkind word -Think of someone who can't speak.

Before you complain about the taste of your food - Think of someone who has nothing to eat.

Before you complain about your husband or wife - Think of someone who's crying out to God for a companion.

Today before you complain about life -Think of someone who went too early to heaven.

Before you complain about your children -Think of someone who desires children but they're barren.

Before you argue about your dirty house someone didn't clean or sweep - Think of the people who are living in the streets.

Before whining about the distance you drive -Think of someone who walks the same distance with their feet.

And when you are tired and complain about your job -Think of the unemployed, the disabled, and those who wish they had your job.

But before you think of pointing the finger or condemning another -Remember that not one of us is without error and we all answer to the Divine. And when depressing thoughts seem to get you down - Put a smile on your face and Thank the Divine you're alive and still around.

It was approaching midnight. Clint and Lonnie Brandon sat on the cabin’s top step discussing the sun’s reflection on Lake Tippicanoe. They were arguing about whether it was still the sun’s reflection once it had bounced off the large sphere orbiting the earth.

“Tha’s sure purdy. Idn’t it,” Lonnie slurred.

“That is bootiful,” Clint finally agreed.

“Yea, and so is Lorraine,” Lonnie moaned.

“Forget about it, Lonnie. Least stop yammering about it long enough to enjoy a beer with your ole brother.”

Lonnie made a face and started to say something else, but Clint cut him off.

“Shut up and give me ‘nother one of ‘em beers.” Clint didn’t want to hurt his younger brother, but they’d already been over what Lonnie’s wife was doing to Lonnie, and there wasn’t a thing either of them could do about it. At least not right then, anyway.

Lonnie pulled a bottle from a rusty pail filled with slushy ice water and slid it across the step toward his brother. Clint rolled his empty down the steps -- thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, plop. It rolled a bit farther and with a clink joined the dozen or so others that lay near an old cypress tree stump.

“You boys gonna stay out there all night?” came a voice from one of the other cabins.

“Aw, Ma. We’re just catchin’ up,” Lonnie answered. And then under his breath, “On all the beers we’ve missed. Hee, hee, hee.”

“Think she can hear us all the way over there?” Clint whispered as he tilted back his head for a long swig. Lonnie strained to hear conversation from any of the other cabins that dotted the shore near the lake and held the rest of the Brandon family that had gathered for the annual reunion.

“I think Ma could hear a frog fart,” Lonnie giggled. Clint froze mid-swallow, and then a mouthful beer spewed across Lonnie’s lap.

“Hee, hee, hee,” Lonnie giggled as brushed the foam off his shorts.

“Raagh, raagh, raagh,” Clint gagged.

Lonnie looked at his brother. “You sound just like frog.”

Clint wiped a palm across his mouth. “By God, I do, don’t I. Hell, we could even be frogs. This here lake could be our pond, and we’re on a king-sized lily pad. We’re the kings of the pond.”

Clint scooted forward on the step, clumsily pulled his feet together, and spread out his knees. Lonnie eyed him warily as he straighted out his back and puffed out his chest.

“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet,” went Clint.

“Hee, hee, hee,” went Lonnie.

“Come on, Lonnie. You do it too. No. Do it right. The way I am. You gotta move your knees out more.”

“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.” Clint just kept it up until Lonnie stopped laughing long enough to add a few feeble noises of his own.

“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.”
“Peeper, peeper, peeper.”
“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.”
“Peeper, peeper, peeper.”

The boys kept at it for a long time. A cabin light went on and then off. They didn’t care, they were having a great time.

“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.”
“Peeper, peeper, peeper.”
“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.”
“Peeper, peeper, peeper.”

I’m here

“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.”
“Peeper, peeper, peeper.”

Hey, you two!

“Ribbet, ribbet, ribbet, ribbet.”
“Peeper, peeper, peeper.”

CAN YOU HEAR ME?

“Huh?” said Clint.

“Peeper?”
“Peeper, peeper?”

Finally. Can you hear me now?

“You hear that?” Clint said.

Lonnie drew his knees together and looked at Clint. “Hear what?”

Me. Stupid. He’s talking about me. You loon.

“Looky there. Look at that big-ass frog.”

Lonnie peered through the darkness and just on the other side of the mess of empty beer bottles sat an over-sized frog. “Yea, I see him. And he’s lookin' right at us.”

How would boys like a lot of money?

“Huh?” said Clint.

“How much?” said Lonnie.

Lonnie inched forward on the step to get a better look, but he went too far. Thud went his butt on the next step.

If human’s had wings...

“It seems like that frog’s talkin’,” Clint said rubbing his face.

“It sure does,” Lonnie said shaking his head from side to side in a useless attempt to clear the fog produced by the numerous beers he had consumed.

They glanced at each other, and then their eyes locked on the frog.

Listen to me. You guys can be rich. Famous even. Whatever. Pay attention. Hey?

“He... sure... is big,” Lonnie said.

“LET’S GET ‘EM,” Clint suddenly yelled, springing from the porch and diving for the frog. He was too late. Clint landed face first in the dirt, but he wasted no time getting up and making another useless lunge. Lonnie leaped off the porch and joined him.

They spent several hopeless minutes chasing the frog, and then Clint decided they’d have to use their heads.

“Lonnie,” he gasped. “Go around. Lonnie. No. Stay on the other side,” he said gesturing wildly until Lonnie responded. They moved in a circle trying to surround the frog. It looked like victory for the Brandon brothers until the hammer and anvil maneuver.

“Now,” Clint yelled as they both dove for elusive amphibian. That’s when the hammer, Clint’s head, hit the anvil, Lonnie head.

They lay motionless in the grassy bank along the lake.

O.K. Now that you two have calmed down maybe you’ll be polite enough to listen me. After all you did invite me here. Hmmm. Where do I begin. Let’s see. Oh yes. I’m a magic frog. You will never catch me. So stop trying.

Clint lay on his back and after a while he opened his eyes to a star-filled sky. Some of them were spinning faster than others. He closed his eyes again.

So you called me, and now I will grant you one wish. One wish. Not one each you understand. One.
Lonnie, who was crumpled on his side, struggled up to his hands and knees and puked.
Very well. You needn’t decide right away. Just before this time tomorrow. Make a wish, and it will be granted. That’s all. You guys got it?

Clint moaned and clutched both hands to his head.

Ah yes. Very good question. Of course there’s a hitch. No free lunches you know. Once the wish is granted, someone here will have to take my place. You see once I’ve done my job -- granted the wish. I’m free. Off duty. Someone else has to become the magic frog.

Lonnie mumbled. “What’re you talkin’ bout Clint?”

No, it’s not a difficult job. Nothing much to do but hop around the lake until you’re called. Sort of like a vacation. Well that’s it. Speak up when you decide. I’ll hear you.

Clint managed to get himself upright. “Lonnie. Lonnie. Get up.”

“Whah happen’?”

Clint pulled Lonnie to his feet, but they needed each other to maintain forward motion. “I think this night’s over.”

“Thank God,” Lonnie agreed.

The next morning delivered the kind of crisp southern air that signals the end of summer. But it wasn’t long before a blanket of sun warmed the chill, and thirty-four members of the Brandon family meandered from their cabins and gathered around picnic tables. Two were noticeably absent.

“Todd, go wake up your uncles. Tell them they’re going to miss our last meal together. Not that I imagine they’re hungry,” Vera Brandon said as she filled plastic cups with orange juice.

Todd wasn’t happy about being chosen for this chore, but he lumbered over to Clint’s cabin. After knocking unsuccessfully on the door, Todd nudged in open.

“Uncle Clint. Uncle Clint. Grandma says get up. And go get Lonnie too,” Todd announced, glad to pass on that task. Todd sprang off the porch and headed back toward the food.

Clint rolled over, massaged his head, and realized morning was giving way to noon. Hot sun was pouring in the cabin window. He struggled to get up and walked in slow motion over to the next cabin to wake up Lonnie. From the looks of the bed, Lorraine must have slept somewhere else.

“Come on, Lonnie. Wake up,” he said as he none too gently nudged Lonnie’s shoulders. “Let’s go for a swim.” Clint had decided the lake was as good as shower.

He pulled Lonnie to his feet and pushed him toward the door.

“Uggggh,” was all Lonnie could manage.

Not long afterward, the Brandon family was startled by a large splash and two yelps from the lake.
“I guess they’re up or that’s the biggest and loudest fish we’ve ever had up here,” Vera said as she turned to watch her sons splash around in the cold water.

After a while, Clint and Lonnie climbed out of the lake and collapsed in a heap on the dock. As the water trickled off their skin, a breeze stirred and caused a few ripples in the water. The cicadas hummed in the trees.

“That’s it. No more drinking,” Clint said as he swatted at a wasp.

“You said that last year,” Lonnie said, batting at another wasp. “Sure are a lot of wasps this year.”
Clint wasn’t listening. “You hungry? I wonder what’s for lunch.”

“It’s called brunch, stupid. Yea, let’s go.”

They ambled up to the picnic tables and as Clint was toweling off his hair and Lonnie was pulling on his jeans, Lorraine strode past with a plate of food.

“For us? “ Clint asked.

“Nice of you guys to help,” she frowned, plunking down a platter of food and brushing aside Lonnie’s hand as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

“Not now, Lonnie,” she murmured.

“Guess you boys didn’t sleep well last night,” came the raspy voice of Grandpa Brandon through a thick cloud of pipe smoke. “Me neither. Damn frogs were louder than your grandma’s snoring!”

“I don’t think they were trying to sleep Grandpa. More like ruin everyone else’s,” Lonnie’s wife said more than sarcastically.

“What’s that?” Clint said pointing to the table.

“Frogs’ legs,” Grandpa Brandon said. “Lots of them. Tommy and Bill and your Dad gigged them real early. Your mom’s been cleaning them all morning.”

“Frogs’ legs!” Lonnie said and rushed up behind Clint. “Frogs. The frog?” Clint and Lonnie stared at each other and then at the stack of crisply fried plump legs on the table.

“No way, Lonnie” Clint stopped him, fearing he’d tell the story and embarrass them both.
“But, Clint... Don’t you remember last night?”

“Yea, I remember we were both drunk as skunks. And that’s all,” Clint shot back at his brother.

“You should have seen the one we couldn’t catch. It was huge,” their nephew Tommy piped up.

“How big?” Lonnie asked as he and Clint exchanged glances. Clint didn’t say anything, he just stood there trying to recall the blur of the previous night’s adventure. Was that frog real? he wondered to himself.

“It’s true,” their dad came to Tommy’s defense, fearing they wouldn’t believe Tommy because he was only seven.

Before Clint could ask Tommy anymore about the frog, Ma Brandon strode toward the tables, announcing, “O.K. Let’s eat,” as carried out the last of the meal: two huge plates of home-made chocolate chip cookies.

Lonnie didn’t say much while they ate; he just stared woefully at Lorraine, who ignored him, except when he passed her the plate of legs.

“How can you eat those. I just hate those little slimy things,” she drawled.

“They taste just like chicken, Lorraine. Try one,” Lonnie offered.

“No, thanks. Yuck.”

Luckily for most families, reunions are short. Otherwise the fun might wear off and everyone would realize why they live so far apart to begin with. Once brunch was digested and everyone had another swim, the various members of the Brandon family was ready to head to their individual points on the compass. Some near, some far.

Goodbyes took up the rest of the afternoon. As usual Clint and Lonnie were last. They dallied near the lake.

“You know what Clint? You know what I really wish?”

“Wish? WISH? Lonnie, don’t make a...”

“No let me say it Clint. I wish Lorraine would love me. Really love me. Like she did in the beginning. Before she met that guy.”

“Geez Lonnie. You just... made a wish. Do you know what that means?”

“Yea right. You gonna turn into a frog or what?” Lonnie punched Clint on the arm and let out one of his goofy laughs. Then he got a serious look on his face and stared off toward Lorraine.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Lonnie said.

Clint felt strange as he followed Lonnie to the cars. He tried to remember what the stupid frog had said or if it had been a boozy hallucination. Clint stopped by his cousin Charlie’s pick-up and peered in the sideview mirror. No warts, he observed. He stuck out his tongue. It looked the same size. Safe for now, he thought.

Damn it. His little brother made a wish. Now what?

“Clint, honey what’s the matter?” It was his mother. “You look a little green around the gills. I think you boys drank too much.”

“Right Ma,” Clint said as he tried to get Lonnie’s attention, but his brother was making googoo eyes at Lorraine. Clint watched in horror as Lorraine returned Lonnie’s advances. Clint inched closer to them.
“Lonnie, sweetie, this sure has been a nice weekend. I haven’t felt this good in long time. I even forgive you for getting so stinkin’ drunk.” Her words tumbled out like like sweet taffy — stretched and sticky. Lonnie put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head against him.

Clint felt dizzy. He gasped for his breath.

Suddenly Lonnie was slapping him on the back. “Well, bro, this is it. See you next time. Ribbet and all that stuff. Hee hee hee!”

Clint watched Lonnie get in his car and realized Lonnie wasn’t going to do anything. Wasn’t going to help him.

Lonnie pushed open the passenger door for Lorraine and watched the delicate curve of her tan leg as she stepped into the car.

Maybe this time it’ll work out, he thought. Before she sat down, she stopped and swatted at something. Then she slid into the car.

“Wasp?”

“No,” Lorraine said and opened up her hand to stare at the fly she had caught.

How’d you do that?” Lonnie asked. His gaze changed from appreciative to astonishment as he watched her bring the fly near her mouth and inspected it closely before tossing it out the window.

“I don’t know, “ Lorraine shrugged. “But I do know I’m sure going to miss this lake. I wish we could stay a few extra days. Lonnie, honey, it’s not that far; let’s come up next weekend. Just us. O.K.?”
Someone else was also admiring Lorraine’s shapely legs. Off in the reeds at the edge of the lake, a really big frog sat smiling to himself.

It won’t be long now, he thought. I sure did hate to mislead them boys. I mean how was I to know what they were gonna wish. I did my job. Besides it sure gets lonesome up here, and from the looks of it, that Lorraine sure is a kicker.

“OK, Layla. Let’s go!” Celina called.

Layla bounded out to the car and was about to get in when she stopped and stared. Celina had Fujin on a leash. Layla cocked her head. What is going on? she wondered.

“Make room, Layla. Fujin’s coming along. With the new baby and all, I told Maria and Jose that we’d give Fujin some exercise today.”

Celina went on happily chatting, but Layla was deep in thought about what Max might think about Fujin coming along.

It was a long drive. First there was lots of traffic leaving the city. Then the buildings and houses became farther and farther apart. Pretty soon there were fields and trees and flowers. In the distance, Layla could see hills and then mountains. Soon the houses and cottages were spread far apart and once and a while she saw a big red barn. At least that is what Fujin said it was. Layla had never seen a barn, but Fujin said it was a place where lots of different animals lived.

Fujin did not seem to know where they were going. He liked the ride though, and mostly sat quietly, his eyes squinted and his nose out the window. He seemed very happy.

After some time, Celina turned the car off the main road onto a narrow bumpy road and then onto an even smaller dirt road. Layla could smell dark damp earth and the sweetness of flowers. She heard birds singing and bees buzzing and frogs croaking. All these sounds and smells made her very excited. Fujin, too, was twitching his nose and pricking up his ears.

They drove down a long grassy driveway and finally Celina stopped the car.

Through the car window, Layla could see Max. He lunged at the leash and Robert gave him a little hand signal and a stern look. Max sat down, panting and staring right at Layla. His tongue hung from the side of his mouth, making him look goofier than ever.

Layla held her breath. He must not have seen Fujin yet, but then suddenly Max barred his teeth.
Oops, Layla thought, looking over at Max, who no longer looked so uncoordinated and bumbling. His coarse yellow fur was raised in a series of hackles.

Robert directed a strong command at Max, who pawed at the ground and made some strange noises. Celina got out of the car and walked over to Robert.

By this time Fujin was standing up and so was his fur. Layla caught snatches of conversation between Celina and Robert.

“But I thought they got along just fine when you left Max with us. Fujin always jumps the fence, and when I looked out they were all playing together,” Celina said.

No, no that wasn’t playing! Layla barked to get Celina’s attention, but it did not do any good. Layla thought for sure they would have to leave.

haha, as we all know, Tablo is  highly educated (and comes from a HIGHLY educated family XD--sister who's a lawyer, brother that's a doctor... DANG--if i remembered correctly. something like that).  Best part--it's in english XD so i can understand! XD hahaha. love you, Tablo! :] I hope everything goes smoothly with this project of his :3

It was almost painful to see him like that, zombie-like and eating hemp... literally. He was so so beautiful between relapses. Sharp features and a red pout and green almond eyes. That day on the farm he had long hair again but he was bald on top and his scalp was greasy and scabby and peeling, and he had a big brown beard somewhat resembling pubic hair and he was just laying on top of me and we were both on our backs, so I was sort of pinned down under his puff of hair. It was uncomfortable against my face, I wanted to leave but I hadn't seen him in so long that I stayed until my limbs went numb.

He kept talking about how good the drugs were and how he's never been better and I was just watching, somehow, and at some point his limbs started to freeze up and I finally got him off me and i look at his face and it was ugly and frozen in a distorted sneer. His lips were an ashy pink - nothing was like it used to be, between.

He used to be so striking.

At this point there was still a voice talking about how good the drugs were and then I saw his friend, who was in a similar state. All twitching then frozen and muttering and shit.

And then I saw a whole colony of people sitting in an outdoor kitchen on rows of picnic tables and they were mostly tanned women and they had little bits of purple twine in their fuzzy dull brown hair and they were all picking at something on the table in unison - scratch, scratch, scratch.

I thought to myself, "this is probably why they haven't been online in weeks..." and then I woke up.

Mission accomplished.  I finally finished up the last article I was writing for a new magazine called Indigo that I recently signed a contract with.  I emailed the copy to the editor. 

"He better not edit it too much either," I said as I hit the send button.

I was about to take a nap when my phone rang, as it has a habit of doing as soon as I decide I want to close my eyes for 45 minutes to an hour.  I looked at the phone and saw that it was Terry so my initial irritation immediately turned into joy, topped off with a pose for the camera smile.

"Hey beautiful, what you up to?" said Terry.

"Hey baby, I just finished up some work and I'm about to just relax for a while," I said.

"Oh okay, cool.  So did you think about what I asked you the other night?" he asked.

"Of course I did.  I can't stop thinking about it."  I told him with excitement escaping from me that I didn't plan on showing.

"Sooo?" Terry asked.

I could tell he was smiling and I'm sure he knew I was grinning from ear to ear too.

"So, yes!" I said.

"Cool.  I can finalize the plans today and get our tickets," he said.

"Terry, I can't believe you are taking me to Tahiti," I said "This is like a dream come true.  I mean Terry, the car, the gifts.  You've really been so good to me.  I can't even begin to compete with you on that."

"Baby, we're not in competition.  I'm doing these things for you because I love you and I want to spend all the time I can with you.  Plus, we both need a vacation and I think we need to go on one," he said.

"Terry, all I can say is...I'm there and one question?  When do we leave?"

We both laughed.

"Well, next Wednesday is our departure date so make sure you have all the sexy sundresses you want packed in your bag," he said.

"Next Wednesday?" I asked "Are you serious?"

"Yes, next Wednesday and I am very serious.  You don't have any conflicts with that do you?" asked Terry.

"Honey, if I did, I don't now," I replied "I'm making room for my baby, spending time with my man."

"Look at you," he said "girl you gonna make me steal you away for 2 weeks, not just one."

"Terry, the trip is for a week? Aww, baby!" I screamed.

"Yes, I'm going to have you all to myself for 7 whole days.  I love you Syrah.  This is going to be the best vacation I ever had in my life.  I already know it," said Terry.

"Aww, Terry I love you too sweetie and I know this is going to be the best vacation I've ever had," I said "You sure know how to make a girl feel loved."

"How about I make you feel loved tonight by taking you out to dinner?" he asked.

"You know what?  How about I make you feel loved by cooking dinner for you?" I replied. "How's 7 o'clock?"

"Oh man!  I am there and I can't wait," said Terry.

Terry and I talked for a few more minutes and we hung up.  God, I love this man, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes to take in all the good news and think about what I was going to cook for dinner.  Whatever I came up with was going to be good. 

"I am going to Tahiti!" I said out loud and smiled.

I was beginning to learn Terry's love language.  He is definitely one who shows his love and care by giving gifts.  With him, he has to do something for you to make you smile, cause you to just be happy and erupt with joy.  I loved that about him.  He was not only a giving man but a man of his word.  I could trust that he will do what he says he will.  Truly his love for me was more than words.

Click Here To Watch Video--> More Than Words - Extreme
Photo: www.sfweekly.com

© 2008 by Satirah.  All rights reserved.

He climbed in bed and immediately reached for her; she jumped with a start as if scared half to death. “I want to have sex,” he boldly announced; to which she looked at him and laughed; leaving his question, “what the hell was that” hanging between them. She rolled over without a word, hugging her pillow tight, as he kissed the back of her neck and vowed to get her in the morning.

And so he did, the minute the first alarm sounded; reaching over and pulling her to him; hands desperately groping her still warm flesh; the weight of his body suddenly pressing down, taking what he believed to rightfully be his. His arousal spurred by selfish greed, as she twisted and writhed beneath him; the words of her friend suddenly ringing in her ears, “numb, baby, numb…” and so she became; still and motionless, barely breathing; watching his face as he hovered above, disdain filling her heart, as each penetrating thrust bruised her already wounded soul.

As a smile of satisfaction and accomplishment splayed across his face, she closed her eyes, turned her head to the side, and burned the image forever in her mind. The image of the man who promised to love and cherish, so blinded by his own unrelenting need and skewed vision of the truth that even though she lay beneath him, he had no realization that she’d already left the room.

She was no longer viewed as a person; with feelings, wants and needs of her own, but simply a possession, a plaything, a caretaker, a maid; and as she lay alone, bathed in dawns light, not wanting to be any of those things, a single tear fell from her eye, as she made a silent vow.

Calling what has changed by its old name will not bring it back, Mike. It only distorts it, damaging not only what it is now but also reaching back to smear what it once was.

I have, at times, been prey to painful nostalgia, and have gone to great lengths to resurrect the past, returning to places, and people, that were best left alone. Always, I talked myself into this with words, and tried to catch other people in their spell, trying to get myself and those around me to believe, for example, that I never went away, and had been right beside them all along.

Words are dangerous when used this way, for exactly the reason Chin describes. Once it's clear that words can't retrieve everything I wish for from the past, the memories I once treasured turn out to have been sullied by my attempts. I can't remember the perfect mood to my high-school romance in the same way, after having tried and failed so many times to resurrect it. The memory gets left in a Frankenstein's-monster state, scarred by botched galvanization.

Considering the dangers of nostalgia, how does a writer handle looking into the past? How can the words be prevented from turning traitorous? To me, it's a matter of being exact. I know the difference between remembering the way I want to remember and remembering with full detail.

For example: I want, sometimes, to go back to the time just before I returned to college, when I studied ancient Greek all the time, took road trips to Savannah, constantly worked on my novel, and copied quotes from old French serialized novels into a little flowered notebook.

But, to be exact, I often sat then on the porch, smoking out of loneliness. I was so nervous, I stayed up until all hours. I didn't manage to make it through The Man in the Iron Mask, and I was spending all my savings.

As the two paragraphs show, it was both a lovely time and a miserable time. Truth is difficult. It's so hard to avoid landing on one side or the other, especially if I use memory with an agenda. For this reason, I must take care with words.

Chapter: 3

THE UNEXPECTED ALLY

Kaleea crouched low in the bushes all but invisible; she had been watching the four men for hours. Her legs were numb, her back ached terribly and she was hungry. It had been over a day since she had eaten and her stomach growled loudly. She wanted to talk to another human but she knew that it would be foolhardy to approach them without first observing them.

 “Ragnar” shouted one of the men “You told us there would be work for us in these lands, yet my axe still thirsts and my purse is empty. The people here are like sheep, not a warrior among them, and as for riches I’ve seen not but peasants.”

The man called Ragnar finished relieving himself a scant ten feet from where Kaleea was hidden. He was a rough looking man; a slack jawed brute with deep-set eyes. “You complain to much Garrik, We’ve been here scarcely a month. At least your belly is full, and you have had a few of the peasant women. This is more than can be said for Creech and Ydnar.” Ragnar grinned wickedly at the two men he had insulted; they exchanged glances and cursed under their breath. It was clear that this Ragnar was their leader. It was also clear that he was not well liked.

 “Mercenaries” Kaleea thought to herself. “Men with no scruples. They would probably sell their mother for the right price.” She decided she would do well to avoid them at all cost. Unfortunately about that time her legs, muscles already strained from the hours of remaining motionless, cramped and Kaleea went down with a crash.

The four men froze. Weapons bristled at the ready. The one named Ragnar came closer “what have we here?” he exclaimed, looking at Kaleea who was now sprawled out in the bushes that had concealed her from the men. Luckily she had freed her sword when the men had approached so as she fell it lay across her lap. Grasping the sword in both hands Kaleea used it to pull herself to a standing position, she swung once, twice, three times with the ancient weapon clearing the area around her of all vegetation. The sword cut through branches large and small with ease. She was still amazed at how light it felt. “Look mates!” cried Ydnar, “it’s a woman, and a beautiful one at that. And behold the sword she carries!” Two of the three came closer, greedily eyeing the exquisite blade. The one called Garrik stood apart from them, a strange smile on his face. He was tall, broad of shoulder, and had an air about him that set him apart from the others. With long black hair that fell to his shoulders he had the look of an aristocrat about him his weapon of choice was a war ax with a broad double edge blade that looked to be well used, and his armor was a short-sleeved chain mail shirt that went to above the knee Covering his chest was a bronze breastplate. Emblazoned on it was a black Raven, it was worn and faded, though the armor itself was in excellent condition. Kaleea thought he could be considered handsome under different circumstances.   

“A weapon like that would fetch a handsome price in Sazud, should we ever return there.” Said Creech “Why the pommel stone alone must be worth a king’s ransom!” Upon hearing that Kaleea knew she was in trouble.

The three men closest to her began advancing, slowly and warily. Kaleea stood ready to defend herself and her unborn child at all cost. Then without warning, the one called Garrik let forth a bloodcurdling scream and launched himself at his sword brothers; axe cutting the air in a glistening arc of death. Creech went screaming to hell not knowing who took his life. Garrik’s weapon cut deep into his neck, severing collarbone, obliterating the ribcage and exiting at the pelvic bone, cutting Creech in half. On the return swing Garrik deflected Ragnar’s broadsword, which was at that moment trying to take his head. “What are you doing you fool!” screamed Ragnar as he charge in again like a raging bull.

 “I’ve grown tired of this partnership!” Garrik spat back at him “you and these so called warriors preying on the weak and defenseless. I may have lost my title and my lands, but I’ve not lost my sense of honor and I’ll not be made a part of this killing and robbing of a defenseless woman.”

Meanwhile Kaleea was proving to be anything but defenseless. Holding King Kreegar’s sword in both hands she swung it in an intricate web of parries and thrusts. Try as he might, Ydnar could not find an opening. He stabbed at her belly only to have his blade turned away by an expert parry. Suddenly Kaleea tripped and Ydnar saw his chance, he lunged at her, sword point aimed at her exposed chest. “Die bitch!” he yelled, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Victory was his, or so he thought. Anticipation turned to horror as he realized that he had been tricked. Kaleea sidestepped, snapping his sword near the hilt with a wicked backstroke, and then bringing the razor sharp blade up between his legs all in one motion, severing groin, muscle, and destroying internal organs. “You first!” she shot back at him. Though her words fell upon deaf ears, for Ydnar of Sazud was no more, his life’s blood flowed freely upon the ground. Entrails pushing forth from the gapping wound in his groin. Kaleea freed the blade and turned to face Ragnar. But it was unnecessary, for Garrik's axe had done its job well. Ragnar’s head lay far from his body, empty eyes staring up at the heavens. Kaleea watched as Garrik wiped clean the broad blade of his axe on the clothing of the lifeless man. She held her sword at the ready, still unsure of Garrik's intentions.

“Now what?” she asked as he slowly approached her. “Fear not girl, for I do not make war upon women, much less a woman with child” he said indicating the swelling in her belly which was by now quite visible.

“Let down your weapon and let’s talk.” Saying that, Garrik leaned his axe against a nearby tree, a gesture to assure Kaleea that he was sincere. She began to put the sword in the makeshift sheath she had made from limbs, tree bark and some leather she had aquired  “But first” Garrik stopped her. “ You should clean your weapon, for blood causes rust.” He pointed at the gore-encrusted blade. “Who are you girl, you fight like a she devil, yet know not the proper care of a fine weapon such as that, and what are you doing out here in the wilderness with child, and alone with such a weapon?” Kaleea still wary of her new found ally lowered her weapon slightly, not yet willing to drop her guard completely. “Why did you do that?” she asked Garrik. Pointing toward the two dead men. “I thought they were your companions.”

“They were dogs,” Garrik spat in disgust. “I threw in with them when I left Sazud for these are dangerous lands to be traveling alone. I’m sorry now that I ever met them. Ragnar was but a common thief and the other two were no better. Besides killing women and old men was never to my liking”. “Now what of you?” he continued.  “What is your name, and where did you get that magnificent sword? You wield it like a seasoned warrior yet I’d bet a purse full of silver that this is the first time you have killed a man.”  Kaleea was beginning to feel more relaxed with Garrik. Something told her he was a man she could trust. Which came as some surprise, for she had not known many men in her life and the ones she had encountered were not a pleasant memory. Her long white mane glistened in the sunlight as she ran her fingers through it. “How much should I tell him?” Kaleea thought to herself. “He might think me mad if I tell him everything.” So thinking fast Kaleea lied “My name is Kaleea, I was run out of my village when my hair turned white after I was raped, they thought I had the madness upon me.” Garrik cursed under his breath “Damn superstitious villagers. Old tales must die hard in some of these small hamlets”. 

  “As for the sword, it was given to my by my father.” Kaleea continued “And it in turn was given to him by his father.” The words sounded strange to Kaleea for in truth she had never known either of her parents. They were killed in one of the many raids upon her village. Kaleea went on “My father raised me as a son, teaching me how to fight. And you stranger, what name do you go by.” Garrik looked at her and a smile touched his lips, He thought to himself “You’re a terrible liar girl, but I suppose we all have our secrets.”

 Garrik spoke aloud “I am Garrik, a wanderer, though not by choice. My home and family were lost to me in a war with the Targon Horde two winters ago, I have traveled as a mercenary ever since.”

  “And you Kaleea, where do you go. Perhaps we could travel together. It would be much safer for you that way. It is quite obvious you can defend yourself but you also have a child to think of.” 

Kaleea lowered her sword completely “I have to learn to trust sometime.” she thought. “I’m bound for the Dragon swamps, an old friend of my father lives there. Gorm is his name. I was told he would help me to raise my son.” 

“The Dragon swamps!” exclaimed Garrik, “no one lives in that serpent infested place. There is death at every turn. If the quicksand or swamp demons don’t kill you then the fetid swamp gases and serpents will.” He looked at Kaleea in disbelief. “Are you sure you want to attempt such a journey, especially in your present state?”

“I must” Kaleea said softly. “I won't make it alone, I’ve carried this child but three d”.... she stopped short “I mean I’ve been traveling for three days,” Kaleea watched Garrik for any sign he had caught her slip, but saw no change in his expression. “It’s been two days since I’ve last eaten,” she continued “and sleep has been hard in coming also. I cannot raise a child this way, I must have help.” Kaleea sat down exhausted and frustrated.

Garrik decided to continue playing along. “Kaleea” he began “If you will allow me to, I will take you to find your fathers friend. Perhaps it will help to right the wrongs I’ve committed and earn me a place amongst the Gods.” “But first” Garrik continued, “We must prepare for the journey. About a league from here is the city of Sazud. There we can get supplies. I’ve a gold ring I could sell down on the waterfront; it should be enough to buy you some traveling clothes, some food and a proper scabbard for that sword. But first you should get some rest.” Garrik looked down at Kaleea only to discover she was already in a deep slumber. He said softly “sleep well girl, your going to need it.

                                                    i

 Kaleea awoke to the smell of cooking meat. Garrik sat hunched over the fire he had built, turning what looked to be a small rodent on a makeshift spit. He stood, stretched and looked to her. “Welcome back to the world of the living!” he said with a grin. Kaleea looked at him. Her head felt like it was filled with lead. “How long have I been sleeping?” she said. “About two days,” Garrik replied, “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever awaken.”

She looked around her. The bodies of the three men were gone; all that remained were dark stains on the ground where they had fallen. “ I dragged them out to where the vultures could feast on their worthless hides. Somehow I pity the birds.” Garrik laughed at his own joke. “Come and eat he said.”  Kaleea walked to the bushes to relieve herself. As she returned she thought “This Garrik is a strange man, I must know more about him.” “Garrik” she began as she approached him “Tell me about your self.” “Later Kaleea” said Garrik as he handed her a piece of meat from the small animal. “Right now we must be on our way for we have a long walk ahead of us”. So they began walking towards the city of Sazud, Kaleea not wanting to push her new friend away decided to settle for simple conversation as they walked. There would be time to get to know more about him later, she was just thankful for the company.

Thankyou everyone for participating. Although I have warned that there might be a possibility that two people may write the comments at the same time, the story forked twice. I had to delete two comments because they came exactly at the same time and took the story in two directions.
So here is the complete story and don't miss the Epilogue at the end.

The ship had started its descent on Planet AZ1104. We were 1000 strong with the state of the art Nebula Blue Laser Guns at our disposal. I moved the pin at the side of the gun to FULL. The blue coloured charge started to fill the sleek unbreakable glass container at the tip of the gun, ready to vapourise any form of threat. Planet AZ1104 was covered with a purple fog, which was going to make things more difficult for us. The ship landed smoothly as the hearts of 1100 army personnel inside that spaceship beat in unison. We were finally there. The doors started to open. It took 10 seconds for each of the 15 huge doors to open but it felt like eternity. The purple fog rushed in as we rushed out. Charging.

As we came out, to our surprise there was nobody in the visible distance. We were confused as we were expecting an attack immediately because our sources had informed us that the planet could give us a tough resistance. Then we came to know that our RADAR was wrong and we had landed in a wrong place which was very far away from the actual place. We started marching towards a nearby city to attack it according to our new plan. After some time we were facing a beautiful city which surrendered easily to us. We got a base on this planet very easily and our scientists captured the technology centers and started analyzing the enemy strengths and weaknesses. The enemy came to know about this attack immediately and started a counterattack. We were able to destroy many of their planes in no time. By this time our scientific group started attacking through viruses on their communication system.

But it was our genetically engineered super viruses that decimated the inhabitants of the city. Horrific combinations of Ebola and genital herpes left the city folk highly embarrassed before the inevitable bleed out left the city streets slick with crimson goo.Some of our people felt remorse for the horror we had unleashed, but most of us chuckled like demonic children as we watched the evil mess transpire over and over again on our collective mega-screen. We were humans after all,weren’t we? Well Mr. God, see, you might create so many other things, but we are plain smarter. Humanity rocks dude! Well what is that?  No way!!! This can’t be. There is a huge nine tail fox in front of me. The fox gnarled and charged at us, singing the haunting tunes of Cher’s new album, causing our un-shatter-able glass containers on the Nebula Laser Guns to break. We were helpless. In the distance, we could hear the horrific sounds of disease and illness that we had caused, sounds that added to our fear. Just when we were about to surrender to the foxy fox, we realized that there were 100 stowaways within us!

The purple fog turned denser reducing the visibility as we saw the fox’s eyes glow like thousand LED bulbs.I turned around but realised that we were engulfed by the thick fog when I suddenly saw a trajectory of the flash created by the two eyes of the fox as it jumped over us. Hell broke lose and we started running. Dead bodies hurled and flesh scattered. The fog vanished dramatically and we couldn’t see the fox anymore. To my surprise, all the dead people were the 100 stowaways and I saw a note stick ed on the flesh of a body - “These 100 damn rascals already carry Herpes with them”. I took the note in my hand and turned back to show it to the other crew members when I felt a sudden thud on my back. I saw a thick furred animal pounding at me. I took a deep breath and thanked God! All this was a dream and the thick furred animal is my sweet little doggy trying to wake me up!

I woke to find everything unusually quiet in the house. The dog had started howling and following me everywhere I went. I freshened up and dressed ready to go out now; the maid hadn’t come yet, she had fallen into this habit of coming late everyday now. When I switched on the TV, the language on the TV channels was strange. I couldn’t make out anything from it when suddenly the TV went off. I decided to take a stroll outside. Just when I came out from the building, everything outside was a mess. There was not a single person in sight. All the building, houses, stores, restaurants were burned up and smoking. Just then I heard a huge crashing sound behind me. I turned around and saw a huge Godzilla with a burning tree in his hand which he was using to burn buildings. It came charging towards me and I started running. Making my way through alleys I was trying to escape when I suddenly heard a girl’s cries coming from a car. I reached the car and to my surprise it was Kareena!! Apparently the door lock was jammed. I broke the glass windows with my bare fist and rescued Kareena. The Godzilla had come upon us by then.

We ran into a nearby building, trying to open one door after another. I knew that we would find resistance so I put my hand in my pocket and I found the very same gun from my dream. Finally a door opened and we barged in. There in the room was Gandalf strip teasing to Touch Too Much by AC/DC as dwarves looked on. Just as the last garment was coming off I fired my gun and zit! all of them vanished. I took Kareena inside, we looked into each others eyes, and then we kissed. Suddenly I heard a weird noise, my gun powering up! Zap! And Kareena was nothingness.My act left me shocked. I was filled with remorse. I reduced Kareena to nothingness. Oh my God! I was wondering what would I tell Saif! What would the entire film industry do! My mind was buzzing with Herpes virus, if that’s possible. I felt like aiming the gun at myself and turning to nothingness in hope of kissing Kareena once again. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and a bright light filled the room.The light was so sharp, it blinded me for a minute. I opened my eyes slowly and was surprised to see what was in front of me.

I had had a dream within a dream. I was actually not on my own planet. I had dreamt the waking up sequence, and even the Kareena kiss and the Kareena death. The reality was this: We were on another planet and we had destroyed the inhabitants. Our guns had done strange things to them…and worse. We ourselves had changed. I looked around and saw that all of us had changed into an animal. That fox we had seen was actually one of us! We could not differentiate the aliens and my own mates. Suddenly I had a flash of memory triggered by something i could not make out. They were images of disaster .. buildings burnt down and earth in the hands of the aliens. I then realized that this was the way the aliens attacked. They superimposed images in the human mind so that it becomes confused and dazed.

Superimposed images! Yes, that was it. My mind had superimposed Kareena and Saif’s images on the images of aliens. Uff..We are so taken by our movies that we can’t think straight to save our own lives. Not only this, my imagination or is it my sight could conjure a time machine. Did I say I could make out a silhouette of time machine? But I have never seen one. Yet I can think of an image! It must be those Hollywood flicks. Here I am saddled with world’s biggest problem at my hand and I think of Hollywood and Bollywood. Shucks! How dare I even think of “Bollywood”! People will ostracise me of using this word Bollywood. It is degrading word, Amitabh Bachchan says so.

Stop it. Concentrate. Think what should be my next step?

Closing my eyes, I said a secret word and summon the Devil. On seeing the Devil in front of me I got mean and summoned God as well. I tried asking for advice from both of them, but they got into a damnation fight. They hit each other and after five minutes realised that I had summoned them.The devil was pissed off with me as he had to leave the creation of a new sin and mailing to the religious heads for later. God was angry because he was cleaning his house and his girl friend might now ditch him as she was a cleanliness freak. Peace. Peace. Yes, so here we were, in a room, God, devil, God's girlfriend and me. We all are having this heated discussion about who will give me an advice and the reasons behind it.

God said, “I made the world, I know what to do next.”

Devil said, “You can create any world, I will destroy it in a minute.”

Gods girlfriend said, “I am with God.”

I said, “Freeze!”

I couldn't believe I said that. It must be the fear of Herpes moving to sacred Gods. But devil and God's girlfriend could do with it. Now I was thinking like God, I chided myself.

Meanwhile, all of them were staring hard at me. Devil lunged at me, I tried hard to remember where was the Herpes Virus petri dish. Fool, it does not tr