The blue flame

It was very early Sunday, October 12, 2008, around 4:00-7:00 AM. I was sleeping in bed. It was a cool night. I had a cover pulled over me, and was laying on my side facing out into the room. I opened my eyes and saw in front of me a long, large, blue transparent flame, like a gas flame, going horizontally across the room, a couple of feet from the bed and maybe four feet or so above the floor. It went just across above things that were stored by the bed, and apparently coming from the hallway, though I just saw what was in front of me as I looked out toward the room. In the last few feet the flames expanded upward at a small slant and then turned into actual flames licking upward, still bluish and transparent. The whole thing was very thin, almost two dimensional, getting slightly thicker at the edges and where the flames were. It was like it was being shot in there from the doorway, from a small source somewhere out in the hall area.

I closed my eyes briefly a few times, thinking it might possibly be a dream or the after effects of one and that maybe I was not fully awake. Looking out again when I opened them, though, the flames were still in front of me. Each time I opened them, the flames were still there.

I worried about the house catching fire, and wondered if it already had. Nothing in the bedroom itself seemed to be burning yet. I thought I was going to have to get up and check the rest of the house. I was very tired, but it looked like it would have to be done. I wondered if the end of the hall was already in flames, picturing it that way in my mind.

I looked out at the hall, at the narrow section of wall that enclosed the furnace, and saw a curved band of energy on the wall there, coming from the hallway direction at the top and going sharply downward, looking like a strange rainbow. The bands were dark blue and dark red, dark smoky colors, fuzzy and ragged and transparent, like curved bands of graphed noise. The flames themselves were gone now, there was just the rainbow. I felt like I was already awake and kept taking my head away from the sight and shaking it and looking again, over and over, and finally the sight was gone and I felt more awake.

I considered whether to get up and check the hallway and the rooms at the front of the house, but realized that it couldn't be a gas fire caused by the furnace. The furnace was off and the gas to it was shut off. I thought that it might have been some kind of weird energy I was seeing instead of a fire, particularly in the hallway. The part in the bedroom could have been energy also, sent out in a beam, and just misinterpreted by my mind. I wondered if I had been visited by some strange presence or energy form. Nothing more seemed to happening now, though, and things seemed to have settled back to normal, so I went back to sleep.

A few days later, looking at that area of the hallway more closely, I saw that a door for some shelves was left open there, covering that area of the wall. It might have been open on the night I saw the dark smoky rainbow, but there was no way to tell now. The wall was a pale yellow, though, much lighter than the brown of the door, and seemed to more closely match my memory of that night. In the end, I'm not sure what difference it would have made. Whether on the wall or the inside surface of a door, the rainbow had been there for a while that night and had then gone, so nothing on the door or wall could have caused its appearance.

Another, possibly related, thing was that I had just watched "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" on TV the evening before the blue flame appeared, and it had a scene with a flamethrower. However, the long triangular beam of blue flame that I saw was very stable and calm and did not resemble something sent out from a flamethrower.

So, what actually did happen? Was it real? Sometimes people who have or have had a close encounter UFO experience have also reported blue beams of light in the house. I had no memory of such encounters, except in dreams, but it's possible something related might have occurred that night. Another interesting match is that sometimes people have awakened to find bizarre and even terrifying things going on, even strange entities in their rooms or outside their windows, and then just gone back to sleep, the way I did. These matches with other people's experiences might be some indication that something was really happening that night, but I'll probably never know.

Dream - The talking Pekingese

On the 26th or 27 of November 2007, in the morning, I had a dream in which a talking Pekingese appeared.

In the dream, it was cold, and toward the back part of the backyard of the house (the backyard was much bigger in the dream) snow and ice gradually and then faster rose to perhaps three or four feet high, ending abruptly, perhaps at a fence, perhaps a chain-link fence, not the wooden fence we currently have. A lot had happened earlier that I don't remember. In the front yard, I went over to the east side. The yard was mostly dirt with occasional landscaped portions with plants, similar to some other dreams. The front yard was raised up on the eastern side, getting higher as it got farther away from the street and closer to the house, but remaining highest near the fence, and water was running from the backyard, from the rain and melting snow, digging a channel by the low fence separating our yard from the neighbors'.

Not far from the house, laying on and wrapped over a high area, almost a ridge, and looking down into the water rushing by in the channel, was a pale Pekingese, looking something like Wojo, a dog who died somewhere around 1996-98. I went over to it and I think I at least partially picked it up, although it spent most of the time on the ground. It looked over at me as it lay there and talked to me in a low, even, calm and somewhat soft voice. Sometimes, especially later, it had a human mouth and even part of a human face, looking somewhat like an area of the dog's face was blocked out and the human features were substituted. I don't remember what it said, but it didn't say anything of great importance. I apologized to it for not writing in defense of the animals (I had apparently been supposed to be doing that) and said that I would do so soon. I may have also said something about other things getting in the way, trying to give at least a partial reason or excuse for the delay, or I may have simply thought it to myself.

Some more happened around and on the banks by the rushing water, with some seashells and strange little animals, including strange, fat tube-like animals and ones that looked liked some type of crabs or lobsters. At some point other people came and talked, sometimes to me and sometimes not. Some of the people were from next-door, from the house on the other side of the channel, and some may have been from down the street on the other side of us, and some were family members who had come out of our house. I talked to the dog from time to time and also concerned myself with the strange animals. The day was dark and it continued to rain, softly.

Much more happened in the dream. Weeks passed, though, before I wrote it down, and by that time a lot had been forgotten.

Dream - The levitating train

In March 2008, probably on the 22nd or 23rd, I had a dream about a levitating train. Another unusual thing was that I changed, partway through the dream, from a man into a woman.

In the dream, I had gone toward downtown Phoenix, on the south side, apparently walking. I thought something to myself about me doing this again, going to the south-side downtown Phoenix area, because I had done this so many times before, and the thought was almost one of exasperation. I had originally had some kind of purpose for doing this, but I don't remember what it was. It seems that I was going to meet someone, not there or even in that direction, but for some reason I was going there first. It also seems that I was going to meet some family members a little later, and they were going to somewhere in Tempe where we would meet, and that they had something to do with me going out now, though they didn't send me this direction or intend that I go this direction.

I didn't make it all the way to downtown Phoenix, but instead turned and started going back perhaps somewhere around 20th St. or a little past it. I don't think I went back exactly the same way I came, but turned south down a street and then started back east. I came to a big place on the south side of the street where trains went through going north-south and south-north. There were two huge bays that the trains went through, one for each direction, and something else on the east side of the bays but part of the same building, perhaps an area for maintenance. On the west side and attached was an enclosed structure where people worked and train tickets were purchased. The whole thing, including the bays, was roofed.

The trains were very tall, perhaps as much as three stories, and were very futuristic looking. Most of the height was apparently devoted to the engines and perhaps some for storage, with people riding at the very top. The trains did not have many cars, apparently three including the one the engineer and crew were in. The trains were kind of a semi-shiny gray metallic, the sides slanting out slightly toward the bottom and finally bulging out some the last few feet. The sides were largely blank except for some occasional slight indentations and protrusions that were generally in lines and sometimes, relatively rarely, even small slots. Up high, a row of small windows could be seen. One time I saw what was apparently an engineer leaning out of a larger window toward the front and talking to someone on the ground (actually on the concrete).

The trains came and went fairly swiftly for a while. Then a more extended break came, with a train in the west side bay and I think without a train in the east side one (the east-side trains went north and the west-side trains went south). I wandered around, thinking they probably didn't want me doing that but doing it anyway and hoping no one objected. I talked to a person or two on the way, apparently people who did maintenance and washed the trains. They seemed pleasant enough.

As I made my way back toward the street, I changed into a woman. Instead of being over six feet tall and a little overweight, I was now a lot smaller and slimmer and wore a dress, and had dark brown hair that was styled to curl around to the front a little and on the back of my neck. It seemed a smooth transition, though, and I didn't think it was too unusual. It just kind of faded in as I walked along, and with it came a happier feeling, a feeling of lightness.

As I went toward the street, I was getting kind of anxious to get away, I guess maybe to get back on my journey. I was talking to a few people, and some more were approaching, but none of them were very close, the closest perhaps ten feet away. I realized then that whole train complex was raised high above the street (though it wasn't originally), and the northwest corner I was heading toward was particularly high above the surrounding area, perhaps as much as fifteen to twenty feet.

I was still maybe five or six feet from the edge, and felt that I could just step or jump off the edge and land safely, perhaps even changing to a low glide across the pavement before touching down, but I also felt that if I tried to go over the edge it would upset the other people, who did not know I could do this and would be afraid I would get killed. I could picture them calling out, telling me not to do it, and rushing forward. Even now I could see that they were getting nervous, afraid for me. I edged away from the corner, going back to the south, staying several feet from the side. The people were still somewhat nervous and followed at a little distance, talking to me and me talking to them.

I went at a slight angle away from the edge, continuing south. I went past the train terminals a ways and met some other people (I think they were different ones than before). We talked and I saw, perhaps in my mind, a scene of one of the three-piece trains high in the sky, apparently on the edge of space. It looked ghostly, like it was made out of ice, and the cars kept rocking from side to side, the first and last cars going the same direction at the same time and the middle one going the opposite way. I felt that the appearance and the rocking was a normal effect of the engines, of the type of power used.

I was on a small high platform, then, with a barrier and railing around it. A few other people were with me. They were being taken north, back to the trains, on this moving platform. There was another platform with other people behind us, and perhaps more behind that. The platforms were on top of tower-like structures, probably square or rectangular in cross section, that were narrower than the platforms. We had gotten on the platform by going up stairs that were inside the tower-like structure.

I was laughing and talking about it finally coming true, about how we had ghost cars and ghost trains and ghost something else, referring to the train high in the sky (it was apparently normal for the trains to travel this way). The woman I was talking to was smiling and seeming to accept what I was saying, though I was wording it somewhat awkwardly.

The moving platform reached the place at the station to give or show the train tickets and get on the train, and two women were leaning out a double window opening toward us, to be shown or given the tickets. They had smiles on their faces and seemed to be very happy in their work, and I had the impression that they did a lot of chatting with each other while waiting for the platforms to bring the passengers. I explained to them that I wasn't going on the train, I was just talking to the other people while they took the ride (on the platform) over to the train. I said that I would just get off here. The women workers, though, smiling big and looking at each other and at me, said, through one of them, that I couldn't do that, that I had to take the platform back. I didn't want to do that, I would be going out of my way to go way back there, but it didn't seem that they were going to give in.

The platform had a tall railing that had flat panels on the sides except at the bottom, with three bars going down the sides to support the top rail and the panels. The platform was much narrower than it was long and the three bars were on one of the long sides, with a narrow side facing the worker women. The bars, which were formed of sheet metal and may have been square in cross-section, had different amounts of spacing and were widely spaced enough that I could slip through them.

I quickly slipped through the opening at the southeast corner, on the end away from the worker women. The bottom of the platform was perhaps eight feet above the pavement. I fell quickly and landed lightly, with my knees bending slightly as I hit and then quickly straightening. When I slipped through the bars I could hear the women workers going "Ohhhhh" and could sense them leaning over and looking at me, worrying. I stepped quickly away after landing, a little smile on my face, assuring everyone I was alright.

The platform behind us was starting to approach, though it wasn't too close yet. There was a man on it that I knew. Another person or two were on it as well, but I didn't get a good look at them. The man was leaning forward, looking out toward me and saying something. I don't think he was very concerned that I might be hurt, though he might have been a little surprised and I think maybe a little amused.

Wordzzle 60 - The polar bear and the hunter

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is the fourth time I've played the game.


Ten Word Challenge:

preparation,
tic-tac-toe,
splurge,
auction block,
the bitter end,
milk,
papyrus,
when the parade passes by,
bill of lading,
stone wall

A papyrus and a jug that once held milk, both items from an Egyptian tomb, were on the auction block and he just had to have them. He kept bidding till the bitter end, as the price went higher and higher. He was really splurging, doing this, but he couldn't help himself. He had passed up a piece of stone wall so that he could be sure that he had enough money. It was a good thing that he had gotten a look at the bill of lading, and seen in advance all that was going to be auctioned. There was no substitute for good preparation. He was not going to be one of the folks that just sits there when the parade passes by, watching and doing nothing.

When the auction was over, he went to get his items. On the way he happened to get a good look at the piece of stone wall he had passed up.

He paused. No! It had the tic-tac-toe hieroglyphic he had been looking for for years! He wondered if he could talk the buyer into trading with him.


Mini Challenge:

polar bear,
20 seconds,
get it together,
spasmodic,
antiquity

"I've got maybe 20 seconds to get it together," the polar bear thought, "and do something to stop that idiot from shooting me and mounting me for posterity in a room full of antiquities." It had considered offering the man a Coke, but finally decided that it might be misinterpreted.

"Maybe if I can convince him that it's hunting season for something else, maybe that would do it," it thought. The polar bear looked around at the vast expanse of empty ice. There didn't seem to be any other animal to shoot. Then it heard something above it and looked up. "Ducks! Yes, that would do it! Duck hunting season!"

It ripped a board off a crate, something that its Coca-Cola had been delivered in, and proceeded to write swiftly, almost spasmodically, on it. There wasn't much time left, so it would have to be brief. It finished and quickly held it up. It said "DUCK" in large bold letters.

The hunter paused and stared at it, then suddenly dived flat onto the ice.

The polar bear looked at him for a moment, the sign drooping slightly. Then it put the sign aside, ambled off, and leisurely went into the water. "Oh, well, whatever works," it thought.


Mega challenge:

preparation,
tic-tac-toe,
splurge,
auction block,
the bitter end,
milk,
papyrus,
when the parade passes by,
bill of lading,
stone wall

polar bear,
20 seconds,
get it together,
spasmodic,
antiquity

It was on the auction block, and then it was gone. Just like that. He could hardly believe it. The tic-tac-toe board, carved out of oak and the size of a small table, was gone. It had been part of his family for years, one of many antiquities that had been handed done through the ages. Not many of them were left now. At least he had gotten a good price for this one. With that and the papyrus sold, he could afford to splurge a little now, maybe even buy some gourmet ice cream instead of the store-brand stuff that seemed to be mostly frozen milk.

"You better not spend too much," the polar bear said. "It's going to have to last for a while, and you've still got bills to pay."

The man sighed. "Are you a mind reader, too?"

"Of course I am," said the polar bear. "I am, after all, all in your mind. At least I think I am."

"I'm going to count slowly to 10," the man said, "and when I finish you'll be gone."

"It didn't work before," said the polar bear. "Better make it 20. If 20 seconds of counting doesn't do it, you're really in trouble."

"Never mind," the man said, and got up to go.

"I'm with you to the bitter end," chortled the polar bear. "You'll never get rid of me!"

"You weren't always here, said the man. "I'll get it together somehow, and then you'll be gone. I'll learn to meditate, I'll set out candles, I'll even play relaxing recordings of waves on a beach. I'll do whatever it takes, make whatever preparations I have to make. And then one day, you'll be gone."

"You'll never get rid of me! I can even show you the bill of lading from when they delivered me!"

"There is no bill of lading!" the man shouted. "You're a figment of my imagination!" Some nearby people turned and looked. Even some people who weren't so nearby. The man turned his face away from them and bent his head down, one eye twitching spasmodically.

"Still too many people here, huh?" asked the polar bear. "A whole parade of them in fact. Well, good. I like to be there when the parade passes by."

The man ground his teeth and muttered under his breath. "It's like beating my head against a stone wall."

"It would be," the polar bear said, "except you've already sold the stone wall."

Dream - Releasing Jesus from the cross

A little over a year ago I had an interesting dream, in which I released Jesus from the cross. This dream probably occurred on Saturday, March 22, 2008, the day after Good Friday.

In the dream, at some point, I came into a room where I saw Jesus, still on the cross. The wood was very thick, around 6 by 8 inches. The cross was not much taller than Him, and His feet were near or on the floor. His arms were straight out along the crosspiece, and were tied to it with lots of turns of rope around His upper arms.

As I came in, the cross was to the left side of me and facing away from the door, and Jesus turned His head to look at me. He seemed in fairly good shape and did not visibly appear to be suffering very much. I sensed some weariness, though, at being left on the cross for so long, and that He was a little anxious to be taken down from it.

He was not as commonly pictured, being perhaps around 5 feet 9 inches tall and slightly heavier than medium, and gave the impression of strong muscles under a slight layer of fat. His face was not long and thin, but more short. He had a very heavy beard a few inches long. His hair went forward and to the sides in slight clumps and on the top was slightly longer than His beard, but was shorter toward the sides and front, and did not fall much on His face or forehead. His hair and beard were very dark and almost frizzy, and a little dusty looking.

I went to Him and told Him that He didn't have to do this any more, and started to take Him down from the cross. The crosspiece came apart in large sections, and I took two large blocks of it off the ends. He seemed able to get His arms loose Himself after that. I concentrated then on His feet.

I couldn't find any nails sticking out of His feet, but I saw two small holes in one foot where the nails had apparently sunk below the level of his skin. His feet and ankles were a very dark red, almost black, from blood and dirt, and the skin of His foot looked stiff and shiny and loose fitting, almost mummified.

I backed away from the feet a bit, getting a more general view of Him. I noticed that His hands had seemed to heal themselves after being no longer attached to the cross, as there no longer seemed to be any trace of injury, or even any blood stains.

I concentrated again on the feet. I couldn't reach the top of the nails that went through them, and I thought that I would have to get behind them and pry the wood off and somehow then push the nails out from behind. By this time He was no longer attached to the cross at all, except for a small section that had separated itself from the rest of it. This small section, broken slabs perhaps a couple of inches thick and 6 to 8 inches wide and high, was attached to His feet. He had just that piece of wood left to be removed.

I looked at Him standing there, expectantly waiting for me to proceed....

Wordzzle - The eyes have it

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is the third time I've played the game.


Ten Word Challenge:

prefix,
art festival,
income tax,
chicken noodle soup,
jump rope,
Dutch Treat,
flowering plum tree,
bats in the belfry,
diamond earrings,
tigers

"I brought you a Dutch Treat," he said, and took some wooden shoes out of the shopping bag and set them on the table in front of her.

She paused, a spoonful of chicken noodle soup halfway to her mouth. She put the spoon back in the bowl and took them. "Are you sure they'll fit me? They look kind of small."

"Well, they're more in the nature of something to display on a shelf than actually wear. I imagine that they would be too stiff to be really comfortable, even if you could get your feet in them. Not that your feet are too big, of course."

"Of course. I understand now."

She looked at a picture on the table of tigers wearing diamond earrings, with flowering plum trees in the background. They'd had to get rid of all that, she thought sadly. The art festival hadn't brought in nearly enough money. With the economy as it was, people were reluctant to spend their money on paintings. Now the only animals they could afford were the bats in the belfry, and they had to share those with other people. On the bright side, they didn't have to file an income tax form this year, not enough money came in to require it. Who knew, though, who would have thought, that her whole life, that their whole lives, would have led to this point, like a word with an odd prefix or suffix suddenly attached to it, one that didn't relate to the word at all and totally changed it.

"I have something for you, too," she said, and took a jump rope out of her shopping bag.

"Oh, thank you," he said. I've been really needing some exercise." He took it in his hands and looked it over. "I used to do quite a bit of this when I was young. Hour after hour sometimes. It'll take a little while to get back into practice, of course."

"Of course," she said.

"We could take turns using it. And maybe sing songs with each other."

"That would be nice," she said.

And so they celebrated their anniversary, there in the dining hall of the Salvation Army. It was not as fancy as some past anniversaries, but it had more meaning than many of them.


Mini Challenge:

book club,
organic tea,
the cow jumped over the moon,
paragon of virtue,
wench

The reporter was looking over the art exhibit, occasionally taking notes, when he was approached by someone.

"The best ones are over here," the man said, making motions with his hand, arm, and most of his body. "I should know, because I did them."

"Sounds like I should take a look, then," the reporter said.

They walked over, talking, to where some statues were exhibited. The artist led him to one and said, "I did this. Can you guess what it is?"

The reporter looked it over. It was fairly large, and seemed to be some type of farm animal, though it was fairly shapeless, with things sticking out at odd angles. It had horns, so it couldn't be a horse, and it was too big for a goat. "Is it a cow?" asked the reporter.

"It is!" said the artist. "Do you remember the story where the cow jumped over the moon? Well, this is that cow."

The reporter stared at it. "Ummm... Why does it look like this?"

"Re-entry was difficult, and then there was the landing. I call it 'Babel,' because it tried to reach to Heaven and paid a terrible price for it."

"Very Biblical," said the reporter.

"Yes, I am a paragon of virtue," the artist said. His eyes twinkled. "No matter what people may say."

The artist led the way to the next statue, which turned out to be of a man holding a small monkey in one hand, about to toss it into a large, dangerous-looking machine, filled with rods and large, toothy gears. The monkey was wearing a little dress, and did not appear to like what was happening at all.

"This sculpture is a protest against the tyranny of technology," the artist said. "The man is fighting against it, and is about to, as they say, toss a monkey wench into the works."

The reporter turned and stared at him. "I think that's supposed to be monkey wrench, not wench."

"Oh, well, close enough, close enough," the artist said.

They looked at the sculpture for a while, silent. The reporter finally spoke. "What do you call it?"

"I call it 'Hilda.'"

The reporter turned and looked at him. "Hilda?"

"Yes. That was her name. The monkey. The one who posed for the sculpture." The artist looked a little uncomfortable. "It was the least I could do." He turned and looked again at the sculpture, somewhat sadly. "She never quite trusted me again after that."

He suddenly moved on, going to the next sculpture. "Now this one is my masterpiece, my greatest achievement. At least so far," he said, moving his hand in a slow arc in front of the sculpture.

The reporter moved forward and stood beside him. This statue showed a caveman menacing a man dressed in modern clothes, down on one knee, with a hand up trying to protect himself. The caveman had a thick stick with what looked like a large divided rectangular axe head bound to one end, and was holding it high in the air, about ready to strike. There was something odd about the axe head, though. It looked almost like a representation of an encyclopedia volume, one that had been opened up, laid across the end of the stick, and lashed to it. The reporter peered closer at it. He could faintly see "Encyclopedia" carved on it.

"This represents the tyranny of the information society," the artist said. "We are overwhelmed with information. It is burying us. It's too much for us to ever process or understand, and there is no escape from it."

"What do you call it?" asked the reporter.

"I named it after the weapon depicted in it. It is called 'The Book Club.'"

"I see," said the reporter. He made some more notes and said, "I think I've got enough now."

"Are you sure? I have some more. We could get some cups of organic tea from that vendor over there, and stroll along, visiting each of my works, taking our time to get to know them."

"No, I've really got to be writing this up. I've got a deadline to meet."

"You will make a good story for me?"

"Oh, I'll make a fantastic story," the reporter assured him.

"Very well, I will let you go then." He paused. "You don't have to go into detail about the monkey."

"Yes, I understand. The sculpture speaks for itself. No need to go into extra background detail."

"Okay, then. Go do a good job!"

"I will, I will." The reporter turned and left. He would do a good job, too. Strange art, and strange artists, were things the public never tired of hearing about.


Mega challenge:

prefix,
art festival,
income tax,
chicken noodle soup,
jump rope,
Dutch Treat,
flowering plum tree,
bats in the belfry,
diamond earrings,
tigers

book club,
organic tea,
the cow jumped over the moon,
paragon of virtue,
wench

He examined the drawings of tigers on his drinking glass. They seemed to be looking at him. Of course, he also felt that the knotholes on the fence boards were looking at him, and it was hard to tell how much importance to attach to these things. He finally propped his napkin up against the glass, hiding it. That would have to do for now. He lifted up another spoonful of chicken noodle soup, looked closely at it, and finally put it in his mouth. He was going to have to hurry up a bit, he thought. The soup was starting to cool down a little. He sighed.

Maybe he did have a few bats in the belfry. He sometimes heard people whisper things to that effect, though usually in less flattering terms. Sometimes it was even himself saying it. Or he supposed it was, since sometimes no one else was there. Unless the things that were looking at him could talk, too. He thought about it a bit and finally decided that if they did talk, they probably didn't sound like people. At least he hoped they didn't. If they did, that could be terribly confusing. He shuddered a bit, then lifted the bowl up and swirled it around. looking intently into it, then put the bowl to his mouth and drank the rest of it, chicken and noodles and all. He reached for his cup of organic tea and took a sip. At least it was still warm. Was it really organic, though? How could one really be sure about such things?

He finished the tea and picked up the bell to summon the servant girl to take the dishes away. She would uncover the tigers in the process, and they would look at him again, but maybe it wouldn't be for very long. She didn't come, though. No one did. He frowned. What could have happened? He was on the porch, not in the house, and that might make the bell a little harder to hear, but that had never been a problem before. Surely at least one of the servants had heard it. He rang it again and then again, louder and more insistent.

Finally a woman came up and started picking up things. "You're not going to call me a serving wench, are you, like you did the maid? You do remember that I'm your wife don't you?"

He didn't say anything, distracted for the moment by her diamond earrings, which were of complicated design. They had a moon and a cow, formed of diamonds, on different ends of a silver loop, and as she moved about her movements caused the loop to rotate, like a wheel on an axle, and the cow jumped over the moon and then the moon jumped over the cow, over and over again. He wondered if the cow was looking at him.

"None of the servants want to come near you anymore. You're just too strange, and they're afraid of you." Her mood softened, then. "Here, have a Dutch Treat," she said, offering him a chocolate bar. "It's imported from Holland and very expensive."

He took it and looked at the fancy wrapper. It did say imported, but how could one really know? He opened it up and looked at it, then sniffed it, and finally took a bite. It did taste good.

His wife said, "At least you could say thank you! I'm a paragon of virtue for putting up with this!" She turned and left, then, taking the dishes with her, including the glass with the tigers. He felt a little better now, more relaxed, knowing they were gone. He took another bite, and wondered what was in the chocolate. It did taste good, but you could hide an awful lot in a food colored dark brown, especially when it had a strong flavor, too.

He wondered what to do next. They'd hidden his jump rope from him, not wanting him to have ropes. He still belonged to a book club, but it was difficult to read the books now. He felt that the people on the covers were looking at him. Duct tape had been put over the faces, hiding them, but he still knew they were there, waiting, and it disturbed his concentration. At least not all the books had pictures of people, and that helped some, though he wondered sometimes if they should have had pictures, or once did have pictures, and if that information had been suppressed.

He wondered if it was getting around income tax time. It seemed like it might be. He remembered doing the tax forms himself, long ago. He'd had other people do them for him for years, though, even before he'd fallen into such a state. He wasn't even sure how much he made now, if anything. He was scheduled to direct an art festival later this year, but he knew he wasn't going to do it. All those paintings, all those sculptures. Too many things with eyes, or with things that might be eyes. They had probably already picked someone else to do it. He wasn't going to be doing any directing jobs for a while, and maybe not forever. He was an ex-director, pretty much ex-everything. What a terrible prefix ex was, he thought, when placed in front of everything.

He felt it should bother him more, but he was strangely serene about it. It was the eyes that really bothered him. The eyes. Looking around, his gaze fell on the flowering plum tree in the yard. The flowers looked like eyes. Lots of eyes. He finally turned his chair around, so that he couldn't see it. He could feel it back there, though, watching him. He finally turned the table on its side and crouched down in front of it, hiding himself from the tree and its flowers. When that wasn't enough, he went all the way down to the floor and lay there in front of the table, curled up into a ball. After a while a bird hopped up onto the porch and stared at him. He flinched and hid his face in his arms.

Inside, his wife watched him through the window, talking on her cellphone. "Yeah, he took the chocolate again. No, he still doesn't suspect anything, at least not enough to keep him from eating it. He looks pretty bad right now. I don't think it will be much longer before we can have him institutionalized, and then we can have everything."

Dream - The space alien with the missing ear

On the morning of August 22, 2002, I had a dream involving little people with packages, new consciousness, and an extraterrestrial alien with a missing ear. I wrote down the dream back then, probably within a few days or weeks of it happening, but much of the earliest part was already forgotten.

In the dream, at some point I was talking to my father, who was with his wife. They were in a building, apparently where he had a business, near downtown Scottsdale, on the south end of that section of town. He said that another business kept packages for him when they arrived, and that he then went to that business to pick up the packages. The other business was a bookstore. I asked if it was the one on Scottsdale Road (thinking of Hunter's Bookstore before it moved across the street). He said it was not and that he had to show me where the other business was, rather then explaining it, apparently because the explanation would be too complicated. He and some other men set out walking to the north in a square loop, going north, than east, then north, and finally west. The men did not walk together, but seemed to be heading in the same direction, just at different rates. In real life, the section of town involved does not exactly match the dream, though it was a closer match in the past than the current landscape. Other dreams have had a similar downtown area to this dream.

Before they got to Scottsdale Road they entered a business, apparently a garage with areas set off for other functions, such as bookkeeping. In such an area a wall came out with a door in it. The building interior continued past the wall, which turned to form a closed-off area and then the interior ended in a wall with a door which led to a deeper part of the building.

In the first wall I mentioned, the one that protruded and then turned a corner, I remembered that long ago a recessed button used to be in the wall. Pushing the button would cause the wall to open up and a bookstore would be revealed. The button did not appear to be there anymore. A couple of the men were looking at a formed wire hanging on a wall, the wall that followed the outside of the building and led to the interior wall. The wire was bent into a protruding shape, as if for hanging a coat or as part of a shelf support. The wire was bent flat at the top and slightly slanted downward as it returned. At the wall, the wire was bent up at the top and down at the bottom, to fit into holders that allowed the wire to swivel. The wire was initially laid flat against the wall.

One of the men was pulling the wire outward, looking uncertain and uneasy. He pulled the wire partway out from the wall and paused. Nothing happened. He then moved the wire the rest of the way, until it was straight out. The interior wall then opened up and the bookstore appeared. I wondered how the bookstore could make a living, hidden so well.

The bookstore had two little people who ran it. These people were approximately four feet high and I felt were of supernatural origin (elves or leprechauns). My father did not seem to be here at this point, though the other men were. The little people confirmed that they kept packages for my father, who picked them up eventually. I asked them if they added late charges if he waited too long. They said they did not, but that there was one time when they did. They said that they had no set time for a late charge, that the time varied. On the one time they added a late charge, they gave a long explanation of how they had offered various services, such as making up advertising, selling the product, etc., and at each step my father had refused the offer. At each refused offer, they had added a charge. The charges added were extremely high, in the neighborhood of tens and even hundreds of thousands, but the charges were not in dollars. Eventually, after adding up all the charges, reaching a total, and then converting the total to dollars, the final 'late' charge was eight dollars.

They had a phone number where the business could be reached. The number apparently produced something like an Internet connection to the business, complete with graphics. I suggested that using the phone number, the business could be reached from anywhere and the package could then be delivered, instead of having to physically return to the business to get the package. The two little people looked uncertainly at each other and agreed that this was possible. They reminded me of the cartoon chipmunk characters Chip 'n' Dale, being very earnest and helpful, talking in quick little bursts, though with much longer pauses between sentences than the cartoon characters.

After agreeing that it was possible, they then turned to me and said that they still wanted me to physically check in with them, to make the next order. (Apparently at the time the previous order was picked up. This struck me as a pretense to get me to return to the store anyway.) I said I needed a number to reach them directly, that the previous number was the number to reach the store. They again looked at each other uncertainly, and finally said that, yes, they would give me a number but they had to look it up. They did not know what it was.

They went back into their store and began to look through papers, some of which were bound together into massive volumes. The papers were somewhat tattered and were of different colors. At some point the wall re closed and the bookstore disappeared.

We were waiting for them to call and give us the number. Finally, they called. The answering machine took the call. The one that called talked very slowly and softly, not like he did in person. He initially started out giving direct numbers, but then switched to giving words that represented the numbers, like when phone numbers are represented with words. Except that the words in this case represented a single digit per word, with the words being in a foreign language, multi-syllabic, and spoken slowly and indistinctly.

I tried to write down the phone number on a note pad with a small calendar on each of its pages, that I found in a box containing several of them as well as other items. I was a little concerned about using it since it did not belong to me. In any case, I was only able to write down the first few numbers. The other men, one in particular, worked at deciphering the code. The message was recorded, and they kept replaying it, even analyzing the waveform, trying to determine what was said. The letter that began each word apparently stood for a digit in the phone
number. I moved off to other things for a time.

An alien from a UFO came and told me how they were trying to raise the consciousness of mankind. They had been working for hundreds of years, converting a few people at a time, slowly. They showed me a small classroom in the building. The classroom seemed reasonably full, but only a few in there were being raised to a different, higher level of consciousness. In this new state, which was reached slowly over a long period of time, the people became more tuned into the universe, and developed psychic powers. They achieved kind of universal awareness. Some were achieving this as I watched.

The alien went back outside and I followed. The alien told me it was very important to raise mankind to this new state, and not all alien types were as friendly as he was. He told of another alien who held a grudge against us because a person had cut off one of that alien's ears two hundred years ago.

I asked the alien if the higher consciousness process could be speeded up to cover more people at once, and named a way this could be done. The alien considered and agreed that this was possible. I then offered another suggestion, and asked if an interface, using a machine, could be made between the aliens and the people, to speed up transfer of the powers. The alien thought about it and agreed that this was possible, also.

The alien had always appeared somewhat elongated, dark and shadowy as if composed more of energy then of actual physical substance. The alien was now drawn into the UFO, as if he was being sucked backwards into it, and seemed to flow and merge into it. The UFO, itself a vague shape, almost a presence instead of an object, then took off rapidly, elongating into a dark curved streak in the night. I returned inside.

The phone number to the bookstore was finally decoded, and the number was called. When it was answered, energy poured through from the other end. People clustered around a wall phone, bathing in the invisible energy, oohing and ahhing. The phone was not the phone from which the call had been placed, but was one of the phones to which the tech people had routed the call. The people bathing in the energy seemed to be gaining some psychic powers and awareness. As time passed, some left the phone, having apparently gained all they wanted, and others replaced them.

I finally decided to join them at the phone and crowded in. At first I did not experience much gain, although I could feel the energy. I gradually felt a small elevation of my consciousness, and then all of a sudden I could feel the energy wash over me, like being in warm water and having cool water from a source wash over me. I felt like I was getting lighter, and eventually I did start to rise slowly in the air. I drifted upward a few inches, until I bumped into an ornamental painted beam that ran along the wall above the doorway. I then moved off into the room, raising my whole body up until I was roughly horizontal, and above head height. People were coming and going. There were a couple of people walking along, talking. At least one of them did not look quite human, being too thin and elongated. I talked to this person and tried to get the person to return to the phone, as the person seemed to be only halfway converted by the energy. The person listened to me but wasn't interested and even seemed slightly annoyed, and moved off talking to the other person. Rejected, I hung for time in the air, my arms, legs and head drooping.

Eventually, I perked up and went outside, not the side where the UFO had been, but the side toward the back, the side where I had originally come in. Out there I was informed somehow that the alien with the missing ear was at a conference at the airport. Perhaps the first alien told me.

I felt that it was extremely important that I go there immediately. A phone connection was established to the airport and I went to a phone that was on the outside of the building. I turned into energy and flowed into the phone. It was a dark, invisible energy that was not contained within the wires but extended to several inches to each side. I flowed along the pipes and conduits. I eventually made it to the airport, but parts of me seemed to extend out and visit other phone locations around the world.

At the airport, I re-formed and went searching for the conference room. I met one or more aliens or people who told me to hurry. The aliens were not like the first alien, appearing much more physical. None of them seemed like the classic Grays. I located the conference room and went inside. I may have simply floated through the closed door, or I may have opened it and then floated in.

The room was full of aliens of various kinds. They seemed surprised at the interruption. The alien with the missing ear had been giving a presentation. He was thin and elongated, though not abnormally tall. He was slightly dark in color, perhaps with a slight purplish hue. His head was oval and tilted back, and his remaining ear, on the right, was set very low and tilted back. The ear was a different color from the rest of his head, being roughly flesh colored.

He had kept the severed ear in a small, ornate box all these years. I understood, perhaps from when the original alien had explained the matter to me, that this was not the original ear. The original ear had been lost somehow over the years and had been replaced with a different ear. I don't know the source for the second ear, but the ear looked the same as the one on his head, except for being for the other, left, side.

The alien, in his presentation of the injury he had suffered, levitated the ear out of the box and let it float out into the room, so that everyone could see it. I floated down the aisle and grabbed it out of the air. It was old and dry and crumbly, like stale bread, and small pieces crumbled off as I took it. I believe there was some commotion from the crowd, but it didn't matter. I flew to the alien and jammed the ear against his head. He did not really resist, but softly protested to me, that he knew what I was trying to do but the ear was not even what I thought it was. I felt he was trying to tell me that the ear was not the original one, but it didn't feel to me that it was an important distinction. I said or projected desperately to him to accept it, to draw it into him, to make it a part of him. I poured my power into it.

And then, suddenly, I was somewhere else, though I could feel that my body was still back in the conference room. My awareness, though, was in a different place. I was floating in the air partway up the side of either the enormous interior of a tall building or an area between two separate buildings. I was in an area between stories. The walls were made of brick.

I saw something on the wall, between the stories. Something lighter colored and elongated to the sides, an irregular beige splotch, more even on the top and bottom. I heard voices, from back in the conference room, saying "He's doing it." I went toward the splotch, reaching out for it.

Then I was back in the conference room. Some people, some of whom may have been aliens, were gathered around the alien whose ear I had attempted to restore. Their hands were lifted toward the ear and the area around it, like they were gently touching it, testing it, making sure that everything was alright, while they peered at it, heads tilted back slightly. They seemed to be doctors, or perhaps scientists. A crowd of people was around them, watching. I sensed that the ear had been successfully restored to the alien's head, and had started to live again.

Wordzzle - The acrobat, the optometrist, and the bumble bee

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is the second time I've played the game.


Ten Word Challenge:

acrobat,
grocery store,
ceiling fan,
dandelion,
bumble bee,
alabaster,
scissors,
chartreuse,
strenuously,
cube

The acrobat took his scissors, which he had just purchased at the grocery store, and proceeded to carefully clip the dandelions in his yard. A bumble bee flew nearby, watching, not sure it liked this new development. Inside, a chartreuse cube talked to an alabaster-colored ceiling fan, making plans for the evening. Outside, the acrobat finished and took all the dandelions in and started putting them in vases. The bumble bee looked through the window, watching, sometimes strenuously bumping against it.

The cube said to the ceiling fan, "What do you think?"

The ceiling fan said, "Well, first let's hide the scissors. And next time, we need to write out a list. We told him we needed dust cloths, not dandelions."


Mini Challenge:

iPod,
poison ivy,
computer,
interpreter,
optometrist

The optometrist, listening to his iPod, walked mindlessly through the poison ivy. From high on a pole a camera watched, and a distant computer recorded the information. In a distant country, an interpreter translated the information for the use of people who keep track of such things. The optometrist knew none of this, not even about the poison ivy, and kept on listening to Bob Dylan singing "How does it feel?"


Mega challenge:

acrobat,
grocery store,
ceiling fan,
dandelion,
bumble bee,
alabaster,
scissors,
chartreuse,
strenuously,
cube

iPod,
poison ivy,
computer,
interpreter,
optometrist

Poison ivy grew among the dandelions, or perhaps vice versa. The optometrist, carrying a small bag of supplies, made his way carefully along the path, avoiding both of them. The optometrist was accompanied by a bumble bee, who rode on his shoulder, conserving his energies. The optometrist worried about the sanity of his friend, the acrobat, and sometimes spoke to the bumble bee about it. The bumble bee worried too, and not just about the acrobat, but didn't say anything.

As the optometrist came up to the house, he found the front porch covered with vines. Working strenuously, he pulled them aside, and finally reached the front door. He knocked on the door, while the bumble bee investigated some nearby flowers. The optometrist waited, but received no response. He knocked, and knocked again, and fearing something was wrong, was considering whether he should break in when the door began to open. Daylight poured in through the opening, illuminating an otherwise dark room. As the door opened further, he saw the face of the acrobat, blinking in the light. There was silence.

"You emailed me, saying you had a big problem and had to see me right away?" the optometrist finally said.

"Oh, oh, that's right," the acrobat said. "I was listening to my iPod, and got distracted." He peered outside the door. "Wow. I guess I should get out more often. Well, come on in." The acrobat led the way back into the house, the optometrist following. At the last minute the bumble bee zoomed in, just before the door closed.

"I hate to say this," the optometrist said, "but you seem to be getting kind of thin and out of shape."

"Yeah, well, acrobat work is hard to find these days. I guess I kind of let things go. I had to get into a different line of work. I act as kind of an interpreter, taking old translations of works of Greek and Roman literature and redoing them for a modern audience, simplifying them and putting in modern language, using lots of current slang and idioms and things like that."

"People pay you for this?" asked the optometrist.

"Yeah, but not as much as you might think. I have to make it up on volume." He paused before a picture of himself wearing an alabaster-colored costume, standing on an elephant that was wearing an ornate chartreuse and crimson head covering. "It's not like the old days," he said wistfully, "though it does keep me occupied."

He led the way to a room that had a computer in it, sitting on boards stretched across stacks of bricks. Beside the computer was a large, old fashioned monitor, and beside it was a printer. In front of the monitor was a keyboard and beside it, on a mouse pad, was a mouse. A large wooden box, cube-shaped, evidently used as a chair, sat on the floor in front of the setup. The floor of the room was covered in thousands of sheets of paper, some crumpled, some not. In one corner, several boxes of new paper were piled, with what appeared to be boxes of computer ink in a jumble on top of them. Overhead, a dusty ceiling fan slowly turned, only one of its three bulbs still working.

The optometrist stood there, taking in the situation, surprised and a little saddened. The bumble bee flew in and went to the computer, sometimes hovering in front of the screen, sometimes banging against the keyboard and mouse. A new window appeared on the screen for a while, and then went away. The acrobat stood a few feet inside the door, seemingly lost in thought. Time passed.

The optometrist finally said, "What seems to be the problem?"

"Eh? Oh. Oh. Well, I used to be sharp as a pair of scissors, just cutting through things, going really fast, but lately its gotten harder and harder and I've gotten slower and slower. I think the real problem is that I just can't see as well as I used to. The letters on the screen have gotten fuzzier and fuzzier and dimmer and dimmer. I know the light in here isn't bright, but the screen is lit from within, so lighting shouldn't be a problem."

The optometrist walked over to the monitor and stared at it. Then he bent down and blew on it, and took a bottle of eyeglass cleaner out of his bag and sprayed it. Then he took out a soft cloth and wiped it clean.

"How's that?" he asked, stepping back.

The acrobat stepped forward and peered at the screen. "Wow, I can see perfectly. Thank you, thank you, how can I ever repay you?"

"It's ... okay," the optometrist said. "Just let me know if you need help again."

"Sure, sure, I sure will, thanks again. Say, you want to stay for dinner? I don't get to the grocery store very often, but I've still got a lot of food I stockpiled when I thought the world was going to end."

The optometrist looked around at the dust and debris, and considered the prospect of dining on what was perhaps years-old food. "Thank you, but no, I really have to be going, I have a previous appointment. Someone else I have to help. I really can't break it."

"Sure, sure, I understand, someone as good as you must get a lot of calls for help. Maybe some other time then?" He fished around in some of the papers on the floor. "Here, at least take a granola bar," he said, somehow producing one from the mess.

"Yes, of course," the optometrist said, absently taking it and putting it in his coat pocket. "I'll, um, let you know."

He went quickly toward the door. As he reached it he paused, then turned around and waved. The acrobat waved happily back. The optometrist turned, then, and went out the door and closed it, then started carefully down the path. The bumble bee, who had flown out when the door was opened, settled on his shoulder once more.

"Well, that was different," the optometrist said. "At least I was able to help him."

The bumble bee still didn't say anything, but thought happily about the landscaping service that was going to come tomorrow, the one it had sent for with the computer, that was going to clean up the place and put in a lot more and better flowers. Next time, and the bumble bee knew there would be a next time, at least the bumble bee would eat well.

The Knight and his Knickers

This is a story that I did for a message board, on a thread normally concerned with comically constructing new words and definitions. They were at that time doing exercises where a user gave a short list of words and other users then wrote a story containing those words. The story is changed slightly here in that it is broken up into several paragraphs instead of being contained in just one, and has undergone some slight editing.

This is another of my stories from my post number 1000 for that message board, one of a group included in that post. The list of words for this story: kiwi, knight, key, kite, knickers.

This story is dated 9:23 PM, December 1, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


THE KNIGHT AND HIS KNICKERS

The knight had finally found the key to his knickers, when he got caught up in the string from a kite and carried high in the air.

He was carried into a storm cloud, where a bolt of lightning hit him, dislodging him from the string. His glowing form fell to Earth, leaving a trail of smoke in the air.

He landed on top of a cage containing a shipment of kiwi birds, bounced off, hit a haystack, and then rolled for several feet before finally stopping. He lay there for a while, his armor slowly losing its glow and cooling off.

Finally, he sat up and took the key, which he had saved through the lightning strike and everything, and prepared to use it but then stopped in frustration.

"Drat the luck," he said, "my knickers are welded shut."

The Damsel and the Dandelion

This is a story that I did for a message board, on a thread normally concerned with comically constructing new words and definitions. They were at that time doing exercises where a user gave a short list of words and other users then wrote a story containing those words.

This is another of my stories from my post number 1000 for that message board. The list of words for this story: dandelion, damsel, dart, delicious, deposit.

This story is dated 9:23 PM, December 1, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


THE DAMSEL AND THE DANDELION

A delicious damsel, rushing to the bank to make a deposit, was about to dart across the street when she stopped and picked a dandelion, and that made all the difference.

Wordzzle - The brigadier general, the hummingbird, and the gods

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.


Ten Word Challenge:

apoplexy,
doctor,
hummingbird,
shallow end of the pool,
brigadier general,
mustard,
greed,
parallelogram,
slumber party,
casual

The hummingbird said to the doctor, "Do you have any mustard?" The doctor seemed for a moment to be suffering from apoplexy, but finally said, "I need to save some for the slumber party. Don't be greedy." The hummingbird said, "Oh, I won't, I eat like a bird. Where is it, anyway?" "I keep it in the refrigerator," the doctor said. "You mean the parallelogram over there? Would you mind getting it for me? And opening the mustard, too? After all, I'm just a tiny bird." The doctor walked over to the refrigerator, grumbling, the bird following along. "It says General Electric, not refrigerator," the bird said. "Is it a brigadier general?" The doctor looked baffled for a moment, then silently put some mustard on a little plate. The bird pecked at the mustard. "He wasn't the bravest of generals," the bird casually said. "He wouldn't get out of the shallow end of the pool. He wouldn't let me have any mustard, either."


Mini Challenge:

Mount Olympus,
arsonist,
portraits,
birch trees,
"that car needs a new muffler"

The artist went up on the mountain to do a painting. He found found some nice birch trees by a meadow and decided to paint them. He normally did portraits, but that business was a little slow right now. He had been painting for a little over an hour when suddenly there was a flash of light and a figure stood about twenty feet in front of him, wearing a white garment that looked something like a small toga. The artist blinked, and bent down to pick up his brush, which he had dropped. Cleaning the dirt off the bristles, he considered the situation, and finally said, "Who are you?" The figure threw a lightning bolt at him, which caught his easel and painting on fire, and said, "I am Zeus. Who are you and why do you dare to come to Mount Olympus?" The man got back up off the ground, to which he had somehow fallen, and began desperately trying to put the fire out. "What are you, some kind of arsonist?" he said. "No, I am Zeus. Leader of the gods. We live on Mount Olympus. Surely you have heard of us?" The god looked at him quizzically. "You're not one of those slow witted, demented people the villages sometimes throw out, are you?" The artist looked up, having finally put out the fires. "I've heard of you, but you're not much in the news these days. People don't care about you, and don't even believe in you anymore. And in any case, this is Colorado, how did Mount Olympus end up here?" "Mount Olympus is wherever we wish it to be," Zeus said, and then looked thoughtful for a moment. He finally said, "These are strange developments. Perhaps we should start a war or simply lay waste to a few cities. Something that will remind them of us, and show them the dangers of having forgotten." The artist squeaked out a reply, "Couldn't you do something more positive?" The god looked at him. "These developments are not positive. Punishment must be given." "I'll just be going then," the man said, heading for his car. He opened the door and got in, while the god looked on in amazement. When the car started, the god jerked back and flung a lightning bolt at it. The car rocked violently and part of the exhaust system flew away, to land clattering and rolling in the meadow. The man sat in the car, bent over the steering wheel, trembling. After a time he raised his head, opened the door, and slowly got out. He walked a few paces toward the god, shoulders slumped, swaying a little, then stopped. He raised his head, and looked vaguely in the god's direction. "Begging your pardon and all, but you really, really ought to do something positive for a change. You could do some advertising, to remind people you're here, and then every now and then you could do something positive, some little act of kindness for someone that would have a major impact in their lives. It would be like winning the lottery. Lots of people would try to get on your good side then." The god paused, considering. "What acts of kindness would these be, do you think?" The artist said, "Oh, it would vary from person to person depending on the situation." He turned and pointed back toward his car. "If it was me, for instance, well, that car needs a new muffler."


Mega challenge:

apoplexy,
doctor,
hummingbird,
shallow end of the pool,
brigadier general,
mustard,
greed,
parallelogram,
slumber party,
casual

Mount Olympus,
arsonist,
portraits,
birch trees,
"that car needs a new muffler"

"We must capture Mount Olympus," the brigadier general said. "I shall put my forces around the gods while they have their slumber party. We shall form a parallelogram, with the walls closing in on them. They will never suspect a thing, until it is too late. Then we will not only have Mount Olympus, we will control the gods and all their power will be at our disposal." "You military types are so greedy," the doctor said. "In the end it just makes more work for me, patching up everybody. And by the way, you've got mustard on your face." "I do?" The general paused, wiping his face with a handkerchief and carefully looking over the results in a small mirror. "You're always sloppy when you eat," the doctor said. "It's legendary. All your portraits show food on your face." "I am simply enthusiastic when I eat," grumped the general, an eye twitching slightly. "I am enthusiastic in everything I do." "You're not trying to suffer from apoplexy again, are you?" the doctor said, peering at him. "No, no," the general said, waving him off. "It wasn't really apoplexy anyway, I just drank too.... enthusiastically." "Well, whatever," the doctor said, turning to look again at the mountain. "Those birch trees look kind of dry," he said, changing the subject. "I hope you don't start any fires. That last place looked like it was overrun by arsonists after you got done." "Oh, I'm sure everything will be alright," the general said casually. He paused then. "That hummingbird over there, watching us. Do you think he could be a spy for Zeus?" The doctor looked. "I thought Zeus used larger birds," he said slowly. "Perhaps, though, he is economizing these days, and using smaller things." The general turned and looked at him. "You're not going to bring up that thing about me using the shallow end of the pool again, are you?" The doctor looked momentarily puzzled. "Eh? No, no. At least not right now. Although I do have a complaint about what you drive. That car needs a new muffler." "It is just enthusiastic about being alive, as am I," the general muttered. The hummingbird flew over and hovered in front of the general's face, while he looked at it cross-eyed. It then pecked his nose a few times and flew away. "What was that all about," the general said, wide-eyed. The doctor peered at him. "I think it likes mustard," he said. "You've still got some on your nose."