HIS SCATTERBRAIN THEORIES
The Door Opens
by Flash Young
Demo
was dismissive about any further effort involved in explaining himself. It
would never work. No need to think otherwise. And yet, there it was, the
unusual, the atypical, the abnormal, the absurd. Shouldn’t he be talking to
someone?
Like
this recent wharf incident. Would anyone want to know about that? But then,
times were stressful and busy and folks were kind of up tight. It wasn’t that
easy to get people’s attention. That was a different
He
had been crouching down behind a 55 gallon metal drum located at the corner of
the shed, next to a drain pipe. In fact his hand was holding onto that drain
pipe, which was the gist of his error.
He
thought his observation of the two men loading the bags into the trunk of the
black limousine was an act of unnoticed bravado of the type perfected and
practiced by private detectives, double agents, undercover sleuths and Dicks of
all types. The distance between them was too far to make much sense of what
they were saying. The revelation they were talking about him came a little too
late.
“I’d
like to see you do it I really would.”
“You
think I won’t. Is that what you think?
“Well,
you can’t put the milk back in the bottle after you have dumped it all out on
the dock. You know that as well as I do.”
“What
does that mean? That I am not going to do it, right?”
At
this point the second fellow held up the electrical wire that ran from where
they were standing, next to the car, into the warehouse where it was tied into
the electrical box on a 220 circuit.
“So
what if it kills him?” Asked the first.
“Life
is full of little annoyances. What is one more mess to clean up?”
That’s
all he said as he touched the wire against the down spout next to where they
were standing. The crackle and spark at their end was amplified by the sudden
spastic jerks and uncontrolled bodily extensions of our friend over by the rain
barrel, as his hand grasp more firmly to the thing it abhorred.
The
overhead security light flickered and then continued to cast long spindly
shadows across the large parking lot and onto the wooden dock that jutted out
into the harbor. The peaceful sound of a foghorn could be heard in the distance
as the two men piled into their car and Demo slumped to the ground.
“So
am I dead?” he asked, opening his eyes into the faces of the two men peering
down. One whose kindly head was directly above him. The other, with eyebrows
raised, came peering over the first man’s shoulder.
“Oh
no. Not dead exactly. Death is so final. Really quite old fashion I should
say.”
“Yes,
like typewriters or black and white video.” Came the voice from behind in eager
support.
“I
think they call it television, AP”
Demo
cocked his head and peered around the room. “Well, if I am not dead, then where
am I.”
“You
are here. For now anyway.” the kindly older man said, looking down at Demo from
under the rims of his glasses.
Demo
tried to recall the last memory he had had before this. Nothing came up except
the puzzling impression he had been here before. His right hand was tingling.
“You
have had quite a jolt.” Mr. Sealth said the older man.
“Ha
ha. That’s a good one, Sire. Got a kick out of life you might say. Huh?
“That’s
enough Aparaclese.” The older man said, holding his hand up to his assistance.
He then turned back to Demo.
“Yes,
well we have several options currently available to us. The first is always to
put you back where you left off. Let you get up, dust yourself off and limp off
on your way.”
“Just
as if nothing happened. Right Mr. Heaven?”
“Right
you are AP. Or, we can have you return with a little more drama. Ambulances,
blue and red lights, that sort of thing.”
“And
lots of white gauze, Mr. Heaven. Don’t forget that. Plastic tubes and
electronic gadgetry on the walls. Stainless steel roll-away carts. We can give
him the works.”
Mr.
Heaven looked askance at his assistant once more, then back to Demo. “We call
that a near death or life altering experience.”
“That’s
it. It changes everything. And, as we all know he likes nurses. Eh, Mr. H.
Shall I get out the white light?“
Demo
looked around quickly with growing unease.
“Hold
on there my boy, no need to rush. Come to think of it, this might be the time
to be sending him up the next rung up the ladder.”
“Wait
a minute. Wait a minute” Demo held up his hand. “What rung. What ladder? What’s
going on?”
It
may prove important to note at this juncture that during those insidious
moments when time goes away and we find ourselves locked in another dimension
that finding our way back out the same way we came in is by no means a
guaranteed provision.
Assume,
as you may, that a life line extends out the other side of a paranormal
experience the same way it came in, the simple fact is, this is just not the
case. Science can insist all it wants that you must pass through a fallopian
tube to begin a new life or to enter this world. Bah. Science, when it comes
down to it is just another set of assumptions.
Lives
start up and end at every stage of the game. Don’t expect to go out the same
way that you came.
“The
thing to remember Mr. Sealth.” The older man peered down at Demo. “You need to adapt to your environment. Make
the most out of the cards you are dealt. No one can ask any more of you than
that.” Here he reached out and offered Demo his hand.
Demo
pulled himself up to a sitting position, swinging his legs around over the edge
of the couch. “So, does that mean I get to go back where I was?”
“Hmmm, that is the question, isn’t it? Aparaclese what do
you say. Didn’t I say I was going to let you decide the next one?”
“I say No.” responded Heaven’s assistant and with that
turned out the lights.
Demo came-to riding in the back of a pick up truck driving
too fast down a dirt road on the east side of Loredo. Only this time someone
kept calling him Henry.
“Henry, Henry.”
“Huh. You talking to me?”
“No, I’m talking to the sage brush. You damn fool.”
“I was just sort of day dreaming I guess.”
“Seems like you been this way a lot lately. What’s got into
you?”
“I think it’s the girl. Isn’t she missing?” He asked in a
daze and with that the truck veered off the road and into a pole throwing Henry
out of the back and into a fall that landed him on the top of his head,
breaking his neck.
“Now then, putting you back after an accident like that
would make no sense at all, don’t you think?
Demo’s eyes were opened wide and terrified, his hand was up
to his neck. Once again he was looking into the gentle gray eyes of Mr. Heaven.
Once again he was on his back on the same therapist’s couch he had been on just
a few moments before. He could feel himself pressing into that couch like an
astronaught being propelled into space, and approaching mach 3. A slight film
of moisture was gracing his forehead, while the sweat came pouring from under
his arms.
Both
Mr. Heaven and his assistant were wearing lab coats this time. Aparaclese held
a clipboard and a pen in his hand. Mr. Heaven looked down at him from over the
top of his glasses.
“You watch TV don’t you?” he inquired.
“I think so. A little” Demo responded hesitantly
“You know how they break away just as the hero gets into a
jam?
“That’s how we work.” Aparaclese jumped in. “I mean, where
do you think they come up with this crap?”
Mr. Heaven wagged his finger at his assistant, while shaking his head in
an aire of frustrated disgust.
“I don’t know” Demo responded with some trepidation. “But
how do I get out of here?
“Well, its my turn now that Aparaclese has had his little
demonstration. Made his point, no doubt” Here he looked over his glasses again,
this time at Aparaclese who was gleefully nodding his head.
“Remember Mr. Sealth, play the hand you are dealt. Can you
recall where you were?”
“I
was down at the wharf, I was trying to get closer to …..”
“Well,
that’s where you are now.”
As Demo finally came to, his memory was cleared. Gone, too
were the men and the limousine. Only the
shadows from the security light and the sounds from the foghorn remained.
He pulled himself up off the asphalt rubbing his right hand
and arm as he attempted to regain some strength in his legs. He stooped as he
limped forward like an old codger of eighty.
When he put his hand to his chin he found a two day old
beard. He must have been there a long time, he thought to himself. Shouldn’t
someone have found him during the day? What day was it, anyway? he wondered, as
he slowly eked out his path leading away from the wharf.
The pieces continued to slowly fall back in place as he
ambled up
Back in his apartment after briefly considering calling
someone for help he soon became lost in his memories of how the whole thing had
started.