Moldy Lemon Acid Trips

Hello All:
I'm running a little behind schedule this morning. But that's okay. I've got a new story for you. Have you ever tried Moldy Lemon acid trips? I've heard that you can really trip your balls off when taking them.

Moldy Lemon Acid Trips

Andrey is one of those—shall we say—entrepreneurs who don't believe in working for other people. To reiterate; this means that he is very much against working a regular job as a source of stable income. Oh, he might get a part time job every now in then if in dire need of finances. But he doesn't stay too long. You see, time is precious for Andrey. He could be using that time to develop his own business ventures.

He's so clever and creative; a real thinker who stays well outside of the box. Take for example the time he mustered enough motivation to clean out his filthy refrigerator that was overstocked with moldy, rotting food. While rummaging through all the stink, and discarding food that had expired over six months ago; Andrey discovered a plastic bag that contained four rotten, moldy lemons. You've certainly heard the wisdom of what to do when life hands you lemons. You make lemonade, of course! But what do you do when life hands you moldy lemons?

"Throw them out."—you might answer?

Well this is what Andrey did when first discovering the bag of moldy lemons. He did so while commenting out loud, "I can't see any use for these. I'd probably starting hallucinating and seeing things with all that mold mixing with citrus acid. It would be a new kind of LSD."

And then a light bulb went off in Andrey's head. Immediately he removed the bag of moldy lemons from the garbage can, and then slammed the refrigerator door shut. Cleaning the refrigerator was now over. It was time to go to work and invent something new and revolutionary that would change the world.

Andrey reached into the sink for a dirty cutting board that had laid there for two weeks. It now had dried up tomato slop and seeds smeared all over it. He would have used this cutting board on that weekend that he thought he would start eating salads more often.

So much for that bright idea! He never used the cutting board, again!

Andrey was about to rinse the cutting board off, but realized that the chemicals from the tomato could very well mix with the mold and citrus acid from the lemons to make a highly potent sort of hallucinogenic acid.

The same knife that was used to slice up the tomato from two weeks ago lay in the sink as well. Andrey used this to cut into the moldy, rotting lemons in an attempt to make slices. Mold, slime and rotting matter squished all over the cutting board. Andrey scraped the mutilated, decomposing matter of all four lemons into the blender. Within five minutes he had a dirty, yellow liquid.

Andrey next went online, and downloaded some poster images of lemon rings. A couple dozen of these were printed up, soon to be dropped into a tray of liquidated, moldy lemons. The freshly-manufactured sheets of what Andrey now called, Moldy Lemon acid trips, were laid out on the countertop to fully dry. They would sit there for over four days until fully dry.

Of course there was no guarantee that an individual trip (small square of paper) of this Moldy Lemon acid would actually get a user off. This is why Andrey sat in his family room on a Friday night and laid a square of Moldy Lemon onto his tongue.

There was a subtle lemon flavor to the square of acid that left a slight tingling sensation to the tongue. Outside of that, the Moldy Lemon trip tasted nasty! It triggered that "shit-eating grin" that might be considered the body's way of urging, "Please do not eat/drink that!" But Andrey disobeyed the warning. He sucked all the juice from the square of paper and even swallowed the paper to ensure he received the full effect.

Andrey sat on the sofa and gazed out the glass patio door at the setting sun. It wouldn't be long before he started tripping. Maybe the sun would melt, or the stars would swirl and dance around in the sky. To be honest; Andrey never tripped on LSD, psilocybin, or mescaline. So he had no idea of what to expect. But within twenty minutes, Andrey received more than he bargained for!

Waves of nausea and cold sweat overcame Andrey that were so powerful that he had to run to the bathroom and vomit. From there he lay on the dirty, tiled floor while marveling at how ill he felt. He did this while staring at the flowered wall paper. And Andrey experienced stomach cramps like never before that were followed by uncontrollable diarrhea and more vomiting. It was necessary to lay cold washrags onto his forehead and neck.

"Ugh... I don't feel good at all!" cried Andrey. I feel like I'm dying..." And that was the moment when Andrey congratulated himself. "This must be some wicked acid! I actually believe that I'm dying! I'm freaking out really bad; tripping my balls off!"

Two days were necessary for Andrey to recover from his trip. This gave him plenty of time to plan the next step of his business venture. He had a wicked acid that people might be willing to pay top dollar for just to experience the same things that he did. But where could he find these people? There isn't a huge population of people walking the streets who are in search of acid.

Now at the time, The Grateful Dead was in the middle of a tour. And this was in recent years when the band continued to perform after the sad loss of Jerry Garcia (just a couple of years before the band officially broke up—to be precise). And it just so happened that the Grateful Dead would be performing in the nearby city where Andrey lived. Everybody knows that dead heads enjoy tripping on acid during Grateful Dead concerts! Surely they would enjoy Moldy Lemon acid trips.

But it would require Andrey to purchase tickets; something very difficult to do being that he had little money. That's when Andrey received another brilliant idea. He used Photoshop along with picture editing software to create a counterfeit ticket for the Grateful Dead. Upon printing it up, Andrey congratulated himself of how talented he was.

Oh, but the people taking tickets at the gate along with security were not fooled by Andrey's counterfeit ticket. "Sorry, sir; but it appears that this is counterfeit."

"Counterfeit??? What??? No way!" exclaimed Andrey.

"I'm afraid it is." answered the security guard. "We can't let you in. You need to make sure that you buy your tickets from reputable sources."

Nearly discouraged, Andrey could only walk away and stand at a nearby street corner where other concert goers with legitimate tickets for the Grateful Dead passed. Perhaps he could try selling his Moldy Lemon acid trips on the street corner.

Andrey inconspicuously stuck out his tongue while pretending to lay something on it—like a piece of paper. He would do this whenever a small group of dead heads passed. "Need some cid... Need some cid..." he whispered."

"No, man, we're okay. Thanks."

After ten minutes, Andrey finally found an interested pair of apparent dead heads. They approached Andrey, and excitedly asked, "Do you have some?"

"Yes I do!" affirmed Andrey. How much do you need?”

"Well is it real?" challenged one of the dead heads."I mean I don't want no paper in my mouth, if you know what I mean! Dudes get beat up pretty bad for stuff like that. We remember what you look like, and then come find you later. So is this stuff real?"

"Hell yeah it's real!" reassured Andrey. "I've got Moldy Lemon acid trips. But you better watch out! This stuff will make you trip your balls off your at least a couple of days."

"Yeah!" exclaimed one of the dead heads. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Let me tell you, I've had Green Curtains, Black Dragons, Bart Simpsons; but I've never tried Moldy Lemons! Hook me up, bro!"

"Sure thing!" acknowledged Andrey. So excited with his first sale of the evening, he reached into his backpack for a small, plastic bag of individual squares of paper. Maybe these dead heads would spread the word so that more would come to find Andrey.

"Twenty dollars!" declared Andrey.

With that, one of the dead heads opened his wallet and presented a police badge. "Sir, you're under arrest for possession and intent to distribute controlled substances."

"What???" exclaimed Andrey. "No!!! This isn't even real LSD!"

"That's not what you said a moment ago." said the other office while placing handcuffs on Andrey.

***

And so children; what does it all mean? What can we learn from this story?

When life hands you moldy lemons; make fake LSD out of it, and then print up counterfeit tickets to a Grateful Dead concert that doesn't include the late Jerry Garcia. Sell that fake LSD to undercover narcotics agents.

Either that, or throw them out!

The End!

Camp Alien Abduction

Hello All:
Just a warning to those who have opted to enjoy the ending of summer by venturing to a cottage in the northern woods: This is only an invitation to be abducted by aliens! You see, when people spend time in remote areas, they soon become targets of alien abductions. And when aliens abduct, there's no telling what they might do!
Have a great weekend! And unless you want to be abducted by aliens, don't venture to a cottage in the northern woods!

Camp Alien Abduction

It would be a night of terror for a family of four who simply stopped at a small campsite for the night while en route to their next summer vacation destination. It was a peculiar camp site that offered nothing more than four small log cabins—without bathrooms—that were nestled into the surrounding forest. There was a main office located up front at the entrance with in-ground pool behind it for guests to enjoy some leisurely swimming.

Upon arriving, Father parked the family van in front of the office. Both he and Mother exited and head for the building to see if they could stay for the night. To keep the air conditioning circulating on that hot afternoon; the van was left running with thirteen-year-old Susan in the backseat, and her ten-year-old little brother, Brian.

"They have a pool!" pointed little Brian. "I want to go swimming!"

"Me too!" said Susan.

The family had been driving for over seven hours. It was mid-afternoon, and both kids certainly could have used some fun and exercise.

"I just want to get out of this seat and walk around!" complained Susan.

"I have to go pee!" further added Brian.

Just then, Susan spotted something creepy behind a nearby tree that she, at first, thought was an animal. "What the heck is that?" shouted Susan while pointing in the creature's direction.

Brian looked over just in time to see its boney-gray face with large, bug-like eyes that stared at the van before turning and running off. It was then that both kids could see that the creature had humanoid features with two long and thin legs and matching wiry arms. It didn't wear clothes. Its skin appeared clay-like and slimy.

The kids screamed in near terror.

"What was that?" cried Brian.

"I don't know!" answered Susan while hyperventilating and holding back the tears.

If the kids didn't know any better, they could have sworn that the creature was an extra terrestrial from outer space.

Five minutes later, as Brian and Susan sat fearful and motionless in the van, Mother and Father returned with paperwork that apparently served as the agreement to stay at the campground for the night.

"They have a cabin for us!" announced Mother upon sitting down in the passenger seat.

"We don't want to stay here!" cried Susan.

"Well why not?" challenged Mother.

"We saw something run out into the woods!" answered Susan.

"Yeah, it was hiding behind the tree and watching us! Then it ran back into the forest!" added Brian.

"It looked like an alien!" concluded Susan while nearly in tears.

Father laughed while backing out of the parking spot. "Alien? Come-on! It was probably just a raccoon or a deer."

"No, it was walking. It was gray and slimy."

Father laughed all the harder. "It looks like you kids need to spend more time outdoors. There are all kinds of things living in the forest like deer, possum and raccoons. And raccoons do have an ability to walk on their hind feet. Maybe that’s what you saw. Now about these cabins; they’re supposed to be really nice with air conditioning and everything. And as you can see, they have a pool."

"Mom, I have to pee!" announced little Brian.

"You can go in the woods once we arrive at the cabin." answered Father. "But hopefully something doesn't sneak up on you and grab you while you're out there!"

Mother slapped Father. "Don't scare him like that!"

"They don't have bathrooms in these log cabins?" asked Susan.

"They have a building, nearby, with showers and toilets. You can go there if needed." answered Mother.

"Oh great! So I have to walk through the dark at night if I want to go to the bathroom." complained Susan.

Not more than two minutes later, the van approached the small cabin which sat atop a slight land elevation. From a distance it looked so isolated... something a bit eerie. The dense forest of pine trees surrounded the cabin from behind. There was a large, open yard in front of the cabin that was void of trees. This, obviously, was the place to make bonfires. The fire pit, after all, was located there.

"It's nice and open." pointed Father. "Tonight when we sit around the fire and roast weenies, we can look up at the stars in the sky."

"I bet it's beautiful." added Mother.

"Where can I go to the bathroom at?" asked Brian as Father put the van in park.

"I have to go, too." answered Father. "Come-on, let's find a nearby tree to go."

Father and Brian strolled a short distance away from the cabin to the surrounding pine trees. There, they found a couple of trees to pee behind. As Brian relieved himself, he suddenly heard movement out in the forest. It sounded like people approaching as their feet stepped on and crunched fallen pinecones or dead branches. Was it the humanoid creature that he and Susan had seen only moments ago?

"Dad, somebody's coming!" warned Bryan.

"We're the only people staying here for the night." reassured Father. "Now like I said; there are all sorts of animals living out here in the forest. It's probably a family of deer walking around."

Inside the log cabin, Mother and Susan set the cooler down in the small kitchenette area.

"Good thing we stopped and filled the cooler with ice." said Mother. "They didn't have any at the front office. But this should keep everything cold for the night." Mother next pointed in the direction of the smaller bedroom. "That will be the room that you and Brian sleep in tonight."

Susan scuffed over to her and Brian's room. It was nothing more than two bunk beds and a small window that faced the woods. It wasn't like she was going to live in the small bedroom throughout the entire stay. It would certainly do for sleeping. But she was beginning to hate the wooden paneling on the surrounding walls and ceiling. The entire log cabin was decorated with this paneling. It had large knots embedded in it. And when two knots were paired together, it reminded Susan of a pair of eyes that watched her. And at that very moment, the eyes made her recall the creepy, humanoid creature that she and Brian had seen several minutes ago. If that weren't enough, some of these pairs of knots were surrounded by natural patterns in the wood that looked like grotesque faces... like the faces of extra terrestrials from outer space! It was almost as-if someone had deliberately installed this paneling just to disturb people.

"I hate this paneling!" complained Susan to her Mother. "It looks like a bunch of eyes watching me."

Just then, Father and Brian entered the cabin.

"Ah! They have the air conditioning running for us!" exclaimed Father. Then he suggested, "Since the front office and pool closes at five o'clock, what do you say we get in some swimming?"

"YEAH!" cheered Brian. "Mom, do you have my trunks?"

"It's in the suitcase over there." pointed Mother.

Father continued, "After our swim we'll do a nice hike in the forest. By then, we'll be hungry for dinner and I'll start up the campfire for the night."

Ten minutes later, the family was in their swimwear. Of course poor Susan had to endure a dozen pair of alien eyes on the paneling that watched her undress and slip into her bikini. As for the pool, it was rectangular with diving board at the deep end. Both Susan and Brian spent about an hour practicing their dives. Towards the end of their afternoon swim they played with the inflatable toys that were actually flying saucer rafts and strange, extra terrestrial creatures. Imagine that!

By five o'clock, the family had been ordered by campsite management to leave the pool because it was closed for the day. And the same would be said for the front office. For the remainder of the evening, they would be the only people on the campground.

It was no problem for Mother, Father, Susan and Brian. They simply moved to phase two of the evening's plan by going for a nice, family stroll through the pine forest. By then it was late afternoon and approaching six o'clock. The forest sheltered the family from the late afternoon sun. The scenery was complete with rolling hills and large moss-covered boulder that stacked up along the trail. There were peaceful streams that snaked throughout the woods. And of course they saw cute, little creatures such as squirrels, chipmunks and bunnies.

But at some point in their stroll, the family learned that they were not alone. Initially, from a distance, it looked as though maybe construction crews were doing maintenance on some of the trails. There was what looked to be heavy machinery from a distance. But as the family came closer, it was evident that they were looking at the site of a recently-crashed aircraft.

"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Mother. "I wonder if anyone is hurt. We better call 911." She said this as the family drew closer and closer to the wreckage. Moving figures which were assumed to be surviving passengers could be seen in a distance scattering about.

Father quickly pulled out his phone. "Oh shoot! I don't have service!"

"Not even roam?" asked Mother.

"Nope..."

"Let me try mine." said Mother as she removed the phone from her pocket. By now, the family was close enough to make out features of the surviving passengers. But only Susan and Brian paid attention to this as Mother and Father struggled with finding signal for their phones.

From what Susan and Brian could make of it, there was something terribly wrong with the people near the wreckage. They weren't human! And they looked, exactly, like the creepy, humanoid creature that had been seen near the parking lot earlier that afternoon.

"Oh no!" cried out Susan. "Mom...? Dad...? I told you there were aliens in this place."

"Honey, what are you talking about?" asked Father with a note of annoyance. But as he looked ahead, he could finally see that the aircraft crash was truly out-of-the-ordinary! "Well what do we have here?" exclaimed Father with a tone of excited curiosity. "I can't believe it... Kids, do you know what this is...? This is an alien spaceship that has crashed. We're looking at aliens from another planet!"

Just then, Mother's cell phone made a series of strange pulses and noises. Somehow her phone had been set to speaker mode so that everyone could hear. The pulses and eerie noise were followed by a strange elf-like chatter.

"I think they are trying to communicate with us." suggested Mother. "This is so scary. We need to get out of here."

"No, let's get some pictures!" urged Father. "No one would ever believe us if we told them." He quickly approached the wreckage where the frantic extra terrestrial creatures scattered about."

"Oh, please be careful, Hun!" called out Mother.

A message loudly came through Mother's phone. This time it was in clear English. It said, "Warning! You are about to be taken captive by extra terrestrial beings!"

With that, a large group of extra terrestrials stormed towards the direction of the family.

Mother, Susan and Bryan let out bloodcurdling screams before running off in the opposite direction. Father quickly joined them while shouting, "Run! Run for your lives! They're serious! They have some kind of ray guns!"

Father was right! No sooner had he said that, the sounds of high-pitched lasers could be heard that seemed to ricochet throughout the forest. Nobody dared to look behind them. There was no telling what would happen if the aliens reached them.

The family huffed and puffed and ran with all their might until reaching the cabin. By then Bryan and Susan looked behind them. The extra terrestrials were no longer there.

With blood pumped, sweaty face—huffing and puffing—Father said, "Well I think we definitely got our exercise in for today. And I'm starting to get hungry. How about you?"

"We need to get out of here!" squealed frightened Susan. "They'll just come after us!"

"Good point." agreed Father while continuing to huff and puff. Let's get in the van and get out of here."

Once loaded in the van, Father backed out and took the campsite trail back to the entrance.

But what was this?

"You've got to be kidding me!" exclaimed Father. "The gate is locked! There's no way out of here!"

"Dad, smash through the gate!" suggested Brian.

"No, I'm not going to smash through the gate!" snapped Father. "They'll only charge us for the damages in the morning! Do you really think that people will believe us when we say that aliens were chasing us through the forest? I see it all the time on TV. Nobody believes reports of aliens."

"What are we going do?" asked Mother.

"Alright, look..." began Father. "...Chances are that the aliens only gave us a warning to stay away. We saw something that we shouldn't have seen, and were a little more curious than we should have been. I think if we just stay near our cabin and make our bonfire—cook our weenies and bratwurst for the evening—and then go to bed; we should be alright. They'll leave us alone."

With that, Father head back to the cabin. And as promised, there were no extra terrestrials waiting for them.

The early part of the evening was mostly uneventful as the family sat around the campfire after dinner, spraying themselves with Deep Woods Off in hopes to prevent the onslaught of mosquitoes. They had hoped to snack on s'mores for dessert, but Mother forgot to pack chocolate bars. The family, instead, had to eat roasted marshmallows that were sandwiched between graham crackers—not a terrible thing, really.

Just before retiring for the evening, around quarter to eleven, the strange lights in the sky began. They looked like slow-moving meteors of eerie colors; green, blue and pink streaks of light that seemed to originate from the sky and then hover in a swirling fashion around the area where the crashed alien spacecraft was spotted.

"It looks like they were able to contact the mother ship for help." speculated Father. "I bet by tomorrow that the wreckage will be all gone; not a trace of it anywhere."

"This is unbelievable." stated Mother. "Who would ever expect to see something—experience something—like this?"

Just then, some movement could be heard out in the forest.

Susan gasped.

Brian nearly cried, "I'm scared. I think they're coming for us."

"That might be just a warning for us to go inside." speculated Father a second time. "I'm pretty sure they know we are out here, and trying to stay out of their way. But maybe they need to do something out here that we can't see. Let's die this fire out and go to bed. Like I said; by morning, they will probably all be gone and we can get out of here."

Twenty minutes later, as the family lay in their beds in the cabin; a series of strange noises suddenly could be heard from Mother's cell phone.

Terrified, both Brian and Susan scurried into Mother and Father's bedroom. "It's happening again?"asked Susan.

Then, an audible message that was just like the one they had received while in the forest that afternoon came through Mother's phone. It was loud and clear, "Warning! You are about to be abducted by extra terrestrials!"

Susan and Brian let out bloodcurdling screams while running about the cabin in search of a place to hide. All the windows in cabin as well as the microscopic cracks between the walls let in a bright, green light. There must have been an alien spacecraft outside. Whoever manned it, must have found where the terrified family was hiding for the night.

While this happened, there was a loud knock on the door.

"I better answer that!" declared Father.

"Daddy, no!" urged Susan. "It's a trick! It's the aliens!"

"Nah!" argued Father. "It's probably only camp management. See the lights out there? They probably drove up here to warn us about the crash out in the woods.”

Father opened the door and stepped outside. There were several seconds of silence before Father poked his head in the cabin. "Everyone come outside!"

Mother cautiously escorted Susan and Brian outside as Father ordered. Standing there were several alien-appearing creatures with long, thin legs, wiry arms, and large bug-like eyes. They wore no clothing to cover their gray and slimy skin. There was a small flying saucer planted in the ground, nearby, with walking plank extended out. Bright, green lights illuminated the entire area.

"They want to take us onboard their ship for simple tests." explained Father. "At least they are being nice. They could have come in the cabin while we were sleeping and took us by force. They said it will be quick and painless. Come-on..." invited Father. "Let's get this over with so we can go back to bed."

It was the cue for the several alien creatures to lead Mother, Father, Susan and Brian onboard the flying saucer which was nothing more than silver walls, inside, with cushioned seating that surrounded a middle column. There were two carts with various types of medical equipment sitting on them.

The family was gestured to sit down. With everyone finally seated, the alien creatures wasted not a moment in examining their human subjects. They poked them with strange instruments; examined their ears and eyes with magnifiers; took small clippings of hair. In comparison to most alien abduction reports, this one was fairly non-invasive. But then a small computer screen with cable that seemed to be connected to Mother's lower abdomen was held out in front of the family. The image appeared to be that of an ultrasound which yielded a fetus.

"Look at that kids!" exclaimed Father. "It looks like you will soon have a baby brother in the near future. But it's going to be a baby alien! The aliens impregnated your mother!"

It was then that Susan and Brian could make out the features of a deformed fetus that appeared alien-like.

And that was the end of the family's terrifying ordeal. They were shuffled off the spaceship and escorted back to their cabin where Father closed the door and turned off the lights.

"I guess we have nothing left to be afraid of." pointed Father. "We were abducted by aliens. We can go to bed, now."

***

The following morning, Father drove to the front office with family all packed in the van and ready to leave. But it wasn't necessary to park and go inside. The owner of the camp simply approached the driver side and asked Father, "Ready to leave?"

"Yes sir!" acknowledged Father.

"So how was everything?" probed the owner. "Everything to your liking?"

"Oh, it was spectacular!" declared Father. "It was everything I could have ever imagined!" With that he handed the key over.

"Well thanks for visiting." said the owner. "Come back, again."

As the family drove off, Susan and Brian noticed—for the first time—the large sign off the highway that read, "Camp Alien Abduction: close encounter fun for the whole family!" It gave Susan and Brian something to think about while riding into town for breakfast. Did Mother and Father play a mean prank on them while on vacation?

The End

Lovey the Clown

Hello All:

Perhaps you recall about a year ago my mention of a robin in my backyard that fell under a terrible spell of delusionment. He spent the entire weekend, pecking and head butting the windows that faced our backyard. By the end of the weekend, our windows were covered with bird saliva, grinded up beak and even blood.

And why was he doing this?

Well, understand that robins—just like all birds during the mating/nesting season—are territorial. If a robin has a nest nearby, he won't stand for having another robin invade his territory. Birds don't understand reflections in the glass. And as far as the delusioned robin in my backyard was concerned, the reflection that he saw was a threat to his territory.

"SMACK...! SMACK...! SMACK...!" He never gave up. He might have even died in his ongoing battle with the phantom bird.

I believe that people, unfortunately, do the same thing. We spend much of our lives interpreting the world around us and injecting our own perceptions to form an individualized reality. Preconceptions, inferences, prejudices, unfounded conclusions, and the expectations that we have on other people; they all form a nightmarish funhouse of a never-ending maze of mirrors. Will we ever be able to see beyond the reflections and understand reality as it truly is?

It should become our objective at some point in a lifetime to smash through these mirrors and banish those phantoms that haunt us day after day. We can do this by transforming the mind so that it is like a still body of water that reflects the surrounding world. Perhaps when we reflect the outside world instead of presenting  our own reflections to that nightmarish funhouse that we've created, we can finally see reality as it truly is.

***

Today's featured writing is a brand new clown story for you. I mentioned in the last clown story that if we every want to move forward with clown literature, we need to move away from John Wayne Gayce and Pennywise the Clown. I do this in today's story.

I bring you, Lovey the Clown.

Lovey the Clown

Charles is a lonely, old man who never married. He’s had only two women in younger years that could remotely be considered partners in romance. He attributes his bad luck with women to the fact that he is ugly. You see; Charles has always been ugly, starting with his deformed lips that make a nasty hair lip which exposes his gangly, yellow teeth. Then there’s his terribly scarred-up face that was brought on by bad acne in teenage years.

But one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Although ugly, Charles is a really, nice guy. He is so kind, caring and good natured with a great sense of humor. But what about those two lovers from younger years? If Charles was such a great guy, why didn’t they stay with him?

Well, maybe those young women weren’t so great, themselves.

There was Annie, a pretty girl in high school who dated Charles for only about a week. It was the first girl that Charles had ever kissed. But he managed to get only one from her—a simple peck to his nasty, deformed hair lip that exposes his gangly, yellow teeth.

“You never kissed a girl?” she asked while sitting next to Charles on a park bench late one night.

“No…”

“Mwah!”

It was over before Charles realized what happened!

Really, Annie only dated Charles to get even with her boyfriend who supposedly cheated on her. Once jealousy had been triggered in this boy, and he seemed to learn his lesson, Annie ended the short-lived romance with poor Charles.

Then, shortly after graduating high school, there was Stacy; a beaten and battered young and chubby brunette with very, low self esteem who simply needed a rest from being physically abused by her boyfriend. Charles became involved with Stacy shortly after her wrist had been broken from being shoved to the ground during a beating.

“I feel so comfortable and relaxed with you.” she professed while sitting across the booth from Charles at Denny’s, and eating her slice of pumpkin pie.

“I hope so…” answered Charles. “And I just want you to know that you make me so happy.”

“Where have you been my whole life?” asked Stacy. “For so many years I’ve been with jerk guys. I never realized that what I needed was a nice guy like you.”

The relationship with Stacy lasted longer than the one with Annie. But so disappointing; Charles never managed to kiss Stacy. He tried, once, but she turned her face so that Charles could only kiss her cheek. His nasty, deformed hair lip that exposed his gangly, yellow teeth must have turned Stacy off.  There was, however, plenty of hugging and cuddling in their relationship. At one point Charles believed that he could make love to Stacy through just hugging and cuddling.

The entire romance lasted from November of that year, all the way to April of the following. But alas, one early evening in spring, Stacy made an unbelievable announcement. “I think I want to go back to him.”

“Go back to him? No! Why? He beat you!”

“I think he’s changed.” Stacy rebutted. “He came over to see me the other night, and I think he’s had some time to think about things. He told me he’s sorry. I can’t deny that I love him, and want to give him another chance.”

Charles was dumbfounded. He wanted to cry out, “Well what about us?” But he realized what most rebound men of abused women soon discover: battered women always crawl back for more.

And more she received! Two weeks after returning to her abusive boyfriend, Stacy was beaten into a coma and died two days later.

Poor Charles was grief stricken and heartbroken. He loved Stacy, obviously more than her murderous boyfriend. And at the funeral home he couldn’t even view her in the casket, for it was closed. You see; the beating was so severe that Stacy’s physical appearance would have deeply disturbed mourners.

There are some who say that those who appear the happiest and laugh the most are actually masking sadness. I suppose this might have been what happened with Charles. Some months after much grief, Charles’ depressed personality suddenly changed into that of a comedian. He joked and put on hysterical performances for family and friends. Some people even suggested that he go into the business of entertainment.

But instead of using his newfound talent to explore professional entertainment, Charles landed a job as an overnight janitor at the local department store. He remained there for several years. Charles never bothered going to college, or pursuing greater career options. He lived with his parents, remained single and never bothered to date women. As poor Charles understood, he was too ugly for romance. And he truly believed that Stacy was the one and only woman meant for him.

Then, one morning as Charles drove the floor buffer machine through the main aisle of the Men’s clothing department, he saw an unbelievable sight. A young woman who looked, exactly, like his murdered Stacy walked along the perimeter aisle of the Men’s clothing department, and over to Children’s. She didn’t even bother to take notice of him. Perhaps she felt that someone riding a floor buffer machine was a loser—someone clearly out of his league. Then again, maybe she just didn’t see him.

Charles wasn’t going to take any chances. He was definitely interested in the young woman, but realized he had to go about matters carefully. How to approach the young woman without revealing his hideous appearance and sad circumstance in life; he pondered this in anguish—morning after morning, week after week—as he watched her enter the department, seemingly without taking notice of him. Why would she? Charles was an ugly nobody.

Then, one night upon awakening from a dream—a dream in which Charles worked as a circus clown—he came up with the perfect solution. “I will dress up as a clown!” he exclaimed. “I will disguise my ugliness with the brilliant colors of a clown. I will cover my scarred up face with paint. I will figure out a way hide my nasty hair lip that exposes my gangly, yellow teeth; and paint a smile on my face.”

And so Charles spent many nights before the mirror, creating the most brilliant clown ensemble for himself. Now approaching his late twenties, his hair was terribly thinning—nearly bald. This was now masked by wearing a shaggy, blue clown wig that he managed to spike and fluff up so that it resembled one of those troll pencil toppers. His scarred and hideous face was entirely painted with the color pink; red-colored rose flowers and hearts painted on each cheek to symbolize his longing for romance. To rid himself of the nasty hair lip, Charles used costume clay to patch it up; and then used red paint to create a large smile. Finally, Charles dressed up in an outdated, oversized, green suit with blazer that was extra long. It was worn over a white shirt with obnoxious checkered neck tie. He looked, exactly, like a ridiculous clown.

***

On a Monday morning, Charles seemed to appear out of nowhere and stood at the cash register in his clown ensemble.

The young woman who resembled Stacy from years ago had her back turned for only a moment. When she turned back to the cash register, there was a clown standing before her. “Oh my gosh! What the…?”

“Hello there beautiful, young lady! I’m Lovey the Clown! He held out his white-gloved hand in a motion to shake.

Cautiously, the young woman fit her hand into his. “I’m Erin…” But before she could finish her sentence…

“BUZZ!”

Something tickled and zapped Erin’s hand. “Aggggghhhhh! What was that?” she asked.

Lovey the Clown laughed, “I’m just full of gags like that!” Then he asked, “Did you say your name is Erin?”

“Yes…”

“Erin; that’s a pretty name.”

“Well thank you!” Erin was unsure of how to react. Standing before her was a clown who—just like all clowns—found it necessary to pull obnoxious gags on people. But he also complimented her; greeted her as “beautiful, young lady” and then told Erin that her name is pretty. If she didn’t know any better, this clown was really sweet.

“I have something for you—just for you.” Lovey announced.

“What? What is it?” asked Erin.

Lovey reached into the inner pocket of his oversized, green blazer and pulled out a red rose.

“Awe… So sweet…” Erin’s heart nearly melted.

But just as she reached for it, a stream of cold water sprayed from the center of the flower.

“Ugggghhhh!” she exclaimed while wiping the water off her face.

“I’m the funniest clown you’ll ever get to know!”

“I don’t know whether to be annoyed or laugh!” Erin said. “But I think I’ll laugh. I need a little humor in my life. You’re a very, funny clown.”

“Well thank you.” said Lovey. Then Lovey did something that he thought he would never do—at least not for some weeks or even months. Perhaps it was the clown ensemble and the ability to hide behind his persona that provided him with the boldness. Lovey asked, “Well if you want to laugh some more, maybe you can give me your number. I’ll call you and give you plenty of great jokes!”

“Are you asking me for my number?” Erin asked.

“Absolutely!”

Erin pushed the receipt feed on the cash register and tore off some blank paper. Then she wrote down her number. “Don’t call me at work!” she warned. “I can get in trouble. Call me in the late afternoon or in the evening when I’m home.”

“You’ve got it! And I’m honored to have the number of such a beautiful, young lady. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Erin…”

Later that night, Charles sat in his bedroom in just ordinary clothes and without the clown make-up. He spoke on the phone with his newfound friend who he hoped would soon be his girlfriend. But while speaking to Erin, Charles learned of her sad circumstance.

“...Yeah, my mom is terminally ill with COPD. She’s home on life support—a ventilator. Both my brother and sister moved out of state, and my father died a few years ago. It’s just me, all alone, to take care of my dying mother.”

“Awe… that’s sad… that’s very sad.” commented Charles. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Erin continued, “Now you know what I mean when I said that I needed some humor in my life. I guess I could use a clown to cheer me up.”

“Well that’s what I’m going to do!” reassured Charles. “But you know, I was thinking; maybe you need more than just a clown to tell you jokes and make you laugh. Maybe you need to get out of the house for a few hours—have dinner and see a movie.”

“You mean like a date?” asked Erin.

“Yes, a date!”

“Sure…” agreed Erin. “When would you want to go out?”

“How about we go out this upcoming Friday night?” suggested Charles. “How about I pick you up at 7:00? I’ll think of something.”

“7:00 would be great!”

***

When Charles said that he would think of something, Erin might have interpreted this to mean that he would think of a place to go for dinner, and decide on the movie to see. But this is not what Charles meant. Charles was referring to picking her up. You see; although Charles has his driver’s license, he doesn’t own a car. He walks everywhere, even to work.

“Dad?”

Charles still lives at home with his parents and entered the family room after ending his call with Erin.

“Dad?”

“Yes, what it is, son?”

“I’ve got a date Friday night with a really, nice girl from work.”

“You do? What’s her name?”

“Erin…”

“Well good for you!” congratulated Father. “Do you need some money?”

“No, I was going to ask if I could borrow the car.”

Father sighed, “Son, unfortunately your mother and I are going to a wedding reception on Friday night. I’d let you use the other car, but we only have one.”

Charles sighed, “Oh no… I hope I don’t have to cancel my date with Erin.”

“Well, maybe you can buy a car before Friday and take her out in that.” suggested Father.

“Hmm… I’ll have to think of something.”

Soon, Charles telephoned his good friend, Sam.

“Hello?” the voice of Sam greeted.

“Sam, this is Charles.”

“Hey man, what’s up?”

Charles began, “I need a favor.”

“Sure, what do you need?” asked Sam.

“I’ve got a date on Friday night. My Dad said I can’t use the car. Could I borrow yours?”

Sam sighed over the phone. “I’m afraid I can’t do that; not for Friday. Sherry and I are going to a concert. I need my car.” Then Sam thought of an idea. You see; he’s a garbage man, and has access to plenty of garbage trucks. Might he have been able to allow his good friend to borrow one for Friday night? “Hey…” began Sam. “You don’t mind what sort of vehicle that you take your date out in, do you?”

“No, anything is fine as long as it gets me from point A to point B.” answered Charles.

“Well if I show you how to drive one, would you be interested in borrowing a garbage truck?”

“A garbage truck?” asked Charles. “You mean one of those big and noisy trucks that pull up in front of the houses to collect garbage?”

“Yup!” answered Sam. “Are you interested?”

“Sure! It’s a little awkward, but maybe my date will get a kick out of it.”

***

“He’s a clown, Mom. That’s all I know about him.”

It was Friday evening, about 6:45 pm as Erin stood over her mother’s bed. Poor Mother was nearly lifeless as she lay there and listened to her daughter give the details of her Friday night date. Right near the bed, the annoying hum of the machine could be heard as it pumped and supplied necessary, life-sustaining oxygen to a terminally-ill COPD patient.

 “... a clown… a clown is coming here…? Mother whispered through the oxygen mask.

“That’s what he does… I think…” answered Erin.

“... you think…?”

“I don’t know, Mother!” argued Erin. “He’s just a guy who is taking me out on a date. It’s just a date, nothing serious! Can’t I go out on a simple date?”

“... but he’s a clown…”

“So!” snapped Erin.

“... you shouldn’t trust clowns… they hide their evil intentions by being funny…”

“Oh Mother! You’re crazy, you know that?”

With a shaky hand and finger, Mother weakly gestured her daughter to come closer. “... come here…”

Erin did as her mother ordered. “What, what is it?”

“... please don’t stay out late… come home at a decent time…”

“I promise, Mom. I’ll be home before midnight.”

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

“It’s him!” exclaimed Erin. She dashed out of the bedroom, down the hallway and over to the front door.

From the bedroom, Mother listened carefully.

“Oh my gosh! You wore your clown costume…! Come on in… Meet my mother…”

Seconds later, in walked Erin with A CLOWN following behind her.

“... good heavens…” whispered Mother behind the oxygen mask.

“Well hello there beautiful, young lady I’m Lovey the Clown!”

“... save your flattery…” whispered Mother. Terminally ill, she wasn’t feeling so young and beautiful.

“Can I call you, Mom?” asked Lovey.

“... I never gave birth to a clown…” whispered Mother.

“Oh Mother! Don’t be so grumpy!” argued Erin. Then she looked over to the clown. “Come on, Lovey. Let’s get going.”

“Sure thing!”

And with that, both Erin and Lovey the Clown left the room.

But seconds later, the clown danced and pranced back into the bedroom and rushed over to Mother’s bed. He brought his face close to hers and reassured, “Don’t you worry about a thing! I’ll have her home before midnight!” He quickly turned and dashed out of the bedroom. But while doing so, Lovey tripped over the fish hose that ran from the oxygen machine to the mask on Mother’s face. This pulled the hose out from the machine which meant that Mother would no longer receive her much-needed oxygen.

At first Mother didn’t realize what the clown had done. It wasn’t until the front door closed—Erin out for the evening—that she began to feel the effects of lacking oxygen. “... what…? She turned her face over towards the machine and could see the hose yanked out. “... help… help…” she whispered. Mother was too weak to sit up let alone try and repair the yanked-out house. “... help… Erin… I should have never trusted a clown…”

Meanwhile, outside, Erin laughed and laughed at the sight of Lovey’s crazy ride—a garbage truck. The engine noisily rattled and clunked as it sat parked in the street.

“We’ll be cruising in style, tonight!” boldly declared Lovey. “Come-on, let’s check this baby out!” Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger side door and motioned Erin to climb aboard. But before she put her foot on the ladder, Lovey stopped her. “Wait! I feel like dancing, don’t you?”

“Dancing?” asked Erin with a queer expression.

“Sure! I just so happen to have a transportable dance floor for us. Come-on!” He motioned Erin to the back of the garbage truck where he pushed the hydraulic control lever to lower the packer blade from the trash hopper. Inside, there was an illuminated, battery-operated disco ball hanging from the ceiling. On the floor was a retro, portable stereo which might have been referred to as a “ghetto blaster” back in its day.

Lovey climbed into the hopper and pressed the play button on the tape deck. He began to dance at the sound of the music.

Outside the hopper, Erin laughed at the crazy clown who actually converted a garbage truck into his own, personal nightclub. How was all of this possible? Where did he get his hands on a garbage truck?

“Come on in!” shouted Lovey. “Let’s dance!”

At first, Erin hesitated. She shook her head and pushed her hands out in an effort to communicate, no.

“Come on!” urged Lovey. “It’s fun! You’ve got to get used to doing crazy stuff like this!”

Erin shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and then carefully climbed into the hopper to be with Lovey. Soon the two danced. They danced and danced like never before.

About ten minutes passed when Lovey suggested, “You want something to drink?”

“What?” shouted Erin over the music.

“Do you want me to go to the bar and get something to drink?”

Dumbfounded, Erin stared at the clown for about a second. “Sure…”

Lovey climbed out of the hopper and left his date inside. He only intended on going up to the front of the truck to grab Erin a drink. But then something bad happened. While climbing down, his foot pressed the hydraulic control lever which began to move the large packer blade inside and towards the back.

“Oh no! Stop!” shouted Lovey as he struggled with the hydraulic controls.

A jolt of adrenaline and fear spiked through Erin’s veins as she realized that the situation had become dangerous “Hey!” she screamed while running towards the front. But it was too late! The large packer blade took up the entire entrance of the hopper and continued to move towards the back. If it continued moving, Erin would be crushed to death!

Desperately, Lovey tried to stop and reverse the packer blade. But there was something wrong. One might think that simply shifting the hydraulic control in the opposite direction would reverse the blade. But the control was apparently under some sort of automatic reset in which the packer blade would make an entire sweep inwards and then out.

“STOP! STOP!” Lovey cried out while running up to the front of the garbage truck. He reached up to the driver console and turned the engine off. But wouldn’t you know it? For some reason, the hopper and packer blade were under battery control. The blade continued to move deeply inwards until it stopped on its own volition. Then it reversed and inched its way out and to the back.

Horrified, Lovey observed the mangled and crushed remains of Erin mixed with a smashed ghetto blaster and battery operated disco light.

***

The following morning, the news reported the shocking report to the world. “Police walked into a gruesome murder last night. They say that a man dressed up as a clown entered an elderly woman’s home who was terminally-ill with COPD. He apparently removed the hose from an oxygen supply pump, effectively killing her. Then he murdered her daughter by crushing her to death in the back of a garbage truck. Police say it’s the most bizarre clown-style murder that they have ever seen.”

THE END!

White Hole

 White Hole

White hole: the theoretical posterior of a black hole—the discharging end of where one universe's devoured cosmic energy and matter is ejected into a new universe. Some scientists theorize that a black hole is a collapsing or imploding star that began its new existence by grabbing onto nearby mass and energy. The end result is an eternal implosion that gets larger and larger. White holes are a feasible theory when considering the mystery of where all that devoured matter and energy goes. It has sometimes been theorized that our own universe was created by a star in another universe that died out, imploded and fed life into our own by delivering astronomical amounts of mass and energy through the receiving end of the black hole; the white hole.

I woke up this morning not looking forward to facing the day. The previous evening I learned that because of a minor flaw in financing, one of my real estate buyers would be unable to close on a listing of mine. Worse yet, this created a domino effect that killed a double whammy transaction. The buyer was supposed to purchase a listing of mine, and the sellers of mine were supposed to purchase another home I had sold them. Losing the sale was only half of the grief. I also felt guilty because three couples—possibly four—had learned that they were not going to close. I believed that I was the one who was supposed to make things happen for these people. Imagine waking up one morning with such horrible thoughts of guilt before even putting your feet on the floor.

In further frustration and hopelessness, I began to beat myself down while reminding myself that for a couple months I hadn't seen a sale. Was real estate the job for me? Then, just as I rolled over to push myself out of bed, I glanced at the floor and noticed a Christmas ornament that had somehow fallen from the tree months ago, and ended up near my bed. It had about a dozen braids of gold that when hung as a decoration would look like a golden icicle. The way it laid there, it reminded me of an ancient statue called the Hindu Dance of Creation. This suggestion catapulted me into speculating the different theories of how the universe was constructed which did give me some sort of relief from the despair I was feeling.

Suddenly, I remembered a dream from the previous night in which I was way out in space and observed an enormous hole radiating the most beautiful, brilliant, white light I had ever seen. It was likened to being a tiny bug in a swimming pool that observed the jet end of water shooting out of a pool filter. I could actually see the light as bubbling mass that ran out like water and flowed all over the cosmos.

That's when it hit me! Inside of me was a black hole that consumed all of my energy. It definitely felt like a dying star. But there had to be receiving end to the black hole, right? With this speculation in mind, I declared that every time a real estate deal fell apart, or my luck seemed to be down; I would become a white hole in space that radiates light and energy comparable to trillions of suns. New life... New Energy... A NEW UNIVERSE INSIDE OF ME!

I sprang up (but was careful not to wake the wife) and went to the kitchen to make coffee. "Look at all that mass and energy converting grinded beans into coffee!"

I poured milk into my cup and was amazed, "Look at the gravity pulling the mass out of this milk jug!"

Only moments ago I was careful not to wake my wife while getting out of bed. But now I had to wake her just to show her the wonderful phenomenon.

"Honey, wake up! Look!"

She looked confused and concerned as to why I woke her up.

"This milk jug represents an entire universe of mass and energy trapped in a black hole. The gravity on the outside is like a white hole when I tip the jug over and pour the milk into the glass! See how the milk jug is a beautiful white hole in space, radiating an astronomical amount of mass and energy!"

She nearly smacked me on the head. "You woke me up for that?"

***

Later that day I visited a potential client to present a market evaluation. The husband and wife wished to sell their home and were curious of its market price. But why not sneak in a little sales presentation along with it? Among the items used for this presentation were a few small containers of milk. This was going to be a new tactic that I called "White Hole Marketing". It would bring new life into my usual, boring sales pitches.

"So what are you going to do when your home has been for sale for a long time?”It's priced right, and you're getting all the exposure with no offers? Are you going to feel down? What are you going to do when you are a few weeks from closing and find out that the buyer lost his job and can't close on your home? Are you going to fall into despair? No you are not! You will become the receiving end of a black hole way out in space. You will be like a white hole radiating new energy comparable to trillions of suns. See this small container of milk? This container represents you; an entire universe! The milk represents all your hopes and dreams. But what do you do when your hopes and dreams are smashed to pieces like me throwing the container of milk on the floor and jumping on it like this..."

I threw the container of milk on the floor and jumped on it which made the container explode and spray milk out all over the kitchen. I grabbed another and another and repeated so the seller would get the idea, "See... you are a beautiful white hole in space... THIS IS HOW WE SELL YOUR HOME!!!"

Suddenly, the husband leapt out of his seat as if struck by sublime motivation. But what was this? His choice of words was most unexpected. "Alright, you can leave! Get out of here before we call the police! Does your broker know you do this?"

I didn't let the rejection get me down. I figured my energy was too intense for the sellers, and they were not ready for a Realtor of such magnitude. I drove off and couldn't wait to meet the next seller or buyer with my "White Hole Marketing" presentation.

Early in the evening I watched a news story on TV that reported plans were being made to launch the first manned mission to Mars in the next couple decades. I thought about what a perfect opportunity it would be to seek out new, prime real estate on Mars. From that moment, on, I decided to become the first Re/Max agent to land the Re/Max balloon on Mars. I formulated the future advertisement in my head, "When the first human foot touches the soil of Mars, Re/Max will be there, scouting out prime real estate for residential and commercial needs. Why not list your home with an agent who is going places?"

***

And that's what selling homes is all about. You've got to be a source of energy and new ideas for your buyers and sellers. You've got to think and act quickly. You've got to be cutting edge, and you have to realize that for every opportunity, there is an obstacle; and for every obstacle, there is a new opportunity.

The Screaming Worm

      I used to enjoy a little fishing every now and then. I wasn't too serious with the sport as most fishers would laugh at the idea of me using worms -- the mark of a truly-inexperienced fisher. If one is truly experienced and plans on going after large fish, the technique of casting lures is used.

I gave up fishing with worms the day I baited a hook and could hear the poor invertebrate-creature screaming. I kid you not: the worm was making a high-pitched hissing noise that I identified as screaming -- evidence that the worm was traumatized by what had happened. I looked in the container purchased at the bait shop and felt as though the worms were watching me and saying that I would pay dearly for my atrocious acts of violence. I never baited another worm ever again!

The Eye

 Hello All:

Here's another strange story I had included in one of the Hello All portions of a column back in 2000/2001. I wish I could remember the inspiration for writing this story. Was this a dream I had, or was this one of those strange thoughts that become real when you are alone?

The Eye

Well it’s Monday again. Everyone knows by now that Monday is my favorite day of the week. This Monday was a little strange for me. I got up in the late afternoon like I do every Monday. My wife does not get home until 7:30, so I got myself ready for the day and proceeded to clean the apartment. As I went to the guest closet where we keep our vacuum cleaner, I had a strange urge to look out of my peep hole to see if someone was at the door. What I saw shocked me. An eye was peering through the hole and touched mine and felt as if it was scanning my brain. I think that who or whatever was out there was controlling my brain because the next thing I did was open the door to let “them” in”. I could not believe that I did this! I was terrified of who was out there, but I let them in. I have no recollection of anything after that. I only remember thinking about what happened while I was vacuuming. I proceeded to make dinner, and did not tell my wife about the incident. Not much time had lapsed between the opening the door and vacuuming. “They” must have been inside the apartment for seconds and then left.

Silence, Beautiful Silence

Silence, Beautiful Silence

Famous quote: Music is the pause between the notes! Many people might argue that music is about sound, so how could the silent pauses between the notes be music? But if you think about it, if the music was a constant surge of noise, it would just be unintelligible noise.  There has to be an empty space in-between each note for the sound to be recognizably music. Oh sure; today's modern music offers high-energy, high-speed tunes that makes some people wonder if it's music, but if you listen closely, there are brief pauses in between the notes -- as small as those pauses might be.

From the moment a child wakes up, his or her day is constant sound, stimulus, and chatter. If you've ever asked a child to enjoy the silence for a brief moment, it is not understood by the child. Silence with no stimulus is boring and depressing to a child. Enjoying the silence could be another way of saying, "You are being punished!" But to a parent, silence is a wonderful thing. Many parents seize those small moments when they are alone to enjoy the silence -- peace and quiet. So what is this need to enjoy peace and quiet? Why do some people crave a few moments of silence?

The human brain is a complex organ that was designed to be constantly active. It constantly seeks information, and constantly thinks in words. Many times the brain urges you to communicate thoughts and ideas. The brain just never shuts up, even when it is asleep. But often we steal a moment to find a time and place when we can deprive our brains of stimulus and silence our internal dialogs. Isn't it strangely un-natural? The brain wants to keep going, but there is a certain part of us that want it to shut down for a while. Sometimes people meditate and concentrate on silence. They actually have to force the brain to be silent. In the metaphysical world, we are told that humans live in idea-construction realities. The very place we exist is fueled by constant thoughts and beliefs. And the reason we sleep is because we no longer have the energy to sustain the idea-construction reality. It takes time to restore this energy before we are ready to once again form that world we live in.

So why do wide-awake people crave silence, and why do they wish to silence their thoughts? Is it because they realize they miss something by totally existing in this idea-construction reality? Is there a point in people's life when they want to enter situations without any pre-conceived notions altering their decisions or the things they say?

Ask yourself, "Do you like commercials?" Sure, some of them can be entertaining at times, but can you honestly say you enjoy having -- say for example -- car commercials with finance options being broadcasted into your brain? Or do you like it when you go to work and someone starts broadcasting all their woes and negative gossip about work into your brain before you even sit down to your work station? I would bet most of you like to start your day off with a fresh, clean mind and really don't care to have car commercials and negative gossip flooding your mind.

Silence is a very difficult concept to write about. But I would bet most of you agree that silence is a beautiful thing and a very useful tool to gather strength, energy, and insight. Someone once asked me what kind of music I like to listen to at home. And my kind of music goes like this: I sit down on the floor and close my eyes with head tilted slightly up. I relax my abdomen and breathe easily and relaxed. There is no noise around me, no stimulus, and no outside information to be digested. Soon my eyes begin to relax and seem to focus on the darkness of my mind. Ah... the peace and quiet can finally be felt within.