Later after that phone call she was sitting in the confession box and she was sweating, which is not something she does, not that often, At all, ‘I’m not here to deliver recitations or be told I’m a child of some deity weakness nor that I’m made of the blood of that deity. I’m here to talk, you are here to listen.’
‘Yes, my child.’
‘My mother was a great person. She helped everyone she could and she cried herself to sleep over those she could not help. My father thought he was marrying someone to add strength to his family’s power but she had no time for power, she only wanted to help. She wanted to be whole and not part, complete and not incomplete, total and filled as a person of charitable acts to the world around her. All the times she gave all of her allowance to charities, held starving children, visited hospitals, and chased causes, all of it meant nothing. It was nothing because the day she died none of these people where in that alley for her as she lay bleeding even if they were there they could have done nothing to save her, the only thing that could have saved her was power, power she did not have. I will not die in an alley.’
‘Why are you really here my child?’
‘To tell God to move out of my way like all the others.’
CHAPTER 56
Jeff’s house resembled what home decor for the poor would be as if it was designed by a very drunk Willy Wonka.
And a blind ginger.
All tables within the home are crates or metal storage boxes except for the dinning table, a used coffin. Bookshelves are building beams and cement blocks; while wall shelves are clipboards with rigged brackets.
This Borges guy ant right in the head.
The coloring scheme of the house is from red and gold combinations to browns and yellows. The bedroom, where sleeping happens; which only Karen has seen is painted neon blue with spots of green, resembling an back alley Scottish Gay Pub if you squint your eyes in just the right way. The bed itself is just a mattress on the floor but that isn’t unusual as it’s the sight seen in most bedrooms of the college student.
That and posters and magazine cut outs of Sophie Aldred are everywhere in the bedroom.
Who is Sophie Aldred? Look it up, that’s what Wikipedia is for after all.
‘I have a Douglas Adam’s thought.’ Gail broke the silence as herself, Fox, and Karen were sitting on an old couch Karen and Jeff found on the side of the road once. Jeff is off in the bathroom; while they are sitting around wondering if tonight did actually happen or if it all was just something Gail had written on the back of a napkin at Cracker Barrel.
‘I don’t need peeks into your brain right now. Things were strange enough tonight for me.’ Karen
‘Oh, let her talk about Pirates,’ Fox
‘She wasn’t…’
‘Or ninjas,’ Fox
‘She wasn…’
Jeff reentered the room from his little boys room visit, ‘I have this theory about monkey’s that…’
Karen closes her eyes smiling, ‘No monkeys, ninjas, or pirates. She was talking about the writer Douglas Adams.’
‘She could have been talking about the Doctor Who episode he wrote called Pir…’ Jeff
‘Someone save me, Fox?’
‘Hey, a few days ago she helped me with my history homework through a discussion on one of Harry Turtledove’s books. I still don’t know what she meant by that though?’ Fox
‘I’m drowning in geek here. Is this how we are going to end the night?’
‘Better than praying in a church isn’t it?’ Gail
‘Who’s praying in a church? What the Hell are you talking about?’ Karen
‘Sorry, too inside I guess,’ Gail
‘My sister is certifiable.’
‘Mom and dad wouldn’t approve if I was locked away.’
‘Maybe if I get to a church God would give me authorization to kill you.’
Jeff turns to Fox, ‘I feel like my brain has been keyed, how about you?’
‘It’s reference city,’ Fox
‘At least we didn’t swipe anything from any other books. Though a few bits and pieces from book one,’ Gail
‘See, certifiable.’
CHAPTER 57
Hey, remember me?
I’m Coma Girl for Christ’s sake and this book was supposed to star me? After my elegant introduction chapter everything just drifted around mostly about my sister and Fox. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy about their renewed friendship and it even looks like a budding romance is budding but I like “me time” as much as the next well chummed ego does and more Coma Girl should equal more bucks at the register.
At least that is a theory I’m holding onto.
The story went kind of kooky at the end at the dance with this Tefnut bunch. And what did all of that business with an Oracle and Daniel mean? Maybe everyone should look it up online because I have my ideas already but I can’t say for sure because that would ruin book two in this series which is suppose to be about “Coma Girl”.
At least that’s what I’ve been told.
The first draft of the next book has been written but for all I know I could be turned into a medieval field mouse in the next story.
Probably sale tons of books if that happen?
The next book needs more me though, I know that for sure, no matter what.
I need to have a little chat with the hack.
Even if we need to get a new writer to get my requests checked off that may be the course this series of stories needs to take.
Sorry, too much sugar for me today.
If you enjoyed this book, join us for, The Hillbilly Jungle, the next book in our story.
Bye for now.
I’m off to see Jeff about barrowing one of his rarer Doctor Who novels.
Gail Busiek.
AKA Coma Girl !
P.S. Don’t leave yet, there is an Epilogue to follow as other stuff along with a few ads.
EPILOGUE
Melbourne, Florida
They spotted him leaving The Breakfast Café, bagel in one hand, copy of Sightings of Pulpy in the other. Just before stopping at the café he made a point of visiting one of the many Main Street used book stores. His iPad was damaged when everything went down at the Second Week Dance.
The used bookstore he visited today being his favorite of all the ones in the area. It was owned by an old conservative couple who listen to R.I.N.N. with joy as if those very to the right talking heads ever meant anything to anything logical.
Then again, the very to the left isn’t much better.
The store itself was small and crammed with paperback books with shelves overflowing. A lot of people did not care for the place because it was pretty hard to find anything and was about as organized as a first graders brain. He loved that aspect of the place and felt like he was on a treasure hunter jumping into a lost city looking for small fortunes when he walked the cramped rows of the stockpile of books.
Having just received orders on what was to finally be done with their former partner, and they were walking around with beams for faces for the day, the two of them just left their holiday location of Cuba after two weeks of sun, drugs, and sex slaves on rent. Now they are well rested and ready for work.
The last time he ran into any of them was when he was in Winnipeg for a teachers retreat and that had more to do with what happen in Gabon when he was a teenager than anything else.
Two people he once worked with and has nightmares about each night he can actually sleep grabbed him in front of the hotdog restaurant on Main Street, familiar hands and voices not just because they belonged to former colleagues but also because they belonged to former lovers. Even though the touch and voices were familiar his first thought was, “I’m getting mugged” and he could hear the sound of his newly purchased items hitting the sidewalk.
Mr. Gibbons could not even believe it possibly might be anything more than a mugging, it was Florida after all, muggings happen, lots of types of mugging type activities happen,
any thoughts of it being anything worse did not even cross his mind.
It was worse.
He was stupid because after what happen at the dance he should have known a player was making a move. Along with him drawing attention to himself this was bound to happen sooner or later.
The larger truth of why they had been sent after him now was that he was just no longer that immense of a threat to their overall plans and they had forgotten about him as a whole, but recently actions in the area have been activated and in a small manner his knowledge of them is a threat to their goals.
He changed sides for a lot of money from a group down the same war lines.
To the powerful people irritants like him need to disappear.
After a hit on the back of the head and being tossed into the street he looked up to see two familiar faces stalking towards him. It was Chow Curse and Angel Angelic. These two individuals are two of the most dangerous people in the world and the stuff of his nightmares as we mentioned before.
He tried to play it cool, but knew this was not good. He had just recently stopped carrying a handgun, once again stupid to him, and unless you have been attacked by an overweight white guy named Chow and a former security guard at Macy’s called Angel, then you would not know how hard it is to keep “cool” in a situation such as this one.
‘I see Jenny has failed you Chow.’
‘See, Angel, do you see how insensitive he is to my condition? He has always been like this with my weight troubles. Now do you still think the wood chopper is a bad idea?’
Angel kicked Mr. Gibbons in the face knocking loose a few teeth.
‘I just have never gone for the whole Grind House method of bodily harm. Anyways, he was always nice to me.’
Chow kicks Mr. Gibbons in the ribs knocking any thought of further wise cracks right out of him.
‘But at least we would not have had to have done this in the bright of day if we had gone the chopper route.’
Angel picks Mr. Gibbons up by his hair and proceeds to body slam him on the pavement like someone right out of a pro-wrestling card.
Cars were beginning to back up on both sides of the beating as this little sadistic incident progressed.
‘But the bosses want this public to send messages.’
‘To who?’ asked Chow.
‘Chicago?’ Angel shrugged.
‘So I guess we will be spending more time in prison until they find replacements to die in our place?’
‘Once again we are the suffers.’
Mr. Gibbons is on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, looking up at his former friends, ‘I hope some trigger happy cop blows both your heads off.’
Chow kneels down beside him, ‘Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve died. I seem to remember you killed us once?’
Then as Chow turned away from Mr. Gibbons, Angel pulled out a hand gun, twisted on a silencer, and shot the golf coach in the head twice as a large crowd of people watched in shock.
The silencer was totally for drama effect as this was in the view of everyone out that day for beer, hotdogs, and over priced down town shopping.
Chow turned back to look at the body as Angel put down the gun awaiting the arrival of the police. ‘Angel, I just believe public executions to be vulgar.’
‘This from the man who pitched the chopper idea?’
‘You perceive the wrong meaning of the word vulgar.’
‘Maybe, maybe. You know she must really hate this guy to have us do this to him?’
‘Nay, just playing games as her type always do.’
Continued we have the
STEREO
PREFACE
If you would be so inclined to be interested
But you may ask further, in which ways is this reality different from our own.
And you may ask. No, go ahead... Go ahead! I want us to be up front with each other from the start. I do not mind a bit… ! ...Thanks for asking. Well, for starters there are no sharks in this reality. No, no sharks. The dolphins are fine, so take a breath, Flipper fans.
Plenty of whooping cranes mucking about too, but no sharks; so, the “Jaws” theme music no longer strikes the fear in the hearts of half naked women on the beaches of Maine like it once did.
Did you know Maine is the toothpick capital of the world? Good for them, it is always good to be a ‘Something of the world.’
And you ask another good question about the huge reason for the sharks being extinct. Anything being extinct needs a huge reason for being so just to be interesting does it not?
And thanks again for the second question, things are moving along smoothly now.
The reason for sharks being extinct is just the same typical story of humanity acting with no respect to its surroundings. The story, as I am writing it, is like this. All sharks were killed off after a group of school children died while swimming in California. And no they did not die of indigestion. The events could also have happen in Florida, but I wanted to write California because I do not think I mention it anywhere else in the book.
I possibly should have made it Maine for a little pop culture tie-in, but I did the California thing.
To continue the extinct sharks story after another of my drug induced interruptions, a scientist genetically engineered a poison that he naively -- in a naive way scientists should not be naïve – thought it would just kill sharks off the shores of beaches. Instead it infected the entire species and wiped them all off the face of the Earth. It affected the entire ecosystem to be totally precise.
All Great Whites are dead as well as all hammerheads, and all the other kinds of sharks (which I am too lazy to do the research to find out about.. Hey, I already did research on snow globes, what more do you want.)
All sharks died out, gone, forever. The last sharks to die was the freshwater sharks of Lake Nicaragua. This punch to the ecosystem of the sea also is slowly killing off all sea life but human beings have not noticed and probably will not until it is too late to have a Discovery Channel special about it.
I could have this scientist man lynched by the PETA people if that will make all the herbivores happy. That is if PETA actually gives a shit about anything outside the eyeshot of a camera and off the runway. In truth he went on to be a very rich man who later also invented a poison that killed the Bed Bugs off little children’s beds. Don’t laugh: these were alien bed bugs with a taste for the blood of young children that were attracted to Earth by a new bug spray released by a chemical company that also developed chemical weapons for the military. Sort of a circle there, is it not? Or maybe not? I think I confused myself there at the end, so sorry if I did the same with you, especially you my favorite editor.
That is one way things are different. Actually several, if you count the bit about whooping cranes and Bed Bugs and maybe something else if I mentioned more up there?
Probably did but this is the second draft so I have forgotten some things from the first time around. God if I keep this up, this novella will turn into a novel, and boy will I be in trouble then because I may never shut up and it may cost me a fortune to have it published since I am probably going the self-publishing route. Some call it lazy, I call it less complicated. Why novella you may ask…or was that maybe just me hallucinating?
Well, you see by definition (at least a definition I found on the net so you know it has holy truth to it) a novella reaches a world count of around 17,500 or more. Then of course you have the novelette, which is about 7,500 words. I think I am going to end up at novella range so I will get on with it because this really has nothing to do with the story and more to do with me being really high on Nighttime PM’s.
A few other ways things are different in this universe: well, more than a few. Dammit, I keep wandering around. Pay attention, writer boy.
Things are also different in ways like there was never a Gulf War. The Iraq Army was driven out of Kuwait by an unknown force The Iraqi Army called The Devil Made of Sand
. Some believe it was American Special Forces units, but no proof exists to put fact to this speculation. The rest of the world has taken to believing that the Iraq Army saw the mistake they were making and ran? They saw the outcry from the international community and they changed their minds? Happens in combat a lot, I think? A small group of people in Texas believe it was an angel named Ensorcell who drove them out.
These people also believe all women are Succubus. (These people need to be walked away from slowly without making eye contact.)
With the Gulf War having never taken place, the Iraq War never came into being. The leader of the country, that Saddam guy, was killed mysteriously, and a coalition of Middle Eastern Nations now run the government and its oil fields -- supposedly with heavy influence from the United States, or under heavy threat, depends on who you talk to. The 9/11 attacks did happen, but in this reality, the United States reacted to the good will from the rest of the world by making closer ties to fight terrorism world wide and for the worldwide. Yep, he was still the President during this time but made better choices. All of creation is about choices made and not made.
Speaking of choices and wars -- and I am talking about things out of historical order here so bear with me -- World War II ended with the help of an elite superhuman group from the Allied Nations called The Raising. Each member of the team was the national superhuman heroes of their individual countries who appeared as the first superhuman heroes did during WWI. This time their fights were not just for their countries but for the world’s freedom. They united to fight against Germany and Japan who had their own superhuman soldiers.
Ten years before WWI started, twelve people, one each in as many countries, were mysteriously granted superhuman powers and a very slow aging bioinorganic chemistry.
Which is not normal in any sort of way for human beings. They hailed from America, Germany, Russia, Australia, Canada, France, Ireland, India, Egypt, Japan, China, and Scotland. The heroes that made up The Raising were Musketoon from France, Garand from America, Cardiff from Great Britain, Kitel from Russia, Yukon from Canada, and Humid from Australia.
The members of The Raising, whose identities were secret even before the war, disappeared and went underground after the war, for the most part never to be heard from again. Some say they were paid a large amount of money by their governments for their military service and retired. Others say they were forced into retirement by their own countries who had grown afraid of them. Some weird conspiracy theorists, probably from