Wandering Mind

Some people have "wild" dreams from foods or alcohol or shows or drugs or just a propensity for psychedelic mind wanderings. Most can't remember them past breakfast at best, so they are lost until the next night. They can be a great source of entertainment if remembered and related to others who have the patience to endure the stumbling, disconnected ramblings. They never seem as exciting when told in the light of day.

Well, be that as it may, I have these dreams and I try to write them down as stories. They can be anything. I will include one and another as time passes.

A large portion of the "THE ENHANCERS" AND "THE QUARK EFFECT" are based in dreams.

SHORT STORIES

My Wish | Texas Sasquatch | Wow, That's Fast | We're Going In!

It's the Twelveth | Gravitron | The Tomorrow Window | The Sun Shines so Bright

The Hammer and the Vise | My Beautiful Ruby Cat

My Wish

I have searched this world over,
From the big bang to the racing galaxies
There is so much beauty, so much glory
It is gaspingly beautiful to swirl among
The spiraling galaxies to the all consuming
Black holes that gobble up time.
I drift, I drift----, what a glorious sensation
To be weightless and speed across
Time and this incomprehensible universe
But, search as I may, I always come home
The most beautiful of all, my earth
My home of homes
Here, I drift, I fly on the winds of my god,
Only he could sense the need for me,
To keep me here for my destiny
To return to him as one of his children
Who has been away for a long, long time
I so wish for that to happen.

Texas Sasquatch

The paranormal, ghosts, UFO’s, unknowns, unidentified, strange experiences have interested me for years. I have read many accounts of the sasquatch phenomena, seen the film of ‘mother sasquatch’ taken back in the seventies. You might take the attitude that ‘where there is smoke, there is fire.” Must be something to it like UFOs. 99% sightings are false, but there is always one unexplainable.

This last year I was visiting my son in East Texas near one of the large protected forests. Mike suggested that we camp out in the forest to see animal activities around a feeder he had set up. We hoped to sight something unusual and photograph it if possible. Our camp consisted of a large tent with several cots inside to give us some protection from the mosquitoes.

The first night gave us a thrill. Deer, coons and other nocturnal animals came to the feeder to explore and feed. Our night vision nocs were a lot of fun. When we returned to out camp, it was obvious that some kind of animal had ransacked our food packs in the tent. Drygoods such as flour, salt, dried fruit and candy bars were taken. Whatever it was could not decipher the snap locks on the ice chests, but they were turned over in apparent attempts to get inside.

We could only think bear, but bear are almost nonexistent in these parts of Texas. The ranger reported no sightings in five years. He did mention sasquatch in kind of a humorous vein. We laughed at that, so did he. However, the next night we decided to watch our camp from a distance after setting out a good package of bacon. The odor of bacon permeated the tent; we thought that it would draw the ‘whatever.’

Five hours after dark, we detected something moving through the brush and trees approaching the camp. Whatever it was entered out tent and proceeded to ransack it again. Animal noises of grunting, snuffling, low barking and tearing came to us. Probably 30 minutes passed as quietness descended upon the camp. “What tha hell,” I offered, “Let’s creep up to the tent and see if it’s still here. I didn’t get a look at it with my night glasses.”

With camera/flash ready and a small bore pistol in hand, (guns are not allowed in the protected forests) we pulled the tent flap back to reveal something lying on one of the cots, Dawn’s. I snapped a picture. The flash startled, awoke the animal. It whipped over on it’s back clutching Dawn’s pillow to its face, apparently sniffing her perfume and natural body odor. Mike had trained a large spotlight on it, blinding the beast. However, with little concern and no hesitancy it rose from the cot and pushed past us to disappear in the trees carrying the pillow leaving a horrendous odor of fetid animal aroma hanging in the still air.

No thought of shooting it or taking more pictures occurred. We were dumbfounded! It was white skinned and completely covered with black hair! Everything we had ever heard indicated that the sasquatch was black with black hair. This ape/manlike beast resembled a human but it’s prodigious penis and testicles/scrotum far out stripped any man I had ever seen. I mean large! And it was white! Maybe an albino? Who knows? We at least had one photograph attesting to our startling tale.

We packed up camp and left the next morning after standing guard the rest of the night. “IT” is still out there snuffling Dawn’s pillow as far as we know in the piney woods of East Texas. I wish I could have got one more picture of ‘our sasquatch,’ full face. Really remarkable!

Wow, That's Fast!

Can you imagine, 100 feet per second! As I walked across the two-lane country road to my mailbox, I glanced left to the car approaching. For every step I took, the car moved 100 feet towards me. Step lively now, it’s almost upon me. Tic toc, tic toc, each a hundred feet. But that’s only 70 miles per hour! Well, I’m stretching it, it’s 68 mph, but it’s getting there. Whoosh, whoosh, they flew by kicking up little eddy swirls in the dust around me. Here comes one from the right, head on. Approach velocity 140 mph, 200 feet per second! Separated by a thin strip of black paint or tar, and, most importantly, the belief that he will stay to his side of the line.

I believe, I believe! It protects us in so many instances. No, it won’t happen to me, not me, it can’t, I believe. I am invincible. I am immortal.

I asked the sweet young thing, “How are you, today?” “I’m fine, just fine,” came the response with a bright smile. To myself, “Yes, I know you are fine, tell me something I don’t know!” “Are you going to wash the car?” “No, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Yes, there is always tomorrow. I guess I can remember that, too. “Youth is wasted on youth;” I can agree with Grandpa’s statement now. Youth doesn’t have any concept of life, no awareness of their natural, fine bodies, their sharp minds, clear eyes. But, they can’t be held accountable for that lack of knowledge. Their comparison is to others like them and their very short past of awareness, their perspective of the world.

Perspective, a powerful word, little thought of, but so influential in our lives. All our experiences, all our awareness’, everything we see and think about can be placed under perspective. What we see, what we feel is measured by something in our experience, our awareness. Any two people can see the same scene and describe it differently. But, a totally new experience can only bring forth a gasping, “Wow.” It might be the first roller coaster ride, the first really passionate kiss of a girl, a woman, the indescribable warmth of her soft, but firm mouth.

My mind drifts back to my science professor, speaking of Albert Einstein, and his brilliant, absolutely brilliant mathematics surrounding the theories of relativity. “There are so few original ideas. I mean ideas that transcend human awareness, take us to another level of consciousness! Down through time, our progression to now, each step has been based on an original idea. There are so few.”

I have never forgotten that concept, it ties directly into perspective. Each of us can have an original idea, maybe more than one, we think. Our awareness, very limited at best, lets our little ego swell with pride as we contemplate our great mind, our startling concept! Time and time again, I have thought of something only to see it on the news or read about it in the paper, or even already in product form! So, it really wasn’t an original idea, at least two of us had the same idea.

Earlier this year, I applied for a patent on a golf club concept, “This is revolutionary, it will change golf as we know it!” The first stage is a patent search for similar ideas; there were 9 separate patents dating back to 1927! Original ideas are so rare, reserved for the very few with a perspective twisted by something really beautiful.

But, I have a new perspective, an original idea! “Doctor, I believe I have an ulcer, my stomach is crying,” that was last week.

And just yesterday, my Dr. Rodriguez, speaking in the soft twist that the Spanish language gives to English, “Let me tell you a story. The body is so beautiful, it’s like mathematics, it’s absolutely predictable. Deep down in the very bottom reaches of our body, we start with the cells, even farther, the DNA in the cells. Each one responds perfectly to the enzymes, the proteins, the many chemicals flowing through the blood. Each cell replicates itself perfectly to further its responsibilities.”

I sighed, absolutely unaware of my fundamental feeling of immortality, of confidence, “Doctor, you are trying to tell me something, I can handle it, tell me.”

“Yes, yes, of course, please hear me out.” Dr. Rodriguez placed his hand on my leg, I could feel the warmth. “Think of the tiny cell copying itself explicitly each and every time. But, for unknown reasons, and fifty years of research still can’t say why, the cell changes, it breaks the code it’s bound by, creating a new cell. This cell moves rapidly through the reproduction stages, taking food from its neighbors, disrupting the chemistry in its area of responsibility. Soon, it’s noticeable, body functions change, pain results, maybe even a swelling.”

I sat straight now, the doctor had my attention, “So, Doc, you are trying to tell me I have cancer. Trying to let me down slowly. Okay, okay,” I coughed, “Tell me the bad news, I, ahh, I still think I can handle it.”

Today, years away from yesterday’s revelation, I felt the need for speed. Yes, my car and speed, I had rolled the window down, hung my arm out like I used to when there was no air conditioning. The seventy mile per hour breeze whipped past my arm swirling into the interior, lifting the papers on the seat beside me. God, the world is so beautiful, the sun so warm, the trees so green. How could I be so unaware of the beauty surrounding me. Awareness, perspective came to me again, “Wow,” maybe this is an original idea. Life as we know it, as I know it is changing, and very rapidly.

The paper fluttered again, catching my attention, I recognized the transfer form to the Medical center in Houston. “I will never leave that place alive. People go to hospitals to die, they have a very organized morgue in the basement.”

The chemotherapy program Dr. Rodriguez outlined brought forth the World War II images of the Jews in Auschwitz and my cancer friends I had visited in the cells, the hospital cells. Thin, haggard faces, gaunt bodies, hairless pates, staring eyes from sunken sockets, and the doctor’s and friend’s warm hands patting me on the leg, “You’re doing fine, you’ll be out of here soon.” I could only gasp, “Chemotherapy is comparable to shock treatments for the mentally ill.” One step above the use of leeches to ‘thin the blood’ from medieval times. Some day, we will understand the innermost functions of the cells, we will understand cancer. My God, after fifty years, billions of dollars of research, and we still don’t know crap, just chemotherapy to kill all the cells. Maybe we don’t want to cure cancer, maybe it’s a primary industry providing jobs for a major portion of the economy.

Ha, now that’s an original idea! Just how much of the U. S. economy is wrapped up in medicine? It sure as hell isn’t a cottage industry! Whispers from the dark corridors of the medical profession, “What we need to do is treat the symptoms, ease the pain, extend the life, have you checked his net worth?”

“Well, it won’t happen to me, I’m immortal, there is always tomorrow,” rang in my ears from early awareness. “‘The black line’ will protect me, he wants to live just as much as I do,’” and all those other crazy premises of youth swept through my mind. None of them meant anything now, I really did have an original idea. The incomprehensible is here, IT’S OVER.

What---, what if, two cars approaching each other at 70 mph, 200 feet per second! They just aren’t made to withstand it; seatbelts, air bags, collapsible steering columns, naw, no way!
The newspaper reported, “Death was instantaneous.” Do you really think death can be instantaneous?

Yes, maybe it ought to be eighty, maybe ninety, make sure, leave no vegetables, don’t burden the living. Instantaneous death? Naw, the mind will comprehend, it works at the speed of light.

So beautiful, how could I go through life and not see, not appreciate the beauty of this world, not respond to the love of my friends? I have so much remorse, regrets, pain, mental pain. Ahhhh, 150 feet per second, one hundred miles per hour, that will be instantaneous. No, no, I won’t do it, I won’t kill some poor innocent suffering slob---.

THERE!

Instantaneous, ha! I can see the hood crumpling, feel the strap jerk into my body, see the air bag deploy, sense the unbelievable G forces thrusting me forward against the steering wheel. It’s not possible---, the engine is pushing me into the back seat, the radiator burst and has washed me with scalding water! Death was not instantaneous!

The huge oak tree will live to claim another!

We're Going In!

GUNNY, OUR CHIEF GUNNER’S MATE, TURNED BACK TO SURVEY THE SQUAD. A QUIETNESS OF PRIDE, CONFIDENCE, DEEP CONCERN, ABSOLUTE DEAD SERIOUSNESS COULD BE READ ON THE LINED FACE ATTEMPTING TO HOLD OUR WILL IN A COHESIVE SINGLE PURPOSE UNIT. THE VOICE, HOARSE WITH EMOTION, BOOMED OVER US, “REMEMBER, WE HAVE TRAINED, TRAINED AND TRAINED FOR THIS, WE KNOW HOW TO EXECUTE!” GUNNY GAVE US THE RAISED FIST, WE ALL KNEW THE DEMANDS THAT MUST BE MET.

THE SWEAT OF FEAR, TIGHT, TWISTED LIPS, DARTING EYES EMANATED FROM THE TROOPS. I HARKED BACK TO THE TRAINING VIDEOS, ONLY 30 MINUTES TO TELL THE STORY OF THE COMPANY WIPED OUT BECAUSE OF LITTLE, SEEMINGLY LITTLE DETAILS; FAILURE TO HEED THE TRAINING. UNTIED SHOELACES, WANDERING EYES, DIRTY EQUIPMENT, SLOPPY EXECUTION OF MANEUVERS, THEY ALL LED TO THE LOSS OF TROOPS.

THE RAISED FIST HELD HIGH, QUIVERING, WAITING, ANTICIPATING THE EXACT MOMENT FOR MAXIMUM EFFECT, MINIMUM LOST OF LIFE. NOW, WE’RE GOING IN ! DUM DE DUM DUM, I FELT THE DRUM ROLL, THE ANTICIPATING BOOM OF THE CLAXON, WE’RE GOING IN!

GOD, IT WAS HORRIBLE! WE EXITED THE PERSONNEL CARRIER, FORMING THE CLASSIC WEDGE WITH GUNNY AT THE APEX, SQUATTING, HOLDING THAT FIST HIGH. “CLARESE, CLARESE, COME BACK HERE, NO, NO, NO!” CLARESE HAD DARTED FORWARD TO THE SHINY OBJECT, EXTENDING HER HAND TO SNATCH IT, WHOP, WHOP, DOWN, SMASHED IN AN INSTANT. LITTLE CLARESE, GIFTED, PERCEPTIVE, LOST TO A STUPID BOOBY TRAP. “DETAILS, DETAILS, PAY ATTENTION TO EVERY LAST POINT IN THE TRAINING!” ECHOED IN MY HEAD AS I PULLED MY EYES AWAY FROM THE RESIDUE OF CLARESE. THE ENTIRE TRAINING VIDEO ADDRESSED BOOBY TRAPS, THE CLASSIC, THE TWISTED PICTURE FRAME IN THE SHATTERED HOUSE, STRAIGHTEN IT AND BOOM, THE GRENADE WIPED OUT ANOTHER. THE SHINY OBJECT BURIED IN THE RUBBLE, WHAT IS IT? PULL IT OUT AND BOOM, DECIMATION OF THE TROOPS WITHOUT FIRING A SHOT.

“WE’RE GOING IN, WE’RE GOING IN,” SCREAMED THE GUNNY AGAIN, “FORM UP, FORM UP, DON’T BREAK RANKS.” A BLIP IN MY MIND, THE TERRIBLE SCENE IN THE WW I MOVIE, ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT, DEPICTING THE MEN CRAWLING OUT OF THE TRENCHES TO CHARGE THE DEADLY MACHINE GUN OF THE GERMANS. ACROSS NO MAN’S LAND, SCREAMING, TUMBLING BODIES, SOLDIERS, YOUNG MEN, DYING, DYING BY THE THOUSANDS, FOR WHAT? NINETY PERCENT CASUALTIES, THE GROUND RED, SOAKED IN BLOOD.

GUNNY LOOKED BACK ONE LAST TIME, THE FIST DROPPED, “WE’RE GOING IN, FORWARD!” THE WEDGE HELD TIGHT THIS TIME, NO MORE DISOBEDIENCE, WE MOVED FORWARD AS A UNIT, SHORT STEPPING, DIRECTLY BEHIND MOM, THE GUNNY, INTO THE OTHER WORLD, WAL-MART ON SATURDAY AT 10 AM.

It's the Twelveth

Aaron, I say, Aaron, are you going to make the SWANNIE today? You know, Christian demands punctuality. He doesn’t just close the gate; he locks the gate at 3 PM. He even has a guard standing by. Rather obtuse, but it’s his show, his money and our entertainment. He tells me it’s for the good of us “adults.” He’s rather arrogant with this flash of his money, but I will go, it’s free.

What? What? You forgot about it? My God man, all the fine women will be there, dressed in their glowing silks, their best. They love to play dress up. The tittering, fluffing of frilly blouses, the eye batting, the perfumes remind me of the hens in my uncle’s chicken yard when I was ah kid.

The food is always just so, he demands it, you know. Has it catered from down in Austin. It’s the same service that caters the Governor’s Ball. Only the best for Christian, but he’s got the money, has always had it. He’s really not selfish; he spreads it around, carefully invested so he never loses the principal. I’ve seen him give a twenty to a beggar on the street to see his reaction. The last time, the beggar startled him, “Is that all ya got, Buddy?”

Christian told me that he was a fine student of the human being, his emotional make up; found it enthralling as compared to animals that most often respond to instincts. He was considering writing a paper on it. As a layman, of course, you know he’s uneducated. Graduated from the 5th grade at age 16. The school asked that he be kept home because of his attentions he paid to the young girls.

Old man Swarther was furious. At the school board meeting, he threatened to move his estate out of the school district boundaries. Johnny Weldon faced him down, you remember him, the school board president. I’ll never forget that, he crossed his arms, stuck out his chest and bellowed back, “Go ahead, Mr. Swarther, I’ll just move the school district boundaries farther out to cover you. We need your revenues and you gotta admit Christian should not be “messin’ with eleven and twelve year olds. Send him down to Austin for an education in the finer things of life, you know, down there on 6th street.”

That’s when ‘ol Swarther built that high stonewall around his place, as if to keep the town rabble out. Johnny laughed and added another $50,000 to the tax role books for the estate. Johnny was tough, mean in some ways, but then he was independently wealthy. He didn’t give a shit what anybody said or thought. He was really good for the local government here. Took a lot of money from the rich and gave it to the city.

Aaron smirked that little sneer of his, “Yeah, I’m gonna make the SWANNIE. This is gonna be real special, cause I got me a eavesdropper tool I bought from DETECTIVES INC. You ever see thar magazine? It’s got all kina good shit for spyin. This time I’m gonna get the lowndown on Christian and smear his ass all over the paper, here and in Austin.”

“My God, Aaron, why would you do that? Christian ain’t never hurt you. He’s really trying to pull the town together after the riot. You remember that? ‘Ol man Swarther got high on drugs and ran all over town buck naked screamin I’m gonna kill you waving that pistol. The town went crazy. Took five cops to subdue him and take that pistol. The lawyers got him off with probation; he moved away, ya know?”

“What’s this thing you got?”

“Here, I’ll show you. It’s simple but I like the hell outta it cause I can listen in on people talkin from far away.”

Aaron pulled the little toy like thing out of his coat and set it on the table. It looked like an Eiffel Tower model. “Ya see, it’s a voice amplifier, ya point it at yer target and it picks up the voices and ya listen with an earphone or this tiny speaker right here. I’m gonna have it on my table and listen to the ‘talk’ this afternoon. Ya outta sit with me at my table at the TWELVETH OF SWANNIE.”

I made it a point to get to Aaron’s table after I made the line. I always wear my safari jacket because of the big pockets lined with plastic. The plastic keeps the bird blood from leaking and staining the coat. I use it to capture as many of the butter cookies as I can. You know they are so greasy; they will stain your coat just like bird blood. But that’s what makes them so good. Man, I love those butter cookies.

Aaron snickered when he noticed the bulge in my coat. “Melvin, ya dumbass, don’t ya know ‘ol Christian will give yah ah bag of them cookies to take home witcha? Hell, I leave here with a doggy bag ah goodies that lasts me a week.”

“Now, here’s what I came for, Melvin. See the table of ‘ol hens over there? Watch this.”

Christian had selected one of the princesses for the first dance. As usual it was Delouse. He had had a crush on her for forty years, all the way back to the 5th grade. Christian performed to thrill all observers with masterful moves, graceful swings of Delouse.

Aaron pointed his tower at the table. Immediately voices could be heard. And with remarkable clarity. Even who said what and with voice inflections. Sarah commented with her hand covering her mouth, “Look at that starched shirt, it’s just like a canvas sheet. It frames his physique. How does he get the paisleys on the front and not on the back? Delouse says he has an odor about him, like English Leather. Very manly, says it captivates her. Look at his hair, most men his age are bald, old, wrinkled, bent and clumsy. But his hair is all there. What a man’s man!”

Sylvia snickered, “Sarah, you always did want him, you used to flirt terribly in the 6th grade. Everyone could see it and laughed. Mr. Prosted, our teacher, couldn’t stand it. I think he was the one that complained to the principal and got Christian taken from the school. That sorry old fart; course, you teased anybody that would respond. ‘Ol Prosted used to grab his crotch behind the desk when you flashed your legs at Christian.”

Anna pulled at Sarah’s sleeve, “You never did bed him did you, Sarah?” Anna grabbed a deep breath to blurt out new tidbits before Christian brought Delouse to the table, “Have you smelled him up close, Anna? That’s not English Leather, it’s male sweat. I wonder if he bathes.”

Aaron snickered as he turned to Jungerford, “Those hens are getting close, Christian will lose that charisma as more of the truth comes out.”

Jung laughed outright, “You betcha. Hell I’ve been with Christian when he is in training. You ever seen his training arena, Melvin?”

Melvin knew the scales were about to fall from his eyes. The truth shall enlighten you.

“First of all, Christian has put a lot of thought into this aura he has created for his women,” Jung commented leaning forward over the table. “He studied animals all over the world, including dogs and cats right here. He says all of them exude odors that attract the opposite sex. There’re pheromones. Humans have such poor odor senses that they do good to smell a fresh fart. So ‘ol Christian has come up with designer smells of man for women.”

Jung flicked his fingers, here’s the facts, Melvin, get this Aaron. He don’t bathe, that’s right, not at all. He lays out in the sun and sweats his clothes out. You have to drink certain wines to get the right odors he tells me. Then he takes his clothes and sundries them. He says the UV light purifies bacteria and seals the odors in. The paisleys on his shirtfront are from spilled food. He just lets it dry and brushes away the deposits. The stains stay. Notice they’re only on the front.” Ah hearty laugh echoed from Jung as he looked at his two buddies.

“Hey, how often do you see animals bathing? I mean with soap and water? Jung nodded, “Christian says animals develop their own smell through bacteria that live in their hair, rot and die to create the smell. He’s doing the same thing. The one thing he washes is his crotch and his feet. They get cheesy he says and are offensive to all except when the female is in rut.”

Jung pointed casually to the women as if he was wiping his nose on his sleeve, “You see that stiff shirt? That’s dried sweat, body oils, dirt, rotted bacteria and spilled food stains. You couldn’t starch a shirt and get it like that, particularly the ‘Old English’ smell.”

Jung looked away, kinda raised his arm, sniffed his arm pit, “He’s got something, boys, he’s on the verge of entering the market with it. What he needs are some subjects to test his past experiences. He’s already approached me. I’m in. You would hafta go in training, just like I have described. Sweat and stink, sun bathe nude, dribble your food, sweat and stink. The sun is the key.”

Jung nodded to the women, “Lookit ‘em, you’d think they were snuffling a good watermelon. Christian has them totally hooked and they really don’t know why; it’s the male pheromones condensed, concentrated to a level that humans can smell.”

Melvin smirked at Aaron, “You want some pussy, man? You’re always lickin your chops when something fine comes along. Get in on the ground floor. Start training now. This thing is gonna sell. The women will come running.”

Jung snickered, “You heard of Christian Dior, the clothes designer? Well Christian is gonna call his cologne Christian O’dor. Has already picked out a bottle shape that’s suggestive of the male member. He predicts that he’ll sell more to the women for their men than visa versa.”

“I’m gonna get me some food before I pull outta here, boys. Have fun.”

GRAVITRON

Last night’s storm slashed down through the valley blowing trees, limbs and leaves across the roads, the yards, down the slopes and into the lake. The sun caught the lake’s waters pitching and tumbling, white caps cresting onto the far shore. A short-lived storm, by afternoon the turbulent waves had slicked out as the wind dropped to dead calm.

Standing on the foredeck of the lake house with the sun aft, the cool crispness of the aftermath felt good as the sun burned into my bare back. I had finished the last of the calculations on the preliminary design of my latest invention.

“What the heck, let’s test “Chilly Billy’s” new hull configuration.”

Skipping down the long, winding steps cantilevered off the rocky cliff, I leaped into the cockpit of my recent experiment tied at the dock. The big V-8’s cranked easily and nudged the 30-foot needle-nosed sea racer into deeper waters. All engine indicators pointed to normal, so I bogged the throttles to 90%. Whooohaaa, the acceleration just ripped your tingling muscles hanging on the wheel! Looking down, the speedometer rocked at 110 mph; she was smooth as silk on the mirror slick surface. I could tell immediately that the notched hull just aft of the planing line boosted top end. The twin 850 cubic inch blown V-8s ticked over at 4000 rpm punching out 600 HP each. Still some left! I loved to hear the throaty rumble of the “big hogs” and see the twin rooster tails spraying out back.

I made a wide turn into the sun hanging over the hills and circled a jet ski skipping across the water at 85 mph. A statuesque brunette with hair flying out behind skillfully guided the ski with one hand as she waved at me. The lifejacket did little to hide the buxom figure of a very athletic young woman enjoying the ride. I jerked the wheel as I caught the silhouette, “Wow, ‘ah sweet thing.’”

My mind reverted to the article I had read in Discover about what female characteristics appealed to man. Basically, man looked to the woman as a mother of his children and selected attributes that he thought would make her a good one; big legs, large buttocks, full breasts, and maybe just a little plump. The article presented the concept that “Madison Avenue, the advertising world" had tried to change man's view of woman into some kind of skinny, weak, bony-assed, hair-head that looked good in a sack for a dress. Personally, the full-bodied woman appealed to me.

My staring eyes snapped back to reality as the woman of my primordial dreams darted into a cove, docked the ski and sprinted up a long zigzag flight of stairs to a stilted house perched on the edge of the bluff. She stood momentarily, hand on the rail looking at me. I pictured that house several lots down from mine, that’s the two-story unit. I spun the “Chilly Billy” around and gassed it full throttles back to my lake house, docked and raced up the long stairs to my "shed." I had already forgotten the test of my new hull design.
I had to make contact with my “dream woman.”

My assistant, Neville Sharp, jumped up startled, "What's happening, Harris?”
I screamed as I ran through the house to the garage, "I may have found her, NS, I'll check you later.”
NS yelled, "What about your meeting with General Energy on gravity conversion to electric power?”
“Stall them if I don't get back in time," I threw over my shoulder.

I snapped the belts and hit the starter button on my titanium bodied, V-6 powered, all wheel drive “Hounder.” I had built it from parts off a wrecked Grand National.

It smoked the tires, “a real tire squealer.” I loved it.

A weak clicking sound greeted my hurried efforts. "Kiss my naked ass!” I yelled, half at the cheap Wal-Serve battery and half at myself for buying it. "It never seems to fail." I muttered as I jerked the hood up and stared at the green crystals matted around the battery terminals. "Shitty Murphy is always on my ass when I'm in a hurry!"

I reached the garage refrigerator in one long stride and snatched the door open. Three cans of Coke rocketed out of the door shelf and hit the floor rolling. Casting my eyes skyward I mouthed a string of obscenities under my breath. I picked the cans up and ripped the pull-tab off of the first one, slicing my index finger on the metal lip. In a raging frenzy, I hurled the other two cans at the garage door, shattering one of the custom tinted windows. "Shit, shit, shit!” I screamed at the walls.

I took a deep breath and poured Coke over the battery terminals. As they foamed, I unconsciously wiped my bleeding finger on the white bush shorts that I had ordered from Cabela’s. Two strides took me to my workbench where I grabbed a ball peen. I judiciously hammered on both terminals. Reaching through the window, I hit the starter button and the engine came to life, making that sexy, burbling, exhaust rumble that I grooved over. Slamming down the hood, I tossed the can and the hammer on the floor, displacing a divot of concrete.

Sweat ran down the crack of my ass as my shirt glued itself to my back. I jumped into the car, pushed the door button and snatched it into "R" for race. Roaring down the winding country road staring into oblivion, the meeting with General Energy, the young lady that I hoped to see, and my rotten, buzzard luck muddled my mind.

A high-pitched whining intruded on my reverie and wrenched me back into the present. "What the hell? For crap’s sake you dumb ass! You had it on the floor at 90 in second gear!” I shifted into fourth and involuntarily looked to both sides to see if someone had witnessed my fit of stupidity.

“There it is---, there it is.” I grunted as the driveway whipped by. Standing on the brake pedal, I jerked the wheel hard to the right. As the rear end started sliding in the gravel, I got off of the brake and tapped the throttle. The engine responded a little too eagerly and the rear end swung wide, barely kissing the rural mailbox post with the rear bumper. I hammered the brakes again as the car lurched to a stop. Gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw ached, I resisted the temptation to get out and inspect the bumper or the mailbox.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly maneuvered into the gate and steered down the winding drive. Familiar trees and long lost memories began to flood my mind. As a young man, I had hunted squirrels in all of these woods. Many a bushy tail had fallen to my single shot .22 rifle in those days, long before the clearing, the sub-dividing, and the building. You could still hunt here, but you would have to cross from one two-acre ranchero to the next to do it.

I sighed, there is always change. I shook my head and concentrated on the house at the end of the drive. A black Dodge Viper squatted in the drive. "Hmm,” I mused. "This babe likes it fast on the water and the road." I slid to a stop behind the Dodge and switched off the ignition.

I smiled, “Here’s Murphy!” as the engine dieseled and coughed. I stabbed the accelerator with my crepe soled bush boot (from Cabala’s). The engine gave one last shudder and died, filling the air with the smell of high-octane fuel. I hammered the heel of my hand on the steering wheel and got out, slamming the door.
Glancing up, I just caught the movement of the curtain in the upstairs window. Running my hands through my scissor-cut hair, I walked slowly to the house. “Be cool, be cool.” I knocked on her door. My heart skipped a beat as the door opened and I stared into the chest of a huge man. My eyes moved up to look at his face when he asked with a steely stare, "What can I do for you - are you hurt?" as his eyes focused on my blood stained clothing.

I shrank as I moved my eyes up and down him in a glance. He stood 6'-8” with biceps the size of my middle-aged, trembling thighs. My mind raced trying to identify this Goliath of a man, was he husband, boyfriend or brother? I quickly glanced down - no wedding ring. What did a wedding ring mean these days anyway?

Son-of-a-bitch, where is my 9 MM?

I heard a voice, a beautiful angelic voice trill, "Rock, who is it?"

I kinda reeled back, “Rock,” who has a name like Rock? Uggghhh, he was big.

"If they're here for the Bible study, ask them to come in."

Peering around Rock, my mind staggered as she walked into the room. “Haaa-hyah,” I gasped as a breath whistled past my lips. She was beautiful. Ahhhh, she was wearing a flowered singlet tee shirt and white nylon jogging shorts that left little to the imagination. The visible “thong” underwear enticed further wonderings.

I muttered something about cutting my finger, “I used to kill squirrels in the woods around her. Uhhhh, I mean here.” I guess I looked and sounded like I needed a friend because they invited me in and gave me a bandage for my finger.

People drifted in for the Bible study. What in hell am I doing here? The walls, the people, all strangers, crowded me. I resisted the urge to run. Something kept me there.

A powerful, supernatural aura emanated from the surroundings. I could feel it. My scientific mind clicked into gear. Can I measure it? Objectivity took over. I must learn more, more about her and more about this supernatural force surrounding this group of people. Conjecture crept forward, could this power replace electricity? Wouldn't GE love that? - Hell, maybe it’s electricity from the soul. Maybe she’s really an angel! A hymn signaled the end while everyone held hands and someone offered a prayer. The startling aura drifted away.

I searched out the “woman” and introduced myself with an inane approach waving my hand towards my house. “I’m Harris from down the way. I passed you this afternoon on a jet-ski. On the lake, I mean, you know, you were on the jet ski. You really kicked that ski across the water.”

“Harris, oh yes, Harris, my name is Sandy. Come.” She grabbed my hand with an exquisite smile shining at me. “We always break bread as a custom of friendship.” Whispered pass sweet lips in that beautiful contralto. Chills ran down my spine. My hands ached to grab her and carry her off to my cave. That beautiful face combined with my ‘robust’ body style tortured me.

“What do you do, Harris?” She asked as she casually leaned into my face. I smelled a faint breath of perfume that clung to her as I looked down at her breasts jutting against the sleeveless tee shirt. Her brown eyes laughed at me with tiny crinkles in the corners.

I took a deep breath. I really wanted to impress this gal; maybe we could get it on. “I’m an inventor, Sandy, I work for myself and my inventions have supported me.”

“Really! That’s fascinating Harris. What are some of your inventions?” Sandy acknowledged as she casually placed her hand on my arm and squeezed a little before dropping it.

“Well, my latest idea was a better anti-theft device for cars. The Detroit boys have accepted it. I’m testing a new hull design on powerboats for less drag. You saw me, possibly, this afternoon on the lake.” I was trying to act cool and sophisticated without my usual Murphyisms.

“Yes, I did see your boat, but it was whizzing by so fast I couldn’t tell who was driving it. It looked really smooth though.” Sandy whispered as she sipped a drink, tilted her head back and looked down her nose at me with a smile. The brown eyes laughed at me, again.

“You have anything else on the burner, Harris?” Sandy challenged as she spun around to a tune someone had keyed in the CD player. Before I could answer, she was grabbing my hand and urging me to dance on the patio. It was a hot number. We jiggled and wiggled for two minutes. She finished by pulling me to her for a brief hug. “I like the way you dance, Harris, you got some moves!”

My eyes and head spun. Was this babe coming on to me or was I just that attractive? Maybe she was starved for affection. Boy, I could give her some affection!

Sandy prompted. “You were going to tell me about your other ideas, Harris, before you swept me off my feet.” Sandy giggled, poked me in the ribs as she spun around with her arms over her head. Cutting her eyes at me, “Let’s get something to drink, Harris.”

I stammered quickly, “I uh--“ as she changed the subject again. She grabbed my hand and towed me to a bar in the corner of the room waving her hand.

“Beer or something swifter, Harris?” She gave me that “look” again. Again I opened my mouth as she said, “Of course, rum, I’ll bet you like rum. I have some Jamaican rum, here try this. It’s a special imported fruit flavored drink.” In seconds she had mixed two drinks with ice in tall glasses and a twist of lime on the rim.
“Come, let us sit on the porch and contemplate the falling of the evening curtain across the lake.” She whispered in my ear as she grabbed my hand again and led me to a swing on the patio. She spun around with one leg on the seat facing me and smiled as I looked at her long legs with a lot of skin showing. “Now, tell me about your latest invention, Harris.”

Haaaaa, what a woman! She had it all and I wanted it all. I’ve got to remain calm, suave, and sophisticated, I’ve got to keep Murphy out of this. I schemed as I dragged my eyes off her legs. The peach fuzz hair on her thighs where she didn’t shave glistened in the waning light. I smiled at her and casually glanced over the lake catching the last rays of the sun shining on the far shore. Another sip of the rum drink, maybe that was a long enough pause. She waited expectantly with her lips slightly parted in a cute little smile and her head tilted back slightly. Her arms were resting on the swing back and railing behind her which projected her breasts out. I can’t get her body off my mind. She is tormenting the hell out of me, boggling my mind!

“Ahhh, Sandy, I have a glimmering of an idea to unbalance the world’s economy!” I stated with a challenging air.

She kinda gasped and took a deep breath, batting those dark brown eyes. “Good Heavens, Harris, that is startling! What in the world could that be?”

I continued, assuming a lecture pose. “You see, the world runs on energy. Every facet of our existence, at least our civilized existence depends on energy. It’s the basis for our standard of living. Without energy, we would be grubbing in the dirt for daily survival like the caveman. Our energy comes to us in the form of hydrocarbons that we convert into electricity. Our transportation uses hydrocarbons, we use electricity for most everything else. The world’s economy is controlled by the oil cartels. The price of oil rules the economic world. Consider this, what if another form of energy came forward? One that could be converted directly into electricity, and it was more abundant than oil?”

Sandy sat upright and grabbed her throat gasping. “Harris---, Harris, do you have something like that? Have you found a way to capture the sun?” Sandy asked as her eyes glittered with excitement.
I smiled deprecatingly, I had her in the palm of my hand. “Yes, the sun is our single most powerful source of energy. But is there another, is there another form possibly available to us?” I posed with raised eyebrows. “Think about this, Sandy. Even though gravity is a relatively weak force, what if we could convert it directly to electricity? Our world is a giant electromagnet, is it caused by gravity?” I ended triumphantly with hands outspread.

Sandy slid over next to me and placed her hand on my leg. She stared into my eyes with admiration as she played 20 questions. “Harris, is this what you latest invention is about? How far along are you on it? Is it ready to go? I’m just so excited to hear of something like this, it is mind boggling! Harris, you are so smart, where have you been all these years?” she demanded raptly slowly dragging her hand off my thigh.
Leaning back with an air of confidence, I smirked at her. I lifted my glass of rum for a sip. I choked as some how I caught my arm or hand on something and poured the drink in my face and down my front.

***

“Jesus Christ, what was happening? What is happening?” I was in the grasp of Rock and he was dashing my head in and out of a large tub of water. I gasped for air, my hands were on the edge of the tub but I couldn’t even begin to stop Rock’s superhuman strength as he doused me again. He dragged me up again by the scruff of my neck and turned my head. My eyes were protruding and I gurgled for air. “What---, what the hell is this, what do you want?”

A sadistic grin spread over Rock’s wide face. “Harris, I just want the final plans to the gravity machine, your gravitron.”

I twisted around glimpsing Sandy trussed with duct tape in a chair off to one side. Fear stared out of big eyes as she struggled against the tape. A bloodied nose dripped off her chin onto her tee shirt. The blood had soaked her shirt, her breasts stood out in relief.

I gripped the tub and pushed up again against the crushing grip of Rock.

“Ha, I see you still have some spunk, you little pipsqueak, here we go again.” A heavy cackle rumbled from Rock as he plunged my head into the water again.

Air gushed from my mouth involuntarily. I gulped water, retching as he finally jerked my head out. I coughed and choked as water dribbled out of my mouth and I hung limply on the tub’s edge.

“Enough, enough,” I gasped. “I think I’ll die the next time.” My mind was vainly trying to grasp what was happening, one instant I was with Sandy on the porch and the next instant I was in the tub. There was no connection. I remember now, I spilled my drink----, Murphy was up my ass again!

Rock’s grip pinched into my neck and arm as he picked me up, clear off the floor. How strong was this behemoth?

I crashed into a recliner chair. He straddled my legs as it tilted back. “Okay, Harris, this is your chance to perform, give me the final plans. We have everything up to this week.”

I mumbled, wiping my mouth, “Who the hell is ‘we?’” as I cast about trying to find some avenue to escape or get out of this nightmare.

Neville Sharp stepped into view from behind Rock with a sardonic smile. “Hey, Harris, surely you don’t think GE could develop this idea in an honest and forthright manner do you? Hell, Great Evil is known for raping the world in any situation where they have the controlling hand.” Neville stood with his legs wide apart and hands on his hips, chin thrust forward, preaching. “This invention, this idea is a world revelation. It must be handled delicately. It needs to be introduced as a cogeneration concept with little fanfare. Don’t you see this, you stupid shit?” Neville grimaced as he waved a hand towards me.

“We slowly increase production forcing the utilities to buy more and more electricity to the point where we can execute a take over. We need their distribution systems. As our cash flow increases, we take over all the utilities in the United States.” Neville had swaggered up behind rock, glowering at me.

“Yes, we will have threats from the FTC, but we can give them the alternative. Destroy the oil monopoly and plunge the world into economic chaos.”

Who the hell is “we” kept running through my mind.

I gulped a breath of air and stared into Rock’s eyes. “We are really in a very delicate situation, Rock, Neville. You can’t kill me because you can’t take gravitron to completion, only I can do that.” Spiraling through my mind a plan developed. I’ve got to throw them off track. Continuing with a conciliatory air, “The final considerations might be earth shattering, and I mean that literally. The earth is gravity and I extract some of it, eventually, a lot of it.”

Neville smiled with a lip curled into a sneer. “You are so conceited, you think you are the only person who grasps this concept. Hell, who do you think has worked with you for the past 10 years, doing your bidding and putting up with your Murphyisms?” Neville expounded as he strutted around the room. “’You are an accident fixing to happen.’ I watch you constantly to see what mudhole you will fall into and look to me to pull you out, Harris.” Neville scowled and pointed his finger at me. “All we need is the work you did this last week to put us over the top. Rock will help you understand and develop a ‘SENSE OF URGENCY!’”

Rock had been looking at Neville; he turned and smiled with sadistic pleasure. “What’ll it be, pipsqueak? I specialize in pain, excruciating pain. Really good pain generates fear of more pain and I’ve got it---, just for you.”

I picked up my hand and waved weakly while trying to gather my strength. “A bit of philosophy for your consideration: Man comes to earth with free will. He makes decisions to do anything he wants.” Ha, at least I had their attention. “He labors under the rationalization that others make him do things, he is a victim of situations, he is not in control. But you must realize that man, in the final analysis, makes all decisions to do or not to do what he does.” I paused for effect. “I am there. Who are you to say I will cooperate? I will make that decision. There is only one thing that man must do, that he will do beyond anything else. Do you know what that is?” I finished catching Neville’s eye to the side.

“Continue, Harris, you are so boring.” Neville sneered with a wave of his hand.

“YOU MUST DIE!” I screamed as I kicked Rock in the crotch with all my might. He yelled, gasped, ducking his head, grabbing his privates. I kicked up again with my knee catching him in the nose. He staggered back into Neville as I struggled out of the recliner. I grabbed my Taser (from Cabela’s) from my back pocket and stabbed it into Neville’s shoulder as I charged him. His eyes glazed over as he shuddered from the 200,000 volts crumpling to the floor, twitching and jerking. I kicked him in the face with sadistic pleasure as blood squirted from his nose and mouth. Rock was holding his nose and trying to get the tears from his eyes. I gave him a taste of 200,000 volts and held it on his neck. His head snapped back and jerked spastically as I thought of the dunkings. “You sorry piece of shit, I’ll show some pain.” I yelled as I jabbed him again in the crotch. He fell to the floor jerking and began puking. I felt a lot better after looking at the two half-wits who were plotting against me.

Sandy was struggling with the duct tape, her eyes wide with fright. I quickly ripped the tape off her hands and feet so she could stand up. She tore the tape off her mouth, yelling. “Come this way, we can get away down the cliff.” We ran out onto the porch and down to the first landing overlooking the cliff and the lake. I staggered into the handrail as my momentum cast me against it. It crumpled, breaking away. I grabbed Sandy, we plunged over the cliff towards the lake, 100 feet below. I stared into Sandy’s big brown eyes dilated with fright. I knew we could not survive the fall. The shallow water at the lake’s edge would be like concrete.

***

I opened my eyes, startled to find myself alive. Sandy was holding my head above water and looking adoringly into my eyes. She had a ski vest on and her jet ski was beside her. My mind spun, my mouth hung open as I stared at her. How did I get here with her and the jet-ski?

Sandy recognized that look. “Your boat hit a floating tree or log and sailed a 100 feet in the air. *It hit the water and broke into pieces. You were thrown clear, but knocked unconscious.” Sandy informed me as she waved her hand in the direction it happened. “Your helmet and vest probably saved your life. I came over when I saw what happened and pulled you to safety.” Sandy searched my face for understanding. “We will be okay. Two can ride on my jet-ski.”

I shook my head as I tried to make sense of the last few hours. I must have had a terrible dream, crazy thoughts raced through my head. Sandy cradled my head as I cast about trying to make sense of it. Is this some kind of set up to get Sandy to pump the final gravitron plans from me? She was awfully friendly at the house. Did the torture really happen? Was I drugged? Am I drugged? What was the strange aura of supernatural power that emanated from the prayer meeting? I reviewed the past few hours again in my mind. What really happened? Is her name Sandy? I tried to think it through---. She is a living doll. I wanted her so bad. I looked into her crystal green eyes and asked tentatively, “What’s your name?”

“Come, let’s get on the jet-ski and get you to shore, Mister. You could have internal injuries.” She urged in a cool professional manner.

I pointed out my dock as I scanned the lake looking for my boat or pieces of it. I hurt as if I had really taken a nasty fall on hard water. The ache in my neck felt like Rock’s iron grip was still there. My mind was a bowl of Jell-O. I couldn’t retain a thought to completion. I hung on Sandy’s waist as we rocketed across the lake.

There was no boat at my dock as I struggled up the ladder with help from this woman. Out of the water and in a very brief swimsuit, she displayed all the attributes that I imagined in my primordial woman. Casually, unaware of my staring, she grasped her briefs by running her thumbs under the seams and pulled them over the cheeks of that sweet derrière and then adjusted her bra in the same manner.

“Can you make it up the stairs, Mister? Ah, what’s your name? My name is Rachel, I live several docks down the lake.” She asked with a tilt of that lovely head.

I tore my eyes off her body announcing, “My name is Harris, I have lived here since I was a kid. Ah yes, Rachel. I have always liked that name, right out of the Bible,” I stammered grasping the handrail. “Yes, I think I can make it. I’m pretty sore, but I’m not done in yet.”

She said the right thing. “Let me help you, that’s a long climb up those stairs. I feel responsible for you, you know.”

I casually scanned that body one more time. “How do you mean, Rachel?” I gasped.

“There is an old Indian proverb that says, ‘If you save a life it belongs to you ‘til eternity.’ So I guess you’re mine---, Harris.” she answered with a smile and a bit of quiet hesitancy.

“Carry me off to happy-land, Rachel.” It wasn’t very clever, but I still wasn’t on my feet or in my mind.
She had the sweetest mouth. I loved to look at the twist of her lips. Boy, did I have it bad.

We struggled up the stairs to the house and entered through the patio sliding doors. I yelled, “Neville, Neville, are you here?” Normally, he comes running if he is in the house. My mind reverted back to the apparent dream I had. I kicked the shit out of Neville and left him to die on the floor. I explained. “I have an assistant who lives nearby and is usually here. His name is Neville Sharp.”

My eyes roved the room as I tried to get oriented. I glanced at the clock, 4 PM mocked me. My mouth gaped open as I stared. In my dream I had spent the last hours of the day at Sandy’s house and we escaped at dusk. It must have been a dream. I laughed with relief.

“Bubbaboy, did I take a dunk out there in the lake, Rachel. I had this terrible dream where----. Oh never mind, I’m just glad it was a dream.” I stood up straight trying to take command of the situation. “Here, let me get you something to wear and I need to get out of these wet clothes.” I quickly, or quickly as I could, grabbed my housecoat and a big towel from the bedroom and handed them to Rachel.

“You better take a hot shower and some Tylenol, it will help the soreness from that awful fall you took in the boat crash.” She said solicitously.

“Just give me a few minutes, Sandy, I mean, Rachel. Oh crap, you remind me so much of a girl I met named Sandy. Forgive me, Rachel,” as I fumbled with my hands. Murphy was back on my ass and I could blow it. I’ve got to stay in control. This is my Sweetiepie! I scrambled as I forced myself to reality.

I let the steaming hot shower water pound on my body. It took a lot of the soreness out of the muscles. The Tylenol kicked in. I felt almost human again.

In the kitchen Rachel had brewed a pot of coffee and had popped a package of sweet rolls from the freezer into the microwave. She had pinned her hair on top, somehow. The terry towel robe pulled up around her neck set off her lovely face. We sat at the breakfast table over looking the lake and devoured the rolls and coffee.

Rachel spoke in a dreamy voice. “I just love it here on the lake, Harris. You are so lucky to live out here away from the hurley-burley city life. What do you do?”

Déjà vu snapped forward in my mind. Here we go again. “I’m an inventor, Rachel, an engineer. I have been successful to some extent.” I answered casually with a wave of my hand. “I have a workshop down stairs where it all happens. What do you do?” I countered as I leaned back and looked at her.

“I work in marketing for Castle Industries in town. I’m on vacation this week and am staying at my sister’s house down the way.” She whispered as she adjusted her robe around her neck. “My business is ideas much like yours, just in a different extension, Harris. What have you invented?”

This time it’s for real, I thought. Don’t blow it, keep Murphy at bay. “I have five ideas that I have sold to various industries and am in the middle of a sixth, my biggest. They range from household items to cars. Anti-theft was my last one.” I answered with a deprecating smile.

Rachel sat up straight, speaking with candor. “That’s just fascinating, Harris, a real inventor. I just love that kind of challenge. I’m working on a promotional campaign for one of our customers involving energy. They are planning a cogeneration plant and will use some of our products.” Her eyes danced with excitement. Those beautiful green, emerald green eyes that seemed to enlarge as she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and tossed her head back. She paused, meeting my stare.

It was a dare. I took the bait like a ‘big hog’ trout. “Rachel, that’s unusual, my idea revolves around energy, too. Possibly a little more basic than yours, though.” I said kinda smugly as I leaned back.

“Really?” She asked as she tilted her chin out and licked her lips again.

How can anyone get that much emotion in a single word, really? I sat up straight holding my head tall. “At present, most of our energy comes from oil, hydrocarbons, and those who have it rule the economic world. We have not been able to effectively harness the sun, the wind, the tides or water. In water, there just isn’t enough geologic structure to get a lot of hydroelectric power through dams.” I was enjoying my lecture. I gestured with my hands, pausing for effect. Rachel sat rigid with rapt attention. Those piercing green eyes watched every move of my lips and body English. “Now, think of the earth as a whole, it’s a giant electromagnet ruled by gravity. We don’t know what gravity is but man has postulated that gravity has waves and man has actually measured what he thinks are gravity waves. What if we could harness the weak gravitational forces and convert them into electricity?” I finished with a questioning dare on my face.
“Good Lord, Harris, that is a fantastic idea. Have you done something like that?” Rachel exclaimed as she sat forward with dancing eyes and a twist of that sweet mouth.

Without awareness, her bathrobe unfolded and gave me a tantalizing peak of bare breasts. She had taken her swimsuit off and apparently had nothing on but the bathrobe. I was torn between the seduction of Rachel and continuing my lecture. Ha, I will seduce her with my intelligence.

“Rachel,” I continued staring into her eyes and trying to avoid the plunging neck-line. “I have virtually completed a working model of just such a machine. A few final touches and calculations will enable a test very soon.”

Rachel stood up and raised her arms over her head oblivious to the exposure of large amounts of skin that I ogled. “Harris, this is the most exciting day of my life! To be with a really, really creative person who can change the forces of the world. It's just unbelievable!” She continued in obvious admiration. “I work with creative people every day, but nothing like this. You’ve got to show me your machine.”

I stood up and Rachel came to me grabbing my hand and arm with a look of excitement in her eyes. She leaned back on my arm kinda pulling it. “Just think of the chance encounter that brought us together, Harris. Isn’t fate wonderful?”

I stood like a statue smiling at her, trying to calm my racing hormones. I absolutely must have this woman, she had everything I wanted. A super body and super intelligence. “Rachel,” I loved that name, “come with me to my workshop downstairs, I’ll give you a preview.”

The model was probably 15 feet in diameter and consisted of an ovoid sphere with two sight glasses in the top. Peering inside, a disc could be seen that was suspended somehow in the center of the flattened sphere. A ring of magnets surrounded the disc. Wires trailed to a bench where meters were mounted in a panel. Rachel walked around the unit and peered into the sight glasses. She looked at the meters and shook her lovely head. “I’m impressed, but it means nothing to me, Harris.”

This was the coup de grace. “As I said, gravity is believed to be in the form of waves. If I can develop a metal that will respond to the waves, say oscillate between the magnets. Electricity can be generated. Orientation with the earth’s axis and the magnetic fields still remains to be developed.” I lectured as I walked about, pointing. “I’m finding that tweaking the metal alloy in the disc, its mass and flexibility will improve the yield. Of course, a very high vacuum is necessary, also. But, even now, it will generate power that can be transformed into useable energy.” I continued as I gestured towards the instruments on the panel. “I am at the edge of final design. Implementation of my most recent calculations will produce a working model,” I voiced forcefully. “I have them in my computer, now. From there, I will contact an organization that has much larger capabilities to build a production machine.” I finished with a flare as I stood with one hand on the machine.

Rachel came to me smiling and grabbed my hand again. “Harris, I am totally amazed! Just to see and be in on the ground floor of something that will change the world. You are just stunning!” Admiration shone from her large, luminous green eyes as I suggested with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Let me show you my etchings, Rachel.”

I led her upstairs to my bedroom and looked at her with a questioning smile. With a knowing smile on that pretty mouth, she began unbuttoning my shirt. Somehow her bathrobe fell open revealing all. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I grabbed her pressing her to me as I kissed her passionately. She responded with equal passion as we fell on the bed fighting to get my clothes off so that we could touch skin to skin. Boyohboy, what a woman! Her strength and suppleness enhanced an already frantic sex orgy. We lay exhausted after an hour of physical love.

Showering revived me from a wet noodle. We went to the kitchen where I fumbled in the freezer for steaks. “Rachel, turn on the grill, the gas, so we can charbroil these steaks. The valve is under the unit.” I suggested, waving at the patio grill. I put the steaks in the microwave to defrost them and turned on the stereo CD player. My kind of country western music boomed out as I flipped the steaks. Rachel made herself at home by putting potatoes in the microwave while popping two beers for us.

I finally saw the note from Neville pinned on the wall. “GE will call tomorrow, I’m going to town for relaxation.”

My golf shirt hung loosely on Rachel and the shorts threatened to fall off with every step. I ogled her breasts stretching the shirt. Man-o-man, she was some woman, I think I’m in love. The cold beer and steaks on the porch overlooking the lake capped the day.

Rachel suggested tentatively. “My company might be able to help you with the power machine, Harris. What do you call it?”

“I’ve been thinking of calling it Gravitron, it has a nice ring to it.” I said as my lips twisted in a smile. With a business air, I continued. “As for your company helping, how big is it? This thing can and will get very big. It will upset the world economy if it’s advanced too fast. We need to sneak it onto the market with as little fanfare as possible.”

Rachel spoke with knowledge and authority. “Castle Industries is multifunctional. They are $200 million in sales, they have the engineering capabilities and I am in marketing. When the time comes for going public, my department can handle it, I’m sure.” Rachel answered with assurance.

I replied in a neutral tone. “Well, Castle can certainly be in consideration, right now I’m talking to GE. But I’m losing enthusiasm in them for several reasons. We’ll see, I’ll need lots of info and a meeting with Castle to evaluate them.”

Rachel stood up and stretched her arms over her head pulling the shirt up over her waist. The shorts almost fell off as she grabbed them, “That’s fine, I will introduce you to them tomorrow. It’s bedtime, I need some more------rest, you know?”

Wow, there was no rest until the wee hours of the morning. We slept late and had breakfast on the porch. The sun beamed across the lake upon two very happy lovers.

Rachel suggested, “Do you have any drawings, anything I can show Castle? I can get the ball rolling today. I need to run my jet-ski back to my sisters house and go into town.”

“Sure, come downstairs, I’ll get you a proposal. I have already prepared one for GE.” I answered as I jumped up and charged downstairs. Rachel stood behind me as I keyed in my password and the screen popped up, GRAVITRON. I keyed proposal and print. I put it in a plastic envelope and sealed it so Rachel could make the run home. I kissed her on the neck, “Give me your phone number so we can touch, I mean stay in touch.” I murmured, “When?”

“Hmmmmm, probably this afternoon, Harris, this won’t take long.” She grabbed my face with both hands for a long seductive kiss. Sticking the plastic envelope in her briefs she trotted down the stairs.
“Well for crap’s sake,” I mumbled. “I have completely forgotten about my boat.” Talk about the ‘hots,’ I was a case. I called a salvage company to find my engines, at least.

I wandered down to the shop thinking about Rachel. I knew I was in love, nothing else seemed important. I set in front of the computer staring as time flew by. Rachel was there with that seductive smile and those brilliant green eyes.

***

A car door slammed. That would be Neville, I thought. I hope he had a good R&R in town. The time and date in the right hand corner of the computer leaped out at me. I quickly looked at my watch date. I was two days into the future! Or I lost two days in the past, “What the hell, what is wrong?” I gasped. My mind was in a tizzy, was Murphy up my ass again? I stood up as Neville came down the stairs with Rock.

Neville had two black eyes and tape across his nose. Rock just smiled around a swollen nose. “We really have some catching up, pipsqueak. My nutsack is still tingling.” In one stride, Rock had collared me around the neck with a huge hand, laughing. “You little shit, let’s get back to where we left off the other day. Remember, you were going to die.”

Neville interrupted. “Let’s see if Rachel got the password right before we castrate him, Rock.” Rock held me almost off the floor hanging by my neck with his great big paw.

Neville quickly stepped to the computer and keyed in my password. GRAVITRON leaped into view on the screen. Neville scanned down the pages of calculations, drawings and notes as he pointed at the screen. “Here it is, Rock, the brilliant rocket scientist has entered his latest calcs and notes, I can take it from here.”

Neville turned and sneered at me. “I told you he would die for it, but he would give it up for pussy. He’s a sap, he always has been a sucker for a skirt.”

“Can I twist his head off, Neville, just like wringing a chicken neck? Rock snarled.

“No, no, no, don’t bruise him, we have to take him to the boat and stage a boat wreck like the one we ‘dreamed’ into him with the designer drugs. The ultra low frequency vibrations at the Bible thumping really put you on your ear, didn’t it, scientist?” Neville laughed sarcastically. “C’mon, let’s get it on. Hey hotshot, THE ONLY THING YOU HAVE TO DO IS DIE.”

***

Ralph lay in the hot sun as it climbed high in the sky. The ghilli camouflage suit made him invisible in the low brush at the edge of Harris’s property. Shitfuzzy, it was hot! The fire ants munching on his ass challenged him to remain still.

Ralph thought back to the briefing, “Castle Industries wanted the Gravitron and were going to get it, one way or another. Neville and his team, working with Thorton, were way ahead of Castle but Harris wouldn’t let Neville see the final design. Neville had come up with this half-baked plan to use a woman to seduce ‘ol Harris. Our mole in Neville’s team kept feeding us details, so we provided a woman that Neville jumped on. Unfortunately, she balked at the skullduggery. Neville kidnapped her sister and developed his plan. The girls were cooperating. Or else the sister would die.

My job was to take out Rock and Neville, save Harris and turn him over to Castle. They would feed him a line of shit to rationalize the killings.”

I lay quietly, hunkered over the custom rifle watching the house. I stared through the crystal clear lens of the Swarovski 10-power scope and curled my hand around the wrist of the 7 MM STW. My finger felt the two-stage Canjar trigger click as I began applying the 30 ounces of pull. Rock stepped out the door with Harris hanging like a cat by the scruff of his neck. Neville was a step behind. BOOM, the 7-MM boat-tailed projectile hurtled across the field and Rock’s head disappeared in a spray of blood and brains.

Neville’s mouth fell open as he paused momentarily, looking at Rock’s neck spurting blood into the air from the carotid artery. BOOM, Neville’s head exploded and the body fell to the ground jerking and twitching with blood spraying across the ground. Harris dropped like a sack of potatoes right in the dirt and blood. He struggled to crawl forward as he stared in disbelief at the mangled heads hanging on the torsos by skin and chunks of meat. They were unrecognizable.

I charged forward sprinting across the 200 yards gasping as Harris tried to hide under the car, terror on his face. Can you imagine staring at a man dressed in a grass suit carrying a rifle, glowering down on you, and panting? I grabbed Harris and dragged him out from under the car.

“C’mon, Harris, let’s get out of here, we’ve got to save the women.” I pushed Harris into Neville’s car and we roared down the road to Sandy’s house. My ‘sweepers’ turned into Harris’s drive to do the clean up. We arrived just in time to see two men sprint out of the house and dive into a car.

Harris yelled, “They were at the Bible study.”

Ralph stopped the car at the entrance muttering. “Watch this.” The driver keyed the car ignition and the car lifted off the ground 10 feet in a huge cloud of red fire and smoke and crashed in flames. Ralph calmly drove around the fire and stopped at the front steps. “Harris---, Harris, suck it up, we got warrior work to do.”

***

I was benumbed. Christ, in 10 minutes four men had died! I gasped struggling to comprehend the events. Ralph pushed me up stairs as I stumbled into the room I remembered from the distant past.

A man came forward and spoke to Ralph in clipped sentences. “Everything is in control. The girls are okay. Get the sweepers in.”

I leaned on the doorjamb stammering, mumbling. “What in the name of King Tut is going on? Who are you? You just killed four men.”

Sandy and Rachel came into the room exclaiming when they saw me. “Harris, Harris, you’re okay! They told me you were going to die.” They both were talking together, I couldn’t understand anything. I was stunned; they looked exactly alike! They were twins, I couldn’t tell them apart. They ran to me and hugged me and kissed me.

It took a strong shot of coffee laced with bourbon and two hours to get it straightened out in my head. I was okay working with Castle. As I thought about it, I better be. I was almost like a captive scientist of the Germans in WWII. What a challenge! I had my boat and I had two Sandys or two Rachels. How in the world was I going to get that straightened out? I stole another look at the twins. Green eyes, brown eyes, how in the hell did I miss that?

THE TOMORROW WINDOW

My name is Sam-ah-uel and I’m eight years old. I’m in the second grade and I live in Yesterville. My mamma calls me Sammy. My daddy calls me Sam, but when I do something he doesn’t like, he calls me Sam-ah-uel. Most of the time I’m Sam or Sammy.

I like to go to Granada’s farm. I have been there three times. This last time we stayed a whole week. My granpapa calls me Sammy. I like that, ‘cause it sounds good. I like my granpapa. He lets me do a whole bunch of things, like drive the four-wheeler, or ride on the tractor or shoot the .22 at the dirt bank with targets. Granpapa has a big garage and lots of tools. He builds things for the farm.

This last summer I was looking at his tools in the drawers in his toolbox, a big wooden box on the counter top with drawers. I found a little wooden box all by itself back in the back of the bottom drawer where he keeps the hammers. Granpapa never said I couldn’t use his tools, so I took it out and looked at the box. I tried to open the box. It had a tiny brass clip that kept it closed, but I got it open. Inside, the box had a black cloth that was wrapped up real tight. But I was able to open it. The black cloth was stiff and broke apart when I opened it.

There was a coin inside, a beautiful shiny coin, gold like. It had a woman’s head on it and it looked like she was carrying something. She wore a long dress that came to the ground. There was writing on it but I couldn’t read it. I turned the coin over and it was black, shiny black with a white dot on it. The coin felt real smooth and slick. Near one edge there was a hole, a small hole through the round coin. It had a piece of glass in it like Granada’s telescope.

The coin was heavy, I liked to feel it and feel the slippery sides. I was going to look through the peephole, but granpapa came into the garage and saw me with the coin. He was very quiet, he said, “Sammy, wait, wait Sammy, don’t do that until I tell you something.” He scared me, I thought I had done something bad and he would do something to me or tell my daddy. But he didn’t call me Sam-ah-uel. He pulled up a small stool and sat beside me on the floor. He held out his hand for the gold coin without saying anything. I gave it to him, scared I might have done bad.

Granpapa sighed, smiled a little as he looked out the window in the garage. He held the coin in his fingers; it lay there shining in the sun glittering through the window. He seemed so peaceful, quiet. I knew it was a very special coin of his, a treasure. I had treasures like that. I had a shiny rock that I carried with me all the time.

In a little while, he patted me on the head and held the coin up to the window light and looked through it. Then he turned the coin over and looked through the other side. He told a story. I like stories and grandpapa could tell good stories.

“When I was a little boy just your age, we lived right here on this farm. I loved to play just like you do here. But we didn’t have all the toys you have, we had sticks and rocks and rope and string. We made our own toys and played with them. My favorite was a coffee can lid. It would sail like a bird when I threw it. Momma saved all the coffee can lids for us. They came from vacuum-packed Folgers coffee. I played with my brothers and our neighbor on the farm next to us. His name was Nathaniel, but we called him Nate. I’ll tell you about Nate one day. He had to walk a mile down the dirt road to get here.

“Back then; the farm was out in the country with a dirt road down there. We were by ourselves and when someone came to visit, we all gathered because it was a big deal. A time to hear news and different things from maybe far way.

“One day a man walked up from the road. That’s what we called it back then; a walk up. It was not unusual. Walk ups, strangers came by looking for work or food. Many carried all they owned on their backs in packs like your school packs. They always had a walking stick. This one day, a man came up, he walked up, and he had a beautiful wooden stick, highly polished, with a carved head on the end. I’ll tell you more about it later. We all gathered on the porch drinking iced tea cause it was hot. No one had soda waters like you have today, didn’t even know what they were.

“Well, this man told of traveling to India, a land across the world. We spent the afternoon listening to his tales of jungles, tigers, elephants, huge palaces, great gray idols called buddas, huge snakes and thousands of people wearing white robes and rags wrapped around their heads. It was fascinating. We had a big supper; mamma fixed fried chicken and biscuits, my favorite dinner.

We gave the man a bag of food for his trip across the land. In return, he gave dad a coin, a gold coin with a little hole in it and a glass in it. He told us that it was a tomorrow window and when you looked through it, you saw the future. On the gold side we would see the day and on the black side we would see the night of tomorrow. Dad kept the coin and gave it to me the day he died. I was standing beside his bed when he grabbed my hand and slipped the coin to me. That coin you have in your hand is that coin. I have always treasured it because my daddy gave it to me and you can see into tomorrow! Look through the gold side as you point it at the window.”

I held the coin up between my thumb and finger and peeked through the tiny glass hole. Wow, I was scared! I saw a strange world, huge cities, cars, airplanes, freeways snaking over the land, throngs of people! I stared at granpapa, golly! “Go ahead Sammy, turn it over,” he told me. Carefully, I turned the coin over to see the night. Peering through, I could see a world of stars and a beautiful ball of green and blue and three moons! It was just like granpapa said!

Granpapa reached for the coin, “Let me show you something, Sammy.” I lowered my hand but some how I dropped the coin on the hard concrete floor. When granpapa picked it up, a tiny sliver of glass fell from the window. Granpapa looked through the hole and could see nothing. The magic was gone! I had dropped the tomorrow window and broken it.

Granpapa stared with mouth open and big eyes as he tried to get a breath of air. He hung his head and cried like I would when I hurt myself. I did not know what to do, I started crying with him, I stood and went to him. He hugged me to him and we cried together.

“Sammy, don’t feel bad about the coin. I am so lucky it lasted as long as it did. I am so glad you got to see it. You can have the tomorrow coin, Sammy; keep it like I kept it all these years.”

THE SUN SHINES SO BRIGHT

Generally on the second day of a fresh ‘Norther’ in the fall the rain clouds disappear and the sky will blow clear to crystal brightness. A cool dry wind will whistle out of the north making the south side of the porch snappy in the warm sun. The air has been washed with the rains so the remaining leaves sparkle in the sunlight.

Grandpa eased through the door anticipating the pleasant feelings of the first real cool snap. Propping the back door open so his cats could run to sniff and hunt, he edged toward his chair in the sun. The pain in his shoulder hindered the movement of his left arm and hand; the severe cut in his right hand rendered it immobile.

Patting his grandson, Mikey, on the head, he whispered, “When my hand heals, we’ll get back on that car project, Mikey. Open the screen door for the cats.”

“I’m ready, Grandpa. You promised ah ride on my birthday next year in 2005. I’ll be five years old. Five on five,” he chanted. Mikey’s nervous energy propelled him to the screen porch door to latch it open for the cats. Spinning around on his heel he retreated into the house.
Warm rays washed over him as he plopped into the lawn chair. Deafness limited the appreciation of the blowing leaves and rustling in the trees. The oak leaves turned to brilliant colors in the fall coolness; such a beautiful sight.

He watched his cats in the crystal brightness reveling in the damp grass hunting whatever they could jump up to chase. It always pleased him to see the simple joys of his cats when allowed outside for their afternoon romp. Time drifted unwatched as he closed his eyes turning to feel the sun full on his face. The soft warmth swam into his being.

Something popped; he heard it. It seemed to be like going up in an airplane where your ears pop. Yes, that was it. His hearing had cleared. He could hear the leaves rustling as they blew across the yard! What in the world had happened?

What is that? It’s ah jingling, like metal clinking or little bells tinkling. It’s coming through the mesquite trees to the left. A lone horseman rode clear of the trees tagging another horse with a saddle and kit.
He stood and waved, “My God, that’s Bells, I haven’t thought of him, seen him in years.
He stepped off the porch waving his hat, “Hey Bells, what are you doing in this part of Texas? I thought you were going to California?” Yeah, that was years ago.

I could see so clearly. The trees, the leaves, the world were so sharp, clear in the sun’s intense light. Bells wore the same faded, worn blue jeans, the sweat stained denim shirt and his famous hat with the eagle feather tucked in the band. He even had his beloved horse, Sam.

We worked on our piece of land along the San Marcos River in Texas for five years trying to get a herd of horses started. It was a partnership, Bells and me. Hard tough work day in and day out tending the land and keeping the horses corralled. Thinking back, I couldn’t remember Bell’s real name. His spurs always jingled so he was Bells to all.

Bells had heard of the California gold rush, the word spread like wild fire. “You can make a fortune digging in the stream beds, gold is everywhere!”

I declined, “You go ahead, Bells, you always were the adventurer, always looking over the next hill for a challenge. I’m surprised you stayed this long on our spread. I’ll keep it going, hold your share for you. Come back with a sack of gold.”

Bells touched spurs to his beautiful roan; it stepped forward lightly. I reached up to pat his nose as I dug a bit candy out of my pocket for him. The reins dropped to the ground as Bells stepped down, his spurs clinking, his rough boots kicking up a little dust. He squatted on his heels as he grabbed a few twigs to feed the coals of the fire under the cast iron pot. “Still cookin them hogs I see, Breeze. I guess there’re still rootin up the bottom lands?”

That’s what he called me ‘cause I talked a lot. That name had stuck from childhood. I always had something to say on any subject. He could squat on his haunches like that for hours. I couldn’t do it for more ‘in ten minutes.

I hunkered down on a log I had dragged up for a chair to watch the fire and the cookin. After all these years, Bells had not changed. The same sun wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, the leathery tanned skin and stubble of beard. A wad of dark brown hair hung over his ears almost to his collar. He always cut his hair with his big knife, just hacked it off when it got to his neck.

We gazed across the iron pot into each other eyes with no real reason to say anything. Bells exuded confidence, always had. I admired that trait. In fact, there was an awful lot to admire in Bells. He could stare down most any man. It was an inner peace, I guess. I felt no need to pursue the trip to California or ask details of his life after he left. He seemed to be just as quiet, like he already knew about my life. Already I felt the camaraderie we once had. It was so comfortable, easy to be with Bells.

I guess we sat there for an hour just staring into each other’s eyes. It was some kind of communication unexplained. Somehow I came to hear his tale of the California gold rush, his successes and failures. “The land, it’s so beautiful. It tumbles out of the mountains right into the ocean.”

The sun dipped behind the trees and ah coldness crept into the little winds curling around the corner of the house. On some cue, I know not what, I asked, “What is it Bells? You’ve come back after all these years. Tell me.” I don’t know if I spoke or thought the question, but Bells heard.

Slowly standing, it seemed effortless, he extended his hand across the fire, “I’ve brought you your horse, you remember Billy.”

I looked around his horse and there was Billy. I couldn’t grasp what was happening. It was Billy with my saddle and kit. I rose and stepped around the fire and Bells’ big roan. Billy recognized me and gave me a nuzzle.

Bells placed his hand on my shoulder like he used to when he wanted to express his feelings. Calmness and inner peace swept over me. I felt the warmth of his hand, it kinda lingered. “Breeze, it’s time to go. Come, let’s ride out.”

Mikey burst out the back door quickly realizing the cats had been out for hours. They were squatting on the cold porch at Grandpa’s feet waiting for his signal to stand and go inside. This was so unusual. Normally when he would stand, they would get in one last run across the yard and maybe up a tree. Calling and chasing was necessary to herd them inside to dullsville on the divan.

“Grandpa, hey Grandpa, we got to get the cats in, it’s getting dark.” Mikey grabbed Grandpa’s arm shaking him, “Grandpa,” he whined, “C’mon, you got to get the cats in.”
Grandpa sat with his chin on his chest in quiet repose making no move. Mikey looked at Grandpa again and ran into the house, running to the kitchen. “Gra’ma, Grandpa’s not moving, something’s wrong, come see.”

THE HAMMER AND THE VISE

I believe that man developed more rapidly that his contemporaries because of his use of the opposable thumb to hold objects. The pincher action of thumb and fingers and thumb and palm created a strong holding - clamping action for sticks and rocks as tools and weapons. How or why this occurred is beyond our most learned scientists or me. Leave it to supposition, we will never know for sure. When man started chipping rocks, he had a modern hand to hold the rock in a vise while the other hand wielded the hammer

Even today, things have not changed. Man is inherently right handed thus using the left hand as the vise and the right hand as the tool holder. Most of today’s tools are simply an extension of man’s hand, tool holder - vise. Obviously, man can use both hands as the vise or both as the tool holder. Man is wonderfully adept at using his hands to build objects, thus the expression, “Handmade” has significance.

LEFTY

I have always enjoyed building – making objects with my hands and tools to extend the power and skill of the hands. Being born left-handed, a 10% quirk of man, forced me to adapt to right handed tools. Left-hand tool-holder, right-hand vise has worked fine.

December 10th, 1996, in the morning, I was sawing a thin sliver of ¼” plastic on my 12” table saw. Using a push stick with my right hand and guiding with the left, I eased the square piece through the blade against the fence. Polypropylene will heat in this situation and melt, grabbing the fence and the blade. In a blink the piece jerked forward allowing my right thumb to be run through the blade. My thumb was split through the first and second joints and bleeding profusely. A cloud of blood and tissue streaked up the front of my shirt and face, blood puddled on the floor. The pain was excruciating. I grabbed a dirty rag nearby, wrapped my hand in it to form a compress bandage and ran to the front of the shop. Pat was at school so I had to close the 12’ door, lock the house, start the car with my left hand and drive to the ER about 4 miles away.

At ER, I screamed that I needed help; I had cut my hand severely. The rag was already soaked in blood.