I Will Never Leave You

"As usual I need a few words with you."

"Can we make this quick?"

"Oh yeah chum, the quicker the better as far as I'm concerned."

"Good I'm not in the mood."

















"You're not in the mood? Well poor you."

"I thought you said this would be quick?"

"Alright. Where the fuck were you?"

"I don't see as that is any of your business."

"Well it is and get used to it pal."

"Whoa, chum...pal, you're pissed."

"And why wouldn't I be?"

"Slow down here why don't you? Just because I don't feel the need to report my every movement to you does not mean you can just go ahead and call me chum and pal in the same conversation."

"I don't think you are in a position to tell me how to regulate the use chum and pal in conversation...buddy."

"Whoa, the trifecta, you are pissed."

"So where were you?"

"Not that it is any of your business but I was on family leave."

"Family leave. I bet."

"It was."

"You don't have any family."

"I got my pops."

"I bet you were out funning around probably near a golf course and a swimming pool."

"Just because you are at a resort that doesn't discount it being a family leave."

"Was there any family there?"

"Ummm, how do you define family?"

"Family, you know, blood relatives."

"Well under that definition then maybe no."

"Just as I imagined."

"But I was with my real family, my friends, my loved ones."

"Probably a new loved one as well."

"Ummm..."

"She's probably real pretty huh?"

"Well I suppose that is a matter of taste."

"Damn you are so obvious."

"So sue me."

"We'll talk about this so more later."

"I'm sure we will."

On Top Down Under

They crowded around, microphones and television cameras battling for the limited space. It was a full blown press conference and there was a tension, palpable amongst the usually nonplussed media. It was going on a half hour passed the scheduled start time and this only added to the anticipation.














Reporters fresh from Virginia Tech, the Gonzales hearings and the Iraq War Appropriation Bill vote, put on their game faces and readied themselves for what they hoped would be the news event of the year.

There was a flurry of excitement as a motorcade of black SUVs came to a screeching halt outside the press area. The SUVs parted and then a lone silver Vespa rolled to a stop. The rider of the scooter dismounted and removed his helmet. Dressed in a trim blue suit, wearing Kennedy sunglasses, he cut a figure looking more like an FBI man of years gone by, more official then the real security men that surrounded him and then led him to the cluster of microphones.

Before he had time to settle the questions started raining down. The man coolly lit a cigarette and with sunglasses in place bowed his head for a moment. The questions stopped and there was a stunned silence. The media were struck dumb, amazed themselves that they had quited. The man lifted his head and spoke in a clear unaffected manner.

"The first question. Helen would you like to start?"

"Thank you I would. Sufferwords, it has been said that you have not been vocal enough in your opposition to the war in Iraq. Why is that and has any pressure been put upon you to stifle your thoughts."

"Thank you Helen for your question but I must disagree with the foundation of your question. First you assume that I agree that it is indeed a war that is taking place in Iraq. If we wish to call an invasion of choice into a sovereign nation a war then there might be some merit to your query but I do not uphold that position. As to whether there has been pressure put upon me to suppress my objection to this occupation no there hasn't. Those who know my words know that even before this illegal and immoral action was taken that I stood among my fellow patriots and though our protestations were, as you say, stifled, I say suppressed, by you the press, I did voice my objections loud and clear as I do before you today. Next question."

"Sufferwords I would like..."

"Mr. Wallace, good to see you sir."

"Yes and you too. There have been reports that you have been speaking with all the major candidates but have yet to back one outright. Will you do so soon?"

"Mike again you too have been led down the garden road. I have met with candidates, but being that we live in a supposed democracy, a two party system for the most part, to say that I have met with all the major candidates would be a misleading statement. I refuse to meet with Romney or McCain, Giulliani or Thompson for that matter. I have met with Clinton, Kucinich, and Obama."

"I'm sorry to presume sir. And what are your thoughts?"

"As much as I respect Kucinich and Clinton and know that they would serve this country to the far greater good then any in the current administration it is Obama that I am throwing my support behind."

"Do you think a black man named Barack Hussein Obama can be elected in this day and age given the current political climate."

"Not only do I believe that this man can be elected president of this country but the case should be made to the American electorate that Mr. Obama is the only person that we as a nation should elect."

"Why is that?"

"I will try to keep this brief. Our country has suffered immeasurably at the hands of the current administration. What this country needs is a leader, a real leader, a man of moral vision. A man that not only represents the will of the American populace but that of the entire world at whole. There could be no greater salve to repair the damage this nation has caused and suffered then to elect a man who so obviously refutes what the world believes we as Americans represent. Were we to show the world that we as a nation are not evil as a people, only that the current administration and it's reliance on an outdated and backward world view, it's dispassionate and unreasoned moral ineptitude, were the true evil and that our system and the will of a free society can make change real, that could restore this country as represented by Mr. Obama, and make the world an altogether safer place. Were this knowledge be disseminated by you to our people I believe a majority could be found and make Mr. Obama an electable candidate."















"What do you think about immigration?"

"Immigration is a good thing. I believe all of you would agree unless perhaps one of you is Native American. The real story behind immigration is that the poor are left to fight over scraps. The middle class has vanished and the weakest members of our society are being asked to foot the bill for social services a country as wealthy as ours should have no trouble providing. I believe the trillion dollars spent on an unwarranted invasion of a sovereign nation could have provided some good relief to the poor of this nation."

"What about health care."

"In a country where vast fortunes are spent on a military to protect it's peoples yet those same people can not get proper medical care is unconscionable. The supposed terrorist threat is not real. It is indeed terrible the destruction wrought on 9/11, that is undebatable, but to say that the lives of our people that suffer illness and can not receive the compassionate care they deserve should merit any less attention then then the soldiers we send out to protect them is criminal. Why save a people who are too sick to enjoy the guarantees as prescribed in the Constitution. Were we to demilitarize by half and spend that percent of the national budget on the welfare of it's people then this would be a nation one could truly take pride in."

"Sufferwords...what about Britney and Lindsey?"

"Legalize it. You see what is happening to these celebrities. They know know laws, they take drugs unhindered by the law. They self destruct or they seek help. We needn't lock them up for like all free peoples are responsible for their own actions. We should not mandate morality. Were we to decriminalize all drugs then again the budget surplus could be used to help those in real need, including the drug addicts. The jails would empty and then those funds too could work for the benefit of the people."

There was silence. Sufferwords lit another smoke and looked out to the crowd.

"I gotta quit these damn things."

With that the security detailed surrounded him and rushed him back to his Vespa and they were gone. Over to the side of the press area Bill O'Reilly and Rush Limbaugh compared notes.

"Asshole thinks he's another John Lennon."

"Fucking smart ass. We'll see what Bechtel and General Dynamics think of this little scree."















"Maybe you weren't so far off with your John Lennon comparison."

"Here's hoping."

The Front Story

Is that the sun that came out from behind the clouds? Are those the girls who thought better then to wear their weighty bulk on this day? Can the flora show more verdant then on this day? And why had he ever doubted, lacked in faith, and rebuked the creation? They say to sing though you oughtn't and to dance as if no one were to observe, and to know, to know.














What can we see and when we see it is it really what we thought we were seeing? The street she lived on ran side to side with low strung buildings. Ugly artifice and urban blight. Stores filled with chains and walls, barriers and shackles. Shelves laden with cages and phantoms. Streets filled with death traps and smoke. You can come to my side of town. You can come and walk in the light with me. Leave the rot and the filth and stand under the street lights with me.

You need only to reach out your hand. I have come from below, from far under this earth. I have known too this darkness and spent many a year under it's yoke. Can you trust my words? Can you set your hand free to pass it to me? Open up the tired eyes and try to see that hand, that hand waiting that reaches out to you. It is with me and I am under the street light.














She looked under the wall and over the fence and made to kick her way out and she bruised her elbows and knees, her skirt torn like a drunken ballerina's. The layers and layers that embraced her and would not be moved. It is a fight and one worth your suffering if only you can choose to persevere. She knew that she could move, that given free reign she might succeed and so she marshaled on. Brick and mortar stand only so strong and then shaken collapse and transform to rubble. Shake it, shake it, shake it, Jericho.

I have been cast ablaze and have burned, burned to where there might be nothing to the remains. The street where he lived, his side of town ran side to side with low strung buildings. Shelves filled with sustenance, healing, light. Streets groaning under the weight of wonder. The sun out from the clouds and now laid low under the horizon. The street lights blink on.















Under the street light. There is a hand held out.

The Back Story

They laid still, their breath breaking the unison, coming apart, and were once again aware of lying atop the covers, the pillows evenly distributed between the headboard and the floor. The night was cool and the sweat on them began to chill. He wanted to cover her but was frozen.













"Maybe you should go get the towel" she said.

She said this in a matter of fact manner, all the passion now gone, and they were back to square one. He pulled himself up and noticed as his leg touched her thigh as he climbed over her and off the bed. He felt half drunk and half empty. He went to the bathroom afraid to turn on a light lest the shrill harshness of it blind him. He reached out and grabbed a towel and went back to the bed.

He stood over her naked form, towel in hand, and tried to make sense of everything.

"You want me to..." he said.

"No give me the towel I'll do it."

She dabbed at her belly and her chest.

"My god you sure made a mess didn't you?"

He felt like a little boy who had done wrong.

"Is this a clean towel?" she asked knowing well the answer to the question.

"I...um, I don't know. I got it from the bathroom."

"Christ, didn't you check. Too late now."

"Sorry babe."

She finished wiping herself and handed him the towel. He rubbed it on his belly and then the rest and then threw it on the floor.

Before she could scold him...

"Don't worry I'll pick it up in the morning."

"Right..."

He crawled over her back into the bed. There was a time when she would have rolled to him, surrounded him with her, but somehow that time had slipped away. He reached over and awkwardly placed a hand to her shoulder. Still on his back his hand lay ineffectual, the knuckles being the only point of connection, and this was broken as she rolled away onto her side. He sat up and grabbed the covers and pulled them up to cover them both.













It had once come so easy. The lust was unrestrained and natural, unpracticed, raw and new. They had been synchronous in thought and movement. There was never a doubt, a worry, a false step, it had all flowed and the power had awed them both. Now he was never sure, hesitant and fearful that his advances might be unwanted. It felt that she was now just submitting, doing it because that was what lovers were meant to do. They both had noticed how the kissing had stopped, and the laughing. It was now merely a function and neither knew what they might do to right the situation.

The quiet was unbearable. They had just made love and both felt emptier then they had before they had done it.

"Babe" he said.

"What? I'm trying to sleep."

"Oh I'm sorry, its just that..."

He could hear her crying softly.

He didn't want her to cry. He thought he loved her and he probably did.

"I love you."

"I know you do."

And he thought that he knew that she loved him too. He rolled over and pressed his body close next to hers, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and he could feel tears on her cheeks.

"Babe you know I love you."

She fought back the tears with a little sniffle and this made him laugh. She could feel his breath on her and she felt well enough to stop crying. A smile moved to her lips. He stopped and breathed a deep breath. She could feel his lungs expand against her back.

"I'm sorry" she said.

"Its okay babe. We're okay."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. We're okay" he said this as a mantra as if willing it to be true.

"We're okay."

She felt their breathing once again unite. In and out slowly and her head began to drift off.













"We're okay, we're okay...we're okay.......we're okay."

The Meal Said I

"Oh man I haven't eaten anything today at all."

"Geeze bro'meat, you can't be living like that and besides I'm sure you've had something to eat, its like six o'clock already."













"Alright, I had a cinnamon roll and coffee at Delilah's..."

"Oh shit, that place on Echo Park, those cinnamon rolls are addictive."

"I know, but like I was saying that was all I had to eat."

"Nothing else?"

"I had like one third of a popcorn at the movies."

"So you have eaten today."

"I suppose if you want to call that eating, some flour and sugar, a couple of kernels of corn."

"I bet that's enough to keep you alive."

"I'm sure it is for a little while, I mean people live on a handful of rice a day but that doesn't make it any fun."

"So you think eating should be fun?"

"Not really in fact I would just as soon be rid of the whole enterprise."

"You have got to be joking. Eating is one of the great things we as animals are allowed to partake of."

"To me it is just a burden."

"You're not manorexic are you?"

"What the...me, you have got to be crazy. I don't not eat because I have a skewed image of myself. I don't eat because the whole process is such a bother."

"A bother? What the hell do you mean?"

"Look first you have to get the food, go to the store, park, stand in line and all, and then you have to go to all the trouble of making it then afterwards you have to clean up the mess, you could spend the whole night doing all that."

"So eat out."











"Oh great. If I go out for take-out first I have to go someplace, get in the car or walk or some such thing and then once there I have to order the food and deal with those counter people then pay too much for it, what a drag."

"Huh?"

"Did I mention the perplexing problem of choosing what to eat? At least those folks who only get a handful of rice don't have to decide what to eat. Or how about where to eat? Every time I try to go out its the same thing, if I'm by myself then I can't conceive of a place I want to go. If I'm not getting take-out its much worse. I mean eating solo somewhere how pathetic."


"So go out with someone, you know dine."

"Like that is any better? If I'm going out with other people to 'dine' then first there is that decision process, everyone wanting to go here or there no one being able to decide, that is a pleasant experience I never tire of. Then you get there and there's a line, the waitress gives you one of those mega menus, I mean how can you decide what to eat? There are just too many options and..."

"Whoa bro'stein you are a buggeroo. I can't believe you are tripping on the bounty that is in your life."

"Call it what you will, one man's bounty is another man's burden. A large part of me just wishes that I could just sit down and have food placed before me."

"Is it that you are just lazy?"

"No I just think the whole food thing is over rated that's all."

"Taylor's Steak House."

"That's different."

"Musso and Frank's."

"That's not fair."

"Pacific Dining Car, Phillipe's, Casa Diaz..."

"Stop it you're making me hungry."

"Food is good. Eating is good."

"Casa Diaz huh?"

"Vegitariano burrito con carne asada...Jamaica...Flan..."

"I suppose eating is better then starving?"

"You sure you're not manorexic?"

"You coming?"

"Pass up the Diaz, I just ate but there is always room for more."











"Glutton."

"You bet."

Warm Milk

"Do you want a cookie?"

"Nah."














"C'mon. A little toll house chocolate chip, mmmm... warm from the oven, chewy and warm and.."

"Why are you being so sweet? What do you want?"

"I'm just being nice. Why do you always think I have some ulterior motive?"

"Drop it."

"Okay."

"The truth please."

"Alright. Where were you last night?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"You really don't have to but I'm just curious."

"Curious are you?"

"Sure. You fascinate me and I take interest in every thing you do."

"I'm not very fascinating, in fact I think I'm altogether boring if you have to know."

"Maybe that is what is so fascinating about you?"

"Thanks."

"So where were you last night?"

"Eating chocolate chip cookies."

"Okay...what are you going to do tonight?"

"I'm not sure but if you want you can come with me."

"Thanks, what time?"

"Snack time."

The Softest Words You'll Ever Hear

The first thing that entered his mind was an episode of The Twilight Zone. There was darkness as the the gauze was slowly removed from over his eyes.














It had been like a blindfold put in place to keep him from seeing a world he was unprepared to see. As each layer came off a little light crept in. Then he could make out the texture of the gauze as light tore through it. Then a little of the room was revealed at the bridge of his nose. Then the final layers were removed...

It had been some while since his eyes had experienced any light at all and those eyes were sensitive to even the dim light of the room. He squinted against the darkness and felt as if he had eyes made of glass, as if they might shatter and splinter if he were made to see any more then a mere shadow. Though the gauze had been taken there was still some pattern, an interference, obstructing his view and he paused to consider this. His lashes had affixed themselves to each other while he had been under wraps so he asked and was allowed to use his hands to to pull his eyes open.

What would he do with these eyes? What horrors might he have to witness now that he was once again able to do so? It was a great responsibility, he thought, to see. Having been deprived of that facility had taught him much about the world. If he did not see it did that mean it did not exist? He had always been told that you should never believe anything you couldn't see with your own eyes. Was this a lie?














As he sat there and confronted the blurred images before him his mind left the room. He saw the waves break ashore and then he saw the small of her neck. He saw into the moon and then the heavy blow of the Santa Ana's swaying the trees. He saw the sun and then the back of her hand. He saw an orange, peeled, it's juice dripping down her chin. Those eyes, the eyes she looked to him with. Those tools of destruction, those tools of beauty. He saw into the black of night and the streetlight casting it's pool into the abandoned street below. The streetlight, her eyes on that windy night.

He braced himself. This burden, this stipulation that life forced upon him, this blessing, this curse. Was he ready to see these things again? Couldn't they just wrap the gauze back over his eyes? Maybe if he didn't see these things then they might not exist? It was a quandary that, try as he might, he knew was one that he had no control over. There was beauty to see but could he embrace it? Might it be just too much? Couldn't there just be gray? They could keep their reds and blues, their greens and yellows, he just didn't know if he could handle all his eyes might be forced to endure.














The windows to his soul had been slammed tight. They had been pried open and now they were clouded and covered in a dirty film that could not be washed clean. Perhaps they could just lead him outside into the light of the day, let him gaze long and deep into that blinding sun that he may stare away those eyes; her eyes.

Okay This Is Getting Serious

XXX//:mEn//:Tel:RRXXX

From : E. Von Stroheim

President

Board of Directors

Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday LLC

We are sorry to report that we are still in the midst of upgrading our systems. We apologize for our inability to publish the masterful works of our beloved Sufferwords at this time. We have been told to forward you Sufferwords' deepest regrets on this temporary inconvenience. This delay in the upgrading of our systems, we must admit, has caught us off guard and we hope you, our loyal constituency, can bare with us during this hiccup in service.

It has come to our attention that there is some unwarranted discussion on the nature of our difficulties in solving these mundane technical glitches. Let me personally assure you that there is nothing to these unfounded rumors. We at Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday LLC, promise to bring Sufferwords back to you better then ever.

We are upgrading his masterful art and letters alike. Again those rumors are not to be given a second thought. Remember we are here to serve you and your trust in us is our most valued asset.

We hope you understand that whenever dealing with the new, the leading edge, the trend setters, like Sufferwords, sometimes inspiration outruns foresight. Of this we are sadly responsible but were it not for our desire to get the beauty of the Sufferwords to the largest sector of this nation, and indeed the world, we would not be in this temporary technical slowdown.

So if you would please ignore whatever conspiracy theories that might be floated about and know that Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday LLC, is working day and night to bring you the new and improved Sufferwords we would forever be in your debt.

Again, thank you for your understanding.

Erich Von Stroheim

President

Board of Directors

Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday LLC





cc: BODMBEYxx-trans:Margaret/stagepool/sectorgold/

Die Pigs Die

"Mr. Von Stroheim"

"What is it Margaret?"















"A package of interest has arrived."

"Have they screened it for anthrax, radiation..."

"I have been assured by the bio-tech department that the package has been tested and has been declared safe from any potential threats."

"Has it been dusted?"

"Yes. There are no fingerprints and the x-rays show nothing out of the ordinary."

"Still I would feel more comfortable if you were to open it."

"Umm, if that is your wish Mr. Von Stroheim."

"You should probably stay at your desk and then once the package is opened then you can bring it into my office."

"Yes Mr. Von Stroheim...

...Margaret?"

"Yes Mr. Von Stroheim."

"Have you opened it?"

"Yes sir."

"And?"

"There is just a letter inside. It looks like a ransom note."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling fine sir."

"Well then bring it in here for god's sake already."

"Yes sir..."

















"Hand it here please."

"Yes sir."



'First off we would like to state that this is a political action taken against Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday LLC and it's shareholders, it's Board of Directors, and it's president, Erich Von Stroheim. Any attempts to involve the authorities on any level be it state, federal or local will be met with the harshest consequence.

We are a group whose agenda you need not concern yourself with. All you pigs need to know is that we are no longer willing to accept the heretic vitriol spewed forth in a daily manner by your employee Sufferwords.

You may think that masking yourselves in a cloak of anonymity will protect you and in that mis-thought you are wrong. We know where your bunker is and have placed moles amongst your many employees. We know your every move and have been planning this action over a long period of time so don't think that we will make any errors. Let it be known that you are pigs and your ruses are transparent. Do you really think the public believes that you had a surge problem with your interweb yesterday? What kind of idiots do you take the public to be?

We have Sufferwords. He is safe for now but know that with even the slightest misstep on your part that his safety cannot be guaranteed. We can hold out for as long as it takes so don't try anything foolish or I fear the results will not be to your liking.

We have demands but at this point in time we feel it unnecessary to relate them to you. You see pigs the shoe is on the other foot now. You think you are the only ones that know how to abuse the interweb? You are sadly mistaken.

We have Sufferwords secreted away and so far his treatment meets the code of prisoner war ethics as outlined by the Geneva Convention. At first he was only blindfolded but due to his inability to remain silent and his ability to persuade some of out weaker comrades we have had to gag him as well.

You are pigs and your president Heir Erich Von Stroheim is the biggest pig. You will pay for the vile words of your employee Sufferwords. We will own you. You will bow to our will. You are the filth of the world and responsible for all it's ills. We will prevail and you will, if we allow it, live a contrite life far from any interweb.

And Von Stroheim, we know all about you and your secretary Margaret. You piece of human detritus.

Again no funny business or Sufferwords will truly be suffering at our hands. Until later, until a time when we stand high above you and make you pay for your sins. Our demands to follow. Again not a word. Not one more word from Sufferwords or you will indeed pay the ultimate price.

XXXRedXXXBlueXXXYellowXXX'
















"Um, well Margaret."

"They have Sufferwords sir!"

"Who cares. We can always get another hack to take his place."

"But sir."

"Margaret we cannot let the Board see this communique."

"But why?"

"Do you know what my wife will do? She'll own me, she'll bankrupt me."

"But what about Sufferwords sir?"

"Not a word Margaret do you hear me?"

"But Erich."

"Never call me Erich here in the bunker. You never know when they are listening."

"I'm sorry sir."

"That's better. Now come over here and sit on my lap while I plan out the next move."

"Yes sir."

"So I'm a pig huh? We'll see who laughs last."

"Yes sir."

XXX//:rbc13/17r.u.me

***WARNING***

Code- Silver Glenn

The Board of Directors once again must submit our apologies to the shareholders and readers of Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday.

Due to a rise in popularity and an extremely heavy demand a problem has arisen in the mainframe of our Interweb server and today's posting of Sufferwords has been delayed until this problem can be rectified.

If you have trouble reading this post please report the problem to your local interweb provider and request more allowable bandwidth for Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday.

We hope to return to full operations just as soon as is possible.

Thank you for your patience.



Erich Von Stroheim

President

Board of Directors

Master Butterfly Eats Yesterday

Are You Leftover Or Reheated

"Are you going to leave me alone?"

"No. I'm right here."














"Where?"

"Right by your side."

"You are?"

"Of course I am."

"But I thought because I couldn't see you that you weren't there."

"That's understandable."

"Why can't I see you?"

"Because it is dark."

"It is also getting cold."

"And it will get colder."

"I don't like the cold it makes me afraid."

"Then come closer to me."

"How can I do that if I can't see you?"

"You can see me."

"I can? But its so dark."

"Can you hear my voice?"

"Yes. Yes I can hear your voice."















"Then move closer to it."

"What if I can't find you?"

"You can find me, I'll be right here where I've always been. You just have to try."

"I don't know if I can?"

"You might not know if you can but I do."

"How do you know that? I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. There is nothing to fear."

"I'm afraid of the dark."

"But why."

"Because I don't like to be alone."

"You are not alone. I am here with you."

"And I'm afraid of the cold."

"You needn't be cold if you come here next to me. I'll warm you."

"How can I trust you?"

"You can't trust me you just have to have faith."

"Faith scares me."

"It shouldn't. It should give you strength."

"I am weak."

"And without faith."

"Yes."















There was a loud banging. It sounded as if the world were coming to an end.

Everything shook and...

"Billy will you come out of that closest already, and you have got stop talking to yourself you're going to drive yourself mad. Now you better hurry up young man your dinner is getting cold."

Oh The Blow From The North Did Reign

"Alright so what do we do?"

"Well Captain sir, as you may know the transformer blew at o'fourteen hundred hours."














"Tell me something I don't know Lieutenant."

"Sir, the main auxiliaries were switched on but the turbines malfunctioned and we could not get them to turn over."

"Answers dammit, I want answers not explanations."

"Sir the situation has only deteriorated from there."

"Lieutenant!"

"Yes sir, as I was saying sir, we dispatched recon to locate a backup generator and the unit lost it's way in the dark."

"Clowns, Lieutenant, you send clowns to do a soldiers job."

"Sir, we sent our best unit."

"That speaks poorly of you Lieutenant if your best recon unit is a circus act. I want results dammit."

"Results sir, yes sir."

"So what are our options now. I tell you Lieutenant we have been in the dark now for ten hours, cut off from all communication, for god's sake my ice cream is probably melted by now. I want action Lieutenant."

"Sir, one of the men was a engineering student, I think we should summon him to participate in this discussion."

"You offer me an engineering student? I beg you please tell me this isn't the best you can do."

"Sir all lines are down and we have run out of backup battery power so any attempt to engage the Corps of Engineers will be futile. I am afraid this is the best I have to offer."

"Blast sakes Lieutenant this situation is unacceptable, do you understand me, unacceptable."

"Sir, yes sir."

"I suppose you should produce this engineering student and do it post haste."

"Yes sir."

"And Lieutenant leave the candle, I mean its not like I'm afraid of the dark or anything but.."

"I understand sir, you're not afraid of the dark."

"That's an order."

"Yes sir you're not afraid of the dark and that's an order."

"Good."

"Yes sir, request to get the engineering student, sir."

"Request granted you may go."















The Lieutenant disappeared into the dark. In his absence the sound of the howling wind became magnified. The Captain mulled over the losses this power outage was causing. No Daily Show, no Clippers V. Lakers, no Ipod charging and the cell phone was almost out of bars, it was a catastrophe.

The Lieutenant returned with what could only be described as the biggest nerd ever to wear the uniform. They stood before the Captain frozen in salute.

"At ease you two. Now tell me corporal you are an engineering student?"

The pimply faced teenager was beet red and sweating in the candlelight.

"I don't know if you would call me an engineering student per se, you see I was at junior college when I got drafted and I had taken some pre-engineering math classes and a few courses in..."

"Save the biography corporal and tell me what we can do. I have ice cream melting here!"

"Sir, yes sir. Well I once built a generator using hamsters."

"Hamsters?"

"Yes sir it was totally awesome they ran on those little wheels real fast and..."

"You did what?"

"I got second place though I should have won only that Lisa Roberts was really pretty and I think the judges..."

"How much energy did it produce soldier?"

"The hamsters lit up a twenty-five watt light bulb. If we could get a few thousand hamsters we could..."

"Soldier we can't even raise the Corps of Engineers how are we supposed to get a thousand hamsters?"

"I guess you're right that wasn't even figuring on all the hamster wheels we would need and the wires and the..."

"Lieutenant!"

"Sir, I know sir. I'll accept my demotion without hesitation."

"Corporal will you do me a favor."

"A favor for you sir, I mean Captain sir, yes sir I..."

"Will you please leave and be sure never to let me see you anywhere in my presence for as long as you shall serve the colors of our great country."

"I, uh...I mean, sir yes sir, I..."

"Starting right now corporal."

There was a flicker then a flash and then the hum of a generator and the lights came on a deep brown then rose in strength and brightness.

The three men stood there in disbelief.

"Corporal you are dismissed and Lieutenant please get me two scoops of ice cream and bring them to me in my quarters where I will be watching ESPN, maybe I can catch the Clippers-Lakers score."

"Sir, thank you, sir."

"And Lieutenant no talk about what was discussed here tonight."















"Yes sir. You are not afraid of the dark and that is an order, sir."

"Dismissed."

Might I Ask How You Are

Sometimes the best she could do was to just get to bed. Save all the hysteria for another day and pull the covers over her head. Forget the weight of her existence and pass into slumber. It need not matter that whatever was troubling her would surely follow her into the next morn for the immediate needed reckoning and this was not something she felt well equipped to do.
















The apartment door eased shut and she fumbled around for the light switch though she should have known it's whereabouts having lived in the apartment and used that light switch going on four years but that was just another indicator that her best bet lay between the sheets. The light stayed on just long enough for her to find the television remote and turn on the set. Once the light of the blue t.v. shown she switched the light off. She thought about the Hagen Dasz vanilla ice cream that she could dish out and maybe put some cherry preserves over that but it all seemed to be too much trouble.

This day needed ending, to be asunder, laid to rest and filed away. She stripped quick, her clothes forming a pile by the side of the bed, she'd put them away on the next, the better day that she hoped would follow this one. She made a move to get something to sleep in but even that small act might prolong this day and so she hopped in bed with nary a stitch on.

She plumped her pillows and grasped the remote. Best to find an innocuous program, something boring to watch. She knew that if she were to watch something of interest then she might stay up or if it was really good it might cause her to think and she wanted to do anything but think for that might keep her from sleep and cause her to stay up past midnight and if she were to do this, she thought, then she might infect the next day with the current day she so wanted to see pass.














She found a show on CSPAN 2, an author talking about a book he had written on the Federalist Party and knowing she had no interest in early American history she thought this to be the perfect show to cast her under. There was nothing much to see, only a man at a lectern, and even better he spoke in a monotone so even if the subject matter were of any interest his drone would cause her no stimulation whatsoever.

She pulled the covers snug under her chin and then rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. The voice on the television phased in and out as she began to lose consciousness. It was ending... the day was ending...Washington was never really...it was ending...the Federalists met...ending...John Adams...

The room was a brilliant white and she was blinded in the glare, her teeth were loose in her mouth and there was a boy from grade school naked crying in the corner. The door led to a rushing river and the car she was riding in hit a bump and flew high into the air, cars can fly now she thought. The airplane did loop-d-loops and the fruit bowl hung in the air as she became weightless. She reached for a grape and then she thought she saw him out of the corner of her eye. He was with another girl. He looked at her and threw her another grape. She felt shame, then she was naked and standing on the playground at the grammar school...















The alarm went off and she reached over to turn it off. For a brief moment she struggled with the thought. Should she go back to sleep and to that place or risk it and start a new day? She opened her eyes.

The Problem Is You So What Are You Going To Do?

"Eat, you have to eat."

"But I'm not hungry."

"What do you mean you're not hungry? Everyone is hungry, just eat a little then."

















"I don't want to."

"You don't want? What kind of a boy are you, you don't want?"

"But Bubba, I ate pizza with my friends."

"Pizza? You call that food? Now eat something and make me happy."

"I'll explode."

"And that would be a bad thing?"

"You want your grandson to explode right before your eyes?"

"There are worse things, now eat."

"If I eat something will you leave me alone."

"You want to make with a bargain?"

"Well..."

"And you want that your grandmother should leave you alone?"

"But I..."

"There will be plenty of time for being alone when you will wish that your grandmother was still there. My grandmother she didn't have enough for us to eat, we were poor and hungry and now that I have a grandson I want that he will eat as much as he can whenever he can."

"I know Bubba."

"So now he knows? A real mister Einstein."

"Oh come on Bubba."

"You want I should come on? Come on to what I ask you?"

"I didn't mean it that way, you know."

"Now I should know? And I should know without you're telling me?"

"I just said I wasn't hungry that's all."

"And you can't just eat a little something to make me happy?"

"I guess I can if it will make you happy."

"Oh don't do anything for me."

"Don't be that way."

"And which way is that?"

"Bubba, umm, do you have anything I could eat?"

"You want to eat something? That is a beautiful thing."

"Urrrgh."

"A little honey cake might not be too bad."

"Not too bad?"

"Not too bad. You are a good boy."

"Thanks."

"And?"

"You want me to say it?"

"Say what I should have to ask?"

"I love you."

"You're such a good boy."















"Ahh Bubba, geeesh."

"Such a good boy."

It Blowed Out In The Wake

'Are you living in this world sometimes I wonder,
in between saying you've seen too much
and saying you've seen it all before...
do I have to draw you a diagram?
All I ever want is just to fall into your human hands.'














Jerry felt as if a crayon scribbled piece of third grade refrigerator art. It was only a day past Easter, his neighbor had spent that day saying it was Zombie Jesus Day, because hadn't the lord risen zombie-like from the dead with skin a peeling and trod the earth like a character from a George Romero film? There was talk, no one was sure when he had risen, was it 1970 years ago, factoring the death age as the reported thirty seven annum, and wouldn't it have been rad if he had died at twenty seven like all self respecting rockstar casualties, oh well just so much Easter dinner yammering.

Jerry thought himself well passed Easter, though he had offered the assembled on that night his sincerest apologies being that his ancestors may have, no positively did, have a hand in the death of their lord. Jerry was a Jew and he did enjoy some ham, why wouldn't he, but although he dismissed the biblical absoluteness of the Easter story he still felt a strange connection to it, the rolling away of the stone, a Mott the Hoople song that suddenly made sense to him. This rising from the dead stuff, Jerry thought he had personal experience in this department and that knowledge set him off kilter.

Jerry had no idea how much he had been set off until the next day, this day, the day after Easter. It was if he had experienced a bad dream, a nightmare, the kind you can still taste all through the day, a hangover of emotion that just wouldn't loose it's grip of him. It started as an undefinable feeling, not a malaise and not general unease, it was a perception shift that slowly began to spin him in greater velocity as the hours of the day passed. It was unsettling and for the early hours went unheeded but as the day wore on it became glaring and obvious and concrete.














Jerry was aware of this twist, this distortion of his viewpoint and rather than battle it sought it out and embraced it. There before his eyes caste in a grim hued light he saw them, everywhere; Zombies. Stopped at the red light he looked to the crosswalk and walking past him the lady in the brown trench coat, two plastic shopping bags a bulging, Jerry was stunned as her eyes fell upon him but she looked through him, her one hand gesticulating and then she moved on with words spoken to the air. The dead arisen.

Jerry rolled back into his mind... Where were those people that he had known, their memories, the undead in his mind, zombies in his remembrance. They were alive inside him but dead to him as well. Jerry felt too as if a zombie, as if he were living dead, as if he had already passed from this place and had been sent back to roam the days in search of some peace. He looked in his rear-view mirror sure to see his flesh peeling from his face and was shocked when he found this not to be the case.

Late that night as he sat in his chair, mortified and unable to still himself he thought back over his day. Was this the day of the dead? Was it him or did the world seem to be run from it's tracks? Just because there were those of some power who long ago had ascribed certain days to be known as this or that did that mean that only these days were the ones of import? Perhaps this was the real zombie day and just because no one certified or sanctified it as such from on high did this not mean that it wasn't true?

Jerry thought back to the Easter dinner. Rebirth, rise from the dead Jerry. It was his mortality that was at play. To be dead one first had to have been alive and so Jerry came to realize that it was that he was alive and that some day would not be. That there was never to be a real zombie existence for him, that it was rebirth he needed, to shed the dead skin and rise anew in the day and to live.














As he laid his head upon the pillow Jerry felt as if a zombie who had just dined on a fresh brain so relieved was he that this day of the dead was now to be put to bed. He vowed to himself that as soon as his eyes opened from his sleep that he would see only life and beauty in the next day, the day two days after Easter, the day their lord rolled away the stone and became the Zombie Jesus.

Save The Cakes For The Babies

It's better this way.

Now that the novelty has warn off and no one is listening Sufferwords can talk some truth.

A quadruple ram, does that mean that the laws as written don't apply to Sufferwords?

They do.

You know everything is okay with Sufferwords but don't tell anyone.

The world will keep on spinning well after Sufferwords and probably after you.

I appreciate your best wishes and also your wishes of a less perfect nature.

No need to celebrate this day but let my gift to you be brevity.

You're in my thoughts and I'm in yours.




Goodnight Sufferwords.

Sleep tight Sufferwords.

May you make it one more year Sufferwords.
















And here is a clue for you all; Sufferwords is a rock.

They Danced With Their Clothes Off Didn't They Know They Weren't Naked

"You don't have much to say, do you?"

"I don't know I have a thing or two to say."














"You think so chum?"

"Chum? Who are you calling chum?"

"You pal, you. I'm calling you chum."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"What do you think?"

"It doesn't sound too nice."

"Then you would be wrong. I use chum with only the most affection."

"Alright, I'll accept that as an answer. You know chum can be used as a pejorative."

"Its also what you call fish that is cut up as bait for sharks. I don't believe there is any doubt that I'm not saying that about you."

"That I'm shark bait?"

"Right. How's that girl you were sweet on, that blond one?"

"Speaking of shark bait."

"What do you mean shark bait?"

"Well seems though for all intents and purposes we got along smashingly she even offered that she was enamored of me."

"Enamored huh? Pretty good."

"One would think so and so thought I but turns out she had a case of the bright lights."

"Oh no, not the bright lights."

"Yeah. You know how I like a girl who hasn't been in town long. I mean who wants a girl that everyone you know has been with or thought about? A guy wants a fresh face."

"Much truth to that."

"Well whenever you go for a recent import there is always a chance that she might catch a case."















"Like Karen Ann."

"Perfect example. I spend six months of bliss with her then she says she wants to get into modeling or acting or whatnot so being the supportive nice guy I hook her up with the right folks, photographers, agents, the like. Now I've been with her awhile, a sweet Mississippi girl, homecoming queen and..."

"Homecoming queen? No shit."

"Yeah, can you believe it?"

"She was ummm..."

"She was blazing thank you very much, but so here is this sweet girl and once things get rolling a little..."

"Thanks in large part to your effort."

"Granted, but then she goes and catches herself a large dose of the bright lights. Wants to hang out at Les Deux, celebrities and all that tripe."

"That's a tough note."

"Well six months of this, I mean you try and warn them without sounding too jaded but you know..."

"Us locals know better huh?"

"That we do, but you get these girls, and all of a sudden they can make the scene and the next thing you know Jeremy Piven seems like someone they would want to hang out with or some such rot."

"Sad but true. Hard to tell someone there aint no there, there."

"Precisely. Had to clip her."

"What happened to her after you bailed?"

"Called me a month after we broke up, bought herself a D.U.I, then we lost touch but I saw where her so called big break was playing Will Ferrell's girl in Wedding Crashers , nothing big after that, then attached herself to some tattooed galoot bass player from a crappy C level O.C. 'punk band'."

"Yikes the bass player, not even the singer, that's a nasty case of the bright lights going south."

"To be sure."

"So why when I asked about the blond you said something about shark bait?"

"Well truth is that girl has a case of the bright lights pretty fucking bad."

"Harsh."

"Yeah though she doesn't know it she is literally chum, you know shark bait for real, they'll eat her up."















"So sorry to hear it pal."

"Me too chum."

I Know Its Not My Place To Say

Three letter word..........sty denizen.

They left their garbage right on the table and those with even less social decorum strew the ground with their empty bags and used napkins, their paper coffee cups and cigarette butts. Oscar Emanuel liked his job. He didn't mind that his questionable immigrant status precluded him from working inside the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf even though the staff of dysfunctionals and teens needed the job less then he, he was alright cleaning up the corporate coffee shop, it was a job and he had worked his whole life and one was as good as the other.

Pig.














Ten letter word.........social parasites.

The same crowd came in each morning. They would sit at a table on the patio and surround a fading pop singer and laugh at every word issued from his mouth. Oscar was friendly to them all going about his business though that good nature was never responded to nor returned. To them Oscar was a ghost, not to be noticed, part of the furniture and not worthy of attention. Oscar minded at first but had become inured to their behavior.

Sycophants.

Seven letter word..........false psychotic belief regarding the self.

While sipping their overpriced half-caf triple soy vanilla lattes this crowd would pour over the newspaper and wait on the edge of their chairs for the pop singer to crack wise on the events of the day. Oscar would overhear some of these musings and think to himself how these people were out of touch with the realities of the world. It was easy for them to pontificate and grumble, pass judgment, look down their noses on the world's suffering, it was easy for these people who could sit and drink coffee everyday day while the rest of the world toiled to put food on the table to sneer at the news of the day.

Delusional.

Six letter word..........easily fooled or surprised.

Oscar was sure that these people dismissed him out of hand. He accepted this. No one ever took the time to ask him so they assumed him to be none too sharp. He had been a teacher in his homeland and due to his strange lot in life came to this place and job. Oscar would spend his time picking up the trash, emptying ashtrays, opening the patio umbrellas, polishing the windows, and always with good humor.

Unwary.

Eleven letter word..........dissatisfaction arising from unresolved problems.

After the paper had been dissected by the pop star the group would pull out of the daily crossword puzzle and set in to solving it. They would, as a group, call out a clue and bandy about suitable answers. Hours were spent and when things came to a standstill the pop star would excuse himself then one by one the rest would start to slowly rise from the table to leave.

Frustration.















Eleven letter word..........just desserts.

After they had all left Oscar would go and clean up the filth they had left behind. He always waited to take his break until just after they had gone. He would throw away their cups and cigarette butts, toss the newspaper but he always kept the crossword. On his break Oscar would take the crossword puzzle and go out around back of the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. There he would take out his pen and finish what they couldn't.

Comeuppance.

Too Empty The Pallette to Breathe Again

Standing alone in the field you are new morning poets. On the hilltop they are silent dawning hawkers. With grass stained feet on fire they are moving mass and light. Verdant dreams, they are looking into the cement and opting out.















Grouping packs of fools staring blind at the sun.

Crushing each other with desires built with artifice. Peeling honesty back revealing the fear and the dark and the reasons that they won't live.

On and on silent dawning hawkers.

Hand gripping sliders that blue eyed can't or won't.

Another swipe at brass and blisters where the morning passes through.

Marble, build high and then polish to a sheen you early morning risers.

Create the model so that all can see, then carry it up the hill to the silent dawning hawkers.

The gaze washes past where it might rest in that morning. Who is watching the hillside as green goes greener goes to the blue eyes.

Everywhere the silent hillside hawkers.

Spill down on the morning and rest near the bottom. The fracture in the dawning the silent moonlight hawkers.

Creaking weighty footsteps in the grass on side stepped hillocks. They stare at the day on the marble brass model.















Eat of this morning silent morning postures.

Standing alone in the field you are new morning poets.

Bird Gerls Can Fly

"Take my hand."














They walked like this for a while. Some clouds had set in and the night became still. Through breaks a moon full, robust, brilliant, shone through. There were no words spoken and for the time being none had been needed. The streets were deserted, magically empty, and it was if the world was theirs and theirs alone. The neon above the theater crackled a vibrant purple, it's marquee proclaiming that love was indeed for sale, an idea they both wordlessly scoffed at.

He let go of her hand and she immediately felt the separation, the distance, that space, that had come between them.

"What are you thinking?" he said as he brushed her hair from her face.

"I don't know" she said afraid that if she spoke he might never take her hand again.

"Look, I'm sorry."

She knew what he was referring to but tried her best not to let her eyes belie that fact.

"Sorry for what?"

"This isn't easy for me to talk about."

"Then don't" she said hoping that he would just stop right there and then.

"Something tells me that I have to. That as difficult as it is, that, well, I need to say it aloud."

"Maybe this isn't the right time."

"You're probably right but then again I don't know if there is ever going to be a good, or should I say, right time."

She was afraid that she wouldn't be able to handle what he had to say.

"If you have to tell me then can you hold my hand while you do it?"

She needed that closeness, the reassurance of his touch were she to hear what he had to say. At least if she could feel him, touch him then maybe she could withstand the import of his words.

He reached out and took her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. She was torn, she wanted so much for this moment to evaporate, to be washed out by the brilliance of the moon, to just dissipate and be gone.

"Its not you, its all me. I get really freaked out when I feel like there is going to be a relationship. I just can't handle it. I don't want to feel like I have to explain myself to anyone or check in with anyone. How stupid but..."

She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he could have these feelings but that if he were to trust her that everything would be fine. She wanted to tell him that she didn't want to own him only to be a part of his world, not to dominate it, but the moon wouldn't let her.

"I really do like you a lot but right now I can't be with you. I'm sorry."














She was sorry too. She fought back the tears. Couldn't he see that the streets were deserted just for them, that the neon crackled purple just for them. That he held in his hand the one person that understood him and would love him though he might not think he needed to be loved. She wanted to tell him everything but the moon just wouldn't allow it.

Fiction? I Thought I Made That Clear

He thought he heard the jail cell door slam behind him. It was a metallic slam, a weighted clang that reverberated through him. It had been a dull confinement only disturbed by moments of the most heightened feelings. That was the game inside, he would sit in the stew for hours then an explosion of activity, fight or flight, senses on high.














He had been inside many times before and most times it was behind something sparked by his emotions. He thought he could control his mind, they way he felt, but his mind worked in ways that he never could quite contain. Even when at his altruistic best there was an element, deep seated, that might land him in this prison. He struggled to keep himself straight, said this time it would be different, said that he only had the purest of intentions and so he would set out.

The runs, some short, others protracted, usually ended up with he same result; confinement. Again and again, why me? What did I do to deserve this? What could I have done to preclude this inevitability? The sentences always matched the indiscretion and age had brought him some understanding of this but while trapped inside no self knowledge lessened the demoralization he felt.

The counsel of others never came to much for it was an inside game and no person might reach that deep. There may have been lessons to learn along the way but were he to follow this experience, shackle what lived in him, then he might never attain what he believed to be his destiny.














The solitary confinement played tricks on him, it colored everything. When left alone with only his thoughts to keep him company it never failed to amaze him that the only thoughts that could surface were the ones he hoped he'd left behind during his last stint inside. Self doubt, resentment, failure, regret. He would run this play in three acts and for an encore run it again, the ending always being to his utter despair.

There was no jailer nor anyone holding a key to his freedom, there was only himself locked in a cage of his own design. He thought he heard the jail cell door slam behind him. It was a metallic slam, a weighted clang that reverberated through him. He slammed that jail door shut and moved on a free man. It had been a short stay inside and as he walked into the world he saw where the colors were brighter, the smells more succinct, the tastes vivid.














His gait energized once more and though he knew that once again, one day, that door might slam down on him, he fretted not, for that jail was him and he was good just moving along.