Friday, May 19, 2023

Conversations With God

Before I begin, I must say that I usually have these conversations with an entity I cannot see. I do see Him, but it's a view of a man who sometimes walks around, sometimes sitting, and sometimes He is fixing something that looks like some sort of catapult blender. This is how I usually encounter God. Some people have written about their personal encounters with God, like the guy who describes two sets of footprints along a beach. That while it's a lovely walk along the beach, there seems to be some traumatic thing that happened causing God's son Jesus to carry this person for a while. I don't know how it would have come to be, but the story is somewhat similar to mine. Except that my set of footprints were running, tripping, rolling, and at one point trying to dig into the sand to hide.

I remember telling the man who was relating his story that he was lucky that he and Jesus didn't end up being attacked by killer land sharks. But in my case, where there were two sets of footprints in the sand, they veered off into some patch of sea oats and driftwood and one set of footprints continued while there was this trail behind it to show where the body was being dragged. Kicking and screaming from the looks of it.

Yep. That would have been me.
 
~ ~ ~

Conversation Regarding Being Trapped

Me: I'm still trapped here.
God: What?
Me: I have a list of complaints.
God: Spill it!
Me: I don't appreciate being a blob of Jello, poured into a burlap sack like quick drying cement and forced to ride around in a tin can that has injured me to no end and comes with a cranky driver who yells at me all the time. And this FBI goon is still trying to kill me! My skull is broken. Pretty sure I only have so long to live.

God: How is Kribs?
Me: What?
God: How is his hair?
Me: It's fine. Don't know about the rest of him. Why are there Gothic statues still in Hades? Why are they breathing?

God: What?

Me: Add that as another complaint!

~ ~ ~

Conversation Regarding HAARP

God: I have clouds and cooler breezes going on today.
Me: Could you do this, like, more often while we slow bake to death?
God: That's HAARP. As in Harpies. Vicious little monsters.

Me: Your clouds and cool breezes need a little more punch to them, then. I mean, the Georgia guide stones was hilarious and all, and that fire at the Hoover Dam was something. I guess. But honestly, you took out what, 4 or 5 slabs of concrete. And that fire . . . it was really small.

God: . . .

Me: I mean, it wasn't even really a fire, more like a puff of smoke.

~ ~ ~
 
Regarding Snakes

When the Lord came to me, I was out shopping and he said 'What hast thou done with that snake?' I immediately remembered that I was wearing some items and carrying a handbag that may or may not have been made from it. I dunno.

~ ~ ~

Conversation Regarding Superstitions

Me: That's pretty dark over there.
God: Are you superstitious?
Me: No. Maybe. Yes.
God: There are vines growing all over that abandoned old dwelling, it looks natural enough.
Me: Naturally haunted by ghosts!
God: Are you afraid of ghosts?
Me. No. Maybe. And sometime yes.
God: There could be buried treasure in there.
Me: If it's treasure made out of gold then setting it on fire shouldn't hurt it and I can come back and sort through the ashes and debris later.

~ ~ ~

Conversation Regarding Churches

Me: That place called the Church of God, that's not where you live.
God: Right. I don't live there. Why?
Me: Well I was hearing something about how I could lay all of my burdens on you and feel better.
God: Do you feel better?
Me: I don't know.
God: What does that Church have to do with anything then?
Me: Well, I was trying to make you take my burdens away and I thought it would really send a message about how burdened I am, so . . . I filled up a bag of hair I combed off all the cats, their puke I had to clean up, the litterbox, the destroyed items they ruined and I put all of that together in a bag and left it on the doorstep of the Church of God. I was hoping you could take care of it all.

~ ~ ~

Conversation Regarding My Horrible Life
 
Summary: I try to keep my conversations with God short and to the point. The problem is, it's God I'm dealing with. So here's a transcript of the recent dialogue between God and me so that the intelligence guy, what's his name, is all up to date.

God: What are you doing?
Me: I was thinking about stealing a van.
God: What would you do with it?
Me: (shrugging) I dunno. Drive it around, I guess.
God: What's the deal with the the voodoo curses?
Me: They had it coming. Besides I can't be expected to ship out an actual can of whup ass. I have a headache. And what the hell are you doing here?
God: I come and go as I please.
Me: Aren't you supposed to be an imaginary friend for grown-ups?
God: (looking at me as if to say 'seriously?')
Me: I don't see any healing or any money rv'ing so I think stealing a van would help me be less stressed out.
God: That's a good way to un-stress but how are you going to do that?
Me: Fine, I'll just steal more lobster from Walmart.
 

Me: What exactly did I do to get put in this place? This prison planet? Run by evil guards who took over Hell and have basically already killed me in a slow tormenting way?
God: Did?
Me: Why exactly do you hate me?
God: . . .
Me: Why are the angels who protect some people, now why are they trying to kill me?
God: If they wanted you killed, don't you think they would have it done?
Me: No.
God: Why not?
Me: Because they're retarded?



Thursday, December 10, 2020

V for Vaporous

V for Vaporous

The streets of the old part of the city still reminded Even Ghetting of Nazi occupied Germany as she half walked, half danced, half yodeled along the way to her destination where she would meet her friend from work for a cocktail or two. That night seemed really dreary and so she started to walk a little faster. She heard footsteps behind her, and suddenly three really ugly men confronted her about her being out after curfew. She fell to her knees and cried "Oh no, I did it again! I slipped back in time to World War II and the first thing I encounter are the leftover experiments from Hitler's nightmare zombies who smell like gas fumes, death camps, and fishermen!"

For a moment the men were caught off guard but laughed as they advanced on poor Even, attempting to do her harm. Just then a cloaked, shadowy figure in a Guy Fawkes mask leapt from nowhere and began quoting Shakespeare. That was what Even thought at first, but she paid no attention as she had the distraction she needed to get her balance. While the cloaked man continued to speak, and continued to capture the men's attention, she suddenly struck one of them from behind with a miniature frying pan that she carried with her in her handbag. For a moment the strange man stopped talking and the other two men, after seeing what Even had done, hurled themselves toward her with their weapons drawn.

The cloaked man began fighting the other two until they were unconscious. Even breathed a sigh of relief and said "Das ist gut, ja?" The stranger held his head sideways then spoke softly to her as he extended his hand, "I'm most humbled to make your acquaintance, my lady. My name is V."
Even took his hand and smiled. "Do you yodel?" She asked. V seemed perplexed by her question but she said to nevermind and picked up her frying pan and placed it back into her bag.
"You know, V. . .this place is a disaster. More like a war zone. Without the bombers. Or the big band music, or the jazz, or the big banners. This is twilight zone for the actual Twilight Zone."
"You seem to recall the time around 1943 Nazi Germany, does this place remind you of that era?" V asked her.
"Yeah, in a way. Well, without the charm. On the plus side there are three lumps of useless idiot lying on the ground. I'd take a picture if I had a camera."
V invited Even to the roof of a nearby building to watch a concerto.
"Will there be refreshments? Trains? Showers?" She asked.
 
After making their way to the rooftop of the building where the concerto would be witnessed, V flung one side of his cloak over his shoulder and chuckled. He could tell this lady was the sort that must have lived through some of the worst of times and either learned to not give any fucks, or her humor was a way to cope with stress.
"I have not learned your name, yet. May I ask who you are?"
Even looked over the side of the building. Then she backed away from the ledge.
"Are you afraid of heights?" V asked.
"Only afraid of heights when they are below me. When they're at the same level as me, then no. Is this a trick question?"
Even adjusted her coat. "Anyway my name is Even. Even Ghetting."
She couldn't tell if he was smiling or confused because of his mask but she liked to guess that he was probably a bit of both.
"You should see how that looks on forms where they ask for a last name first." She giggled.
 
V looked across at the Old Bailey from the rooftop where they stood. He produced a wand and began conducting music that was, at first very faint. Even couldn't hear it at first but didn't want to spoil the mood, so she she opted to play an air flute. But then the music began to grow louder. "Hey, now that's a sound." She smiled as she mimicked a disco move. V began to conduct in a more vigorous manner until the music built up and reached a crescendo bringing the whole building of the Old Bailey down in a fiery explosion. With fireworks.

Even stood stunned and motionless as she watched the fire devour the dismal old structure. At last she breathed in, a very long and deep breath and let it out as if in meditation. V noticed her calm appearance and asked what she thought of that. She slowly looked over at her date for the night, after the show he'd promised and sighed while closing her eyes. "That was good." V smiled, from underneath his masked smile. "That's what I needed. The fire, the flames, the music into a deafening explosion and then," she continued "everyone running around in chaos wondering what the fuck just happened."
 
The next day Even was at work, in the usual routine of her ho-hum job. She cracked jokes of there being bombs in the shipment to the studio where she delivered the packages. Then she wondered how far she could push these limits. She then wondered if maybe bombs were a bit too obvious. She thought about the fun that could be had with simpler methods of controlled destruction, like large insects made of realistic textures, and super gorilla glue. But she knew she was beyond bored and last night was like a step into another dimension. She couldn't help but wonder what the intro music of the Twilight Zone would be like before an explosion. She kept her musings hidden well while pretending to hear the off color jokes around the office. There were a few people there that she just did not like. They were loud, rude, and downright ugly.

The off color jokes were usually being told by those which she didn't like and so she went through a myriad of ideas of how to turn the tables on them. After so many years, her patience was gone. It just hadn't manifested into anything as of yet. The plastic bugs would be a good start, she figured, so she spent about fifteen minutes making a handful out of contents she'd found in her desk. She really wanted to scare the security man that liked to come in everyday and check on everyone. Dassdumb was hired by the state run BTNT, (Boring Television Number Two) located at the Jordache Tower, and operated in the same security agency as Mr. Flinch. Even didn't mind Flinch so much, she always thought it was cute that he had a mild case of twitch. But Dassdumb really irritated her.

Even's creation of fake bugs looked scary enough. They were large, wiry, and a bit gnarled with what appeared to be the texture of a spider. She giggled softly to herself.

Suddenly an uproar of confusion filled the halls. People were running all over the place and screaming. Someone had just taken the BTNT hostage. Alarms were ringing everywhere. Even wasn't having any of this. She began breaking open glass cases that contained fire fighting tools and started throwing them at anything that looked like a fire. After putting out the lights, the table lamps, and the On Air signs above a few doors, she started to run for an exit. But she opted to hide under her desk instead. A television broadcast had went out by way of V. He was the one who took the network hostage.

Even emerged out from under her desk to watch his announcement. It was the first good thing on TV, she thought. V spoke to the people. His speech was like a breeze from a world where there was life, where things weren't so gray, horrible, dreary, and boring.

After the speech ended, she grabbed her fake bugs and went to look for Dassdumb.

V had fought off a horde of security guards and policemen and was just about to get away when Dassdumb cut him off in the main hallway. Holding V at gunpoint, he started telling him how he and the agency were already so many steps ahead of V, and basically lying about his and his agency's efficiency. Even was coming out of a door located in the same hallway and overheard his boasting. She scowled as she walked up right behind him. She carried her handbag and as always, within it was her frying pan. Dassdumb hadn't noticed but V was looking straight at her. His mask was able to hold Dassdumb's gaze as he couldn't see V's eyes or what they might focus on. But instead of grabbing her frying pan, she got as close as she could right behind Dassdumb and at that same time of letting out a blood-curdling scream she let her handful of bugs fly up from her fist and scared Dassdumb within an inch of his life. He screamed and ran toward one side of the hallway looking at what he thought were spiders. V grabbed Dassdumb by the neck as Even laughed hysterically and asked him why he was such a dumbass for falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Enraged he flung his arm out in her direction, and with his gun hand, struck her on her head causing her to fall down and hit the floor. V reacted by knocking him unconscious.
 
For a moment he looked at the spiders and realized they were fake. Deep inside he was grateful for that.
 
Even awoke with a nasty bruise on her head. She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Half asleep she leaned while she walked against the wall of a place she had never been or seen before. She felt around for the door, and bumped into a large painting instead, causing it to swing back and forth.
"Why the fuck did I put that there for?"
V heard her shuffling around and went to her. He saw her feeling around on the wall for a doorknob.
"Are you okay?" He asked her in a very soft voice.
"No. I can't find my bathroom. A long hallway, a mysterious painting, on a path for water things, in the Twilight Zone. . ." she muttered.
"It's over here." V took her to the restroom of his large underground abode.
Even found her way back to the bed she was sleeping in and fell back into it and laid there for ten minutes wondering where she was. Then jumped up and headed out of the room.
Finding V, who was standing at a modest record player listening to an album of soft music.
"I'm not really awake yet, but where am I?"
"You're at my place. After that security guard assaulted you, I had to rescue you or you would have ended up in one of Greedy's interrogation cells." V told her. "But don't worry now. You are quite safe here."
Even looked around again. "What about my place? Did Greedy blow it up? Did you blow it up? Did I blow it up?" Even asked. V was at a loss for words. "I wouldn't call my place anything other than a room, a hole in the wall truth be known. I had some things in there, though. I need to go and collect them." Even stated.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. They're watching your place now, and you would be apprehended if you went there now." V said.
Even paced a few times, scratching her head. Then threw up her arms. "Oh great!" She exclaimed. "That means they went through my things!"
"Did you have anything of much value?" V asked concerned.
"Well. I was collecting all those IDs from co-workers. I had some cans where I stuffed some gag snakes that pop out, stuff like that. But I have my handbag with me so I still have my frying pan." Even said in a matter-of-fact way.
"IDs?" V asked. Just then Even motioned to him to hang on a second and a few moments later came back out to the music room and sat down and looked through her bag. "Oh thank God!" She sighed. She pulled out a little zipper bag filled with all the IDs she had stolen from her work. "They're always issued new IDs in case they get lost or stolen. I took that as a sign that IDs can be lost as well as stolen. So I collected all these." She fanned them out as V sat next to her. She showed them to him as he took a look at each one.
"You are resourceful." He smiled at her.
"Nah, I just did it to get to them. And also because they leave stuff laying around and I'm the poor soul who has to pick up after everyone. And get coffee and snacks for the boss. And have to be there when deliveries come in, as if I work there or something."
V drew his head back, and looked back at Even and told her that she did work there.
"Oh yeah. I'm not really awake yet. I'm gonna go take a nap."
V stood and took her hand and asked her if she wanted something to eat first.
"That sounds good. My head hurts." She said.
"You have an injury, I'll take of care of you, just take it easy for a few days." V told her.
"A few days?" She asked looking around. "I'm thinking I could sleep for a month."

Even went back to her room and changed into some of the clothes left there for her. She came into the kitchen where V was cooking. He had left his gloves on the table as he cooked. When Even came into the kitchen she noticed his hands, to which he quickly slipped his gloves back on.
"I'm sorry about that." V said as he went back to frying some breakfast. Even walked up to the stove. "Sorry? What is there to be sorry about? Look at that frying pan! I love it! Where did you get that?"

Later that evening V and Even were seated in his little room where he keeps his television set. It was a small screen but got amazingly good reception. The evening news came on and Even really didn't want to watch it. V insisted she watch this time.
"I work around those people, believe me, they are insane. They have no talent, and they do crazy things." Even insisted back.
 
The television blared about the explosion at the Jordache Tower and mentioned V as a terrorist.
"Last week it was a tanked out, drugged up chili-hombre terrorist. Now this." Even scoffed. Then they went into some other inane spiel about their great leader Adam Slutler.
"Nothing about the bugs! Not one, single, mention!" Even was beyond annoyed at this. "I gotta grab something to drink." She said as she headed for the kitchen. After admiring the frying pans, she heard music and went toward the sound. She found V standing next to an impressive stereo system, listening to a CD of classical masterpieces.
"Nice." Even said, drinking her ice water.
 
The next evening, V and Even were seated at the kitchen table.
"I have an engagement I must follow through on, what ID might I use to gain access to a men named Prathetico?" V asked her, hoping she would have an idea. As it turned out, Even had an excellent idea.
"There's this guy at work who's always snitching on others for small things, like stealing coffee mugs, staplers, and raiding the fridge. His ID is the one with the snarky guy in a toupee." Even said with a gleam in her eye. "Of course he also made a big deal of his ID being stolen every time it turned up missing." Even shrugged.
V had already planned on Prathetico's demise, so this would simply make it easier. Even handed him a few more IDs and told him to do with them what he wished, but in return she wanted to watch The Twilight Zone and her choice of frying pans from wherever he got his. V agreed. With a big smile, of course.

Upon entering the main door of Prathetico's living quarters, V used the ID he had readied. It didn't work. Turned out that Mr. Snarky Toupee apparently wasn't liked well enough by Prathetico to be granted access. So V tried another. It failed. He paused and looked at the ID cards he had with him. He wisely chose the one with an attractive woman pictured. He tried it and it gained him access. V very methodically carried out his plan and left the building. A dead Prathetico lay on the floor in a pathetic heap of sogginess.

When the police arrived, hours later, they looked at who attempted entry and came up with several names that showed up right at that time.
"There were apparently three of them. We'll need to find and question all three suspects. This is serious. Prathectico apparently had a lot of people out to get him." Flinch explained to Dassdumb.
"But why would all three of them need their company IDs to gain access if they were all in on it?" Dassdumb questioned the logic being used here. Flinch twitched and shook his head, not knowing the answer to that.
"It makes no sense, I know. But we have three suspects."
 
V's next target was an old perverted bishop. He explained to Even what this man and his church were doing and getting away with. Even was disgusted and wanted V to smash the bastard. V asked her if she would assist him in his plot.
"I don't know. Maybe. Can I dress up like you?" She asked.
"No. You'll have to wear something that would attract his attention." V answered.
Even winced.
 
Hours later Even found herself waiting in a very ornately decorated bedroom, dressed in a sort of doll styled costume. She had of course slipped into a denim jacket and wore her hair piled up in a bun since the ponytails were too much for her after she was left in the room alone. She hid something beneath her skirt. A small sodbuster blade in a sheath fastened around her upper thigh. Under the bottom hem of her top, she concealed a small pouch of garlic powder and small shards of broken glass. In one of her shoes, she slipped in a ziplock baggie of little fuzzy bits that she managed to sew cut pipe-cleaner bits into so that they looked like a cross between deformed spiders and fat fire-ants. She was very uncomfortable with the shoe because the baggie was a bit thick under her foot that was squeezed into the shoe. V was waiting nearby. She remembered her part and went over to the window to unlock it. Walking back over to the center of the room to begin her act, she waited for the perverted bishop to enter.

"I'm not waiting in here all day, goddamnit!" Even said loudly enough to be heard down the hall. Just then the infamous bishop opened the door and his serf closed it behind him. He stood for a moment and gazed at Even and approached her. "You are lovely, my child. To think I doubted your beauty..." he began.
"Yeah yeah, can the balloon juice, Gramps. Isn't there something you're wanting me to do to you?" Even said sitting down on the bed.
"Oh my, you're so bold. What would you like to do to me?" The bishop asked with a very excited smile.
Even looked at him, it was subtle at first but the glaring look became obvious as he looked at her face. His smile disappeared, and he knew something was up he hadn't counted on.
V had waited for the exact moment when he'd make his appearance and he leapt from the roof onto the balcony of the bishop's room like a caped ninja. He heard some commotion coming from within the room and went through the unlocked window. As he stepped in, he stopped short of his tracks and Even thought she heard him gasp.
 
What V saw was Even standing over the bed with a rope, some duct tape and a broken lamp stand with sparks still flying out of it. The bishop was duct taped to one of the bed posts, with one side of his head covered in what appeared to be fuzzy bugs glued onto it and a few pillow tassels thrown in. A look of terror, his face white, covered in a few bruises and blood, looking as if he was dragged through a salad bar, with eyes locked in a stare of shock. V walked over to the bishop and felt for a pulse. He was definitely dead. "Heart attack." V said nonchalantly. Even shrugged, and gave a little whistle. "Well, I didn't know he had a bad ticker." She said as she casually rolled her eyes and began gathering her bag and preparing to leave. V motioned to the window, "I must leave, you take the back entrance, meet me where we agreed alright?" As V took one last look at what he planned to be his task to dispose of, he caught a whiff of something. "Is that garlic?"
 
Even was already booking out onto the streets as sirens were heard. V had escaped too. She stopped by the corner of a building and put on a pair of dark sunglasses. As a police truck rolled by, it slowed down to examine who was standing on the corner. Even grabbed a cigarette. "You gotta light, or are you stupid?" The truck picked up speed and drove off.
 
After four hours, V had given up on Even showing up where he had told her to meet him. Little did he know that Even simply got lost and made her way to her friend's house. Diet-Rite was the star of the BTNT and had a semi popular hit show on the network. V found that she was indeed there after searching for her. V couldn't just knock on the door and ask for Even so he waited for another time when he could approach. Diet-Rite offered her a place to stay the night and she slept in one of his spare rooms. When she woke next morning he was making her breakfast. She told him that she was to meet someone last night but got lost. Diet-Rite asked her how she got lost. She told him that she didn't know where the pub in the moors was located at.
"I wasn't about to go out to Scotland, where there are actual moors, risking werewolf attacks and drunk men in skirts." She pointedly said.
After some small talk, Even learned that there was a pub in London that was named The Moors. Shrugging it off, she figured she could just go there when night falls and see if V would show. She'd ask the barkeep if he'd seen a guy in a mask and a cape. She knew it would be futile as the meeting place would have been in the back somewhere out of sight. But she figured it couldn't hurt to ask.
"By the way, they wear kilts, not skirts." Diet-Rite informed her. "Okay. But their music is hard to yodel to." Even quipped.
 
So that night she went to the club. Looking around for V. Then without warning she was captured by the police. A black bag was put over her head and she found herself locked in a dreary old cell. She was definitely hating this.
 
The interrogation lights on her made it impossible to see who her accuser was that sat across the table and questioned her. The detective sat in a shadow that all she could see was a silhouette.
"I'll ask you again, where is the man who is known by the code name V?"
Even stretched a bit and rubbed the back of her neck.
"Do you have a pain killer? Anything for a headache? This chair is painful, where the hell did you get it? A landfill?" She said mockingly.
"Answer the question!" The man in the shadow yelled.
"Look, the man was dead when I got there!" She answered him thinking that was where the line of questioning was really going.
"What do you mean? There was a bishop that was killed the night before." He said. Even shrugged. "I came in to clean up the place, at first he just seemed so busy, I paid no attention. He seemed to be tied up at the moment." Even snickered a little.
The detective who was really V wanting to find out where Even had been all night and if she contacted any authorities during her absence from him, had went over the events in his mind and the thought nagged at him that Even would be the last person to rat him out. After all she was un-phased by the whole affair and she did seem to possess an attitude of giving no fucks. But he had to be sure.
"I'm going to show you something." He said as he got up, left her cell and locked it behind him. Even sat back in her chair, rested her feet on the table and closed her eyes to grab a little nap.
Ten minutes later the shadowy detective woke his guest with the rattle of keys in the cell door. He brought a monitor in and sat it on the table and instructed her to watch.
"I need you to see this. It's a film of an execution by firing squad, where a condemned man is to be shot dead."
Even sat up and rubbed the back of her neck, looking tired. "What? No popcorn to go with this?" She said disappointed.
"Now watch." V turned the monitor on and the scene played out. Even smiled to see the firing squad were wearing uniforms instead of cloaks and hoods. "This is nice, just regular guys with guns. No skulls and bones for fashion accessories, so far it's all normal-like." She paused and looked over at the silhouette in the dark. "I mean, you know, for an execution where they kill somebody."
Even watched as a line of men who were wearing drums began to roll out the drum call.
"Oh look!" Even exclaimed. "They even have drummers out there playing the intro before killing that guy. That is so cute."
V stood up suddenly, turning off the monitor.
"I want you to take this seriously! This can happen to you, if they find you've been in any way aiding and abetting the terrorist known as V!"
Even was still looking at the monitor. "You turned it off right before the best part!" Even said back.
"Then you haven't spoken to anyone about V?" He asked in a gentle tone.
"Nah. I was out wondering around after I got lost, so I figured I'd explore before crashing at Diet-Rite's house." Even told him. V walked out of the cell leaving it open so Even could follow him into his main living quarters.
As they walked toward the kitchen, Even grabbed a blanket as she passed the sofa and wrapped it around herself. Her doll costume that she still wore underneath her jacket caused her to get the chills.
"I'll make you something to eat, go on and take a shower and get into something warm." V said taking her hand and kissing it.
 "That sounds good, and that cell, it needs furniture. A bed, and a sofa, and a TV. Oh and some curtains." Even informed him.
"Why? Your old room is still there for you."
"Yeah just letting you know how awful the decor is back there in the jail cell area. Although the square footage does have possibilities. Maybe you can use them as extra storage?" Even said as she headed toward her room. "Oh and..." She turned around, "I didn't get to see the ending of the movie you were showing me. I'll need to see that after dinner."
V stood there hand on counter, head slightly bowed, as he wondered quietly to himself and shaking his head, half laughing and half in astonishment.

Even and V sat at his table talking after dinner. Even rummaged through her bag as he spoke of his plans against the evil Slutler and his henchmen.
"Oh good!" Even exclaimed with excitement. "I still have my sunglasses!"
"I'm going into the supply warehouses tomorrow, if you'd like to join me." V said.
"Are there any supplies left of the frying pans?"
"I believe so. Get some sleep. We head out at o dark thirty."

For some reason it took them all day to get to the secret warehouses that V had planned on extracting supplies from. Even went through some boxes and found lots of cigarettes and tobacco products. V gathered explosives and weapons. He admired a few edged weapons he'd found in a crate. As Even looked into the boxes stacked behind the cigarettes, her eyes fell on a sight she hadn't expected. She smiled with a look of sheer delight. She climbed down off the boxes and sat down lighting a cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoked." V said with a bit of a laugh.
"I don't." Even answered as she indicated the boxes behind her. "I figured I could have a regular cigarette for now, to get a feel for lots of smoke since there will be a lot of it come November 5th when you blow shit up." Even said matter-of-fact.
"You'll be at a safe distance." He assured her.
"Oh my goodness, thank God for that." Even said mockingly.
"Why, what would you do otherwise?" V wondered.
"Well," Even began with an emphasis on the word. "I was thinking it might need more."
"More of what?" V looked at her, interested in what she was getting at.
"I have an idea. And don't laugh because I think it would work. To a degree, that is." Even said as she puffed her cigarette and gave a small cough.
She made a small path to the boxes stacked behind by pushing the cigarette boxes aside with her foot and knee. She held the cigarette in her mouth and pulled down a very large box that was apparently fairly light. It hit the concrete floor with a dull, soft thud.
Even opened it and revealed to V a shitload of whacky-tobaccy.
"We can rig this to burn up with whatever fires would be left from the explosions, and we can plant this stuff to go off at different points around the city with nothing more than electric shorts in the grid structure to release its aroma." She said as she pinched a small bit from the giant sack it was contained in. Both her and V took a sniff.
"That is quality stuff." V said with what easily could be detected as a bit of laughter.
It took a bit of time to load up the supplies and the cargo of cannabis onto the underground railroad cart that V had used to get to the underground warehouses.
"It's almost time to go." V motioned to another section of the chamber they stood in. Even went to inspect and there they were, stainless steel kitchen stacking shelves loaded with brand new skillets, pots, and baking ware. Even's face lit up as she muttered "God, this gravy train!" and held her arms up to take in the vision of all those kitchen wares that among them were abundant with frying pans.
"God, is in the rain?" V asked, mishearing what she said.
"Huh? Oh nevermind, I was just talking about cooking." Even walked over to the nearest rack and grabbed four skillets, a French pot, and a few blunt-looking spatulas.
For the first time V had truly seen her happy and radiant. But he knew she was planning on helping him destroy Parliament and he knew there would have to be an adjustment of his original plans since she had entered into the picture.

That night as they had dinner V told her of his plans to have his vendetta against his tormentors and the true evil masters of this dark world they inhabited. He wanted to complete his mission without her being in harm's way. However he would promise her that he was going to let her be a part of the final stage of the vendetta as it involved blowing up Parliament. She agreed to this. So V carried out his revenge against the others on his time and she got busy setting up the surprise party that would release its potent smoky haze all over London.

The following nights they went about their individual tasks and while the rest of the city appeared to continue on with a grey, dull, and cheerless atmosphere, Even was humming to herself more often. Singing. And yodeling much more. At times strangers would look at her as she passed them by, but she would yodel and carry on and sometimes she'd quote the intro of The Twilight Zone just for fun.

The night of November 4th came and V found that his plan to gather Slutler and his henchmen into an abandoned area of an old subway station had succeeded. Even came through the tunnel passage where V had prepared to meet his enemies in the dismal and darkened station. "There's a problem." Even said to him as he turned back for a moment. "The transformers in areas 3 and 4 have been offline. What to do?" V gave her a remote controlled device that would kick on once the fireworks began. She took it and hurried back down the main tunnel. V looked after her as she ran down the tracks. He felt he was going to die and that this was probably the last he would ever see her again. He stood and took the moment in before she disappeared from his sight and as he stood there in silence he heard, very faintly, the echo of her yodeling.
He went on and appeared through an archway where his enemies waited.
There the evil Greedy brought Slutler in and held him down at the feet of V. The plan was that Greedy would be able to take V in as a captive if he'd do away with Slutler. As V stood face-to-mask with Greedy, Slutler began to whimper as V approached. "At last, we finally meet. I have something for you, Chancellor. A farewell gift. For all the things you've done, might have done, and for the only thing you have left." He said as placed a rose in the suit jacket that Slutler wore. "Goodbye, Chancellor." V stepped back. "Mr. Greedy." V said as he walked away from Slutler. Greedy took out a gun and killed Slutler. In the distance Even heard the gunshot and stopped in her tracks. Looked at the remote she held and wondered what to do.
Back at the abandoned station area V stood among a dozen men who were all uniformed and pointing their guns at him.
"Now that's done with. It's time to have a look at your face. Take off your mask." Greedy asked grimly.
"No" was the short answer from V. Greedy motioned to his henchmen to begin their attack on V. At first two of them approached him and tried to remove V's mask only to be quickly killed by a few moves and V's precise aim with his daggers as he swung around. Even had slipped into the area and managed to stay unseen. Pulling out two frying pans from her pack that she carried, she waited for the right moment. After words were exchanged between V and Greedy, and hearing that V believed he would be dead along with Greedy, she almost sprung into action, but waited. As Greedy was about to take aim at V, he flinched as a tiny object flew past his nose. It was a lit joint she flung at him from across the darkness of where she stood by a wall. As Greedy turned his eyes away from V to inspect what the object was as he smelt the weed burning from its tip, he looked over at his men that stood in the direction it came from. V looked over in that direction too and knew Even had come back. Now he was in a dilemma. But before anyone could do anything, she flung the frying pans at Greedy and one of his men. They were knocked out cold. She ran back toward the tunnel. With that distraction V was able to easily overtake the other men with lightning speed and ninja reflexes. Soon they were all dead. V walked over to the unconscious Greedy and hung him up by the back of his neck onto the gate that closed off the area from the outside world. He would be there until the big bang.
 
V hurried back toward the tunnels and found Even ready to set the train into its fiery destination.
"Would you rather do this?" She asked him.
"If you want to, I give it freely, it's yours."
"Okie doke." She smiled. "I do love blowing shit up." As the train began to roll away, she stepped off and they watched it ride into the deeper tunnels where it would wind up right underneath Parliament and explode with enough C-4 and dynamite to take out the entire structure.
"Oh I almost forgot. I gotta get close enough for the rigging to pick up the signal from the remote." Even said as she hurried away. V followed. He figured with everyone else showing up with his black attire, cape, hat and mask he'd blend right in. Even launched the cannabis bombs that she'd planted around the perimeter of the city that would witness the big finale. Within moments the military that guarded the area were told to stand down as the people all dressed like V walked toward Parliament to watch the fireworks. And the fires. The entire structure of Parliament exploded and right on cue the fireworks were released with the explosion and a very noticeable heavy haze whiffed through the air. Like a thick fog of smoke it drifted everywhere. The people all gathered began to take off their masks and laugh. They laughed some more. The military were also smiling and laughing among themselves and started to disperse. There was singing and dancing all over the place. Some people were walking around inhaling deeply and trying to get more of the smoke into their lungs.

This was a party.

Back at V's place, V, Even, and Diet-Rite sat at a cozy little round table in a dim-lit nook. Diet-Rite was inhaling a joint deeply and after he did he offered it to V. Looking at V he realized that he couldn't smoke very well with the mask and all. So he reached over to Even and offered her a hit. She said she didn't smoke while she mimicked holding a cigarette with a bamboo fondue stirring stick.
"I hope you don't mind that I invited a few friends over for our little party." Even said to V as he looked around his place. A few people in V attire, holding their masks and sipping champagne, stood by his jukebox and were having a good time. A few military men were standing around talking to some young women who were showing off how nice they look in the capes they got. The jukebox played a soft jazz number as V sat in silence.
"Is there any other building of insignificance that needs to be wiped off the face of earth?" Even asked him. V didn't really have an answer. The jukebox began playing 'Yelling Timber' and everyone cheered and began to dance. The place was pumping.

Diet-Rite poured champagne in his glass and poured another glass and offered it to V. Again noticing that he couldn't drink with the mask he offered it to Even and they clinked glasses.

"Cheers!" They said.

The End

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

The Prolonged Month of August

While you last inside the realm of this time, it's important to remember that no star or moon owns the nature of this creature. It's adaptable and wiry but unwieldy at the same time. There is mass unleashed in the form of desert heat that has already been tempered from the month before, and the sands are probably all that lasted through such a torment.

By chance if you remain, this month will be like a repeat, but more subtle, and echoes a promise of some finality to the fires of cosmic waves. This month is female, and its nature is logical. It doesn't sway, and smashes down the flighty foe.

It will harbor mystery but the storms won't be so hidden, even if the weather seems right on schedule. Like canyons this month will wind on for leagues, and like valleys, it will choose who crosses its breadth. Should you make the journey, it will only reward the most skilled. It's unlikely that it will carry on with small paths, it will seek the longest routes.

Flying in August is a gamble, treading it is even more treacherous. You have to glide. Then leap back and forth in its hold. It's a thunder you'll hear in the distance but the lightning will strike the unprepared. If you hear thunder in any given August, it will last on throughout its duration and into next year. It was always designed to be an everlasting month if you survived.


An Observation by Iggy 2019

Monday, July 1, 2019

The Blasted Month of July

The previous month makes no dazzling entrance and will shy away from too much exposure, but July will blast in, and it will trumpet and roar. The heat of its fire alone will scorch everyone in a blazing beam that demands your full attention. Despite this it will serve as a furnace regardless of obtaining proper greetings. Lava will power this furnace, too.

When it steps up and steps all over, and grinds into the concrete and stamps the pavement with choking oppression, you will know that July is in fact trying to kill you. It fancies itself as a cleansing fire but it's too full of ash and soot to do anything but be nasty. And it will never allow a cool breeze without first causing a multitude of obstacles for it.

This is the time to be in the water. To shield yourself in a cocoon of moss and rock formations that blend with the terrain, if only to escape any wrath of July's whims. It will bring stark skies and long days that won't relent. It would sting you if it could morph into a giant bee. So it improvises sometimes and just conjures up a swarm of bees instead.

July will laugh at you and has no mercy. It gives its gifts as a polar opposite of the other side of the season, on the other side of the year. In otherwords, its gifts aren't welcome so much as they are planned for, prepared for, and painstakingly mapped out and awaited for. In short, it'll be long if you aren't on your toes when it arrives.


An Observation by Iggy 2019

Sunday, June 30, 2019

The Amateurish Month of June

It's almost as if you can tell how subtle it comes into being. Everything seems to be a remnant from last month for the most part. There is one thing June brings in abundance though. Bugs. Lots of these things. The turn of the world seems new again. And you'll find there will be less rainfall. Give or take. Strange sunsets will strike you, and these will hang around a little longer.

But there's something that's a bit off. A little askew. It smiles awry. Its land aslant. An ocean tide engulfs some quiet alcove and then it seems washed away like the last age. Something rings from another century throughout this month, too. It's not eerie, but instead a fond memory of sunshine in the fields. Then you remember that you forgot. That's how June works.

The time is designed to be playful. You must find yourself in some watery environment to feel the world of June. You cannot access it through patios and sundecks. You can't see it with lanterns and telescopes. But it shows itself in weird things like a lost glass bottle that once held the scent of violets and straw. It will tease the humans, confront the birds, and make some obscure reference to being on a quest for the dew that was once shining off of the leaves, the grasses, and some windows.


An Observation by Iggy 2019

Saturday, June 29, 2019

The Measly Month of May

Another month that offers a brief life of promises and hope but ends up ending all too soon. Oh and its promises are fleeting if not entirely forgotten. May holds an empty hand to the sky, to grab the sunlight and bring it down to admire. It may share of that with you. But it won't let you race with the rays or dance with the deity of the season.

It reserves all rights and passages to the realms of eternal green for itself. The paradise that it is will close off without warning. The only way left to go is onto another month of question and confusion of how this time works. And the confusion isn't worth the time to ponder. Stones need to be skipped. That's how you deal with this month.

There will be pipers, and perhaps some birthday cake stories. One tale will be strange and strangely tragic and the other will be a terrible story about someone not getting their cake. Somehow that will describe the odd bits of this month. Like a ghost in the woods that's been demoted to using wildflowers as omens.

It's forever just a gateway, a threshold to something pleasant and wondrous. That is if you're lucky enough to get here under pleasant conditions. That's not always the case. As for the season of life, there's hidden some rather awful things here. The best way to skate past the debris of some fallen monument of its glory, is to literally skate upon a layer of faux ice and smooth stone from the nearest rocky edge of a sea-stricken cliff.


An Observation by Iggy 2019

Friday, June 28, 2019

The Vague Month of April

How does this month even register on the calendar? Other than some odd Rite of Spring, its overtones of lush green and pastel blue disguise that somewhere nearby there's still a chill echoing off some dark reminder of the past. It laughs it off though. You start to relax, but you know the routine. It's not going to slow down enough for one to take in the full intoxication of this month.

It'll wind around your head, play in the meadows, it'll frolic in the tree branches, and slide across still waters. But it'll be gone by nightfall. It'll whisper vaguely and you won't know what it said.

If you strain to listen, you'll be met with its silence. Your heart can pick up the message though. Somewhere between the beat of spring, and the snappy farewell to the past, you may finally hear its words, and they'll disappoint you when all it was saying was some stupid anecdote of how it once made bunnies out of a month's supply of fluffy clouds.


An Observation by Iggy 2019

Thursday, June 27, 2019

The Chilling Month of October

Nobody wants it except for the festive end of it. The lead up is dreary. There is nothing fun about the potential of getting sick and bed-ridden. This is a prelude to October's exit. Before it even exits! It has no sympathy. It has shutters that creak and tap in the wind. It shows markings of rustic settlements and peeled paint on abandoned houses. Creepy in the dark, abandoned houses. The fields cry out in despair as they have no layers of warmth from above now.

And October's apathy is even worse when and if the days and weeks before its end should be decently warm, that when it knows it's time for its departure, it will do something untoward to see to it that you remember something about it. It is most recommended to avoid October.

Although we do forget and it can just deal with it. Sometimes October reminds of the ghosts and a full moon. The magic of the moonlight showing through dead branches is a nice touch but that can be seen anytime during this season. October has claimed it as its own though. October is greedy and shrill.
 

An Observation by Iggy 2019

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

The Dreaded Month of September

It creeps upon you, very soft and subtle if you weren't paying attention to the calendar. But if you were, you either praise its return or dread its ending. But dread it you will! For the time it approaches you know the swimming in warn water will be something you will have either missed or will have to wait ten long months before any water is warm. Anywhere. September is the curse of a late season that should never wane into something even more dreaded.

But that's what it will be. Something that is timed and while the air is soft and warm it seems, and there's a sense of relaxation, don't fall for it! It is timing you and it is some warped stopwatch that ticks away like a pendulum.

Work is present. Hard work. For one thing, you know that all the trees want to fling all their leafy clothes on your yard, your walkways, everything. Like sand, it seeks to fill all spaces with no mercy. And it also foretells of a sort of sandy existence. That of a dry, barren desert! As at the end, that's what's coming. Nothing will be alive after it comes and goes. September sucks!



An Observation by Iggy 2019

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

The Onslaught Month of January

Beginning already with a late night and sure to be a slow day ahead and sleeping all morning, you feel that something went awry with the late hour to an early hour and then back to a late hour that isn't late at all, for the shorter days. But it will tell your inner time frame that you are officially a night owl. Even if you rise early regardless of the weariness.

It drags on for a week then another endless three or four follow. The previous months of festive clamor are now somewhere long ago in the past. There's nothing here in January. Just bitter cold and bitter light should it peep through. January seeks to blind you with harsh light and stab with subspace temperatures. It means to kill everyone. Yet it's hard to fight its wrath.

It has no business being a month of new years, but it somehow went that way. Perhaps some wisdom from fairy magic subdued its destructive power by marking it a beginning of a new year each year because the energy of new life and new beginnings was needed. So January was somewhat held back. But not enough. As it still has these problems. Fly by quickly January. Get lost with your frost.


 An Observation by Iggy 2018

Friday, November 9, 2018

The Draining Month of November

Knowing there will be at least three more months of bitterness and frost and the approaching season of death, the energies begin to wane. Like a moon that was bright once but given away to a darkening hour of which there are less, to the dimly lit areas of space.

This is the month unfortunates may be abducted by aliens. You expect snow in this time. But November never promises anything. It is a breaker of promises if ever one was given on the chill wind. The gray is there. You retreat into your abode. To sort through things and vacuum the stove.

You could ride your bike to the nature trails to spy any aliens hanging around but, they're all gone. They hide so well in November's gray as they match its somber color. You want to blast a warm light all around but the sun isn't going to help now that it's been obscured by an unnatural weather pattern.

November brings no hope so you shop. You plan for December. There's this one day where food is abundant, but it's just another day with the bonus of having more food. Knowing you can't eat all of it and really shouldn't. That's November. You wait for its exit and would speed right past it if you could.


An Observation by Iggy 2018

Monday, September 7, 2015

The Brutish Month of December

The morning comes over the horizon, in a flash of stinging light. The thin atmosphere is of no comfort. The sun comes blazing through as if the sublands is exposed to outer space coming into contact with the direct sunlight. It shoots through the air like a stinging pulse of irritation and assaults the senses. Harshly zooming into the eyes of any onlookers to any given morning.

The corruption of the light, being in the throes of a time of death to all under the stars outside, is a cruel limbo. Harsh and unforgiving. A horrible hour over the hour that will end the day in very short order.

Winter is an ugly time. An ugly season. A season of death. Dead limbs and leaves all over. Nothing tidy. Unlike Spring and Summer that clears and keeps green the ground and life outside under the stars. Oh December, I would send a wall of fire at your approach. Burning you up into ashes, as you make ashes disguised of flake and drizzle.


An Observation by Iggy 2015 

Friday, September 4, 2015

The Insidious Month of March

Lest we forget the fateful Ides, and the fact it's still winter for this month, the month of March is not a friend. It's an enemy. Enemies lurk and then reveal themselves in full view in this month. Anything you believed before will be shown to be the exact opposite. For this month is not the place to prosper. The most skilled will see it coming but even then it will still show even further treachery.

The Romans seemed to dislike this time of year. It made them alert and paranoid. And with good reason. There's nothing muted about March unless you ignore it with all your willpower.. Outside, in the outdoors, is an ominous place in this month. Things fall. Clouds look menacing. Nothing pleasant to be seen here.

It stands on two slippery slopes across the valley between winter and spring. It likes its days short and its nights long and it threatens to kill the future. March has always done that. It's not a good customer. It's in a costume from the last masquerade that doesn't know the party ended. A very strange party that people left early from, because of some premonition about death. That's how March goes.


An Observation by Iggy 2019

Thursday, September 3, 2015

The Beastly Month of February II - February Is So Bizarre

It's always the first hours of the dawning of the first of the month of February that you feel you're repeating last month. So you hunker down for more of the cold and think to yourself; enough of winter already! But February will have all these warm and sunny days right in there. You're gonna think Spring has already begun, but you know it's February.

Some snow falls. For a day. Then melts like some forgotten popsicle left unnoticed. It did that, it did, it was like a day in Spring for a few hours, summer-like then went straight into the dead of December. That was unnervingly odd. Then it went balmy.


In a Leap Year, such as this year, February's going to give us one more day. Granting us the last few hours into the next month, when we can hang on for just a little longer. As if time has stopped and the ease into March will flow normally.


But it isn't normal, is it? This extra day is riddled with inconsistencies. Strange dreams and weird roads. That's the bizarre effect of February. All those days you know something's gonna happen. It happens but you were asleep, or dozed out or maybe in a self-induced coma. Either way, whatever it was, came and went. It becomes some delusory event that you probably didn't want to notice anyway. Because you're really just gliding on through February, knowing that there's no way you'll ever seize this strange thing that it is.


It's a month that will not be had, and I suspect doesn't want to be counted, it wants to exist in its own world. The world of parallel seasons, Winter into Spring, or more likely dusk into dawn with no pesky high noons or alarming definite strokes of midnight. It's like the wee hours, the hours you're aware are there, but as February would have it, the hidden time was only lurking, then disappeared with a foggy pillowing of mist and cloud that you know wasn't in the forecast.



An Observation by Iggy 2012

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

The Beastly Month of February

Usually I like to ignore this month in general and be grateful it's the shortest month of the year. It's hung right in the midst of Winter and teases of Spring to come. It mocks back at the landscape and takes in the bleakness and sends a few dark tidings in its wake.

Oh the time of February, the time that wound down from the frenzied January. The long December before that tied off with celebrated days and long past when February comes and settles for its reign. Its waif-like arms enfold the air but it never grips too hard. It doesn't have to, it's a dread in dreary tones. It's unnerving without announcing itself.

When the last week of February begins to close and March is almost ringing, the dolesome touch of a sedentary force restricts enthusiasm and makes no impression of hunger or strife but in a backwards fleeting way it gives no solace. But that's the way February began too. It's one long day and night disguised like a whole month. Some weird inverted time frame. It has to be because you never feel like you've slept, waken or eaten.

It's almost like you're suspended in a force between struggle and unwilling resolve. The Beastly Month of February feels dead and it's like standing in the Realm of the Dead. Or rather limply tilted against a wall of fog. This is February's terror on the humans.

One bright spot shines, though, on Valentine's Day. It wasn't seen as such a hopeful day in 1929 come to think of it, though. So onto the strange murmurings of February that winds on, and we hear, but we don't answer because February only hears us once every four years. When that extra day we wonder at. Even then we don't really know why we would say a word.

  

An Observation by Iggy 2010