christmas card

by bofa xesjum

my life needs more variety, alexander mused thoughtfully bugs have variety, billy replied tartly. food is consciousness, christopher interrupted rudely. my dreams are stupid, d b thought sadly, but did not say so out loud. alexander, billy, christopher and d b were floating down the river on a raft after the complete destruction of civilization. they had vague memories of how they had come to be on the raft, and had never known each other before being on the raft. how did we get here anyway, billy blurted out. it s a long story, alexander assured him. we have nothing but time, christopher added. on the contrary, d b declared, we have a very limited time before we die of hunger and thirst and privation. silence settled over the raft, broken only by the sound of the sloshing of the water over the side of the raft. i wish we knew who to blame for this situation, alexander finally said. it was all the fault of that jackass ed brown , billy asserted confidently. no, it was frank gray - he started it all, christopher retorted. look out, said d b, here comes grover. grover came through the door, and the wind and rain followed him. have any of you bums seen harry ? grover demanded, striding boldly up to the foursome’s table. the table was littered with styrofoam cups with the letter i printed on them boldly in red. no, alexander said meekly, none of us have seen him since christmas. and he did not even give us any presents, billy added. or even a christmas card, christopher put in. how about you, grover addressed d b, have you seen him lately? not lately. how would you define lately, grover pressed on. we are in for it now, alexander mused sadly. the door opened again, and commissioner johnson entered, brushing snow from the front of his camelshair coat. stop pussyfooting around, he told grover, bring all these clowns down to the waterfront. you heard the commisioner, grover asserted. on your feet. can i finish my coffee? christopher pleaded. no. outside, the night was rent with the banshee wail of sirens. after they had all left, dr kendrick, seated in the corner, finished his coffee and rolled his napkin into a ball. my work here is done, he thought.

exit 4-b

by bofa xesjum

the car turned on to the highway. oliver had left his life behind in the street. as a boy he had loved the rain, especially on saturdays. he hated his dad’s car - a crummy green volkswagen like a hippie girl might drive. he wanted to leave his old life behind. and find a new life on the broad highway. the clouds in the sky made hm think of love. eventually night would fall. he felt he was born to love. even on a cloudy day. he knew there were no hitchhikers any more, but still he dreamed - before he got to exit 4b, it started to rain. oliver’s first girl was a terrible person, and had taught him to hate life. her name was rita cloudsley. why aren’t you a professional hit man,she would say in her lazy way on rainy afternoons. don’t you have any guts? don’t you want to get revenge on this stinking world? oliver was never sure if she was serious. there isn’t any real money in it,he would say. ha! what do you know? then rita’s mom would come home from her shift at applebee’s and they would talk about tv shows and movies, until it was time for oliver to go home and make dinner for his younger brother and two sisters. the rain started falling harder as he approached exit 4b. he saw a person standing by the side of the road. could it be, he thought…

it was the time

by bofa xesjum

it was the time of year when a person went their way to do things. a man in the world has a life in his hand but part of him was a child. he had his eye on a woman in the place of work. a week went by and the case had a point. the government seized the company and a number of groups had a problem. the facts were an animal. if you have to be, do what you say. get it to make go, because you know what it takes come and see me some time. think it looks, if you want to give. use it if you can find it, but tell, don’t ask. it works if it seems to feel. leave a cry but don’t call it good. it was new the first time. but it lasts long so great. with a little of its own other. the old is right but the big is high. the different is small but large. next it will be early but young. it is important for the few to be public . but it is bad for the same to be able. this is what it all comes to. a piece of cake, or a big lump of nothing. and it all gets written in the book. nobody knows what it is for. but the show must go on.

company man

by bofa xesjum

i am sorry, but this thing is a joke. this thing, as you call it, is only a number. the child will keep you company while you try to sort it out. it had been a year since the animal had appeared on the lawn. paul waters had quietly kept his eye on the problem. he was sure there was a way to work it all out. but was the child an agent of the government? he knew the company had its ways. maybe the child was an agent of the company. even though the day theoretically belonged to the government. the hand of fate seemed to point that way. the hand! always the hand! a young executive was watching the scene from behind a quiet tree. he was debating whether to call the government or the company. he had always been a loyal foot soldier of the government. but had dreamed of moving up the ladder to the company. where the real action was. the young executive’s name was franklin joseph lewis. he had never been either a poet or a dreamer. he thought of himself a hard headed person, with his eye on the main chance, his dad hunted moose on the weekends. his mom baked cookies every day except saturday, when she baked brownies. she never baked cakes or pies. she was not a cake or pie person his dad never hunted rabbits he was not a rabbit person. franklin himself never watched football. he had learned to pretend he watched football, and join in the conversations about it with his fellow employees. it was the old army game. now you see it, now you don’t. from behind a quiet tree. waiting - just waiting - for his chance.

cordial highway, part 2

by bofa xesjum

part two of two

to read part one, click here

the broad back of the vice consul disappeared down the corridor to the kitchen and the servants quarters. the queen turned to sam jones with renewed urgency. listen, my friend, at midnight the minister of information, in collaboration with the vice consul and the third secretary, will issue an order closing all the roads out of the kingdom. what is that to me? sam countered airily. i have been down both sides of all these roads before - both into and out of the kingdom. but it means everything to me! the queen implored him. do you not remember the time - just then sam and the queen were interrupted by a young woman with a bland expression on her perfectly round face and carrying a clipboard. i am sorry to interrupt but are you the persons designated as queen catherine of l—————, and sad sam jones. yes, we are, sam answered with a ready smile. and which of you is which? we will let you be the judge of that, the queen replied snarkily. as you wish, the young woman replied without taking her blue eyes off her clipboard. now that we have settled that, was there something you wished to share with us? yes, you have both been assigned new identities. i have two new identities here - which of you takes which one is irrelevant, as long as you each take one. what a bother! all right, let us hear them. later that night, red dooley and wanda wilson are cruising down the interstate - hold it - what does that mean- cruising down the interstate? it means they are driving down the road. why not just say that? the implication is that the road is empty except for themselves. all right, if you say so. they round the bend - the bend? they round a bend - that’s better. and they see a prophet standing beside the road with a large suitcase. does the prophet have a name? howard johnson. what is in the suitcase? red and wanda pull over to find out. are red and wanda authorized persons? red is the sheriff of area 459-p. wanda was just passing through when red offered her a ride. so, what does howard johnson have in the suitcase? suddenly all hell breaks loose. was hell in the sutcase? you sure ask a lot of questions. end of part two

cordial highway, part 1

by bofa xesjum

part one of two

the empty room laughed. maybe i made a mistake, sam jones mused mournfully. remembrance flooded back. all the awful images resurfaced in his brain. it all began at funnyman ’s new year party. doctor ninety-seven was there, having just completed his prison term. some of the guests ignored him. others treated him as a conquering hero. sam jones had still been young and innocent when the doctor’s trial had been such a cause celebre. but now, of course, it had been swept under the rug of time with john wilkes booth and the pig lady and the highway 77 killers. very soon, i can make my mistake, i mean my escape, sam thought. but just then queen catherine appeared at his side in her violet dress. are you having a good time, she purred. of course, what other kind of time would i be having? it is useless to try to taunt you, is it not, ma cheri? some people here seem to be enjoying themselves. some people have the happy facility of always enjoying themselves. let us flee this place. excuse me, but i have responsibilities to our host, the ambassador. of course, what was i thinking - my mind must have gone blank. are not all minds blank - waiting for fate to write on them? you told me once that i was a strange man. if you were not, you might be the ambassador. are we not all ambassadors - if we are not kings and queens? here is the vice consul now, with a tray of drinks. ah, vice consul. do you bring good good tidings, along with these nicely frosted concoctions? your majesty is in a particularly cordial mood this evening. get along with you! the queen laughed. but things may turn grim before the night is over. but, in truth, the festivities had just begun. when the vice consul was out of hearing, the queen put her slender hand on sam jones’s arm. come, we must flee this place, we have fled it too many times - i am tired of flight. does the butterfly tire of flight? does the seagull? does the pterodactyl? part 2

a million more

by bofa xesjum

johnny johnson woke up, on the first day of the rest of his life. but would it be his last? he had an appointment with dr webberly at ten o’clock. it would be the final test. every day is a final test and might be my last, johnny thought philosophically. he wondered if he should get a jelly donut or a glazed donut with his coffee on his way to the doctor’s office. johnny’s phone rang, even though he was sure he had turned it off before going to sleep. but was anything ever really turned off in the so called modern world? the caller i d said “unknown” - no surprise there. but johnny answered all calls - it was the way he had ben programmed by dr webberly, and by officer vergil and instructor underwood before that. hello, who am i speaking with? is this johnny johnson? it is a johnny johnson - there are many johnny johnsons in the world, and i am only one of them. are you sure you are not four or five of them? excuse me? ha ha, just having a little fun with you, on this morning which may be the last one of your life. that is not a very nice thing to say. maybe not, it depends on how you look at it. but seriously, are you the johnny johnson who finished 544th in the origami contest and 477th in the battlestars tournament and 1007th in the lowball tournament in the 33rd sector last season? that sounds about right. about right? that must be me. moving right along. and you are scheduled for an appointment with dr william webberly at the 784 building at 1000 hours? that’s me too. an appointment which may well be the last one you ever keep. any appointment which may be the last one you ever keep. any appointment may be the last one i ever keep. i see you have been well trained. be that as it may,what can i do for you? i have to get ready to get to dr webberly’s office. of course. and you want to be well nourished and look your best when you get there. what else would i want? to live another day maybe? my name is robin hood, and i am the leader of a band of merry rebels who seek to overthrow -the corrupt and murderous - i have heard enough - i know all about frauds like you and have even been taken advantage of by your kind in the past, i am sorry to say.. suit yourself. there a million more just like you, this morning alone, and they have a right to my services too. the connection went dead. johnny got up, and brushed and flossed his perfect white teeth.