THE LOST CHAPTERS

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

CONFUSION REIGNS

“No! We ain’t here to rob you,” insisted the little one with the missing digits.

“Look, pal, we needed to get inside and that’s all there is to it,” said the big fellow.

I looked down my pointy nose at the pair of them. I crossed my arms across my chest and heaved a sigh in their direction.

“You are light-fingered Louie,” I told the fellow with six fingers and two thumbs. “And you,” I continued, contempt dripping from my mouth, “are Tiny Morrison, aka Howard Levine, aka Jasper Sterling. Do you need to have me list all of your aliases?”

“Jesus,” mumbled Louie, covering his left hand with his right.

“How do you know all that?” asked Tiny Morrison.

“I know,” I replied with a tight smile, “because I created you.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” said Tiny.

“Think whatever you like, I said. You came out of my unconscious mind. You are my creation, though I must say you are a flawed creation. I think Louie ought to be boss from now on.”

Louie smiled a self-conscious smile at that comment and Tiny scowled.

“I’m gonna mop the floor with you,” he said.

“You don’t have time,” I told him. “In two minutes, the police will be here, looking for you. They know about that cartoonish incident with the piano and Flo Fisher. That was stupid. If you want, I can help you get away; but you have to decide right now.”

The two hoodlums glanced at each other.

“Follow me,” I said.

The three of us walked out of my living room and into a hallway. I pulled a key from my left pant’s pocket and opened a door. We walked into my Orgone Chamber. Louie gazed around, wonderingly, at the crystalline ceiling, the crystals resting on a dozen shelves on each of the eight walls, and at the glasslike floor.

“I call this my Dream Chamber,” I told them. When I go into a somnambulistic state, my subconscious mind is able to turn thoughts and fantasies into physical manifestation.”

“I call ‘bullshit,” said Tiny Morrison.

“Whatever you say,” I replied. “but the police are here.”

On cue, there was a heavy pounding at the door the two thugs had busted down.

“Open up. Police!”

“Shall I let them in?” I asked.

“How do we get outta here?” said Louie.

“Just sit on those cushions,” I replied, waving at two circular pillows in one of the many corners.

“Just do that. I’ll take care of the rest,” I said.

Tiny Morrison pulled out a deadly looking pistol, a .45 caliber. “Maybe we’ll take you hostage,” he suggested.

“Maybe not,” I countered, ducking out of the door and locking it behind me.

‘I flipped a switch in the hall and heard an electric humming sound from inside the Chamber.

Then, I yelled, “Coming,” and headed to the door and the policemen.

Three flummoxed-looking police officers were already halfway inside my apartment. One of them was balancing the door with one hand, keeping it from falling over.

“What’s going on, here?” he asked.