Orb

Hello All:

Big news: The Tree Goddess (second book of the Mapleviewseries) has now been released by Creativia publishing! You can get your copy at Amazon Kindle. The paperback will be available in the near future. And check out the cover artwork! As mentioned before, we've decided to go with character-centric artwork. Who might the character be on the cover artwork of The Tree Goddess? I'll let your imagination decide that. DOWNLOAD NOW

***

I have a very interesting video to share with you. You see, over the weekend I attended my nephew's birthday party. Earlier that afternoon, my mother mentioned that my brother has been filming orbs in his house. You see, he installed a motion detector camera in the Florida room as an extra security measure. Apparently he has been capture orbs on the video footage.

"Orbs?" I asked. "Hmm... That's cool..." To be honest, I wasn't all that impressed at the moment. You see, I don't believe that orbs are anything beyond image and video artifacts. There is usually some scientific explanation behind them; whether it be dust on the camera lens, or dust particles that float through the air and reflect light.

Shortly after dark, my brother called me into the room that was next to the front room. He wanted to show me the incredible orb activity that was taking place in the Florida room. And I must admit there were plenty of them! But, again, I wasn't impressed...

...inititially, that is! I am now a true believer!

It wasn't until I studied the behavior of these orbs that I realized that they weren't simply dust particles that float through the air. The orbs would usually fly in through the door or the window, stop and change direction and even increase in size! They had volition and a seeming consciousness or awareness. And they followed people. And something else to discredit scientific debunking of these orbs: the only appear between the hours of 7:00pm to about 11:00pm. All other times of day, no orbs can be seen. Why do they choose 7:00pm to 11:00pm?

The orbs actually follow people who enter the room. I actually entered the room while my mother, brother and daughter watched on camera. According to their account, a group of them swarmed around me. At the time I felt a peculiar stillness that surrounded me.  All of us agree that the orbs aren't evil. They are actually friendly, and wish to only go about whatever business they do.

It wasn't until my daughter took her turn entering the room that I recorded the footage through my phone. Notice how the orbs fly about in the video. And notice how they seem to know that she is aware of something against the wall. One of the orbs follow her out of the Florida room. Let me know what you think.

 ***

Today's featured writing is a story from last Halloween week titled, Orb.

As for the Mapleview mini novella to be released this Halloween: I am just writing the ending. New short stories should appear in the near future once this project is complete.

Orb

Poor, little, four-year-old Brittany; she was having another bothersome encounter with the mean, old man who regularly tormented her and her older brother. The wicked, old man didn't have to do much to terrify her; only stare at Brittany with his fearsome face and eyes of hatred that—perhaps—exhibited a bit of delight that he was frightening her.

Brittany trembled and cried at the sight of the old man, who stood at the entrance of the family room.

"What? What is it?" asked my sister, Lina, who just so happens to be Brittany's mother.

Brittany only ran in the opposite direction of the old man, towards the sofa, where she buried her face in the pillow to hide from him.

My sister sat down on the sofa next to her crying daughter and rubbed her back to comfort her. "Brittany, Honey, what's bothering you?"

It was then that Brittany answered, "It's the old man. He's back, again. He won't leave me alone."

"What old man?" asked my sister.

Brittany pointed in the direction towards the entrance of the family room. "That man over there." Then she hid her face back in the pillow. But she wouldn't dare look at the old man while pointing her finger; for he would only return a face that would guarantee punishment some time later.

"Honey, I don't see a man standing over there. Are you just seeing spookies, again? Spookies are all in your head. They're not real."

"I see him!" declared Brittany's older brother, Nicholas; a nine-year-old boy who should certainly be past the age of imagining things. But unlike his younger sister, Nicholas is a bit bolder and actually approached the old man who returned a face of warning. "He's right there!" Nicholas shouted while pointing. "You bad man! Get out here!"

"Nicholas, stop it!" shouted my sister.

"You don't see him?" asked Nicholas.

"No!" she snapped. "And I wish you would stop encouraging your sister."

That's when Nicholas sat down on the sofa, next to his mother and little sister. It was time for the boy to have a talk with Mother. "Okay, do you remember when I was little and I was out in the swimming pool on my raft, and I fell under the water?"

"Yes..." answered Mother.

"Do you remember you had to jump in the pool and rescue me because for some reason I couldn't get up?"

"Yes, of course." affirmed Mother. "That was very scary."

"Well the reason I couldn't get up was because the old man walked around the pool and reached over to my raft. The he tipped the raft over and I fell under the water. And that's not all he did. He actually held me under the water and wouldn't let me up. He wanted to drown me."

Mother sighed and was growing increasingly frightened of these strange accounts of the old man. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Nicholas, are you lying?"

"No! I tried to tell you and Dad when it happened. But no one would listen to me. You just told me that no one was holding me under the water."

This was the account my sister gave me on the telephone one Thursday evening. She phoned me shortly after the incident of the old man tormenting my little niece which was followed by my nephew's report of being held under water by him some years ago. My brother-in-law works the night shift which means that my sister was alone with two children who swore there to be a mean, old man in the entryway of the family room. I suppose the moment might have been somewhat spooky, and she needed someone to talk to.

"Hmmm... That's very strange.” I answered as she concluded her report. “Do you suppose there might be a ghost in the house?"

"Oh, don't say that!" my sister begged me. "Mark doesn't come home from work for a few more hours which means I'll be alone until then."

"Well I'm just suggesting that a ghost is something to consider. And if you have one, you need to do what is necessary to get rid of it." Then I came up with a solution. "Do you have a camera nearby?"

"A camera?" she asked. "I have one on my phone. Why?"

"Well, sometimes paranormal investigators have success with photographing rooms where there is supposedly ghostly activity. When looking at the picture, mysterious things can be seen that might suggest the presence of a ghost. Why don't you try doing that, now?"

"Okay, hold on..." She was using the very phone that she spoke to me on to take her photo. There was the sound of my sister clicking open the camera app, and then taking the photo. "There... let's see..." I could hear my sister say. Then she resumed talking into the phone. "I'm looking at the picture, but can't see anything.

"Well maybe the ghost is gone." I suggested. "Ask the kids if they can still see the old man."

I could hear my sister calling out to my nephew and niece. "Nicholas? Brittany? Is the old man still there?”

"No!" they answered. "It looks like he went away for now." explained Nicholas.

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about the ghost while you're home alone." I said to my sister. "Tell you what; the next time the kids complain about seeing the old man, hurry up and take a picture in the area where they see it."

***

It was Saturday evening, two nights after my sister telephoned me to report the strange accounts of the mean, old man. My mother joined my sister and her husband for an evening out at the opera. Arrangements were made for the fifteen-year-old girl who lives next door from my sister to watch the children while the adults were out.

At some point in the evening, little Brittany was in her bedroom and sorting through some of her toys which were carefully placed in a bucket, soon to be carried out to the family room to play with. That's when the mean, old man quietly entered her room and sneaked up behind her.

Initially, Brittany was oblivious of the ugliness that stood behind her. But it didn't take long for the strange, spooky feeling to envelop Brittany which was soon accompanied by the strange sensation in her eyes that felt as-if another person could look through them. Then there was the chill in the air. Yes; the mean, old man was somewhere in the room.

Brittany looked behind her and was terribly startled to see him. His feet were just inches away from her. He cocked one foot back and gave her a swift kick to her leg while casting a mean face at her.

"Ouch!" yelled Brittany, and then quickly crawled over to the wall where she cowered. She started to cry because the kick hurt her.

Delighted; the mean, old man walked over to her and kicked her again.

"Stop!" yelled Brittany "That hurts!" She cried some more.

The mean, old man silently laughed as-if his mouth had a mute button. This muted effect made it necessary for him exaggerate behavior such as laughing. As the little girl cowered and cried against the wall, he spat at her to show even further disrespect.

"Brittany?" called out the babysitter while dashing up the stairs and towards the bedroom. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Now at the entryway, she could see little Brittany cowered against the wall and protecting herself from something unseen. "Brittany, are you alright?"

"It's the mean, old man." answered Brittany. "He keeps kicking me, and he won't go away."

The babysitter rushed over to the cowering child to see what was wrong. By now, Nicholas was at the entryway of the room and could see the problem.

"Yup! Uh-huh! He's in here!" affirmed Nicholas. Nicholas approached the old man and shouted, "You get out of here! And you leave my sister alone!"

That's when the mean, old man slapped the babysitter on the ass.

"Nicholas!" the babysitter shouted. "Stop that!"

"But that wasn't me!" argued Nicholas. "It was him."

"Alright... you kids are very strange." declared the babysitter while scooping up little Brittany and carrying her out of the room. Nicholas led and was the first out of the room.

Just to make sure that his presence was known; the mean, old man gave the babysitter another slap to her behind.

Now frightened and convinced of a mysterious presence in the home, she screamed and ran out into the hallway. Of course the babysitter didn't say one word about the evening’s strangeness. How could one report such an incident to parents who ask, "How did everything go?" Should she have answered, "Well... everything was fine until that imaginary man slapped my behind."? Instead, she reported that all was well. I suppose she promised herself to never babysit in that house, again.

It was late in the evening, and my mother was too tired to drive home. She opted to spend the night at my sister's place, and sleep on the family room sofa. At some point in the night, she woke up and felt an extreme chill in the air. Cold, my mother wrapped herself tighter in the blankets. And then she began to feel a peculiar sensation of fear. It was something she believed she could have pulled herself out of by standing up and going into the kitchen for a drink of water—wake up a bit before going back to sleep. But sitting up was impossible due to an alarming sensation of paralysis. She described it as-if someone held her down on the sofa.

Then my mother saw something that would certainly terrify anyone. As she described it; a brilliant, glowing orb started floating in her direction from the kitchen. It glided into the family room until reaching the sofa where it hovered over my mother. Along with feeling held down on the sofa, my poor mother had a difficult time breathing. This made it impossible to try and call out for help. The orb slowly descended—closer and closer to my petrified mother.

The entire family was awoken from the dead of night with the sound of my mother who finally let out a scream. "No! No! Please! Go away! For the love of God, please go away! Help me!" By the time everyone reached the family room, my mother was cowering in the corner by the television. Apparently she managed to break free from paralysis.

"I bet it was the old man!" suggested my nephew, Nicholas, upon my mother finally calming down and explaining what happened.

"Nicholas, stop it!" warned my sister. "Your grandmother was probably just having a bad dream."

"What old man?" asked my mother.

"Oh, the kids just have an overactive imagination..."

***

The following morning—Sunday—my mother had breakfast with the family and left. After she left, it was one of those lazy Sunday mornings in which everyone sits around, watches TV or—in the case of children—play with toys.

Brittany was playing with her dollhouse. But after an hour or so; my sister noticed that she would set up all of her toys in an area, play for a few seconds, then quickly pack up and move to a different area of the house.

"Brittany, what are you doing?" my sister finally asked.

"The mean, old man keeps bothering me."

"Bothering you? What's he doing?"

"He keeps coming up to me and kicking me. He wants me to leave."

"He kicks you?"

"Yeah... uh-uh... see, like last night. Look what he did to me." Brittany pulled her dress up just high enough to show a nasty bruise on her thigh."

My sister gasped. "The mean, old man did this to you?"

"Yeah..."

Initially, my sister wasn't buying it. Someone kicked her little daughter, and she would definitely get to the bottom of it. "Nicholas!" she called out.

"What?"

"Get in here!"

My nephew cautiously entered the room. "What?"

"Did you do this to Brittany?" my sister asked.

"No!"

"Are you sure it wasn't Nicholas?" my sister further probed while speaking to Brittany.

"No, it was the mean, old man." she answered.

"There he is!" exclaimed Nicholas while pointing.

Brittany turned towards the direction of where her brother was pointing, and then quickly looked away while covering her face. She began to cry.

"You see him?" my sister asked.

"Yup!" affirmed Nicholas. "He's right there, and he's making mean faces at me and Brittany.

Just then, my brother-in-law entered the room. "What's going on in here?"

"It's the ghost." answered my sister. "The kids say he's right over there and making mean faces. And look what he supposedly did to Brittany." She lifted my niece's dress up high enough to show the bruise to her husband.

My brother-in-law sighed. "Well, let's try the camera." He pulled the phone out of his pocket, and confirmed from Nicholas that the mean, old man was standing "over there". Then he snapped the picture—actually, a few of them.

The photos were uploaded to the family notebook computer. But before any of them could be opened, the computer suddenly locked up.

"What the...? Oh, come on! Why is this happening?" shouted my brother-in-law. It's one of the most frustrating occurrences that can happen to anyone; you are eager to view some document or look up some information, and the computer suddenly freezes. There are no buttons that can be pressed; the mouse doesn't work; and even control-alt-delete is useless. The machine is suspended in time with 100% of CPU resource being used.

The family huddled over the notebook and stared at it in an equally suspended state as the computer. It was just the opportunity that the mean, old man needed—everyone was in a catatonic state. Then, as the computer started to unfreeze, the face the old man burned through the LCD screen.

Everyone jumped back and screamed out of fright. It was a clear manifestation of a nearby ghost.

Poor, little Brittany cried and buried her face in her mother.

Nicholas exclaimed, "It's the old man!"

Ten minutes passed as the family settled down and mustered enough courage to try and open the pictures on the computer. When they were finally opened, each photo clearly contained an undeniable orb that hovered some six feet above ground. My brother-in-law was able to zoom in on the orb which revealed the makings of a face... the face of a mean, old man.

My sister immediately telephoned me with the finding. But, unfortunately, I was out and the battery of my cell phone went dead. It wasn't until later in the afternoon with my phone fully charged that I received her voicemail.

I called my sister and she immediately rattled off the excitement that had been occurring in her home for the past 24 hours. But then the connection began to fade in and out.

"Can you hear me...? Hello...? I can't hear anything but static... I'm going to call you back..." my sister said before hanging up.

Moments later, my phone rang. It was my sister with a much, better connection. It enabled her to report the details, along with texting me one of the photos of the orb which contained the face of the mean, old man.

"Oh, wow!" I exclaimed upon seeing it.

"Isn't it incredible?" my sister added.

Suddenly I had the peculiar feeling of a presence listening, attentively, to what my sister and I were discussing. "Is someone on the other line with you?" I asked my sister.

"No, I'm on my cell."

I tried to ignore the mysterious presence, but it remained somewhere on the telephone while continuing to stalk over the wireless medium... looking for a way in... seeking a weakness to infect with its poltergeist activity.

***

About a week passed, and I would occasionally sense the mysterious presence in my home. At first I tried to write it off as some residual feeling brought on by the telephone call from my sister. Her report of the events suggested there to be a considerable amount of trauma in her home. Surely it had carried over to me and possibly caused me some stress. It was the only explanation that I had.

But as time goes on, I continue to feel it. And I suppose in a means to sort through what is happening, I have turned to writing this very document. It is now a few minutes before midnight, and I've chosen this time to write as it enables me to be alone and think freely. It might be similar to what you, the reader, is doing—finding a time and place to be alone so you can read my account, undisturbed.

I can tell you, however, that it is not easy writing about all of this. I now realize that the ghost in my sister's house had traveled along the connection of that telephone call and infected my mind, only to lay dormant as a seed waiting to hatch. As I continue to type I can feel a strange feeling around my eyes, almost as-if someone or something else can see through them. And I cannot deny a peculiar, floating sensation, like I can be lifted out of my chair.

The ghost now observes in delight the words being typed. For you see; the ghost utilizes a viral effect, not only traveling along the medium of a telephone call, but traveling along the words of a story so that an unfortunate reader is infected. Perhaps you now notice a strange presence around you, or peculiar feelings signaling the dawn of paranormal activity in your home or office. Yes, the story is now about you: the reader!

But it's too late! The ghost has manifested itself in your physical place and has already spread itself. You can probably feel it standing over you, moving close to your face and seeking ways to spread its presence through the new medium, you.

Happy Halloween!

Elevator Music

Hello All:

School has been back in session for some weeks, now. And if your children are in band or orchestra, then surely you are about to attend one of the first concerts of the year. We attended concerts for both of my girls last night. With both girls in high school, and both highly-accomplished musicians (the same can be said for the other kids on stage), the concerts were phenomenal! I really enjoyed them. But I was a little shocked and somewhat irate at the lack of simple and common courtesy by some of the audience members. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to mention a few things about concert etiquette.

·        When the band or orchestra is in the middle of playing a song, don't stroll down the middle of the main aisle and search for a seat! Believe it or not, people are actually watching the performance and wish not to be interrupted by your body blocking their view. Wait until after the song has completed before entering the seating area. And if you wish to leave or use the restroom, couldn’t you wait until the song is completed?

·        NO TALKING WHEN THE BAND OR ORCHESTRA IS PLAYING! I cannot believe that intelligent grownups actually have difficulty following this rule. And I don't mean whispering; I mean normal level conversation! (Yes, I actually hear this when attending my kids’ concerts!) Believe it or not, people are actually enjoying the music. Why, some of them are actually recording the show and wish not for your conversations to be part of the music.

·        This one isn't something that most people think of. Those concert handouts that you receive upon entering the theater: Yes, they are nice to have as they inform you of the musical selections for the evening. But when the show starts, please set them down! The people around you do not want to hear you shuffling and flipping through the pages of a handout while the band or orchestra is performing.

·        It would be nice if you silenced your phone so that everyone doesn't have to hear your ringer during the middle of a performance as well.

I'm sure you can add some additional items and pet peeves to this list. But to cover anything else I might have missed, just consider that the kids who perform at these shows have worked very hard learning and practicing so that they can perform for you. Why not give them (and the people around you) some simple courtesy during the show.

***

Today's featured writing is a revisiting of the history of elevator music. The writing has appeared before on the blog, but it's one of my favorites.

Have a great weekend! And please be courteous during concerts and performances.
Elevator Music

True elevator music would have existed around the 1960s and throughout the 1970s. If ever visiting a department store, office, or even riding an elevator; this noteworthy music could often be heard, and was created to make your visit pleasant and relaxing. Listen to the You Tube recording below to fully appreciate the sound of true elevator music as it would have been heard in the old days.

I remember as a boy visiting the grocery stores and department stores with my mother and hearing this sort of music piped in through the speakers in the ceiling. As stated before, its purpose was to make a shopping experience relaxing enough so that buyers would stay longer and browse for their selections. As a boy, the music made me so sleepy and I couldn't wait to leave the store!

Here in Chicago there used to be a radio station called "FM 100" that played elevator music all day and night. Anyone old enough can remember, "Beautiful music... on FM 100..." My mother used to drive around in her green Chevy Vega with the radio tuned to FM 100. I hated it! One day I finally asked, "Mom, why do you listen to this?"

Her answer, "Because it makes me happy."

How was I supposed to argue with that?

It's very difficult to find the sort of music that was played in department stores throughout the 1980s and 1990s. This generation of elevator music was typically referred to as Muzak. Most people forget about it, and for good reason! Muzak back in those days was analogous to what pastel does to color. Popular rock, country and jazz songs would have been recreated with the use of synthesizers and deliberately made to strip the song of anything that was enjoyable. Let's use the song, Juke Box Hero from Foreigner, as our example. Dull and soft flute notes would have replaced the vocals, and there would have been some gay and obnoxious percussion for the beats--almost as exciting as softly tapping your foot on the ground and whistling. As for "that one guitar that blew him away"; there would have been no guitar in the deconstructed Muzak edit as that would have been too exciting. The end result was a reincarnated and extremely boring song that resembled Juke Box Hero.

In the early 1990s, Psychology Today did a report on Muzak and cited it as a helpful tool in brainwashing employees at the workplace. People hated Muzak and simply dealt with it for the eight hours that they were on the job. As the days and weeks passed, the monotonous and repeated Muzak would trigger a silent anger in the employee that he or she learned to keep it under control. This control actually served as a psychological acupuncture which forced the employee to become numb to external stressors at the workplace.

The "Muzak" phase of 1980s and 1990s department store seemed to have ended with the growing popularity of "smooth jazz". Smooth jazz is a step up from the maddening Muzak in that the jazz instruments can actually be used to add more color and excitement to the songs. It often mixes heavy urban type of beats with Motown classics. But after hearing the same 40 songs over and over again, it's soon referred to "pukey jazz". The songs make you sick, and they soon takes on a similar psychological effect of the classic 1980s/1990s Muzak. To make matters worse, smooth jazz found its way onto mainstream radio and is often hosted by celebrity DJs who insist that people wish to experience mood-altering and relaxing music. To them, smooth jazz is supposed to change your outlook on life and make you a better person. It’s just further brainwashing if you ask me.

Be thankful that when you visit the department stores, today, real songs are played with full lyrics and instruments as originally created. Elevator music has certainly evolved throughout the decades.

The Halloween Wish—children’s novella by Gayle Raimbault

Hello All:

October is here which means that Halloween is around the corner. And just in time for the holiday, Gayle Raimbault (my mother!) has published a children's novella titled, The Halloween Wish. If you've been searching for a cute book for your kids to add to their e-readers that is full of adventure, Halloween magick, and a touch of spookiness; then look no more!

The Halloween Wish takes place in Gayle's fictional town of Springview—located somewhere in the Midwest. It's an ordinary town except for one thing: Springview hides a secret! It has something to do with an off-beaten trail that runs through a cornfield and leads to an old farmhouse. And there are many legends surrounding this farmhouse. Why, some people even claim that a witch lives there!

Three children decide to set off on Halloween night to test the legends of this farmhouse. Wouldn't you like to join them? And they learn a valuable lesson along the way about making wishes.

The Halloween Wish is full of hand-drawn illustrations by Gayle and her granddaughter (my niece), Hannah. There are poems and songs to accompany the brilliant plot of this story. Need I come out and say that this book is awesome? I give it five stars! Your kids will love reading it, so do get a copy. But why should only children read it? Adults will love this adventurous and spooky tale as well.

As always, I never re-print material from other authors that I feature on this blog. I simply provide the link for you download, directly, from the author. Simply click the link that follows the synopsis.

The HalloweenWish—children’s novella by Gayle Raimbault Every Halloween a witch, with strange magical powers appears at the old deserted farmhouse. There are rumors of ghosts, creepy monsters, strange shadows roaming about the yard and screams coming from the barn. Jody, Pat, and Andy want to know if these tales are true and decide to go to the haunted farm on Halloween night. They are about to have the adventure of their lives. DOWNLOAD BOOK

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!