The Masters at Church

 The Masters at Church

Fred Masters hurriedly signed the blue check his pen darting frantically. In anticipation his head turned toward the soon to arrive collection plate. The shiny golden plate was being passed hand to hand by the congregants. The contorting of his body caused pain in the lower back of Fred Master as the pew was hard and unforgiving. His hands ripped out the blue paper along the perforated edges. In one fluid motion the man folded the check in two concealing the writing.

The metal plate approached closer as the organ sounded out a sixteenth century dirge. Nobody sang along though the priest had directed the congregation to the proper page where the lyrics had been translated from the dead language of Latin. Eagerly the Masters’ hand was about to deposit the check when another hand darted out restraining his. Fred was familiar with the touch; it was his wife’s hand.

The Masters’ eyes met his lady’s as she gave him a quizzical look. The woman’s hand squeezed her husbands at first soft but then the grip turned painful. The Master was familiar with the dreadful ritual and relented handing the blue check to his lady. She in turn opened the paper to examine the contents of the offering. The grotesque look on her face revealed all that was on her mind, but to make no doubt in the matter she harshly spoke, “We can do better than we are!”

Fred Masters’ hand retrieved the check and tossed it into the plate and then past the plate on. He would have hell to pay later of that he was certain. Meanwhile the lady in the presence of the church restrained her true feelings. After all there were rules to be followed in this so called house of god and speaking one’s mind was forbidden. 

Both Fred and his lady were aggravated. The lady was upset that her husband would put such little money in the offering plate; after all God had been good to them, the Masters were blessed abundantly. They had two houses a regular one and a vacation house at the shore. Then there was the Mercedes, the Porsche and the Ford Explorer. They needed something to pack all their stuff in when they went to the summer home. Heaven forbid they had to be cramped up in their Porsche. Then there was all her fines clothes and jewelry.  ‘Why they had everything that life could offer,’ thought the lady as she sighed verbally, ‘except happiness.’ But joy was God’s work, God would bring that joy. And that more than anything else is why her husband’s twenty dollar check was just not good enough to please the Lord. Why it should at least have been forty dollars!

Fred Masters hated giving money to the priests. Why he had seen those sons of bitches several times at the liquor store. Weren’t they satisfied with the sacrificial wine? Of course on such occasions these ‘men of god’ did not wear their funk outfits and ceremonial robes. No they just looked like ordinary people. The Masters’ mind raced on, ‘those sons of bitches just work one day a week’. He bitterly recalled his parents’ deaths. Fifty years straight the elder Masters gave sacrificially to the church. They were present every Sunday and holy day. And in thanks of a life of loyal dedication Fred Master was handed a sizable bill for the funeral.

So in the house of god, Fred Masters sat next to his wife in silence with a hurting back against a hard and unforgiving pew. Fred noticed that a few people were making their way out of the church and Fred longed to be one of them. But he dare not tempt his wife with that notion of freedom considering her state of mind.

They priest got up to do his thing. He started of about talking about Jesus’ command of Loving one’s neighbor. The priest then went on to explain how the troops in Afghanistan and Iraq were doing just that, loving one’s neighbor. Fred couldn’t follow the logic behind the reasoning, how soldiers, killing people and blowing things up were loving one’s neighbor. But Fred never expected to church to make sense any way. The priest contended that the troops were defending the country’s freedom so that they could have all the nice things that they had. The conclusion of the matter was that we should be grateful to our troops making the supreme sacrifice and the priest led a moving prayer for their safety and success. Then without missing a beat the priest went on to advertise bingo night and a special collection that was going to be held for something. Fred didn’t know what that something was except that it was made clear that is was absolutely necessary and very costly, so the congregation should be prepared to ‘fork up the money’.

While the priest carried on in his antics Fred peered upwards and marveled at the beautiful architecture. In particular how the ceiling arched being supported with massive beams. Then taking his eyes down from the heavens he gaze upon the stain glass windows which glimmered in the sun’s light. Down to Earth he looked over the gold that lined the church. He viewed the statues of saints that people bowed before to make prayers. Fred had a thought, ‘Whoever created this religious business was one shrewd man!’

After saying the final amen for the closing blessing the priests walked out. A young acolyte swung a golden censer which spelled a poignant fragrance into the air. ‘Hope they ain’t molesting that boy!’ thought Fred in his first genuine prayer of the day. Then the masses fled the church, everyone trying to leave as quickly as possible. The Master noted it was the first time the people were smiling during the whole service.

Fred and his wife were doing their best to leave so they could do something useful with the rest of their day. As they shuffled toward the exit the crowd was delayed by the priest who was attempting to shake hands with the faithful. He was calling everybody ‘my son’ or ‘my daughter’. Fred noted that the priest was not related to anybody and most likely didn’t know but a few of the names of the people in the flock. Fred made haste trying to avoid the unpleasant interaction. For some reason the priest extended his hand towards the Master. Repulsed Fred could do nothing but restrain the truth and he shook the hand of the man dressed in black. ‘God bless you my son’ spoke the priest repeating his favorite mantra. Fred noted he was a good ten years older then the priest.

Fred Master gingerly strolled from the church with his wife as they were heading towards where their Mercedes Benz was parked. Fred looked fine and dashing in his handsome blue suit which its jacket had sleeves short enough to show off his Rolex. His companion in turn was looking mighty fine as well. Her hair elegantly made up and make up was applied transforming her looks to a woman ten years younger. Her gold earrings and pearl necklace made a fine combination with her fur coat. The couple turned the corner.

There beside the wall their eyes fell upon a wretch of a man. His tattered green army jacket was not a fashion statement but an authentic one. The obvious fact that the man’s right arm was missing could not be avoided nor missed. The man was slumped against the wall beside him lay a hat with a few scarce coins laying in it. The soldier stuttering in the cold called out the words “spare change, spare change” as he shook spasmodically.

The lady clung closer to the Master. The pair quickly hastened their steps to flee as quickly as possible from the wretch lying on the side walked. A comment was made, “There’s no helping some people!”

Story Of The Scarecrow

Ignorant of the Ignorance

 Ignorant of the Ignorance

 

            My first day in law school was also my last. In one dramatic moment, my aspirations of becoming a lawyer vanished. Gone were my dreams of a lucrative career. Gone were the mansion, the spaceship, and the sexy, blonde-haired wife from Venus. Vanished was the reward for all my hard work. My sleepless nights of studying were brought to naught. How did this tragedy occur? I asked a question.

            'Just asking a question?'  Surely you are jesting or at least talking hyperbole. What kind of institution would throw somebody out for simply inquiring? Let me tell you, there is a good reason that lawyers are rich. That is because we are ignorant of the ignorance. That statement sounds like a paradox or even a line from a poem. What do you mean by that?

            "Who can tell me the most important axiom of law?" asked Professor Snyder. I was sitting eagerly in the front row. I was a zealot for the cause already. It was not my desire to achieve but to rise to the top. I wanted to be the Alexander the Great of law and conquer the whole dominion. Instead, I became a thief crucified. The one at the left hand of Christ, for there was certainly no resurrection in my career. Huh, that's funny, to call something a career that never even began.

            My hand shot up instantly. I had gotten my textbooks early, and I had already devoured them. In fact, I was confident that I could have passed the final exam most satisfactorily. A smiling Professor Snyder saw my outstretched hand and motioned towards me, "I see you have an answer."

            "Ignorance of the law is no excuse," was my steadfast answer.

            "Very good," complimented the teacher.

            "So, how does one know the law?" I asked. Perhaps that seems like a very mild question. After all, it was law school.

            All eyes drew their attention to Professor Snyder. There was a sense of silent anticipation lingering in the air. Lawyers, mind you, are creatures of deceit. There is no honesty in their bones at all. If you are a defense lawyer, you sway the jury to find your client innocent. As a prosecutor, you do all you can to make the individual guilty. The truth of the matter is inconsequential. There is no honesty at all. It is all just a matter of twisting the truth. That's how it is on planet Earth.

            Professor Snyder was dressed grandly for the first day of class. He was wearing a fine suit as if he were going to appear before the Supreme Court of the galaxy. This was his domain. He had the control. He set the rules. He was the absolute arbitrator. And I, well, I was a thorn in his side. "Sir," he said in cold cruelty, "I will have a word with you after class."

            There was a collective sigh in the classroom as the answer was adverted. At that time, my question seemed innocent and most appropriate. After all, we were law school students and were here to learn law. At least that was my supposition. Even now, as I rehash the events, it seems logical. But I have discovered that law has nothing to do with logic whatsoever. As you shall see, it is much more devious than it appears.

            After class, Professor Snyder called me to the front privately. He beckoned me with his claw-like, shriveled hand. "Yes, sir," I addressed him. I was playing feigned attraction to the man. I knew that flattery was an effective and influential force.

            `I'll have a word with you in a moment, ` he said. Then he turned his attention to erasing the blackboard in the classroom as the students walked out. One by one, they exited the door, and the clamoring chatter quieted to a hushed still.

            "You are, of course, Michael Rogers," asked the law teacher.

            "Why, how do you know that?" I asked, perplexed.

            "I have had some dealings with your father. Now, tell me, do you desire to learn about law?" came his question.

            "Why of course," I said, incredibly stunned. After all, I was enrolled in law school. For what other purpose was there?

            "Well, let's give you a good lesson in swaying the jury to your side," Professor Snyder said with a grand grin.      

            My face lit up. This was grander than I could have dreamed. The intergalactic lawyer of great renown would be taking me under his wing. "My testimony is above impunity," he declared boldly. "And you, good sir, have zero reputation."

            To be honest, I was crushed. It was a cruel verbal jab. I felt like a flea at the feet of an itching king. I could not hide my feelings, and a frown came across my face.

            "Furthermore, if we were to testify about the events occurring as we speak, the jury would have to believe either your story or mine. For you see the room is absent of any third party or neutral witnesses and there are no cameras or listening devices."

            I was too stupid and naive to see where this was going. Like a lamb before the butcher, I stood silent.

            "So, when I go before the dean and tell them how rudely and disrespectfully you talked to me, he will have no recourse but to expel you from school."

            My tongue protruded from my mouth like a thirsty dog. Surely this was some rude jest.

            "Good day, sir," Professor Snyder said. Enjoy the rest of your life. Please tell your father I said hello." I was dismissed. Subsequently, the threat was enforced. I was indeed expelled from law school.

***

            My life was ruined, I was thrown out of law school, my lifetime dreams were smashed, and all my hard work was down the drain. I did the next best thing. That was to go out and get as drunk as I possibly could. I left that night with no care for tomorrow. If the sun refused to shine, I would applaud the more hours I could devote to getting hammered. There was only one difficulty I encountered. Please do not laugh when I say I lacked the proper knowledge of such activity. Not only had I never gotten drunk, but I had never even set foot in a bar. It was something that I had no knowledge of, only hearsay information.

            I wanted to drown my misery and avoid contact with anybody I was remotely associated with. So, I called a driver service for a ride to the spaceport. I understood that if I were caught intoxicated and driving, there were serious repercussions. I wanted to avoid illegalities. I am a creature who likes to live in the comfort of a box. There are parameters, and I walk inside them.

            I watched the scenery change as I traveled in my ride. My parents' suburban home is quite an impressive structure. It is located on a local high spot with a spectacular view of the surrounding area. As I left my residence, I saw the lights scattered in the valley below at night. These bright points, like faraway candles, came from various homes nearby. In the far-off distance, glowed the dense collections of shining buildings. It was to that unknown I was destined for, to Grand City, particularly the adjacent spaceport.

            As the hover limousine sailed through my local area, I saw the various abodes of my neighbors, the homes of doctors, lawyers, engineers, and other professionals, their identities known by reputation and whispering rumors. Each building was large in size, complete with a spacious plot of grass. Much more space than was really utilized. Slowly, as we descended to the bottom of the mountain, the house sizes diminished. These abodes were much more practical in size.

            The hover limousine then drove through a highway area. The scenery on either side was quite aghast. A technical definition of these badlands would be the slums. There, in crowded multi-unit apartments, dwelt the undesirable elements of society. Or at least those perceived by the company I was accustomed to keeping. These were those who worked in factories or similar low-skilled jobs. Most of these professions were entirely performed by robots. The majority of the hierarchy viewed the lower class as carbon-based automatons. Others in these neighborhoods had no employment and subsisted on government subsidies. I had never ventured into this domain. Rather, I had only passed through it, fearfully observing the boarded-up buildings speckled about.

            After traveling through this decrepit neighborhood, we came to an industrial area. Grand factories and giant warehouses were prominent in this domain. The warehouses were, of course, staging areas for goods either leaving or coming to the planet. From here, commerce would spread across hundreds of miles. The manufacturing building still spewed obnoxious gases into the immediate vicinity. Ironically, the poor community was downwind. Of course, these gas contents were regulated to the level deemed safe for humanity. However, some purport that massive amounts of toxins pollute the air, especially the ghetto. If so, they are breaking the law. But exactly what is the law? Indeed, rules and regulations are only good if enforced.

            Once again, the terrain transformed into a suburb of residences. Though identical to the ones located close to my hometown, the prices of these were astronomical in comparison, the reason being that these were on the edge of the spaceport area. As such, the local commute was diminished, and even public transportation to the city was available. Finally, we crossed into Grand City itself. Here, tall buildings half a mile high towered in the air. Lights glowed glistening. My hovercraft limousine took us on the cross-town express, bypassing local traffic jams. My destination was not in Grand City. Instead, we were heading through it into the spaceport. There, I would be certain not to see a soul that had a clue as to who I was. I was anonymous tonight. At least that was my plan.

            Upon reaching the spaceport, we reached a checkpoint. I was unaware that such things existed. I was and still am somewhat naive about the way of life. It was my understanding that such things were illegal. Looking through the tinted glass of my windows, I observed two pig-faced creatures dressed in black. Upon their chests were golden badges, most likely indicating membership in a galactic police force. The two rifle weapons dangled on their shoulders were most alarming to me. I was sure they were not for show.

            I grew very uneasy at this point as the seconds ticked away. The spaceport was technically part of the greater galaxy. Therefore, according to the written code of Earth, it was an area of joint domain. However, the reality of such jurisdiction is truly a paper tiger. Any court cases that happen to arise would be in the jurisdiction of the galaxy's government. And thus, the judge and jury would be provided by the galaxy representatives. This is not a slight thing, but changes the whole interpretation of the law.

            The pig creatures didn't like the paperwork presented and questioned my driver once again about the purpose of my visit. "Come on," pleaded the driver, "he's just a young man looking for some cervix."

            When the two guards heard this, they burst into snorting laughter and waved us through the gate. It troubled me when the gate closed behind us. I was, in fact, legally off the Earth.

            Traveling through the spaceport area was fascinating to the utmost degree. This area was well thought out and planned. It was an architect's dream come true. It was certain that no cost was spared. The roads were wide and spacious. In the middle, there was a divider where tall trees grew. On either side of the roads were walking areas. Between the sidewalks and the road were grassy areas with various flowers in bloom. Cities on Earth were established long ago and updated as technology progressed. The spaceport area was built up from scratch with modern technology already developed. Thus, the designers had a significant advantage over their Earthly counterparts. They took full advantage of it most tremendously.

            The buildings were eclectic in design. Some were massive, towering structures whose height could not be fathomed. Others were ornate with cleverly carved stone and intricate metallic designs. Whatever the makeup, they combined efficiency with beauty. My favorite was a many-tiered building the size of a football stadium. It rose from top to bottom with a bulge in the midst of it. On the edge of each level were various bushes and other flora. Beauty had not been sacrificed for efficiency. Truly, just making the journey was worth the trip. It was as if I had taken a journey into the future.  

            The limousine pulled in front of someplace. The establishment was sixty feet in the air, with a ledge used by hovercrafts to pick up or drop off patrons. As the doorman opened the back door to the limousine, the driver called out, "Buzz me when you want a pick-up." I gave him a wave and then exited the vehicle. He zoomed off into the night. I didn't stop to wonder where.

            I walked to the large door. There stood a grand creature. He was gray and immense, with muscles bulging out of his uniform. "I.D.," said a small, squeaky voice. It was so out of character that I laughed out loud.

            Realizing it was such an inappropriate reaction, I quickly apologized. "Please forgive me."

            The big creature laughed a hearty, squeaky laugh for a good minute. "Please, sir," he said, continuing in a squeal. “Your gravity is so much lighter than where I come from. Every time I speak, I sound like a sighing cat."

            "Sure," I said, immensely relieved.

            "But sir," he interjected, "I must insist on seeing your ID."

            I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

            "Thank you," said the bouncer, "you may proceed."

            "But you didn't even look at it," I objected.

            "Law stipulates that I must ask every entrant to present their ID. Failure to present an ID makes entering illegal. Presenting one allows entrance."

            "But you don't even know if it's legitimate or that I am of legal age," I objected. This regulation didn't seem proper.

            "Please don't tell me how to do my job, sir." With those words, he pulled forward the massive door that was the entrance to my destination. As the portal opened, a massive flood of music struck my ears. It was accompanied by a Babel of chatter. Also, there was a sweet perfume odor that tantalized my nose. As I entered the gargantuan, he spoke a final time, "Have a good time, HU-man."  I walked in, and the door closed behind me.

            The scene wasn't what I expected. I didn't know exactly what I had anticipated, but it was undoubtedly not this. What I saw was something from another world. I can scarcely describe the diversity of life. The majority of the beings were humanoid. These were not disturbing to me for the most part. There was one creature that had six arms. Another that struck me was one indistinguishable from a human except for a gigantic eye in the center of his forehead. There was a plant that was an extreme oddity. A walking, lobster-like creature fascinated me. I stood there gawking as my eyes examined alien after alien.

            "HU-man," called out a voice. "Are you not aware that it is rude to stare?"

            I suddenly gathered my senses together. After all, I was in a bar and not a zoo. I turned to see the speaker. Standing before me was a diminutive creature about four feet tall. The being was very near to human in form. His skin was a powdery white. His head had straight blue hair with two antennas sticking upwards. "I am sorry."

            "There is no need to apologize, HU-man," said the creature. "We are well aware that you are from a primitive society and lack the social skills needed to navigate in a galactic setting."

            I was perturbed at this statement.

            "Do my observations disturb you, HU-man?"

            "No," I said.

            "You are, of course, lying to me, HU-man," said the small alien in a matter-of-fact way. I would have gotten angry, but the creature was right. He had greatly offended me in his analysis of my behavior, mostly because I was ostensibly rude.

            "Ah, so you are silent HU-man," the creature continued. "But allow me to introduce myself to you. My name is Gregax, and I come from the planet Xertoal. I know that you are an ignorant creature and have no clue as to where I come from or what my people are like. Is that not true?"

            The experience was truly out of this world. "Yes," I admitted, "I have never left Earth."

            "Well, I, Gregax, am delighted, HU-man, that you have ceased your lying ways. All of us from Xertoal can determine when a sentient being is not speaking the truth." The creature then paused and started to laugh bizarrely. "Nark, nark, nark," came a subdued chuckle.

            "My name is Michael," I said.

            "Ah," said Gregax, "MI-chael. It is very glad of me to meet you."

            "Thank you, Gregax, it is nice to meet you as well."

            "Is this your first time here?" inquired the alien.

            "Yes, it is," I said.

            "Well, please allow me to introduce you to some of the regulars," Gregax volunteered. "This is our home away from home."

            "Why, that is most kind of you," I said.

            "And what kind of LAW-yer are you?" asked the dwarf.

            I was tempted to lie, but I knew I would be caught and that it would offend my new friend. So, I decided to use strategy. "What makes you think I am a lawyer?" I asked.

            "Hmm," said Gregax. "I assume that anyone coming in here has the profession of a LAW-yer, as this establishment is primarily dedicated to those who pursue such a profession. You are not a lawyer, then?"

            "I didn't say that, did I?" I was starting to enjoy the conversation and feel at ease.

            "Hmm," the alien hummed. "You talk very much like a LAW-yer, don't you? I could suppose you were a judge, but you are far too young for that. Are you then a law student?"

            "As a matter of fact, today was my first day in law school," I confessed.

            "Well, then, excellent," Gregax said with delight. “Shall we not get ourselves a drink and enjoy some conversation?"

            Gregax tugged at my sleeve, and we walked from the entrance towards a larger area. On one side, there was a bar with stools. These tall chairs were occupied by an assortment of creatures. On the other side of the bar was a large, continuous mirror. Bottles full of liquids of various shades filled shelves in front of the mirror. There was a large room full of tables and chairs. Groups of people occupied the area. It was very crowded, yet there was room to maneuver about. I did my best not to gawk and stare at the various aliens. Bizarre, unearthly music was played through speakers, creating a backdrop to the noise of conversation.

            Gregax led me towards the back of the room. We skillfully navigated the floor, avoiding others. I began to speculate on how I wound up in a bar frequented by lawyers. It was my dad who recommended the limousine company to me. I knew that the driver didn't let me out here by coincidence; the odds against that were too overwhelming. It was my father's doing. But what had he hoped to accomplish?

            Gregax arrived at a table and motioned for me to take a seat. There were two beings already sitting at the table. One was green and reptilian-like. If indeed she was, she had two heads. In one of the mouths dangled a cigarette attached to a long black holder. The creature inhaled and rudely blew the blue smoke into my face. I started to gag. "This is MI-chael," said Gregax, introducing me.

            "Charmed," said the alien, extending a thin hand covered with a silky blue glove. "My name is Beetrius, but you may call me B."

             "Nice to meet you," I said. Gregax raised an eyebrow as he looked at me. I had fibbed again.

            "And this," said Gregax to a creature that looked identical to a chimpanzee except larger, "is Luis."

            The primate being said, "I am utterly delighted to make your acquaintance, MI-chael. On behalf of this chapter of galactic lawyers, allow me the good pleasure to welcome you to our most humble abode."

            "Why, thanks," I said, beginning to feel comfortable.

            "Now tell us exactly why you are here, MI-chael," said Gregax. I noticed that when he asked the question, the other two at the table leaned forward to listen intently. I was beginning to feel a setup going on. Perhaps good old Dad was using his political influence here.

            "Well," I said slowly and deliberately, “I am looking to have a good time."

            "For what purpose?" Gregax queried.

            "Gregax," I began, trying to divert the river of questioning to a different channel. “Is it possible for you to lie?"

            "Ah, how perceptive," said the alien, "I would like to say yes, but I must say no."

            "And so," I began triumphantly, "have you any foreknowledge of me coming to this establishment?"

            "WAITRESS," cried Gregax, "waitress, we need some drinks here!"

            "Now MI-chael," began the talking Chimp, "As duly elected and dutifully sworn in grand marshal of this chapter of galactic lawyers, I would like to extend to you membership in our organization."

            "Really?" I was quite shocked. I almost fell off my chair.

            "Let me assure you," said one of B's heads, "we are most serious in our offer."

            The other head continued, "I have to admire a HU-man who does not stare at me. You are truly a credit to your species."

            "Thanks," I said, "I guess."

            Meanwhile, the waitress came over. She was a golden-skinned woman with flowing red hair and a black uniform. "Can I get you anything?"

            Gregax spoke up, "Yes, I will have my usual, and for the HU-man, I believe he would like a traitrhax, straight up."

            "Are you certain?" asked the servant with hesitation.

            Gregax raised his voice, "We have given you, our orders; now your duty is to perform them." Obediently, the waitress turned around and left the table.

            "What did you order for me?" I asked with curious concern.

            "Ah," said Gregax, "it is a most wonderful mixture which will lighten your spirit and put you at ease."

            "I was just hoping for a beer or perhaps a glass of wine," I said.

            "Beer or wine?" Luis said with contempt. "Why is it that you HU-mans insist on drinking the residue of rotted vegetables? I am confident that your traitrhax will make you feel finer, with no lingering after effects, such as a hangover."

            One of B's heads turned towards me and said, "Now, MI-chael, we have a business proposal for you."

            "But you don't even know me," I objected.

            "That is not true," Gregax chimed in. “Your father is one of the HU-mans with whom we prefer to have business dealings."

            Again, a reference to my dad: Would I ever be able to walk away from his shadow? It was very logical that he would be known in these parts. The spaceport fell into the territory for which he was a state representative. I was beginning to feel like the whole evening was a setup. I would have to simply ride the waves until I knew exactly where at sea I was.

            "Now, MI-chael," began the large chimpanzee alien. "We are an organization that is a firm believer in honor. Law is but the articulation of honor. It is just detailed written terms expounding on social agreements and contracts."

            "It explains the rules of life," B added.

            "Ah, Miss B," Luis countered. "Please give this young HU-man some credit. After all, he is very well educated at their university."

            The two-headed creatures' both heads spoke simultaneously, "The same intelligent HU-mans who negotiated the terms of this spaceport." As soon as the words were uttered, a burst of laughter rang out from my three associates. I felt outside an inside joke.

             "Well, regardless of the primitive nature of their society and their ignorance in their affairs, we cannot condemn an entire race on the actions of a select few, can we?"

Luis asked.

            "I would," stated Gregax, "These creatures are very materialistic, you see how their laws are focused around material possessions."

            I gave a wry smile. Gregax was referring to the statement that possession was nine-tenths of the law. The correct interpretation of this was that ninety percent of the laws on the books were related to possessions. All other areas constituted the other ten percent. Still, I wanted to defend humanity. "Why do we have a whole history of leaders who have risen up against materialism?" I cried out in defense of mankind.

            "Yes," that is true said Luis softly, "and you have had them murdered long before their time, didn't you?"

            The waitress returned with our drinks. I was delighted for the distraction. The golden-skinned woman placed a drink in front of me. It was a tall glass with red liquid that had a frothy head. Bubbles rose up in the drink, much like a soda. A small glass with a clear liquid was placed on the table of Gregax. I grabbed my drink and raised it high. "Let's have a toast," I called out, "to better times."

            All the aliens smiled and then, in unison, repeated my call, "To better times," they said. We then put forward the glasses and clinked them together. Afterwards, we all took a small sip from our respective beverages. My drink tasted very sweet with a hint of bitterness. It went down smoothly, but then my stomach began to burn. I felt a strong urge to vomit and put my hand over my mouth.

            "Ah," said Gregax in a snicker, "I see the traitrhax is very potent."

            "Now, we are so delighted to have you working with us," said B.

            "What do you mean?" I cried in objection. "I never made any agreement."

            "Allow me to present the facts," Luis began. "We were discussing the notion of employment, were we not?"

            "Yes," I said.

            "Well, after said discussion, you made a toast to, and I quote, 'to better days', did you not?"

            "Yes," I declared, "but I didn't mean-"

            "What you meant would be interpreted by those who were witnesses," threw in B's first head.

            "I for one assumed that it was in regard to that," said the second head, blowing out a puff of smoke.

            "What say ye, Gregax?" asked Luis.

            "Allow me to say this: Luis and Beetrius would account for sixty percent of our group. Therefore, with the majority being decided, any interpretation on my behalf is inconsequential."

            My mind started fluttering in disbelief. What I mean by this is that I was experiencing some effects from my beverage. I was grateful that I only took a small sip from the glass. "B, b, but," I began.

            "Ah, this matter has already been decided," said Luis.

            "Well, you got shortchanged," I said boldly, "because I am not even a lawyer."

            "Ah," said B, "we find blatant honesty from a HU-man most refreshing."

            The second head asked, "We have done extensive studies on your planet's legal history, you know?"

            "True," said Luis, "how your own people interpret their own laws has a great effect on how the galactic law is administered unto them."

            "And," chimed in Gregax, with a broad smile, "we consider treaties, the relationship between two countries or groups of people, the most binding of contracts."

            My mind went over the history of Earth. I knew collectively we as a race were in grave trouble. Every treaty mankind made was broken, most of them fragrantly. Our despicable history would come to haunt us. I sat as my mind felt like it was rising in an elevator with no upper limit.

            "I understand you want to know how you know the law?" asked Gregax.

            "Did my dad tell you that?" My words were slurred together. I pointed at the dwarf alien with my finger. My finger seemed to grow. I sat stunned, focusing on my protruding finger. I felt like Pinocchio, except it wasn't my nose growing.

            "Yes," said Gregax, "he did. And might I say we admire that question."

            "Really!?!" I was stunned.

            "Truly, your laws are laws of convenience," said Luis as if he were about to give a dissertation. It struck me extremely funny that a talking chimpanzee would educate me in law.

            I began to scratch under my arms and cry "eee, eee, eee", mimicking chimpanzees on Earth.

            "Law is very complex," said B, ignoring my antics. "The society that I came from has strived for clarity. That is, we felt that if ambiguity were dismissed, then there would be no contention or feelings of prejudice when verdicts were decided."

            The second head of Beetrius spoke, "Your laws, however, are nothing but ambiguous. For example, in sentencing, your judges are given leeway in terms of jail time. Also, sometimes parole is a possibility to further reduce or extend the prison sentences."

            "But that's to have the punishment fit the crime and to help rehabilitation," I called out.

            Both the heads of B laughed in a snicker. "Really dear MI-chael," sneered one of the heads. "We have made statistical studies incorporating all factors. Your sentencing is biased both by racial orientation and economic status. Basically, if you are part of the establishment, you can commit murder and get away with it."

            "That's a lie," I shouted.

            "Really?" said Luis. "And what happens to your prohibitory laws against murder when 'war' is declared? Why then mass murder is conducted, in violation of appropriate treaties and bypassing local jurisdiction."

            I sat silent. Mankind's future was being thwarted, reaping the bitter fruits of its hypocritical sowing of wickedness. "But that's different," I objected.

            Gregax looked at me. "I know you don't believe that yourself, MI-chael."

            I sat silently in reflective quietness. It is hard to argue with a person who knows when you are lying. The drink was now mellowing me out. I reached out and took a second sip. I focused on why I had ventured out in the first place. It was, in fact, to drown away my sorrows. I had indeed found a great distraction.

            "In my society," Gregax commented, "our law system is based on honor. We look at the intent of what an individual was trying to do. We only use judges in the most extreme of circumstances. Rather, we have parties with contention work things out between them. That way, any bitterness or loss of brotherhood is avoided."

            I sat there stunned as I reflected on the law system of Earth. Truly, if I were called as a witness, my testimony would hold no weight. Subdued, I asked, "What do you want me to do?"

            "We like you, MI-chael," said Luis.

            "Yes, even though you are a HU-man," B added.

            "Allow us to explain your law system," said Gregax. "Your law system is ambiguous. Your system of jury is subject to extreme manipulation in selection. Judges are corrupt. The statutes that you apply are very subjective. It is, in fact, an exercise in ignorance."

            "And most unjust," Luis added.

            "Now, as decent and fair creatures of a greater galactic coalition, we are going to rectify the situation. As such, we need somebody to interpret humanity to us. You are as good a choice as anybody else." Those words spoken by Gregax made sense to me.

            "Come now," said Luis. "We are fair creatures. We leave the final decision to you. Our jesting over the toast was an extreme and unfair ruling we would never abide by. Only a corrupt society such as Earth would conduct itself in such a manner."

            I reached out to my drink. The bitterness in my stomach had fled. I was flying high. I had made new friends and apparently found a job, if I wanted. I wouldn't be a lawyer, but rather work with alien lawyers to understand our culture. The possibilities seemed endless. Most of all, I had received the answer to my question. How does one know the law? Yes, there are rules written on a piece of paper. Society is supposed to adhere to them. But often they are dismissed. Many times, they are convoluted and contradictory. Things are made up as they go along. It is just that the commoner is ignorant of the ignorance. I know it was true of me and is still true in many ways. I had much to learn, but the journey had begun in earnest.

From Chaos To Cosmos 

Words For The Future

From Cronus to Cthulhu

 

From Cronus to Cthulhu

 

            Immortality, my dear friend, is a bitter curse. What I possess is sought more diligently than gold, silver, or diamonds. It is even more attractive than that most coveted intangible, power. Suppose there was indeed a Fountain of Youth. Ah, being eternally young would have improved my situation. But alas, I am condemned to hobble about this cruel Earth perpetually, an ancient man. Believe me when I say, every day I feel my age. My bones ache in misery, singing harmony with my soul. What is my age? More centuries than you can count on your fingers and toes. I've been around.

            I must disguise my words with frail ambiguities. There is a whole cabal of us old timers who walk the dusty roads of Earth. We have none to thank but Satan himself for our nasty ordeal. Well, now, perhaps I am shifting the true blame from myself. After all, it is not every person who sells their soul to the devil for eternal life. Most that did were far cleverer than I and had other benefits to fatten up the deal. Alas, I signed my name in blood in exchange for eternal life. I must sigh in grief to say I got what I deserved.

            This story is not about me. It is not something I experienced, at least not first-hand. My tale is a story that needs to be told. Yet, it will not be something that would reveal my identity. It is only that fact that emboldens my tongue and loosens my pen. I would like to have a little payback to my foe. I want to shine a light on the Prince of Darkness, if it is only a frail candle. It is not such that I have compassion for anyone who would follow in my steps. We who have signed the oath are a despicable lot, the scourge of the Earth.

            If there is one pastime I truly enjoy in my perpetual elderly years, it is reading. I have passed through the phases of carnal pleasures. I have tried every drug and have investigated all forms of lustful desires. These were temporary fixes that satisfied for only a brief moment. They soon grew old and stale. It came to my realization that the tempting fruits of Satan were, in fact, all appearance and no substance. Empty promises are the contents of the whole rotten barrel. But reading, now that is a grand adventure.

            Alexandria was my favorite hangout place. That was a library beyond description. I have never seen a worthy rival. It was there that I studied most diligently. I could be found poring over the papyrus manuscripts in the morning, noon, and night. It was not the great knowledge that I was accumulating that motivated me. Rather, it was the joy in the journey. In all the world, I had found one thing that I truly enjoyed without measure. Far, far better than eating, mind you. Indulging the palate leaves one's physical frame in agony. Reading, however, sharpens the mind all the while entertaining.

            It was the subject of Cronus that caught my interest like no other. That he predated the Greeks was no secret. According to the 'official' myth, Cronus had sired a whole host of children. These grew to become the deities of Greece after they did in their 'father'. As is true with all religions, faith is not a search for truth but rather an exercise in control. None could dare question the status quo. To deny the doctrine was heresy and punishable by death. I, of course, being immortal, had no fears of death. But to spend eternal life in a dismal dungeon cell was less attractive than death.

            In Alexandria, there was a select few who practiced the dark arts. They evoked the pantheon of gods of Egypt. I infiltrated their number. Now, I know that I am risking exposure. Perhaps some of that small, select group were miserable creatures like me who had made an 'oath' in blood with Satan. If that is so, please do not attempt to decipher my identity. Rather, please think of me as one who keeps the flame of Cthulhu burning bright.

            Who is that, you say? Allow me to continue with my story, dear friend, and I shall reveal all. Whether you choose to believe it or not is irrelevant. I am simply relinquishing my responsibility and performing my duties. My hands shall be washed clean of all blood guilt. That is all that matters to my selfish self.

            Now, my companions' worship of the Egyptian gods was simply a ruse. In Alexandria, the masses still clung to their deities despite their defeat by Greece. But as the military goes, so follows the divine. The power of Set, Osiris, and company was simply dismissed with a mocking laugh by the conquering legions of Greece. So, a small group of zealots clinging to the banished faith posed no threat. But the book's cover was switched, and the pages were soaked with blasphemy. Our exclusive party was dedicated to the illegitimate son of Cronus. His name, of course, was Cthulhu.

            At the time, I thought that this was pure foolishness. Like so many Gnostic organizations, knowledge of the group and doctrine was revealed in greater clarity the deeper one progressed. I was an initiate and pure novice. Still, it became apparent that this sect of Cthulhu was worldwide. I vividly recall viewing a map of extremely accurate depictions of what would one day be called the Americas.   

            When Rome, in its arrogance, came and burned the library of Alexandria, I wept for my virgin mistress. To this day, in horrible nightmares, I can see the flames burning. I prefer the torments of hell over those hideous fires I witnessed. Gone was all the knowledge in that massive collection since the dawn of creation—Papyrus full of wonderful words, now nothing more than ashes of mourning. My associates, too, vanished like smoke in the wind. Not knowing anything further than my local association, I could not flee to join others elsewhere. I had no place to seek out the bastard son of Cronus. But still in my heart, I held a home for Cthulhu. And not in my head alone, but in my head. For in my brain, I never lost focus on the elder of the dark gods. Why, you may ask? Well, let me tell my tale.

            Over a dozen and a half centuries had passed, and the world had been turned upside down. The barbarians of Europe, fueled by their sciences, had risen from their caves and bearskins to become unrivaled masters—they fought two world wars to decide which of their numbers would dominate the Earth. Millions upon millions had perished in the madness. But personally, it brought me to my knees in wonder, for the coming of the reigning of the pale man was foretold centuries ago by the followers of Cthulhu.

            Ah, and then my tale begins in utmost earnest. I, being a man of darkest skin tones, decided that this insanity of the Europeans held nothing but woe for me. The lure of mammon that captivated these conquering colonizers repulsed me. I headed for the deepest jungles of Africa to her secret cities. It was an attempt for me to escape the reality of the changing world. I knew I would have to come to terms with the new elite sooner or later. Eventually, I left the solitude. It was, in fact, a move of necessity. To stay any longer would have brought suspicion as to why this old man did not die. It was a dilemma that I had constantly faced for many years.

            Fresh out of the woods, so to speak, I had to acclimate myself to reality. So much had changed! The advances of technology amazed me. The information explosion seduced me. Above all was the superfluity of books. I was truly overwhelmed and began to devour the innumerable volumes of literature. I discovered an author, H.P. Lovecraft, open to the world like the noonday sun. A man who openly talked about Cthulhu: I was both amazed and impressed. It could not be a coincidence. If only I had time to rise in the ranks.

            Astrology is one of the most arcane arts, and as such, it is one of the most difficult. Contrary to the host of frauds and fakes, astrology is useless in determining one's immediate future. True, the lining of the celestial bodies leaves an indelible mark on a person, much like a brand on cattle. But the stars are indeed an extremely accurate indicator of the seasons. I am not, of course, talking of spring, summer, fall, and winter. Rather, there are epochs or ages. The dawn of science was one era. It is the period that is in dominance now. But it is waning and fading with a rapid retreat. Of course, it may not seem so, but I am confident of this truth.

            The ancient texts talked of the times when the fires would descend. This would occur after the name of Cthulhu, the one who sleeps, had been proclaimed. I watched with horror as the United States dropped not one but two atomic bombs on Japanese citizens. The nuclear fission bombs literally burned as the sun, albeit in brief flashes. Without a doubt, this was the fulfillment of the prophecies.

            It is true that I knew little of the faith, but I am such a devout follower. Yet I knew the basic tenets that I was instructed in almost two millennia ago. It was the tale that exposed the truth from Cronus to Cthulhu. I will now expound upon that mystery and then bid you a hasty goodbye. All the while, I have news of the most wicked nature to my compatriots. That is, we have been betrayed!

            Coming to the United States in the turbulent times of the sixties brought me anxiety. There was, of course, the racial struggle surging. The African American man was demanding equality. Also, social forces were resisting the capitalistic system for a more sharing and equitable one. Neither of those causes gave me the slightest interest. I had no concern for any other save myself. I sought out the answer to Cthulhu. Allow me to confess my hopes truly. It was my greatest expectation that, through the power of that dreaming deity, I could overcome my curse of Satan. I intended to pit the son of Cronus against the Prince of this World.

            Cthulhu is, in fact, a creature of cruelty. Perhaps my attraction to him was that I saw so much of myself in my dark master. Evil, however, does not negate intelligence. The dreaming deity lay in his dormant state, awaiting a time when he could be ushered into the world of the living. Of course, it would be his task to conquer and rule. It is in the ruling aspect that my hopes lie. Who can rule the world alone? Does one not need a government or some other association? It would be better to rule on Earth than to wander as some hopeless vagabond. Ah, to be a priest in the order of my master.

            So it was during my travels that I ran across a man whose name I shall not reveal. He is dead, I assure you. His throat was slit with my hand. I feel a slight measure of remorse for doing this to the individual. He was a wicked man. But then again, if we are to talk in candid honesty, most men are wicked to one degree or another. Who is there without sin? This man practiced the dark arts of voodoo and knew Satanic ritual. But those two aspects held little attraction for me. I was well-versed in both fields, already far beyond the proficiency of this man. What he had that I desired was a set of papyrus scrolls.

            How such an individual had attained this most rare and precious treasure, I did not inquire. Certainly not at first. I had to play a ruse that I did not know the immense value of the writings, let alone my passion. I have learned over the years the subtle arts of the conman. Never show your lust. It will only raise the price of the ante.

            This man had bonded with me. I, however, had long since discarded any love or affection. Not because I am a cruel and hard man. Rather, it was a task I undertook as a necessity. I have buried my wife a dozen times. I have said goodbye to dear friends scores of times. It got to the point where the misery of the coming loss outweighed the happiness that friendship could provide. I walk alone in a world of billions. Except, of course, with the others who have taken the 'oath'. But I desire nothing to do with such wicked creatures. I am indeed a fox, but the others are dragons. Unlike me, one who has rejected Satan, the majority have embellished their dark lord.

            After some years of interaction and feigned friendship with this person of interest, he finally let me in on his secret. There was an island, I shall say no more than to say it was in the Western Hemisphere. It was very tiny and out of the way of the shipping lanes. No humans lived upon the small outcropping. A vessel that had sailed from Egypt in ancient times was shipwrecked upon the shore. I learned the history of that voyage from the papyrus writings I discovered on board. The captain wished to salvage the knowledge of the most ancient Egyptians. He and his crew were patriots longing to restore defeated Egypt to its glory. Understanding that knowledge is power, he took his treasures to preserve them. Unfortunately, somehow, he was shipwrecked upon this nameless atoll.

            His misery was my salvation, and my friend's demise. After personally visiting the deserted island, I indulged myself in the murder of my associate. He had done me the greatest service ever rendered unto me. What a cur I am to have repaid him in such a way. But necessity can bring harsh extremes. Besides, this man was a dark fiend and truly deserved a brutal demise. At least that is how I justify my guilt.

            It was a sheer delight to be reintroduced to the ancient texts I had once adored so many years ago. It was like walking into another time. For a while, I felt at home. Hope filled my heart, and life was pleasant. I even dared to thank God for his mercy and kindness. And then, as an eagle flying over at the greatest heights and then miserably plummeting to the ground, I fell from jubilation to utter horror—a grim misery beyond anything I had ever experienced. I learned the truth about Cthulhu, the illegitimate son of Cronus.

            Mr. H.P. Lovecraft was a most clever man. His fanciful words brought the dreaming God into the psyche of humanity. He boldly did this. Truly, during his lifetime, he received almost no attention. But after passing into the shadows of death, many have come boldly forward to give praises and accolades. The majority, I suspect, are those secretly involved with the cult that I was once an initiate in so many years ago in Alexandria. Of this I must now speak on.

            Allow me to state that we have been duped, and according to those ancient tomes that I viewed, the time of events had been reversed. The fall of the stars should have preceded the proclamation of the great name of Cthulhu. I will now give you the exact details of why that is happening.

            Cthulhu was never truly the illegitimate son of Cronus. Rather, that claim brought him to the level of that deity and his offspring. The truth is far too shocking for humanity to accept. That this Cthulhu, this creature whose semblance was so far from human, that he could be best described as a monster. That this being of the great beyond was dominant over the so-called gods as a giant over ants. Truly, then, none would pay homage or bow the knee to the modern rulers. All would seek out the ancient one—at least those with sense.

            Portraying Cthulhu as Cronus's bastard son was a way to turn away those who happened upon his doctrine. That was the first effort of the powers to be. To diminish Cthulhu into the oblivion of obscurity. There would never be a call if there were no adherents to awaken the sleeping god. That attempt, as we are all aware now, has failed.

            So then came the call from one H.P. Lovecraft. We can only suspect the motivation of his premature beckoning. Perhaps he was fooled into taking the actions that he did. Yet his writings contain such an intimacy of knowledge that I would have to rule this motive as impossible. This Lovecraft purposely spread the name of the great Cthulhu prematurely to awaken him too early.

            I attribute this to no other quality than excessive adoration. The only explanation that makes sense with all the facts I have gathered. What would motivate a mortal to do such a deed? Indeed, that word 'mortal' is truly the key. H.P. Lovecraft knew that if he had done what was proper and kept his mouth silent, the time of the coming of his master would have been out of his lifetime. He took it upon himself to awaken the sleep god a little earlier. He reasoned that Cthulhu, once awakened, could complete the task of his return.

            But the stars are most powerful. Are they not the eternal markers? Do they not continue in their immortality steadfastly? Empires rise and fall. Ages and epochs come and go. But through it all, there is a consistent factor: the stars. As such, the authority of their council is absolute.

            Cthulhu, you see, was a god from a faraway, distant time. He and his kindred minions had lived in their epoch. Great and wonderful as they were, they were no match for the eternal, ever-present stars. In their wisdom, they saw what was to come. Through arcane knowledge and dark calculations, they contemplated the future. If only they could bring the stars to Earth at the precise moment, they could skew the orientation of the universe. The timing needed to be precise. The grand overlords of the past required every smidgen of power they could muster. Cthulhu could have successfully returned. I do not doubt this conclusion.

            What else could one say? That the words of mighty Cthulhu were false? He has not returned, that is obvious to all! And so, I say to those who work and plan, that your plans have been frustrated. Yet allow me to finish this proclamation with hope. More was written in those papyrus papers than I have revealed. Contingency plans, just in case. Truly great is the wisdom of Cthulhu. I do not know if Cthulhu has returned to slumber after his early awakening. I cannot see into that nether world of gray. I do know that the great Cthulhu lives. Where there is life, there is hope. I will inform you of all of the secret writings I have discovered. I will not repeat the mistakes of the past. I, after all, have all the time in the world.

If you liked my story, you will LOVE my books!!

 In The Mind Of Maggoo

The Story Of The Scarecrow

The Story Of Satan's Siren the Sequel to Scarecrow

Words Of Boiling Iron

 Words Of Boiling Iron

 

THOSE GOD DAMN BANKERS!!!

 

BABYLON THE WHORE!!!

 

Endless war!!

 

Don’t you know?

For all our woe

We can give them thanks

 

Edgar’s spirit deflated

Gone his smile

He feels vile

And hated

 

They want to build a shopping mall

As I recall

Profits, profits, profits

We must stop it

Or our paradise

Will be destroyed

Take me advice

We must rise

For righteousness

Hunger and thirst

I must confess

I hold

Earth First!

 

The old man with hair white as snow

His skin raging red below

Edgar feels naked

Far from sacred

His dirty little secret

Can he keep it???

Or does the Ancient Of Days already know? 

CHECK OUT BELLS & WHSTLES, THORNS & THISTLES

 POET TO THE POOR, REVOLUTIONARY POETRY