Fright or Frong (R)

R rated

        "Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind."

                                                                 RALPH WALDO EMERSON

One - Fragrance...

I was looking for someone to to help me find that integrity. It's true, I had lost my mind but not like you might think. I wasn't going crazy or becoming senile, or demented or coming down with the dreaded Alzheimer's disease.

Someone or something had stolen my mind, or part of it. I could function, make somewhat rational decisions and I even knew where I lived. I could remember who or what I was and my history, but, my name or anything about me had been erased from the records. I remembered me but no one else did. I was...but I wasn't.

In a bar on the east side, an aging bar maid with the look of tired in her soul referred me to a Ms Andrea Johnson with an office on the the lower west side. She said that Andrea was probably the only person in the world that could help me. What the hell, I thought...why not.

I had come to the conclusion that if someone couldn't help me I would just blow what was left of my mind and the empty space next to it into the cesspool referred to as the East River.

A long faced cabby that looked like Asama Bin Laden dropped me off in front of her office building. I paid him the fifteen bucks the meter said I owed. He held his hand there for a few seconds hoping for a tip, but I got out, slammed the door and thanked him for the pleasant conversation he had not bothered to share with me for the last 45 blocks. He said a few words in what I assumed was Farsi and what I also assumed wasn't very flattering.

When I opened what I thought was her office door, an odor of sickly sweet cheap perfume mixed with the stale stench of a smoldering cigarette and the pungent smell of an old onion hit me the face or better yet, it slapped me in the face.

She was leaning back in a seedy swivel chair with her feet on her desk. Her skirt was about a foot above her knees and I knew that if I walked to the left where she was pointing at a chair I would be able to see what most women, at least decent women, do everything thing they can to hide. I thought of the old grade school ditty..."I see London, I see France, I can see your underpants." If I were still in grade school I may have been interested...no excited...but I wasn't in grade school. I walked to the right and leaned against the wall. She watched me with an arched eye brow, shrugged her shoulders and removed her feet from the desk.

She said, "Ms Johnson will be with you in a moment."

She swiveled her chair and her legs so that I could catch a glimpse of "France" before her wrinkled skirt could do the job it was designed to do, but I saw the flash coming and was able to watch a bus through her grimy windows and avoid that which I did not want to see.

It's not that I'm gay, or a priest or a" Casper Milktoast" when it comes to women and sex. I'm normally as horny as the next guy but I choose to separate my animal lust from my human behavior and I prefer to court a woman in the old fashioned way. I ask her out, we eat, we talk we have a couple of drinks and if the sparks fly, the clothes fly.

Women have never been able to light my pipe by flashing me with a cheap shot of "to much cleavage" or "to much leg". I put that in the same category as me standing on the corner with nothing on but an overcoat and then flashing women with my naked equipment. The unfair part about the whole flashing world...the men get arrested...but, eventually, the women get laid.

I leaned against the wall wondering what the hell I had got myself into. The female I was looking at certainly didn't represent the image I had been given of Andrea Johnson and there was no other door into or out of the office other that the one I came in. I had decided I had been given some kind of bull shit story or someone was really playing a bad joke on me. I turned to leave before the joke got any worse.

But, as I started for the door, the intercom on MS Flasher's desk squawked and belched some static and a voice said something about sending someone somewhere.

Flash said, "Ms Johnson will see you now. She's on the second floor, room 269."

"That's all you need," my mind said.

I left the office and turned for the door that would put me back out on the street. After a few steps, I changed my mind and decided I had come this far and I might as well at least talk to her. I didn't have to stay if I didn't like what I saw.

I walked the flight of stairs to the second floor. I never take an elevator. I climb the stairs and if it's over five floors they can meet me in Starbucks on the first floor.

I located Ms Johnson's office towards the back of the building and rapped softly on the glass pane with my knuckles. When I opened the door I expected to see a repeat of the mess I left below but I was very pleasantly surprised by an office that looked like it would fit right in with the snobby bastards on 52nd street.

I was surprised by the office, but Ms Johnson took my breath away. She was the very essence of everything I thought classy and sophisticated. She wasn't what the idiots in New York or Hollywood portray as beautiful. Her face was oval but not plump and certainly not shaped in vee, preparing her to look like a witch in her later years. When she rose to greet me, she presented a figure that wasn't slim and bony. It could have been described as a little on the plump side but I considered it as shading towards as real figure.  She filled out her business attire in the right places but nothing hung out to divert attention from her striking blue eyes.

The aroma and the decor of her working atmosphere made me feel at home and at ease. I can only describe the entire aura of what I was looking at, feeling, sensing and tasting, (yes, tasting, because a bad scene or appearance can leave a very bad taste in one's mouth), as a fragrance of presence, odors, class and dignity.

 / / / /

next

Who is Ms Johnson?
Who is our hero (or villain) and what is he seeking from the lovely lady in the office of fragrance?
Why the difference between the two women?


/ / / / / / / /

"Of all the things I've lost,
I miss my mind the most."

                                                       Ozzie Ozbourne

We left our protagonist (the hero or villain and naturally me if he is a hero) all agog over our deuteragonist (the lovely Andrea Johan son) and wondering who the hell and why the hell the tritagonist (for now -Flash) was.

 Naturally, with all of these agonists wandering in and out of our story, the complexities of this little tale can only build into an overwhelming line of horse-pucky. However, we shall continue anyway and hope that the reader (you) and the writer (me), will not go to sleep...

"Losing one's mind is not as funny as the comedians make it to be."

                                                                                        gs batty

...When I was finally able to close my mouth I introduced myself as Johnny Yen. (A name I picked out in a liqueur store.)

She picked up her appointment book, raised and eye brow and said, "The 9 o'clock appointment was for Jimmy Yen".

The trouble with making up stories is that you always forget what you made up and as my dad used to tell me, "it will always find a way to bite you in the ass".

"Are you related to Jimmy," she asked?

"No, I'm Jimmy. My name is Jimmy Johnny Yen," I replied.

"Which one would would you like me to call you," she smiled.

I thought for a minute and said, "I suppose Johnny would be okay, but if you like Jimmy better that would be okay to."

"Are you always this complicated?"

"No, I don't think so but to tell you the honest truth, I'm not really sure."

"Well, to make things less complicated I am going to call you Jimmy John and you can call me Andrea.

"Do you really talk to ghosts?" I asked her.

She paused and said, "I don't refer to them as ghosts but I do talk to people that are attempting to to make the transition from this life to the next life."

Not really wanting to be a smart ass, but I was a smart ass so I said, "If they aren't ghosts, what are they?"

"Spirits," she calmly said. "Spirits that for some reason have not been able to find the their way into the next world. Some are good and some are bad. I try to avoid the bad ones."

"Well, I think one of your spirits stole my mind. I don't know if it was a good or a bad one. Probably bad, if I have to guess."

 I really wasn't sure that is what happened but it was the best guess I had.

I shouldn't have blurted that out but I was never one to wait and try to out fox the fox. At that point I couldn't tell you or anyone else how or why I knew, but I knew that my big mouth had caused me heartache on more than one occasion. I couldn't tell anyone because I couldn't remember. I knew, but I didn't know. If she thought my name was complicated she was really going to find a man with only part of a mind (me) full of complexities.

She stepped back a space or two and her face became a little less friendly. Maybe it was even a little scared. Bur her voice wasn't scared, it was demanding, "Okay Mr. Yen who are you and what kind of game are you playing?"

Her reaction was as if I had just threatened her baby with a baseball bat.

I put my hands in the air like she was pointing a gun at me and I stepped back a pace or two. I know my face looked a little scared because I was a little scared. I was wrong when I thought she was scared. Her pretty blue eyes turned into swirling storms and it only took me a nano-second to understand she wasn't a woman to fool with.

"Whoa, relax, back off, I'm sorry, I'm harmless, I need your help," I pleaded. Now you might think that I am a real woos but I was in trouble and I was pretty sure the beautiful Andrea was my last chance of finding a hero (or a heroine or even a shero) to help me. (Do you like "shero"? I stole it from a TV set.)

I didn't want to make her mad but evidently things were headed in that direction. "Look, just listen to my story and then, if you want me to leave, I will"

Her voice softened a little, "Okay, but for now you just stay where you are. I'm going to call my partner to be here with me,"

"You mean that woman down there," I said, pointing at the floor.

"That;s exactly who I mean," she said with the sternness returning to her voice. "Am I to believe that you don't like her. If that's true, and want me to help with what ever problem that's bugging you, then you had better learn to like her because we are partners. Also, if you are right about having your mind stolen then, trust me, we will need 'that woman down there'."

I whispered very quietly, "Crap". She turned her head and gave me the "mess with us and your dead" look. I was afraid to even think a bad thought about the nasty little Mz. Flash.

When we were settled nice and cozy in Andrea's office, (Me, standing against the wall on one side of the room ...Andrea and Flash seated comfortably in nice soft chairs on the other side), I began my tale.

"It's not very complex," I started. "I went to visit my wife's grave and and while we were talking, a ghost (their eyes became wider), okay a spirit, walked through me and as he passed through, he took part of my mind with him."

.........


Is the protagonist (me) crazy?...(there are plenty of arguments out there to support that.)
Why would a spirit want my mind?...no one else does.
...and...if someone stole my mind...how do I function?...(There are those that say I have functioned without a mind for years but that's not the answer.)

What are the complexities of a "mind stealing spirit" that has the mismatched feminine duo on "dirty old man" alert?...

..one more thing...what the hell is my name?...and ...does it matter?


 / / / / / / /


three...late

"Your mind is the essence of everything you are...why let someone else steal it?"
                                                                                                             gs batty

....We left our hero (I'm not doing the antagonist thing again) standing against the wall telling his "story" to Mz Johnson and Mz. "show it all" Flash.

..."I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date. No time to say 'Hello", goodbye. I'm late, I'm late, I'm late....."

That's the way I felt... like the white rabbit running hither and yon trying to save his head but I was trying save my mind or at least get it back


somehow our story continues...

"That's it? Your mind was was taken in a cemetery by a spirit?"

"That's it?"  Damned rights that's it! Isn't that enough? I suppose one of you ladies has had part of your mind stolen and you think it's not a big deal.

Not only is my mind gone. I'm gone. There is no me.
I do not exist and yet here I am standing before you just as plain as the noses on your faces. I am not a ghost or a stupid spirit as you call them. I am flesh and blood. Pinch me and it hurts. Cut me and I bleed. It may not be a big deal to you but it certainly is to me."

By the time I was through with that little speech I felt as if I had just ran a marathon. But, hey, sometimes you need to let it all hang out.

Flashed look puzzled. "What do you mean, "There is no me"?

"I do not exist. Look, my driver's license is blank. The name on my mail box disappeared and the landlord almost called the cops when I was getting into my apartment. He didn't recognize me and I only stopped him from calling the police by thinking quick and telling him that I was my cousin from Los Angeles. Since I had a key, he accepted my lame story.

"Do you even know who you are? Maybe you just have a mild case of amnesia."

I know some things. I know I am a writer and I know I have published three books but my name and picture have been removed from the jackets. I googled the books and the picture of the writer is not my picture. I tried to use my ATM card and it doesn't work. All my credit cards have been erased. I have no checking account. The only money I have is from a stash I had in my apartment and that's going fast."

There I went again, going on and on like an Infomercial on late night TV. By the time I had finished that last speech I felt like a wet dish rag. I had let my back slide down the wall and I was sitting on my butt with my arms lying on my raised knees and my head bowed in defeat.

I took a deep breath and almost whispered, "That's what I mean by there is no me."

They both spoke at the same time.

Flash... "Tell us about the spirit."

Andrea... "Tell us about the books and the new author."

They looked at one another and Andrea shrugged her shoulders and said, "Let's hear about the spirit first."

I wondered if Andrea's resignation signaled that Flash was the dominant one of the two. But I hoped not. I knew I would have to tolerate her but I wouldn't be too happy if I had to deal mono-mono with her.

"What's there to tell about a spirit?"

"You saw it. It walked through you. Did you feel it? Was it male or female? Did it make any gestures? Was it cold or hot? Did you see it coming? Did you see it walk away?

I felt stupid. The woman I looked down on and thought of as "flash" was dissecting my problem with more intelligence than I was showing. Of course I had an excuse; part of my mind was missing.

I hadn't thought of any of those things. I didn't think any of that mattered? I ran her questions through my mind.

I sat on the floor and pondered her questions. Sitting down low I had a direct view of her legs. I was afraid to look in their direction but Flash wasn't flashing. She sat very properly with her legs together, pointed to the side and her skirt below her knees. I felt comfortable and began to think about her questions.

As I pondered her questions, I talked out loud.

"Yes, I saw it. It was a male and at first I thought it was just another mourner looking for a grave. He walked directly at me and as he was about to bump me I yelled 'watch it'.

I thought he was going to knock me over. But, he didn't. He just walked right through me. And, yes, I'm sure I felt a deep coldness throughout my body. I remember shivering as he walked away. I also remember feeling as though he took something but I couldn't figure out what it was. He walked away without looking back."

The two women put their heads together and began whispering. I have never figured why women do that, but they always do. The do the whisper thing and they do the bathroom thing. I've always wondered if they whisper in the bathroom.

After they finished blowing in each other's ears, Andrea Said that something was missing and she needed to make a phone call. She dialed her cell phone and in a few minutes I heard her say, "Soupy", we need your help? We have a client who has had part of his mind taken by a spirit.. Could you come over and help? Yes, a word from you might just be the clue we need to solve his problem.

Oh, you're already late for another appointment. Say that again! Late is the clue we should look for? Really!"

I could hear her voice explaining something to Andrea who was not saying anything except words like, "is that so, oh really, noooo, I can't believe it".

I was sure she was trying to tell Andrea how to solve my problem.

When Andrea hung up the phone, Flash asked her what the mystic had said.

Andrea rolled her eyes and said, "She was telling me about her cat and the neighbor's dog."

Flash smiled and said, "She's trying to tell you something. There's something about a cat and a dog and the word late....

...to be continued...unless mercifully, God sends another flood....

next ...

Is the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland the spirit that stole my mind?

Is Soupy really "Alice" reincarnated?

When they buried my wife, did she tumble down the same hole as Alice did?

Is my wife the wicked Queen?...I know I've heard her say more than once, "You need a new head".

Can the clue "late" solve our hero's problem? What about the cat and the dog?

and...is "Flash" really not so bad after all?....

or...

did I drink to much last night?...



/ / / / / / /



When last we peeked in on our little threesome, our hero was sitting on the floor bemoaning the loss of his mind.

Andrea and Flash were grilling him. They were trying to discover if what was left of his mind could remember what had happened to the missing part part of his mind.

The Soup lady had been called for her expertise on the spirits of the mystic world. She left them with what they were sure were three clues..."late - a dog and a cat"


...But first ... the answers to all of the questions I posed as I exited last week's episode is...
no, no, no...well it's actually no to all of them except maybe the one about Flash. The jury is still out on whether Flash is a bimbo.

Since I am the jury, I was going to write another story called. "I the Jury" and really get into the workings of one said "Flash".

However, I realized that Mickey Spillane beat me to the story so I could not write it.

...back to the story...


/ / / / / / / /

 "I didn't allow my mind to grow and expand. Now, it's beginning to get even."

                                                                                                  gs batty

 ...I, (still sitting on the floor and still the hero) groaned, "Just what could a dog, a cat and the word late have to do with my missing mind?"

I paused for a moment, but the ladies did not consider my question worth a response, so I continued.

"We need to find that 'evil, wicked, mean and nasty' mind stealing spirit who took my mind and take it back."

They ignored me and began a conversation of whispers.

Exasperated, I said loudly, "Are you listening to me? I came here for help. Can you speak to the the spirits and can you help me?"

Andrea smiled and made my heart jump. She also said. "I do and I can, or rather we do and we can, (she pointed to Flash and then back at herself)."

"However, you can't just text a spirit or call them or google them. You need to find them and hope they will remain in one place long enough to be interviewed. We were discussing which one of our spirit friends we should ask for help."

The phone rang and Andrea put it on speaker.

Andrea's beautiful voice said, "Johnson here, how may I help you?"

The voice on the speaker was the "Soup lady".

"I just had a strange phone call telling me not to get involved with your case but I am not one to be threatened so, I want to help you. There is one more clue that you need to know. It has to do with the word 'magical'. I cancelled my other appointment and I'm on my way over there. I have some ideas that can help and I want to personally talk to your client."

A loud scream screeched through the phone and then it was silent.

"Damn, what happened?" was all I could think of to say.

Flash outflanked me again by immediately calling the police and getting them to check on Soupy

I began to panic, thinking that now the spirits were becoming physical and were going to do more to me than steal part of my mind. But, both ladies were cool and calm.

Andrea said, "Let's just wait until we hear from the police. In the meantime we need to discuss the clues."

A strange voice chimed in from somewhere near Andrea's desk.

"I think the clues are some kind of anagram."

I looked in the direction of the voice and a ghost or spirit was sitting on Andrea's desk.

"Cataloged...that's it," the spirit yelled as if he had found gold. Cataloged, that has to be the answer!"

Andrea's nose twitched and I started to sweat.

"No, that can't be it", She said. "What if 'late' refers to someone that has left this world as in the 'late Mickey Spillane. And, I don't think the cat and dog story was a clue either. Old Soup bones was just relating a funny story. You know how she loves to make people laugh."

Flash had a grin on her face like the Cheshire Cat. She addressed the spirit on the desk.

"Mickey, Where have you been? We haven't seen you in months."

Spillane answered, "You know how it is. I've only been dead for seven years and there are a lot of people over here that I've always wanted to meet. Let me tell you something. When you join me, don't bother on looking up Genghis Khan. He's a real ass hole. He kept trying to cut off my head."

"Are you telling us that Genghis Khan still lingers in the mystic world?"

"That's right. He has the majority of Liberals and Conservatives working together to keep him out of heaven. It's the only time in history that they have done anything together."

"What brings you here?" Andrea asked him.

"Two things, first, the Soup Lady sent me to help because I startled her and she fell and sprained her ankle and second, your buddy over there is talking about stealing my story, 'I the Jury'. So I need to help you and, I need to straighten out that plagiarizing shit head on the floor."

"Wait a minute," I stammered. "I already said it was your story and I wouldn't write another one with the same title."

Andrea, raised her hand( I got hotter) and said, "Take it easy boys. Mickey, he hasn't got the brains to steal your story. J J, you need to stand up and start behaving like a man."

I felt as if my sixth grade teacher teacher had just graded one of my English papers. I also remained groveling on the floor

"Is Soupy alright?" Flash inquired. "Do you know who threatened her?"

"Sure! It was Hammer", Spillane said. "He decided he was coming out of retirement and wanted to take over the case."

"He wasn't a real person. How can he be a real spirit?"

"As long as my spirit remains in the Mystic world, he is part of me. Every once in awhile I lose control of him and he thinks he can do as he pleases. It's sort of like having a rebellious child. I had just popped in on jolly old Soupy to apologize when she tripped on one of her cats. The scream you heard was the cat, not old Soupy"

Flash smiled. My heart did not jump but my mind tuned in.

"Well, we need to solve J J's problem. Do you have any idea who may have taken his mind?"

I wondered why I bothered tuning in. Nothing prolific left Flash's lips with that phrase.

Spillane had his hand on his chin like he was playing the role Sherlock Holmes, hummed a moment and then said, "If the clues aren't an anagram and cataloged has nothing to do with this mystery, then to be honest, I'm walking down a dead end street."

A new voice surprised everyone. It was the spirit of the rebellious Mike Hammer.

"Come on Mickey, use that thing on top of your shoulders called a noodle, it was the late 'Magic Al'!"

Spillane hit his forehead with heal of his hand and said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

next week...

Come back for the last and thrilling episode...please, I beg you please...

Will the Soup lady be okay?...Will the cat be okay?"

Who is the dastardly Magic Al?...What about Genghis Khan?  Are they in cahoots? Has Mr. khan ever heard the word "cahoots"?

Why would anyone want such a weak mind like mine?...

Can a character from a book really be alive in the spirit world?...

and finally...can I write an ending under any circumstances...could this story become as famous as Schubert's "Unfinished Symphony"?...or...probably closer to Perry Como's "Dream Along with Me"


/ / / / / / / /




five - accusing

"No one has ever accused me of being a writer."

                                                        gs batty

even better...

"I've been accused of vulgarity. I say that's bullshit."

                                                      Mel Brooks

We return to the spirits of Mickey Spillane and Mike Hammer accusing one "Magic Al" of stealing our hero's mind or part of it. (strange as it seems, this line was written before the prompt was published).

"Just who in the hell is magic Al?" Flash wanted to know.

Hammer started to reply, but, our hero (still sitting on the floor) screamed, "Bullshit!"

The others were startled.

Hammer became testy. "Bullshit? What do you mean bullshit? Do you know anything about the spirit world? I do. I do, because I live there. I am the greatest detective that ever lived or didn't live and I say that the jerk that stole that pissy little mind of yours was magic Al."

Something happened to our hero. Something woke up in what was left of his mind. Something shoved his courage up his backbone where it belonged.

"You, the greatest detective? He screamed. "You're nothing but a dime novel has been. You couldn't solve a mystery case if the mighty Mr. Spillane gave you the pen and let you write whatever story ending you wanted to."

As our hero was screaming his confused guts out, he was extracting himself from the humiliation of groveling on the floor. He did not remember anyone named Magic Al, but he knew it was frong...just frigging wrong.

He screamed at the the two spirits and the two 'not spirits', "You're all frong...frong...frong...frong"

Naturally, the two real people and the two not real people considered themselves endowed with more brains than our hero so they looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. They all shrugged their shoulders, looking at one another, wondering how to respond to our mentally deficient hero. However, they couldn't find the words to respond to "frong".

Finally Spillane said, "That is a great word. I don't know what it means, but that is a great word. Do mind if I use it in my next novel?"

Now our hero shrugged his shoulders, "It means, 'frigging wrong'. It's the way we write in the 21st century. We make up whatever words we want to and then poke them in our stories to confuse people. Also, it makes people think writers are smarter than people that don't write."

Our hero paused and then added, "What kind of story are you planning on writing."

The two writers began having a writing conference right there in front of the other three, All they could do was shrug their shoulders.

Spillane shrugged his shoulders and said, "I am not sure, but I have this story jumping around inside my head about a 'Frog Singer' and frong might just be the word that sells the story."

"Frong!" Our hero informed him. I've already written that story and although 'frong' was and is a great word, it didn't sell one book."

"You need an agent. Let me introduce you to my mine," Spillane said.

"By the way, what does frigging mean?" he added.

Now our hero understood the guttural language that had taken over the literary world of today and was excited to explain it to his new found friend.

"Frigging is a substitute for 'fucking'. Fuck is a word you could not be say or write without a collective 'naughty, naughty, naughty' from all the editors, clergymen and mothers of the world.

So, they invented 'frigging' which means the same thing. Now even the most sophisticated lady in the world cannot be accused of foul language if she calls you a 'frigging' idiot.

She knows she is calling you a 'fucking' idiot. You know she is calling you a fucking idiot but it is okay because she didn't actually say that dirty foul word, 'fucking'".

"Wow," Spillane said. "Do you mean that if I were to write today I could say any thing I want to?"

"Absolutely," our hero said. There are no restrictions. We can even change the meaning of words and get away with it because no one can really prove what a words means. Is isn't is anymore.

However, there is one word that cannot be used and that is the 'N' word."

Hammer looked at Spillane. Spillane looked at hammer. They both shrugged their shoulders and then said as one, "What's the 'N' word?"

Our hero shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'm not allowed to say it or write it."

Suddenly the room was filled with a blinding light and an awesome fragrance permeated the room as the complex spirit of the late and accused Magic Al flitted into the room.

Magic Al wasn't just a spirit. He was an elevated spirit that glowed like a firefly. He flitted around the room with his butt lit up like a neon sign.

"Oh crap," Hammer said. "What's he doing here?"

"Remember, Hammer old boy," Spillane Said. "We accused him of stealing our friend's mind."

"Jesus, we don't need the spirit of a horny, 'dirty old man' flitting around our office," Flash moaned.


/ / / / / / /


next week ...who knows.. I was ready to end it this week and from the amount of readers I'm getting, maybe I should have. But, the story continues...at least one more week.

How did magic Al become a super spirit? Is he a "dirty old man" super spirit?

What is it with his butt thing?

Why is the fabulous duo of Spillane and Hammer worried?

Did they accuse the wrong "Jose"?

Is this story "fright of frong"?

Will any one of the cast of weird characters say the naughty, naughty, naughty "N" word"?

And finally...Should my license to write be revoked?

///////////

Take a break...walk around the block...clear your mind and then come back foe more

and....

          

May the balls of your feet always be soft...

  / / / / / / / / / / / /

Six - Intoxicating

...unfortunately....our story continues

"Do not cease to drink beer

to eat

to intoxicate thyself

to make love

and to celebrate the good days"

                                  Egyptian proverb

"I was intoxicated with her mind

her body wasn't bad either."

                                         gs batty

We return to the office of the beautiful Miss Johnson...

At least...I'm returning...I have to....I am the perpetrator of this farce.

If you have returned to read more...God Bless you....

Our hero (again me) is having a writers conference with the spirit of writer Mickey Spillane.

The spirit of detective Mike Hammer, the beautiful Miss Andrea Johanson and the controversial Flash are ducking the flitting form of the spirit of Magic Al whose butt is lit up like a neon sign.

Not that this comedy needs anymore strange characters but the spirit of one Johnny Cochran landed on the floor with thump and rolled to the feet of the beautiful Andrea with a groan.

Naturally, with an entrance like that, everyone assumed he was intoxicated.

Flash remarked that she had no idea that spirits could get drunk.

Johnny got up and said, "I am not drunk.  I had to come through a thunder storm to get here and it tossed me around like a rag doll.

I heard Magic Johnson calling for help and the mention of the "N" word. I want to know where Magic is and who is using the "N"word."

"Magic Al (still flitting around with his butt lit up) said, "Magic Johnson wasn't calling for help. I was and you're lucky that you didn't get hit in the butt with a lightning bolt like I did. Damn that hurts."

Cochran shrugged his shoulders, "If Magic Johnson doesn't need my help and no one's using the "N" word, then I'm out of here."

Flash laughed. "You were probably confused by the thunder and lightning. It's Magic Al and Andrea Johnson and no one is using the "N" word.

Hammer said, "Will someone please tell me what the "N" word is?

As Johnny was disappearing back into the thunderstorm he looked at Flash and said with a gleam in his eye, "You look damn good in those 'Skorts'."

Andrea said, "The 'N' word means 'neutracalafrikysupernastadocious' and that's way to long of a word for a writer to use in a story. (I snuck or sneaked out of that one.)

Our hero said, "Skorts?.. What are Skorts?"

"A Skort is a short skirt with shorts underneath," Flash said. "They're very comfortable."

Our hero, (realizing how stupid he was) hit his forehead with the palm of his hand and groaned.

His mind was looking for away to apologize. Maybe Flash wasn't Flash and if Flash wasn't Flash then maybe he should apologize. But, maybe he didn't need to. After all, someone had taken part of his mind.  How was he supposed to remember Skorts.

He decided to skirt the issue of the Skorts.

"Maybe we could back to the issue of my missing mind," he pointed out.

"Don't worry, Mr. 'nobody', you don't need to apologize." Flash said. "I've never been bothered by what or who you thought I was."

Andrea came to his rescue.

"I've been thinking about what Spillane said when he first arrived. Remember his statement about Genghis Khan. He's still bouncing around in the world of the lost. He's been blackballed from moving on. But, what if he could use someone else's I.D.

Remember how we snuck into bars with a fake I.D. or we borrowed a friend's drivers license. What if he tried to move into the next world by using the mind of someone else. In this case, J.J.'s."

Spillane had one of those 'Ah Ha' moments. "That's it! When I was trying to get his autograph he was in the act of committing the crime of "Grand Theft - Mind'. He thought I was a witness."

Our hero groaned again. "That just great. Why me? Why would he want my mind?

Magic Al had finally stopped flitting around. His butt had finally quit glowing.

"Spillane's right. I was there and I saw the whole thing. That;s why Hammer and Spillane thought I Stole your mind. When you get your mind back you will remember that we were best friends in high school. I always came to be near you when you were visiting your wife."

"That still doesn't explain why he chose me."

Flash answered his question. "When your in a cemetery your mind connects with your departed (that's dead) loved ones.  It opens a door for them to come back and visit. Unfortunately, not only the good, but the bad and the ugly can also enter that door. It's like the internet. If you don't have spirit control in effect your're inviting trouble."

"Are you saying that I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"That's part of it. But, a man like Genghis would want a man that was virile, macho, manly, strong, daring and handsome. You were perfect for him."

Our hero fell in love. He was intoxicated with her words. He eyes ceased to see the lovely and sophisticated Andrea and could only see the interesting, titillating and Skort wearing Flash. He wondered what she had on under those Skorts.

He immediately hit on her. "You never told me your name. If I knew your name then I could ask you out for dinner and a movie."

(Unfortunately the writer was not a great lover so it's going to be impossible for him to make our hero into a great lover.)

/ / / / / / / /

next week.....

Will Clint Eastwood make a guest appearance?

Will our 'good hero' confront the 'bad Genghis Khan'?

If he does...can a mere mortal take on  a spirit of the likes of the 'ugly Khan'?

Will our 'not so romantic hero' hook up with the intoxicating and exciting "what's your name again"?

Will he ever discover what's under those Skorts?

////////

Seven - Rejoice

Do not weep over what is not.

Rejoice in what could be.

                             gs batty

 If you're still here...thanks

If you have returned...double thanks

I rejoice in the knowledge that you have stuck around to enjoy the torture. And torture it will be because our hero (even though he doesn't know it yet) has a special torture planned for one Mr. Genghis Khan.

You will rejoice in our hero's plan to retrieve his mind. Unfortunately old Genghis Khan is not going to rejoice.

However, there is no rejoicing in the news about Clint Eastwood. He will not make a guest appearance.

His agent said something like, "He has gooded, badded, and uglied all he's going to".

That's not an exact quote. I can't tell you exactly what he said because his words were muffled with laughter from the background. However, I enclosed the phrase in quotes so that you would know that "gooded, badded and uglied" were not made up by me. (Now, isn't that a bunch of horse-pucky.)

Our hero has moved over next to the lady once known to him only as "Flash". Now, he can only think of her as the "Lady in Skorts". He is saying everything he can think of to apologize for his original thoughts of her. Unfortunately, he only has half a mind and that half is the half that contains the lascivious part of his brain.

The part of our hero's mind that controls sweetness and loving words is under the control of the evil Genghis Khan.

The beautiful Andrea and the spirits of Mickey Spillane and Mike Hammer are brain storming on our hero's dilemma.

Hammer sneers, "He doesn't care. Look at him. He's like a teen age boy overdosed on testosterone."

Spillane laughs, "I'm jealous. I wish I could find those feelings somewhere inside this non-vessel that is called a spirit.. Solid people call it a spirit, but I can testify there is no spirit left when they take your body away from you.  I can only look and remember. That's one reason why I don't like coming back to this world. Why, I can remember one little red haired girl that was built like…."

Andrea cut him off. "That's enough Mickey. My office isn't an outhouse."

Hammer had too put in two cents more. "I remember that girl. She was really something to whistle at. It's too bad but if you were to remove her Skorts now there would be nothing but air."

Andrea had to laugh. "I guess men never change."

Our hero returned to reality when "Flash" told him her name was Cassandra and that when his mind was returned she would agree to have dinner with him.

"But, no more," she warned him. These Skorts are never coming off.  I wouldn't even take them off for Apollo."

Hammer tried to hit his forehead with the palm of his hand but his hand just passed through his head.

"I should have known. With that red hair and those blue eyes you have to be a descendant of Priam and Hecuba."

Our hero, not very well read, scratched his head. "Who are Priam and Hecuba?"

"They were the King and Queen of Troy. I've played poker with Priam. He's a real patsy, but that Hecuba can put on one hell of a feed."

Our hero with the hot blood of an eager lover and only half a mind was sure that once his mind was returned he would charm the Skorts off of Cassandra. With a goal in mind he now turned one eye towards solving his problem. He kept the other eye on those lovely Skorts.

/ / / / / /

next -

What plan does our hero have to trick the evil Khan?

Does our hero even know the plan?

Where does Apollo fit it?

Could we be heading for as showdown between Apollo and the evil Khan for the lovely hand of the red headed, blue eyed Cassandra?

Will Apollo finally, after all these years, seduce our hero's new found girl friend?

Will our hero become a cuckold even before his rooster crows?

/ / / / /

In our next chapter, our guest writer will be the great Humpty Dumpty. coming all the way from England. If we are truly lucky, he will do his version of the "Humpty Dance" for us.
When I talked to him he said, "Humpty Dumpty is my name and wall dancin is my game. However I will write a few words for your story."


/ / / / / / /

Eight - Mysterious

"The greatest mystery on earth

is the heat created when two lovers kiss."

                                                       gs batty

"The second greatest mystery on earth

is why anyone has returned to our story."

                                                          sg beatty

It's a mystery to me

why anyone would think I can write."

                                                 Humpty Dumpty

When we left, our hero had finally learned the name of the mysterious lady in Skorts. He had also learned that his new found desire might be a direct descendant of Cassandra, the daughter of Priam and Hecuba.

Cassandra said, "Don't be ridiculous, a real human cannot be a descendant of a myth."

Hammer tried to hit his forehead with the butt of his hand again. Again, his hand went with through his spirit head.  He tried to save face with the same words people of the modern world say, "I knew that."

Spillane said, "When are you going to learn that you have no substance.  Hitting a forehead that is not there is stupid."

Our hero now fully twenty-five percent into solving his problem asked the three spirits in the room, Spillane, Hammer and Magic Al, if they thought they could get the evil Genghis khan to meet with him.

Everyone in the room wanted to know why.

"Simple," he said. "If the evil Khan does have half of my brain, I'll know it and I can challenge him to a duel. Winner takes all."

Hammer said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Spillane said, "What kind of a duel? What weapon will you use? He cannot be killed but, you sure as hell can.

"I will challenge him to a duel of the mind. Don't you see? If half of my mind is in his head, I will be able to connect with it and know every move he plans on making. He wasn't known for his mental ability."

Spillane smiled, "That's true, but don't forget he can also connect with you. It sounds pretty dangerous to me."

"I'm not sure I like the idea but I think Cassandra and I could set up that meeting," Andrea said.

"Are you sure," Cassandra said. "Genghis Khan was one of the greatest fighters that ever lived."

"That's right." our hero said, "That was when he was a mortal living on the earth. Now he is a spirit and it will be a fight of mental ability not physical ability. He has half of my mind. But, I wonder what he did the the other half of his mind. If we could find out where he parked it, I might just be able to use it to defeat him."

Hammer started to hit his forehead again but Spillane stopped him.

"You're right, Hero," Spillane said." Nobody can have a mind and a half. I've heard lots of people say... 'Why, I have half a mind to kick your butt'. I've used that one in one of my stories. But, no one has ever said... 'I have a mind and a half to kick your butt'." (That's not easy to read but work with it.)

"Is it possible to just park half of your mind somewhere?" Cassandra said.

"It has to be possible and if I can find it I will be able to use it against him," our hero said.

Andrea thought for a moment and pondered, "That's a mystery we'll have to solve before we arrange a meeting with the evil Khan. If Khan has found a way to have a mind and a half, Mr. Hero could end up with Vertigo and spinning in a White Vortex in the middle of a Wormhole in space. He won't only be stuck between our world and the spirit world; he will spin forever between two parallel universes. He could become one of the shadows that haunt everyone's nightmares."

Hammer groaned, "Wormhole, vortex, vertigo, parallel universes…what has this word come to?"

Cassandra was confused. "Do you mean that Khan was stuck in the center of the two universes and somehow has captured half of our hero's brain to help him escape?"

Magic Al, still brushing the sparks from his butt, said, "If the evil Khan stole our hero's mind at the cemetery, then he had to leave the other half of his mind there."

Our hero agreed. He thought for a moment and then said, "I remember when he was approaching me he seemed to come from a tomb upon the hill of the cemetery. At first I thought he was just a shadow moving across the lawn."

Andrea said, "We need to see the inside of that tomb. That tomb could be an entrance into a parallel universe.

Cassandra said, "I'll call a cab."

Spillane, Hammer and Magic Al said, we'll meet you there."

/ / / / / / / /

next week...

What's in the tomb on the hill?

Is that tomb really a portal into a parallel universe?

Can our hero capture the other half of the evil Khan's mind?

If he does, will he be able to use it to defeat Khan?

Should he gamble what's left of his mind and end up spinning for eternity between two parallel universes if he loses?

What happened to Humpty Dumpty?

Will the shadow of our hero visit your dreams tonight or will it be the evil Khan?

One more thing...it seems as if  Mr. Dumpty has fallen while practicing his wall dance, "The Dumpty Dance". Return to the next chapter to find out what has happened to the most famous egg that ever lived.

/  / /  / /

Nine - Creativity

We left our merry band humans and spirits on their way to the cemetery to capture the missing half of the evil Genghis Khan's mind...

When the cab hauling the humans, (our hero, Andrea and Cassandra) pulled into the cemetery, the spirits,(Spillane, Hammer and Magic Al) were sitting on head stones just outside the tomb on the hill.

Cassandra said to our hero, "Has that tomb always been decorated like that?"

Our hero, still more interested in her Skorts than anything else, had not even looked at the tomb. He also didn't bother to answer her question.

Cassandra grunted, "Jerk."

He didn't have a clue that she was upset about.

Andrea said, "Wow, what kind of creation is that?"

Our hero looked towards the tomb and stared in disbelief. When he left the cemetery the tomb appeared to be pristine white marble. Now, it looked like a train car parked on a railroad siding in East Los Angeles. In the distance it appeared to be covered with graffiti.

As they neared the building they realized that it was not covered with barrio or gangland graffiti; it was covered in the stars and crosses that was a prominent part of the Mongolian art tradition during the time of the evil Khan.

Andrea said, "It's absolutely beautiful. I wonder who created it."

Hammer said from atop the stone marker he was sitting on, "It's a challenge from Khan for the duel that Mr. smart ass here asked for."

"It's like a slap in the face with a glove" Magic Al said. "Are you really sure you want to do this?"

Our hero thought for a moment and then said, “Well I asked for the duel so I guess I have it, but now what am I supposed to do…go graffiti his tomb?

"No, dummy," Cassandra said. Desecrating tombs was a challenge of war in Khan’s day. He is just letting you know that he has accepted your challenge. He is telling you to prepare for war and like you said, it's going to be a war of the minds. It is going to be a war of creativity."

"If you're going to have any chance of defeating Khan we need to find the other half of his mind. We better start looking for it because if he shows up and you don't have it under your control you will end up spinning like a top somewhere in the middle of a black hole."

Spillane said, "I would suggest that you look inside of this Mongolian Museum.  What better place to hide half a mind."

Everyone looked towards our hero who was in the throes of hesitation. He seemed to be frozen in place and this time it wasn't because of Cassandra's Skorts.

Hammer began singing to the tune of 'Send in the Clowns'..."Isn't it rich? Aren't you a pair? You on the ground and Khan in the air. Where are the clowns? There ought to be clowns"...

 Spillane and Magic Al walked around the small tomb to see if there was another way in or to find a window or someway to peek inside. Cassandra, not one to waste time, decided to just open the door, but…she couldn't…nor, could Andrea.

Andrea asked Spillane why he didn't just glide through the walls of the tomb and check it out for them. Spillane said that they had tried to when they arrived but there was some kind of energy field that was protecting the tomb.

Our hero didn't speak or couldn't speak. He stared at the door for what seemed like an eternity. Then he began to slowly approach the door but as he reach out to touch it, it opened by itself. It didn't make a sound but slowly turned away from him revealing an inky black room with glowing object at the far end.

As he moved toward the glowing object the door shut behind him, separating him from his allies and they were no longer able to help him. He was alone with the object.

The object drew him towards it, as if he were tied to a rope. He could not stop himself nor did he want to. He was not afraid. He welcomed the challenge. He knew the object was the only road he had to retrieve his mind…be it half of Khan's mind or a portal to hell

/ / / / 

What is the fiery object in the tomb?

Is this the beginning of the end for our hero?

Will Cassandra and Andrea be able to help him?

Do those Skorts hold the secret to solving this mystery?

Have we finally moved beyond "frong" to "fright"?

…and finally some good news and some bad news… the bad…Humpty Dumpty did have a great fall…the good… but they didn't take him to the King's horses or the King's men. They took him to Chic-Filet where he was carefully put back together, fertilized, and hatched into a fine looking rooster by the name of Foghorn-Leghorn…

…there is no ugly news…unless you don't believe in Humpty Dumpty and Foghorn-Leghorn.

next week…who the hell knows…only Mrsupole…

/   /   /   /   /

Chapter Ten - Trust

Trust is what you get

when you give trust

                                  gs batty

Last week… we dealt with creativity

The evil Khan created a tomb to enshrine a mysterious ball of light. Our hero is locked

inside that tomb and he is alone with that light which drew him in like a moth to a flame.

As he slowly approached the light, his eyes began to focus to the dark. He could see that the light was not a light at all but a hovering mass of energy. It gave him the feeling of being on the edge of a steep canyon wall. The urge to touch the light was like the urge to jump from the safety of the ledge into an empty space. He could see and feel his body spinning and tumbling through an empty void.

As his hands approached the glowing energy it began to shine brighter and illuminated an inscription that was chiseled into the marble wall behind the light. He tried to read the inscription but it was in some kind of code.

He studied the code but he knew that even if he had both halves of his mind he would never be able to solve or decipher what was written on the wall.

Realizing that he would never be able to read the inscription he returned to the door but it would not open. He yelled but if anyone heard him he couldn't hear their response. He tried knocking on the door but when his knuckles touched the wood it felt soft and mushy and did not make any sound. Perplexed, he returned to the light which appeared to have acquired small energy particles orbiting around it.

Again, the light lured him. Again, it began to get larger. He felt the urge to run…but where?  He was a prisoner of the light. He couldn't run. He had no other option but to figure out what the swirling ball of energy was. He had no other option but to trust the spinning ball of energy.  He reached for it, but this time he didn't stop to read the inscription. He let his hand touch the light expecting a powerful shock…maybe even a deadly shock. But, instead of a shock he felt a surge of power began to envelop his mind and body.

He reached for the light with his other hand and cupped the light as if it were a ball in

the palm of his hands. The light became an eye. That eye became his mind. He could see the past as if it were happening at that very moment.

The power engulfed his entire body. He could actually feel his mind begin to grow larger and more powerful. The inscription chiseled in marble became clear…and ominous. It was a warning…a warning from Timujin,

The great Genghis Khan.

He read the warning several times

…"Who ever defiles the mind of Timujin…"

He cupped the light and studied the warning...”the vengeance of…one thousand asps…ten thousand horses…"  His mind whirled....when...where...how...?

At first he wanted to let the light go, to throw it somewhere, anywhere…just to get away from it.

His heart pounded as if it was pounding the beat of the ten thousand horses. His breath came as if it was the hiss of the one thousand asps. But then his fear left him. He felt a different strength, a different desire surge into his body. Somehow he was different and he knew it. Now, he had no fear of the evil Khan.

He wanted the duel with Kahn and now he had it.  But, where...when?

He turned towards the door and it was open. His allies, those that were there to help him, were standing in the light of the door waiting for him. But, he no longer needed them.

Now he was the Timujin, the almighty ruler of the universe. Our hero had become the evil Genghis Khan.

 / / / / / /

Why does our hero no longer need his allies?

Is there more to the secret code than our hero understands?

What has happened to the evil Khan?

Is the true plan of Khan unfolding before our very eyes?

Only Mrsupole knows what code still lies hidden in the tomb and only Mrsupole has the answer to what our hero will do next. We must place our trust in her to guide us.

Return next week…to find out…

But…be sure to lock your doors and be wary when you visit a cemetery.

Thank you Mrsupole…wherever you are…

and...Foghorn Leghorn is not coming to the party...says that our new Khan is too fond of chicken...

/ / / /