The Five Minute Manfred; FFF #29

"I said that you don't have to believe me, and I certainly wouldn't...if I were in your shoes," Eion paused to puff at his cigar, "but I have seen Manfred's ghost in this very room every night for two weeks now and if you wait long enough, you will see him too."

James tossed the butt of his cigarette into the grate and sat back to look his companion over. "You can't be serious, Eion old friend. That is the biggest load of tommy rot I've ever heard! You tell me you're seeing ghosts now? I know that Manfred's death was a shock to you and that he'd been with the family for years, but when you say you are seeing spirits of the dear departed in your library, my first thought is that you have gone barking mad!"

"Which is precisely why I invited you over. I need a sceptic, a non-believer. When I saw you at the club tonight, it was as if fate had placed you in my hands. Now at your elbow is a fine bottle of port and some glasses. Let's have a nip and enjoy another cigar. Manfred doesn't appear until 9:45 so I have thirty minutes to lay the facts before you."

"If you must," said James with a sigh as he handed Eion a glass, "but in this enlightened age it seems silly to sit and chat about ghosts and bogey men."

"Nonetheless," Eion began as he pulled out his pocket notebook, "I must insist or I will never know peace in this house again." He ran his pencil down the page and ticked off points as he hit them, "On February 28, I left home to attend to business out of town, leaving Manfred here at home alone. I was only going to be gone for a couple of days and Manfred was going to stay here, polish the silver and finish a book of poems that his sister had gotten him for his birthday. On March 2, I received a telegram from the local police saying that my house had been burgled and Manfred had been found dead. The constable explained that the milkman had found him. He found the door ajar and entered, calling for Manfred all the while. He found him here, in the library, struck dead with the fireplace poker. The house had been ransacked and my mother's jewels were missing, as well as the silver and one pillow case. The pillow case was presumably stolen to carry away the silver. The constable was certain that Manfred had surprised the burglar and his death wasn't premeditated as the weapon was simply what came to hand."

Eion paused to relight his cigar and glanced at the clock before continuing, "For the next three days I was busy arranging the funeral and never entered this room. On Monday, March 5, I buried poor Manfred. That night I was restless but I couldn't bring myself to go out. At eight-thirty or so, I came to the library, lit a fire to drive away the damp, and sat back with a cigar and a glass of the very port we are drinking. I tried to distract myself with a book but after a page or two, I realised I was reading Manfred's poetry book and it made me feel even worse. I blew out the lamp and sat by the glow of the fire. I looked at the clock on the mantle and it was a quarter 'til ten. I was about to get up and throw one more log on the fire when I noticed Manfred standing just to the left of the fireplace. I saw him just a plainly as I see you now. He was no mist or floating bed sheet. He didn't have a strange glow or sport a halo. He was just as real as when I'd left him."

"Did he say or do anything?" James asked, trying to hide his smirk behind his glass.

"I was so startled, I left the room. I dashed to the kitchen and splashed my face with water. In five minutes or so, I returned and he was gone. The next night I waited up for him and at exactly 9:45, there to the left of the fireplace was my man Manfred. He was dressed in the black suit he aways wore, but his tie was missing and his collar was undone as if he was getting undressed for bed. His face was a little flushed and his hair was a little rumpled, but other than that, he looked as right as rain. He didn't speak and he didn't move for the next three minutes. I called out to him and he smiled as if he recognised me. He bent as if to stoke the fire, then his face took on a worried look. He looked up in anguish and disappeared. Every night since then, I have sat here and watched the scene repeat itself over and over again. At 9:45 he appears. At 9:48, he smiles. At 9:49, he stokes the fire, then he looks worried. At 9:50, he's gone." Eion closed his notebook and emptied his glass. He looked at James and waited for him to speak.

"There is no variation to it? He never does anything else? Have you tried to touch him?"

"My hand passed right through him and he looked a solid as this table. Last night I got the idea that since he was so intent on fussing with the fire in the five minutes that he is here, I thought I would help him. As he reached for the poker, I moved to put another log on the fire. He looked at me and shook his head no. Then he took on the same worried look and disappeared. That is why I need you here tonight. I need to know if you see him too. It's 9:38 by the mantle clock. The fire has burned down a bit. Let's just sit back in silence for a few minutes and see what happens."

James lit a cigarette from his new gold case, stared into the fire and wondered how his friend had gone so completely off his rocker. The mantle clock chimed the quarter of the hour. James looked at Eion. His face was filled with expectation. James returned his gaze back to the fireplace and there stood Manfred, exactly as Eion had described him.

The lit cigarette that fell from Jame's lips made an uncomfortable hot spot in his lap and reminded him that he wasn't dreaming. When he had managed to crush it out, he saw Manfred turn and smile at his master. Then he picked up the poker and leaned over to stoke at the fire. He seemed to be making a sweeping motion with it as if to brush the coals aside. Then Manfred raised his head from his task and his face was overcome with terror. He looked as if he had seen his doom. In an instant, he was gone.

"You saw him too, didn't you?" Eion smiled as he broke the silence. James found himself trembling and his breath short.

"I don't know what I saw, but by God, it sure looked like Manfred!" he gasped.

"I noticed something this evening that hadn't struck me before," Eion said, "He doesn't seem to be trying to build the fire up. He seems to be trying to put it out." Eion leaped to his feet and dashed out the door. In a few minutes, he returned with two pitchers of water. The steam rolled off the fire with a hiss. "Bring the lamp over here James." Eion crouched in front of the fireplace and shifted the wet ashes from side to side. "These ashes haven't been emptied since I've been home. Wait. Look there. The soot by the damper has been disturbed."

Eion reached up into the chimney and drew out a slightly charred canvas bag. He spilled it's contents on the hearth. Diamond earrings and gold broaches nestled in the loops of a long string of pearls. "My mother's jewels!" Eion exclaimed, "Dear Manfred must have hidden them from the thief. He has been trying to point them out the whole time! Dear old Manfred. Dear sweet Manfred..."

"Yes, you can thank him in the afterlife," James said coolly as he rested the cocked pistol against Eion's head. "The both of you were supposed to be out of the house that night."

Doc

A Patriot's Act

Something interesting happened to me Thursday night in the bakery. I went to answer the ring of the bell that sits on our counter to signal that a customer needs service. There stands a tall, well-built gentleman in his late fifties to mid sixties who covers his salt and pepper hair with a ball cap that reads "Marines". He asks politely for some apple fritters. As I bag them up, I ask him, "Were you in the Marines?"

"Yes," he says softly.

"Well for what it's worth, a grateful citizen says thank you."

He looks at me for a half a minute in silence. "Why do you say that?"

"Because of you, I get to enjoy the freedoms I have." I hand him his doughnuts and he nods his thanks. I return to the back room where some ten dozen cupcakes are waiting to be iced and sprinkled. I just get my gloves back on when the bell rings again.

I go out and a woman is a step or two away from the counter and moves up quickly to get her sweets. Just as she opens her mouth, The old Marine walks back. "Pardon me," he says to the woman, "I just have a question." She nods and begins counting in her head how many Smiley cookies she is going to need.

He stands up straight, squares his shoulders, and looks me in the eye. "I've been out for forty years, and no one has ever said that to me. I've been spit on..." he trails off as something gets caught in his throat that my or may not be a bit of a sob. "Thanks," he mutters and moves away in some haste, as if a few old memories had come to mind. I hope they weren't bads ones.

If I haven't said it before, I'm saying it now. To that old Marine and all those who serve, a grateful citizen says thanks.

Doc

The Civilizing Effects of Beer

**Editor's Note** I'm all about recycling, so here is the first post I ever published.

"Enkidu, a shaggy, unkempt, almost bestial primitive man, who ate grass and could milk wild animals, wanted to test his strength against Gilgamesh, the demigod-like sovereign. Taking no chances, Gilgamesh sent a (prostitute) to Enkidu to learn of his strengths and weaknesses. Enkidu enjoyed a week with her, during which she taught him of civilization. Enkidu knew not what bread was nor how one ate it. He had also not learned to drink beer. The (prostitute) opened her mouth and spoke to Enkidu: 'Eat the bread now, O Enkidu, as it belongs to life. Drink also beer, as it is the custom of the land.' Enkidu drank seven cups of beer and his heart soared. In this condition he washed himself and became a human being. "

From the epic Sumerian tale of Gilgamesh, circa 3rd millennium, B.C.

Let us, for a moment, take a look at this ancient story from before the advent of the written word, Dear beer lovers. After reading this, and mind you, this is just me talking here, but it only took beer and prostitutes to civilize this poor, backward creature of Enkidu. Wow! And all this time I have been grossly mistaken as to what it takes to create a civilization.

I mean really, Enkidu must have been a mess when this unknown prostitute (let’s call her Trixie) found him in the wild, living on grass and the milk of whatever he could catch. This sounds like some nightmarish celebrity diet that would be recommended in the tabloids.

STAR JONES SEZ “I LOST 36 LBS. ON THE ENKIDU DIET AND I FEEL GREAT!”

But, in spite of his appearance, cause he had to be one ripe and awful looking chump, Trixie agrees to give old Enkidu a whirl ‘cause she has a code of honor to live up to, like Angel-eyes from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. (“When I get paid, I always see the job through.”) Not only does she give him a whirl, but more than one apparently, she stayed for a week, and taught him the ways of the “civilized” world. You got to admire the girl’s grit. Would you take a scabby, homeless man to bed for money then stay for a week to teach him which was the salad fork, to not fart at the table, and what opera was all about? I know. Me neither. Could this be the first appearance of the stock character, the whore with a heart of gold? Perhaps.

But let us delve a little deeper into Enkidu. This guy may have been raised by wolves/badgers/or gorillas in the mist (not very likely ‘cause how would he have learned to milk wild animals from them) but he listens to Trixie and takes her advice to heart. She gives him a slice of toast and some beer, (well, not just some beer, it takes more than a six pack,) but suddenly his heart soars and he realizes what a wretch he has been up to this point. He goes from smelly, crazed, grass-eating hermit dairy farmer to strong, enlightened man about town. Not only that, but I’m certain that she probably had to give a crash course in the birds and bees department. (I’m sure that little tidbit of info was not a hard lesson to sell. I mean, come on, he has been alone a long time and how has he spent his time? Milking the beasts of the wild. He probably started by trying to milk her. She would then give him some step-by-step instructions using a stick to draw in the sand. Hey, that’s how I learned. What? Didn’t everyone?)

So now we have this new and improved Enkidu, transformed by a sandwich and a couple of 40’s, and what does he do with this new insight? He hops into the bath and becomes a human being. Why, you might ask, is his conversion from wild man to a suave Beau Brummel so complete? Well, isn’t it obvious? He did it all for the nookie and the beer. The same reason that so many young men leave the life of carefree bachelor for the warm, comfortable existence of married life.

Dear and Gentle Reader, make no mistake, the civilizations of past and present were not built for the purposes of mutual protection, economic growth, a reliable food source, a stable system of justice, and the furthering of the species. No, you poor misinformed fool. Throw out these textbook answers that were handed to you, enmasse, by your world history teachers and step into the light of knowledge. Go on. It won’t hurt. Civilization was founded on the premise of securing the steady supply of beer and nookie. Face it, if there was no beer and no nookie, we would all be wearing plaid shirts and khakis, and beating animals and each other with sticks. Look into your own heart and tell me it ain’t so.

I know I will not garner the esteem and respect of the learned academic community by committing this to paper, or most women for that matter, but your average man-in-the-street would at least give this theory a grudging acceptance. Let’s face it Gentlemen, women are truly the civilizing influence in society and beer is the wonderful elixir that helps to temper our more base impulses. Would Hitler have been the world-menacing tyrant that he was if his buddies had bought him a few rounds of bock and turned him loose with the St. Paulies Girl? (Lets face it men, that girl is stacked!) Would Napoleon have brought the western world into a smoking ruin with his French war-machine if Josephine had merely taken the brandy from his hand and replaced it with a cold Corona beer w/ lime and set out some decent nachos for a long weekend of getting his freak on? Would the Roman Empire still stand today if Caesar had a couple of frosty Coors to hand around to Brutus and company before they slipped off to the temple of Bacchus for the mid-March orgy? Could Moses have gotten the children of Israel out of Egypt, without all of the first-born son stuff, if he and Pharaoh had hashed things out over a couple of Guinness’s and gone on a double date with some nice Jewish girls?

The world will never know for sure, but I’d like to think that, perhaps, with a little bit more affection and maybe some cold frosty ones,We, as a species, could overcome our differences, put down our weapons of war, and live in peaceful harmony, and get down to the truly important problems of the world: hunger, poverty, ignorance, and how to make a good beer that does not compel you to do stupid things and have to pee a lot.

Doc

If I Traveled Time...

If I traveled time, I would screw things up left and right. For example:

Copernicus would never face house arrest.

Lincoln would have skipped the theater and told his wife to shut the f*ck up.

Jesus would have the number four top rated video on Youtube right after that cat that barks like a dog.

We would have had Al Gore put our surplus in a lockbox after he won the election.

The World Wars wouldn't have happened because Mythbusters was on.

My mom wouldn't have had a stroke because they would have caught it in time.

My wife wouldn't have dated any losers before me.

Fast food would retain some quality and it's workers would have a sense of pride.

I would be able to hang out with Robert Ruarke, Ronnie James Dio, and Charles Nelson Riley.

I could eat animals that weren't extinct.

Borders could be redrawn and soldiers would only have to help fill sandbags to fend off bad storms and deliver stuffed animals to kids.

No one would go hungry and the very least of us would have to pick through Jenny Craig low fat meals.

Gold would only be used for teeth and not stored in Fort Knox.

Every square inch of the world that wasn't being used would grow walnut trees as I like walnuts.

America would become the world leader in bicycle production.

Every major town in the world would have a fountain the was filled with beer and conflicts would be resolved by who had the better beer.

Sir Walter Reighly would have sent more whiskey back rather than tobacco.

All the women and slaves of the world would stand up at once and form a union.

Countries would pride themselves on the quality of shoes they made.

The only thing a child would have to work at was being a good adult.

In the Olympics, there would be a medal for brewing, lying, and housekeeping.

There would be lots of whales, buffalo and rhinos.

The common cold, cancer, and bad teeth would be replaced by hangovers as mankind's biggest problem.

Every kid everywhere would start life with a 64 box of crayons and health care.

Vegetarians would eat well and cows would volunteer to give up some of their own for the sake of feeding the carnivores.

Lead would only be used to make batteries and not used to sling at people you don't know regardless of their color or creed.

Public education will teach kids what they need to know.

Pearls will become cheap as every oyster will have one and our oceans won't be full of our trash.

And while I'm wishing, I'd like for everyone to have a pony that they can ride to work.

Be safe out there,
Doc

The Open Door - or- The Story I Didn't Post In Time For Flash Fiction Friday

"The trouble with me is that I never realise how deep in the shit I am until I'm choking on the stuff!" thought Paul as he ran screaming for his life.

He had rented a little house in the country for a few months to just get away for his health. The doctor had recommended complete rest after his break down and the quiet country air seemed to be the best medicine. Paul looked forward to catching up on his reading and sleeping in for a change.

The first week, Paul lounged about in his pajamas and ate and slept when he felt like it. He barely moved from the overstuffed sofa unless he was getting another bowl of cereal or topping off his cup of coffee. He read from the dozens of novels that he had brought and tried not to think about his grief.

His wife, two kids, and his parents had gone on vacation to the islands, but because of a snafu at work, he had to stay behind. Three days after they had been gone, he heard about the earthquake. He tried to call but couldn't get an answer. The island authorities assured him they were doing all they could to find his family, but the damage was extensive and manpower was short. For a week he drove himself mad with worry. Then the call came, they had been found. The coffins would be shipped home in a week.

Paul lost his senses and folded into a catatonic state that was only punctuated by crying jags. His stay in the hospital was long enough that he missed the funerals. When he regained himself, two months had passed. Then came the prescription for rest.

Paul watched it rain for the next week and he got cabin fever. So when a nice bright day dawned, he set out on a hike. The rolling hills were filled with birdsong and the damp morning air felt good as Paul ambled through the woods. He wandered until he realised that he wasn't at all sure he could find his way back. The wind picked up and Paul started to get cold and hungry.

He continued walking until he stumbled upon a log cabin in a clearing. Not knowing what else to do, he knocked at the open door. A girl of fifteen greeted him and introduced herself as Delia. Paul explained that he was lost and was looking for someone who could help him find his way back. "Oh, well I'm sure mama could help you but she went out to drop off some canned goods to the neighbor. She'll be back in a half an hour. Would you like to wait?" she said with a smile.

She offered him a seat by the fire and brought him some hot coffee. The fire was warm and bright but the wind still blustered in the open door. Paul suggested that the cabin would be warmer if the door were closed.

"Oh no. Mama wouldn't like that," she said and her face took on a grave look, "You see, Mama always keeps the door open so she can watch for Papa to come back from hunting."

"How long ago did he leave?" Paul asked.

"A year ago today," Delia said softly. "He went out to the marshes to see what he could find for the stew pot. He put on his yellow raincoat and his plaid huntin' cap and went off early one morning. It had been raining a lot, just like it has been, and parts of the marsh that had always been safe before now were swamp. Papa didn't see that in the early morning light," she looked down at her feet, "The bog, it just swallowed him up. Ever since then, Mama won't let me close the door. She says that she needs to watch for him to come home. She's a little touched now, what with Papa bein' gone and all." Delia shook her head to cast off her gloomy thoughts and offered him some more coffee.

Paul was more than a little startled when a middle aged woman in overalls and rubber boots darkened the open door. "Hello, and who might you be?" she said warmly. Paul explained his plight and the woman nodded. "So you're the one who moved into the old Hoover place. Sure, I'll be glad to walk you to the main road and you can find your way from there. I just have to wait for my husband to come home from huntin' as I don't like to leave Delia alone for too long as she tends to get up to mischief." The woman settled into the other chair by the fire and rolled a cigarette, all the while watching through the open door over Paul's shoulder. "He should be back any minute," she reassured him but her gaze never wavered and here eyes seemed to glaze as her mind drifted to something else, "He's been gone long enough that he ought to have a nice bag of ducks for supper tonight. You ever eat fresh duck cooked over an open fire mister?" she asked in a far away voice.

Paul's voice cracked a little, "Miss, I thought that your husband was de-"

"Oh here he comes now," she pointed at the open door. Paul turned and looked out into the treeline and a figure clad in a yellow raincoat and a plaid cap was moving slowly towards the cabin. The shotgun in it's hand seemed to gleam despite the misty fog that had settled in. Paul's rattled nerves couldn't take the strain. He dropped his cup and ran as far and as fast as his legs would carry him. He never looked back for fear of seeing the long dead hunter behind him.

Delia smiled. She loved to have strangers in the house so she could make up a new story for them. The people of the hills love to tell a good story, even if it ain't true.

Doc

**Author's Note** I didn't finish in time to have this published on Tuesday as I worked all weekend. I hope you enjoy it.

Downbound Train

The boiler was filled with lager beer
The devil himself was the engineer,
The passengers were most a motley crew,
Some were foreigners and others he knew.
Rich men in broadclothe and lost beggars in rags
Handsome young ladies and wicked old hags.

"Downbound Train", by Chuck Barry, was released in December 1955 as the B Side of "No Money Down."

I just love this song. I don't know why. Maybe it is because the stranger learns his lesson about lager beer. The video is pretty cool too...

HEY, EVERYBODY!!! IT'S YOUR UNCLE RALPH CHIMING IN FOR A SUNDAY AM!!!

Oh, goodness, it's UNCLE RALPH again!! And this time he's pissed!

CREDITS:
Flannery Alden, Scripts & Creative Design
Doc, Director & Wardrobe
Cap'n Ergo Jinglebollocks, Vocals

UNCLE RALPH CHIMES IN-- REDEUX!!!!

Ladies n' gentlemens, gather 'round your PC for a good ol' fashinoned yarn Your Uncle Ralph has decided to grace us all with His presence!!


CREDITS:
Flannery Alden, Scripts & Creative Design
Doc, Director & Wardrobe
Cap'n Ergo Jinglebollocks, Vocals

Nothing Beats A Good Head Job

On Easter Sunday I did something I have never done before. I was the designated driver. This was a new role for me as I'm usually the one in the back seat, reeking of beer and screaming for White Castle hamburgers. We had Easter dinner at a Mexican place called Don Pablo's as nothing says the Resurrection of Christ quite like Mexican food.

Donna, my mother in law, had two Tijuana Teas (tequila & iced tea) and Flannery had a pitcher of sangria (red wine with fruit juice). Donna can hold her own when it comes to wine, but mixed drinks go right to her head. Flannery is the original cheap drunk and half a beer is enough to make her loopy. She had four or five sangrias and developed that familiar twinkle at the corner of her eye that tells me she has had a little too much.

We finished our meal when Donna said she wanted to go to Bed, Bath, & Beyond. My father in law didn't want to go so he would take the kids back to the house and I volunteered to drive them as I only had water with lunch. They didn't have the beer I wanted and I wasn't going to drink the swill they had on tap.

I had never been to Bed, Bath, & Beyond as that isn't really my idea of shopping. If I'm shopping, it's for new boots, britches, or beer. I am a man of simple needs and very little means, so my shopping is infrequent and selective. Now this place is geared to a woman's tastes and that obvious from the moment you walk in. The only thing masculine in the place is the variety of towels with sports team logos on them.

In five minutes, I have walked the entire store and seen everything there is to see. I have read the dirty novelty cards and looked over the overpriced lawn furniture. I was surprised to see that they had an extensive selection of condoms. I didn't know that Trojans came in so many varieties. They had a His/Hers two pack of lube for seventeen dollars that seemed like the perfect gift for the couple who have everything. Apparently this is the Beyond part of the store's name.

For the next two hours, my tipsy wife and drunken mother in law oohed and fingered every damn thing in the store. I found a demonstrator model of a back massager and watched an infomercial for a bowel cleaner called Colon-Blow. They kept showing the nasty sludge that this miracle product would make shoot out of your butt, all for the cut-rate price of fifty dollars. No thanks.

Which brings me to my title. We also got a new shower head for the master bath. It took longer to remove it from it's package than it took to install. I thought the back massager in the store was awesome but the new shower head borders on uphoria inducing. I could almost hear the music from a douche commercial playing in the background as I froliced under the orgasmic jets of H2o.

I guess this means I'm going to clean up my act.

Somewhat.

Doc

The Master Of Lunacy FFF #27

Four words: Cache, Cashew, Eschew, & Through.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Mr. Burlington frantically thought as he followed the orderly down the bright salmon colored hallway, "Please let me be sane! Or at least be able to convince Dr. Shaw!" The orderly ushered him into the wood paneled office and asked him to take a seat and the doctor would be right with him.

Burlington sat in the overstuffed leather chair across from the large desk and waited. He stared out the window at a walnut tree and the two chickadees that were flitting through it. They seemed to be in love. There was a nest they were building on the nearest bow. He tried to relax and watch them construct their new home to clear his mind, but he just couldn't sit still. He walked to the window to take a closer look, but the birds flew away.

He looked around the room for something to distract himself as the doctor was taking an awfully long time. The room was sparse and the only picture was a still life of a bowl of fruit. Burlington noticed that they were all bananas. There was the empty desk, two leather chairs, and a small bookshelf with a dictionary, medical encyclopedias, and a couple of back issues of American Psychology. The only thing that showed that this wasn't a disused room was a large bowl of cashews placed in the center of the desk. Burlington absentmindedly munched a couple from the doctor's cache and stared out the window to see if the chickadees would return. He tried to think of nothing.

"Ah, I see you've found my nuts," said the man who shuffled through the door behind him. Burlington gulped hard and wished he had some water to wash down his mouthful of salty cashews. The man was dressed in the same terry clothe robe and standard issue pajamas as he was.

"Where is Dr. Shaw?" Burlington asked. The cashews stuck to the back of his dry throat as his palms began to sweat.

The man flashed a comforting smile. "Dr. Shaw has been detained. I am Dr. Breedlove and I will be filling in for him. Please sit down Mr.-" he consulted the file folder in his hand, "Mr. Burlington, and let's get started. This is a simple evaluation and only takes a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable."

Burlington sat and watched as the robed man took his seat across the desk from him. "You are dressed like I am. Is that common?" Burlington asked.

"It is a new policy of the hospital. The doctors and staff are to dress as the patients so that there is more of a bonding and less friction with an authority figure. In short, we eschew formality. Dr. Brown of the California Institute of Psychology has had great success with this measure," Breedlove explained as he sat and flipped through the folder without looking up.

"Are you the Master of Lunacy? Are you the one to decide if I'm sane?" Burlington wished his voice wouldn't have cracked as he said this but he couldn't take it back now.

"They don't call this post the Master of Lunacy anymore. I am the acting Director of Admissions. Up until now, you have been fulfilling your court-ordered mandate to seek psychiatric care. We just need to know if you need more care or not. Let's get started, shall we?" Breedlove returned to his comforting smile. "I will ask you a few questions, and reaction time is a factor in this, but respond truthfully and we will be done in minutes." Breedlove let his eyes bore into his as if he was trying to see his brain through his eye sockets.

"Do you feel the hospital has been a help to you?" he asked.

"Oh sure," Burlington felt he was on easy ground here, "The staff are ever so nice, and the fresh fruit and enemas have done wonders. I feel like I am a whole new man! I especially enjoyed the group sessions as it let me know that I wasn't alone in this. I was facing my troubles head on and helping others with theirs too. Mrs. Abood was a great moderator and I think I've learned a lot about myself and others." Without any effort at all, his prepared speech came out.

Breedlove check marked a few boxes on the top paper and returned to his piercing glare. "What will you do if you return to society?" he asked.

"My brother has a moving company and has promised to take me on full time. Mrs. Sekorskey has kept my apartment these eight months, so I have a place to stay." The lump of cashews moved a little further down his parched throat but his tongue felt like it was covered in a thick layer of salt. He felt a cold trickle of sweat slide from his underarm down his ribcage but tried to ignore it.

"We are almost done Mr. Burlington. I just have a few more questions," Breedlove reassured him. He placed an eight by ten card on the table with a smear of ink on it. "What does this look like to you?" he asked.

"An ink blot," Burlington answered bluntly.

"No, no, no. Do you see a picture?"

"It looks like someone dropped a plate of spaghetti."

"And this?"

"A bath tub."

"And this one?"

"John Cleese."

Breedlove scribbled a few more notes and shut the folder with a snap. He handed Burlington a piece of paper with an official looking seal. "Mr. Burlington," he sighed, "you are as sane as I am. Show this to the orderly and go collect your things. There is a cab waiting at the front door to return you to your home. The best of luck to you, and should you need help in the future, don't hesitate to call." Breedlove shook his hand warmly and opened the door to send him on his way into the wide world with the honest hope that everything would come up roses for the young man.

Breedlove chewed a few nuts while watching from the office window as the cab pulled away. When it had disappeared from sight, he noticed the chickadees in the tree as they returned and padded their nest.

He turned from the window and slipped the file into an empty drawer. "Now for Dr. Shaw," he thought as he returned to the janitor's closet where his hostage was tied up with bed sheets. "I need a few new ink blots in blood," he thought, and reached for a sharp chisel and some paper. Dr. Shaw was wide-eyed as he struggled against his bonds and he tried to scream against his gag, but to no avail.

Doc

Uncle Riley's Hat And A Fairy Tale Joke

Working at my job requires lots of skills, especially during the holidays. It takes endurance, wit, aplomb, tact, pluck, and comfortable shoes. I regret that the only thing I have are the shoes. I know that everyone has bad days at work. It is just a fact of life. The only thing is mine are marked on everyone's calender and I don't spend them with my family. For three years running I haven't gotten Father's Day off and I am the only guy in the bakery. But after a long day of selling cookies and doughnuts to fat men, I like to unwind.

And how better than a joke?



Have a wonderful Easter/Passover and I'll see you all tomorrow.