EVERYTHING'S BROKEN

or is it?

Two criminals, Tiny Morrison and Light-fingered Louie, watched a woman get murdered.

She had ratted on them and put them in prison for five years.

Meanwhile, in a nearby apartment, a scientist (the narrator) is working on a gizmo that will allow him to travel to the 5th dimension.

I was sitting in my library, meditating on the wonder of YHWH, the Great I Am, the one-in-all, the all-in-one, the creator of the universe, time, and every thought and experience of all sentient beings throughout all time. I was pondering how He existed in all things and how He could be both good and evil.

But, even as I dwelt within that thought, I knew that it was true and that, even as civilizations evolve, grow, become great, and then fall into decadence and ruin, so it is with humankind, so it is with all of creation. Life and death exist as one. Without the rot of decomposition, new life would never come to be.

I was, as always when I abandoned my meditation, in equal balance, in samadhi, in that place where, for a short time in the seventies, I would have to take LSD to find it. But that was far in my future. Still, I questioned why it was and what cataclysmic event would have to shake my faith and my serenity to lead me to depend on chemicals to find that which was in myself and that resided in all people at all times.

I shook myself, stretched, rolled to my knees, lifted my zafu off the floor, and placed it lovingly in the closet.

With a crash, the back door burst open, the deadbolt ripping off the strike plate and a large chunk of the door jamb.

In a flash, two unkempt men had entered my apartment. The one whose boot had destroyed the entryway, stumbled inside. He banged his shoulder into the closet directly across from the door. His companion, a smaller man with only three fingers on his right hand, slid in, snakelike, waving a heavy-looking pistol in my direction.

“Shaddup, and you won’t get hurt,” said Tiny Morrison.

Chapter 3

A BAT FLEW IN

A bat flew in with those two gangsters. Dammit. “Shut the door”, I said. Louie was taken aback. He pushed the door back in place & tried to press the broken chunks of wood from the dooorjam in place. The bat was fluttering madly about, its crazy movements exaggerated by the bright light in the kitchen. It flew over Tiny Morrison and he swatted at it with his hat.

“You two sit down in the living room and let me get that damned thing,” I said.

I chased it around with a trout landing net, swinging hard, hitting things, breaking things. It flew into the living room. Both the gangsters ducked and covered their heads with their hands as it spun through the air. I ran into the living room. It was not in sight.

“Help me find it”, I said.

“What’ll we do if we find it,” asked Louie.

“Oh, jeez. Swat it with a rolled-up magazine. Here.” I handed Morrison a tennis racket. “Try not to break anything.”

Louie rolled up a magazine and both of the criminals made, what seemed to me, half-hearted efforts to locate the flying rodent.

“Look behind the curtains,” I ordered.

Both men timidly lifted the curtains and made cursory and unsuccessful efforts to locate the little monster.

“You two are useless,” I said, as I circled the room, staring up towards the ceiling, watching the manic shadows from this most recent home invader.

The two criminals, brazen and brave when it came to destroying my property and my peace of mind, shuffled around, clearly worried that they might actually come across the beast.

I pulled on the curtain rod and the bat flew out, once again diving and shooting hither and thither.

I finally snagged it in the net and carried it to the door. It now was tamed and hid in the folds of the net.

I turned the net inside-out and boosted the flying rat out the door.

“Nice job,” said Tiny Morrison. “Why didn’t you answer the door?” he asked.

The chunk of wood with the chain lock hung from the door.

I went in search of some wood glue and duct tape. Once I found them, I applied the glue to the door frame and pressed the tape over it.

I wiped my forehead. I’d worked up quite a sweat.

“So, what is it you two want? Are you here to rob me?”

Chapter 4

Chapter 7

ChaPter 8

I waited, scarcely daring to breathe, crouching, alone in those rows of strangely alien plants, those allegedly heirloom tomatoes, with their curlicue vines, the giant fruit Laying heavy on the ground, their mis-shapen forms, their meaty bodies, squirming to be picked. I waited for the aliens to come and inspect. I had already signed and initialed the hundred-or-so ? forms that were required, documenting that each row of plants was certified as insect-free and chemical-free. These were, in fact, organic and pesticide-free, grown without aid of anything besides water, sunlight, and fresh air. But, as I waited, scared out of my skin, in the greenhouse, I remembered that the seeds were not from Earth – even as our ancestors were not of this Earth. I had to see THEM. AND THEN I COULD HEAR THEM APPROACHING. THEIR VOICES LIKE THE VOICES OF LOCUSTS…..In my dream, I'm signing and initialing these cards on row after row of heirloom tomatoes that I've grown for my space-alien Overlords, certifying that these creepy looking vines and giant, meaty tomatoes are pesticide-free and Organic, when, while crouching, hiding, hoping to catch a glimpse of these things that gave me the seeds, I hear their locust-like voices and hear the tread of the clawed feet  on the dry soil of the greenhouse.