The Dispatcher

VICTOR

"I can't stress this enough – do not bring a loaded weapon."
"Got it. Don't load gun." Victor smiled at James.
"Not a joke. For one, you can say that you had no intention of killing anyone. For two, you won't kill anyone. Because that's what we want, right? Nice little bank job, nobody dies, you run out of there with money, so forth, so on."
"Got it. Don't kill. Run out with money." Victor slapped James on the knee.
"You're a funny guy."
"I am a funny guy."
Victor and James were inside James' shop in the back of his house. The shop was a hobby room for James who planned capers and sold drugs. James was a hobbyist.
"Now look, go for the drawers and leave. You don't need the safe, the deposit boxes or any of that shit. You just want the few grand lying around. You're gonna make your money on frequency, not quality of the job."
"I get it. But that just means I add up the risk ratio."
"Not really. In and out robbers always leave the bank. You will always leave a bank. You just have to worry about the aftermath. But since there isn't going to be an aftermath, you've got nothing to worry about." James knew little to nothing about what he was talking about. But if Victor was able to score the small amount of money James had in mind, James would be able to pay down some of his credit card debt, and that made sense to James who had no risk whatsoever involved in the current project he was discussing.
"I guess that makes sense." Victor was an idiot.
To be fair, Victor was a junky. And a junky will do anything for a fix.
"So, tomorrow around one, you enter the bank. Then what?"
"I pull out the gun and yell 'No one fucking move, this is a robbery!'"
"Just like in Pulp Fiction."
"Just like in Pulp Fiction. How much money exactly are we talking about?"
"Few thousand. You keep three, I keep two."
"Yeah, but you're not really doing anything." James winced to himself. He was fairly certain Victor was dumb enough to go along, but there were these little breaks in his personality that expelled some thought processes that James wasn't initially aware of.
"Victor – would you be doing this if it wasn't for me?"
"No."
"And was this my idea?"
"Yes."
"Alright then."
The two said goodbye and Victor walked through the yard and through the house.
James' wife was inside cooking.
"Something smells good."
"That's pot roast. We're having it for dinner – would you like to stay?"
"Can't. I have to get up early and rob a bank." Victor then walked out of the house and into his car and drove home.

"Why did Victor say he was going to rob a bank?" Joyce was in the shop with a carrot in one hand and a piece of celery pointed at James.
"He's just joking."
"Victor's too stupid to make jokes."
"He made a few just now."
"What kind of jokes?"
"What do you mean what kind of jokes?"
"I mean, WHAT kind of jokes?"
"Like, just like…he was joking."
"Are you robbing a bank?"
James winced. "No, no. Victor is robbing the bank."
"And you have nothing to do with it, besides knowing about it, which makes you an accomplice."
"Yes. I know about it. But the guy's gonna do what he's gonna do. He's a junky. Junky's do dumb things – am I responsible for him buying junk, just because I know he's going to buy junk?"
"Don't play dumb."
"I'm playing smart. By juxtaposing his junk buying with his bank robbering, I'm proving a point that I'm innocent of being an accomplice. That's playing smart."
"Then you're a dumb shit."
"I was smart enough not to rob the bank."
"And I'm smart enough not to try to call someone with this carrot. That don't make me smart."
"Not like in the biblical sense."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Yeah it does."
"No it doesn't."
James grabbed Joyce by the waist and pulled her to him. "Look, let's just go inside, have some sex and –"
"This ain't a movie!" Joyce slapped James across the face with the carrot. "You are going to" she continued to slap him with the carrot "call the police and tell them" the carrot flew out of her hand and then she started in with the celery "that your dumb shit friend, Victor, is going to rob a bank and you want no part of it!"
James was on the floor now, shielding his face from the celery. "OK. OK. I'm just – quit hitting me with the celery!"
"Fuck you, call the police."
"K, just stop it."
"Now!"

James called 911 as Joyce continued yelling at him.

POLICE: Hello, 911.
JAMES: I'd like to report
JOYCE: He'd like to report a fucking idiot
JAMES: Cool it, baby. I'd like to report a robbery.
POLICE: Are you at the scene of the robbery?
JAMES: No. It hasn't happened yet.
JOYCE: Why don’t you just tell him not to do it.
JAMES: Because you told me to call the police!
JOYCE: Well, you shoulda called Victor first, you dumb shit!
JAMES: What the – what do you –
POLICE: Sir, where is the robbery going to take place.
JAMES: Bank of America. Gilman. Issaquah. One tomorrow.
POLICE: Do you know the person who is robbing the bank?
JAMES: I don’t know now. Can I change my mind? Do you tape these calls? Do you track me?
JOYCE: You stupid fuck! Here I'm making
POLICE: Yes, sir. We are taping this conversation and we have you at 56th Street in Renton.
JAMES: Fuck.
JOYCE: You dumb fuck! Fucking making a roast for a dumb fuck!
POLICE: What is the full name of the person robbing the bank, sir?
JAMES: Look, if I tell you, I'm not going to be in any trouble am I?
POLICE: Sir, I can't answer that, I'm only a 911 dispatcher.
JAMES: You aren't the police?
DISPATCHER: No, sir.
JAMES: Can I talk to like a detective or something.
DISPATCHER: Sure, sir.
JAMES: Thank you.
DISPATCHER: Before I transfer you, I'd like know if I provided useful information and help during your time of emergency?
JAMES: Well, that's nice. You did a great job.
JOYCE: What the fuck are you talking about?
DISPATCHER: Thank you, sir. It's my job to help. I'm transferring you over to the Issaquah police station.
JAMES: Thanks.
POLICE (REALLY THIS TIME): Hello, police.
JAMES: You really just…I mean, "Hello, police" – that's nice.
POLICE: Can I help you, sir?
JAMES: Sure, I've never really talked to a police officer on the phone before.
POLICE: What's your problem, sir?
JAMES: Well, I have this friend.
POLICE: Legal.
JAMES: And he's a junky.
POLICE: Illegal.
JAMES: And he's going to rob a bank.
POLICE: Really illegal.
JAMES: Are you really the police?
POLICE: What did I say when I answered the phone, silly?
JAMES: You don't sound like the police?
POLICE: What? Am I supposed to be all gruff and like Hello, this is the police, we have guns.?
JAMES: No, you just sound…
POLICE: Gay?
JAMES: Well, you're putting words in my mouth now.
POLICE: I am gay. You have a problem with that?
JAMES: Police can be gay?
POLICE: Yea - us!
JAMES: But I thought there was that don't ask and snitch.
POLICE: Don’t ask, don't tell?
JAMES: Yes. I thought there was…that.
POLICE: That's the army, dummy.
JOYCE: Are you talking to a fag policeman?
JAMES: Cool it, Joyce.
POLICE: You better check that bitch.
JAMES: What?
POLICE: You heard me.
JAMES: You can't talk to me like that!
POLICE: Hello? I'm the police and I'm gay, I can do anything I want.
JAMES: What? What the fuck?
JOYCE: Tell that fag to fuck off!
POLICE: If you don’t tell your wife to cool out –
JAMES: Honey, cool off. Now look, is there someone else I can talk to?
POLICE: Nope, the buck stops at gay.
JAMES: OK, so this guy's gonna – this isn't a joke right? You are the police?

"He hung up on me." James scratched his head.
Joyce was trying to fit the pot roast in the microwave after several attempts at giving a fuck about it.
"Gay policeman. What's this world coming to?"
"Fuck that. What do I do now? I'm an accomplice. I reported the crime…but they don’t have my name. Do I call back?"
"You ain't calling that gay policeman back. Uh uh. No way. That's just bad luck right there."
"Gay police are bad luck?"
Joyce closed the door on the microwave, then used her shoulder to latch it. "You hear of a gay policeman before?"
"No."
"Then something's fishy. Someone's fucking with you. Call nine eleven again."
"Nine eleven. Never forget."
Both of them became silent and bowed their heads.
In unison: "Never forget."

DISPATCHER: 911, what's your emergency?
JAMES: Hi. I called back about ten minutes ago and I was reporting a robbery.
DISPATCHER: Yeah, I remember you.
JAMES: Oh, you're the same guy?
DISPATCHER: No, but we all listen to the calls when we're bored.
JAMES: Oh.
DISPATCHER: Yeah. So what seems to be your problem now? Didn't Issaquah help you out?
JAMES: Um…are you gay?
DISPATCHER: No.
JAMES: OK. Well, this gay guy answered at the police station and I think maybe you guys transferred to the wrong number or something, because I know there's no gay policemen.
DISPATCHER: There are plenty of gay policemen – haven't you seen the Village People?
JAMES: Is that a TV show?
DISPATCHER: No.
JAMES: Hmmm…doesn't ring a bell.
DISPATCHER: They were a group of gay men that dressed as laborers. One was an Indian.
JAMES: Don't they call them Native Americans now?
DISPATCHER: Are you black?
JAMES: What the fuck?
DISPATCHER: No. I'm just saying, do you call yourselves African Americans?
JAMES: Only in front of white people.
DISPATCHER: OK, well, I'm 1/18th Indian and we don't call ourselves Native Americans.
JAMES: 1/18th? You're barely Indian. I have more Indian in my…what's that one corn starch that –
DISPATCHER: Argo?
JAMES: I have more Indian in my Argo.
DISPATCHER: Nice one.
JAMES: I don’t even remember what we were talking about. Wait- so, that gay guy hung up on me.
DISPATCHER: Wonder why.
JAMES: Look, this isn't a joke. I want to report a crime, get put down as not an accomplice, and –
DISPATCHER: Are you making demands?
JAMES: No. I'm just…trying to call nine eleven.
DISPATCHER: Never forget.
JAMES: Never forget.
DISPATCHER: Well, I can put you through again, but I would imagine the same police officer will answer the phone.
JAMES: That's fine.
DISPATCHER: Maybe be nicer this time?
JAMES: K. Fine.

POLICE: Hello, police again.
JAMES: Fuck.
POLICE: It's me, cutey!
JAMES: Look, lets start over. I want to report a robbery that hasn't taken place yet.
POLICE: You're just all kinds of psycho.
JAMES: I'm not psycho. I'm just trying to report a robbery, so that I don’t get listed as an accomplice.
POLICE: Oh, you can still get in trouble.
JAMES: Really?
POLICE: Sure, if you plotted with the robber.
JAMES: What if I stop him?
POLICE: We'll still investigate.
JAMES: K. If I stop him from robbing the bank, is there anyway I can get into trouble?
POLICE: Are you black?
JAMES: The fuck?
POLICE: Just joking. No. If you stop him, then we can't prove that you ever really intended to rob the bank. Or something. I'm new here.
JAMES: Can someone just tell me what to do?
JOYCE: SIT DOWN AND EAT THIS ROAST!
JAMES: LORD!
POLICE: Calm down, sir. Just stop your friend from robbing the bank.
JAMES: OK. OK. Thank you.
POLICE: Stay sweet.
JAMES: Sure.

"He's not answering his phone." James was trying to eat the rubber roast his wife had just served him.
"Go over there." Joyce was trying to eat the roast too, but was trying harder as she had to act like it was delicious.
"This is good roast."
"Thank you, sweetheart." Joyce wondered if James had gone insane.
"OK. I'll go over there. Do you mind if I save the rest of this for tomorrow? I should probably get over there now."
Joyce lifted a brow. "You don't like the roast, do you?"
"I love the roast, I just need to stop Victor from robbing the bank, like the gay cop said."
"Don't they prefer homosexual?"
"I don't know. I'll be back soon." James got up from the table and grabbed his coat.
"I'll leave the roast in the oven for you."
"The real oven?"
"No, the microwave."
"You cooked this in the microwave?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
"No – yes, that's why it tastes so bad!"
"So, you didn't like it? Is that it? You talk to a gay dude on the phone and you decide that you are cultured now? Throwing on airs!?"
"What are you talking about? And why do you keep bringing up the gay – homosexual cop?"
"I didn't. You did." Joyce raised an eyebrow that would lead to all sorts of bad, like the fabled butterfly.
"Why'd you raise your eyebrow?"
"Nothing."
"You think I'm gay?"
"I'm just saying you didn't like the pot roast."
"That makes me gay?"
"No, that makes you a dumb shit! This pot roast is breathtaking." Joyce managed to swallow another wad of rubber.
"I didn't say I didn't like it. I just said…you cooked it in the microwave. It would have been a lot better if you cooked it in the oven."
"Then why aren't you finishing it?"
"Cuz I got to go stop Victor."
"Finish first."
"Fine!" James threw the coat on the floor, sat down and forked a large piece of meat into his mouth and began chewing. The meat was like silly putty.
And then in the total silence that followed came the eyebrow again. "So, you gonna call your little cop friend back?"
James rose from his chair, pointed a finger at Joyce and
Choked.

DISPATCHER: This is 911, what's your emergency?
JOYCE: My husband is choking!
DISPATCHER: Is this the African American man who called earlier about the homosexual policeman?
JOYCE: How'd you know all – he's turning blue!
DISPATCHER: OK, calm down – you need to Heimlich him.
JOYCE: Is that a gay thing?
DISPATCHER: No. You need to wrap your arms around him from behind –
JOYCE: That's a gay thing! You all is gay!
DISPATCHER: Mrs.! You need to wrap your arms around him, and then exert pressure on his sternum.
JOYCE: I ain't doing that!
DISPATCHER: Please, Mrs., this is not a gay thing.
JOYCE: Tell me again? Wait, he's not breathing. He's not breathing!
DISPATCHER: An ambulance is on the way.
JOYCE: Oh, God. He's not breathing!
DISPATCHER: Wrap your arms –
JOYCE: No more gay shit! This is for real!

And with that, James died.

The Cruise

"This will be our last night on the cruise, I'd like to make it special for my wife."

"OK. Ice cream special or anal sex special?"

"What? Excuse me?"

"Look, I only work one day on the cruise. They pick me up in Anchorage and then I leave at Seattle."

"I'd like to speak to your manager."

"See, here's the thing – every year there's a new manager. No one remembers me. So, just answer the question."

"K. Look. My wife and I don't do that –"

"But…"

"Yes. In the butt."

"No, I meant you're going to continue with a reason that you might entertain the idea."

"No. I – well, what does the anal sex special include?"

"You get some KY and a buttplug."

"We're English – do you have any of the American adaptors for the wall socket?"

"For what?"

"The plug."

"It doesn't plug in to the socket. It plugs into your wife."

"Margaret?"

"Whoever, look, I'm not trying to sell it and I have other folks to harass tonight."

"OK, let's go with the buttplug."

"K. Do you have color preference?"

"Blue."

"We don't have blue."

"Oh, I thought you were asking me what my favorite color is."

"Why would I do that?"

"Simple curiosity?"

"I'm not the one being curious here."

"What colors are there?"

"White, black, and green."

"Do some men have green penises?"

"Gardeners maybe."

"Let's go with green."

"OK. Would you like the deluxe special package?"

"What does that entail?"

"I come up and punch you in the face and have sex with your wife."

"Do I get a color preference?"

"No."

"Can I think on that?"

"Sure. Anytime during the evening while you're having anal sex, call me and I'll be more than happy to come upstairs and fuck your wife and punch you in the face."

"You Americans sure do things differently."

"I'm sure everyone hires people to beat them up and fuck their wife – I don't think it's regional."

"Well, good day!"

"Sure, dickface."




"Who was that?"

"That was the concierge."

"Oh, are you doing something special?"

"Only if you call buttplugs special!"

"But where will we plug it in?"

"That's the novelty of it – it plugs into you!"

"Those Americans with their anal sex and weird outlets…"

"You know, they once fought a civil war – that's where they fight themselves."

"Like schizophrenics?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, I am so glad we are leaving here tomorrow. This Wild West atmosphere it too much!"

"There's someone at the door!"

"It could be the buttplug!"

"Greetings – here's your sundae!"

"Oh…we…"

"What is it, dear?"

"Thank you."

"It seems we got the ice cream special."

"Can that go in my bum?"

"No. You eat it."

"Well, this has turned out to be a let down."

"Let's just go to bed."









"We could try to put the ice cream in your bum."

Gerbil

"There's no easy way to say this – you're a gerbil."

I liked a blunt doctor, he got to the point and didn't pussyfoot around with the tidbits of minutiae related to what was ailing me. He was a good man - the kind of guy who would sleep with your wife and call you half way through to cancel on golf, the kind of man who would take your dog for a walk without telling you; he was the kind of man you'd want to hear news like this from.

"What are my options?" I asked. I wanted Dr. Brimmel to know that I was fully 100% on board with my treatment. I wasn't going to sit on this and wait for sunshine to come out of my ass. Like that time I got diabetes and simply stopped putting cheese on my donuts in the morning.

"Well, you have several options." The doctor looked down at his tote board. "Wait, did I say several?"

"Yes, doctor."

"I meant more like one." The doctor lifted his eyebrow.

Then I lifted mine.

Then he lifted his again.

"OK, what is it? I want to be a part of my healing." I was actually getting excited about it. I was looking for something to do this weekend and this whole don't be a gerbil thing could be just what I was looking for.

"Well, for starters, you'll have to stop smoking." He lifted his eyebrow again.

"But…wait – I just. What are the cons of being a gerbil?" I wasn't going to stop smoking.

"Well, you'll have to eat grains and leaves."

"K."

"And you'll have to have sex with other gerbils."

I thought about telling him I already had, but then thought better of it. "K."

"And you won't be able to drive a car."

"But I drove here."

"Yes, but you didn't turn into a gerbil until you entered the office."

That made sense to me. I decided not to ask him about the specifics. "What are the pros?"

"You'll be able to cut down on your smoking as you will not be able to smoke a whole cigarette due to your reduced size. Also, you lost a lot of weight. I mean like 215 pounds. Let me think…oh, you don't have to work."

I thought this through. "But who will take care of me?"

"Well, you aren't married. Do you have family?"

I thought long and hard on this one. I couldn't remember if I had family or if I just didn't talk to them anymore. "I'm not sure."

"That's another con – you have 84% less brain function."

"That's gonna hurt."

"Indeed. I'm surprised you're able to talk right now."

"So, as far as gerbils go, I'm pretty remarkable."

"Quite so. Have you ever considered a career in the circus?"

"Never, tell me more."

The doctor examined some X Rays that had small labels like "Gerbilization of the forearm" or "Gerbilization of the head".

"Well, a circus is a group of people and animals that do things to entertain people."

"Tell me more."

"They have popcorn."

"Where do I sign up?"

"Not so fast. You need to get a pet license. Also, you need to see a vet now, because I know nothing about gerbils. Then, after those tasks are performed, you can apply for the circus."

"Do I need a resume?"

"Of course you do."

The Drifter

It all started with a knocking at the door.

It was late, and I had been asleep. I closed my eyes, figuring it was just a dream, but then I heard another knock. This time much louder than before.

I got out of bed and purposely turned on no lights, as if it was something weird I would not answer the door, but just wait for the person to leave.

I moved towards the door and peered into the eye hole.

It was a man about six foot, dressed in denim, and had his hair pulled back in a pony tail.

I waited for him to leave.

Then there was another knock. I slowly moved to my closet and pulled out a bat and returned to the door.

I peered out the peek hole once again and he was still standing there, but now he was smoking a cigarette. This led me to believe he would not be leaving any time soon.

I opened the door with the bat behind it so he couldn’t see my suspicion.

“Can I help you?”

“Sure, friend. You see I’m lost. I’m looking for a town around here.” He smelled like oranges.

“What town?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled at me and I could see that he was missing most of his teeth.

“Look, it’s late and I was sleeping. What do you want?”

“I told you, I’m looking for a town.” He looked around and grinned as if there were other people listening.

“OK. I’m calling the cops.”

I closed the door on him and then waited a few seconds and peered back through. He was waving at me and smiling.

I thought about calling the cops, but the man had done nothing wrong yet. Not until I explicitly told him to leave. And, after all, it was an apartment complex – I didn’t own it.

I opened the door again. “Look, what town are you looking for? If you don’t know, I can’t help you.”

“But you do know. You’re standing in it.”

“Issaquah?”

“No. That’s the city. You’re in the town in the city, friend.” He grinned at me again. Then he turned around and looked into the woods. “Man, they say there’re lions out here.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no lions anywhere.”

“No lions!” He grinned again and then shook his head. “You’re the mayor of this town and you don’t know there’s lions about?”

There was no winning. I had to call the cops. I closed the door and dialed 911. When I looked out the peek hole to describe the man to the operator he was gone. I mentioned this and then they explained that there was nothing they could really do.

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

The following evening I didn’t sleep, but he didn’t come back.

The next evening, I opened the door to get the mail and he was standing outside admiring the small creek in front of my apartment.

“You said there’s no lions back here?”

“Fuck off.” I walked to the mailbox and it slowly dawned on me that I wouldn’t sleep for the entire week.

“That’s no way to talk, man.” His voice had changed into something close to a growl.

“Just fuck off.” I kept walking and when I turned he was gone and a lion was in his place.

“Jesus fuck!” I yelled. "Jesus fuck!"

The lion approached me and I stood frozen to the ground. I could no longer speak.

“Fucking A, man. Tell me where the town is!” It was him, but his voice was coming from somewhere else. The lion paused and turned to a tree and began licking it.

The tree began moving and a branch moved toward the lion and it was as if the tree was stroking it.

I looked at the tree and all at once it was the man. “You know where the town is. Just tell me, dude.”

“What town!” I screamed and then cringed as I realized I could be disturbing the lion.

“Downtown, brother! Downtown!” And as he said it, the lion and the man began to fade into black shadows and the shadow became a tall figure. Almost like a monolith, about eight feet tall and where their eyes had been, small globes appeared and joined to create a small orb to the left of the figure’s head.

There was a crackling and then from far away, but still from a moving void inside the figure’s mouth “Downtown, brother. Downtown. Don’t you want to get down?”

I began walking backward and tripped and looked up at the apparition. The orb was now spinning around the eight foot tall shadow man. “I’m not from around here, you see.” It sounded like it was talking from behind static on a television. “I’m not at all from around here.” The orb began spinning quicker around the giant. “Are you a trickster elf, boy?” The voice sounded like the thing was spinning along with the orb. I could make out the sentence only by every other syllable.

“Nah-no-ah.” I stuttered.

The voice that came out next sounded more like a droning hum “Then maybe you want to go downtown.”

And then I awoke to a sound of a knock at the door.

I didn’t bother to grab the bat.

An Interview

"I have a feeling you are right for this position."

He was a fat man. Large in every way. You can be fat in some respects, and skinny in others, but he had the whole ballgame going on.

I didn't really want to do manual labor, but after losing my job and then applying for other jobs like it for nine months, I was down to soda crackers and butter for dinner and I really didn't want to lose the shithole apartment I lived in.

"I appreciate that."

"It says here that you have no expierence in mining, is that correct?"

"I don't know a thing about it. I know that it's a lot of work and I'll have to be trained on the job."

"That's correct, let me explain in more detail, though." He moved to grab a notebook from his desk and as he did his face, being pulled as he moved his head, suddenly popped.

It was just a small hole, like a zit, but it was black underneath. I thought it might be some rare skin disease or that weird filament disease that I saw on 20/20. I tried not to look at the small hole that was on his left cheek and just get the rest over with.

"Are you comfortable with travelling?"

I immediately forgot about the zit and suddenly felt as if this job might be more than manual labor. Perhaps they had looked at my resume and decided I was management material.

"You bet. But I didn't think this job required travel."

"Oh, yes." And then it happened. As he pronounced the "O" a small branch popped from the hole. It was black and furry and about the size of a short spaghetti noodle.

I looked down and he continued. "As a member of our team you'll be travelling a great distance to meet the needs of our continuingly expanding business - is something wrong?"

"No. I just didn't expect travel." I lied. I was absolutely horrified and wondered if a prank was being played on me. "Not that I don't want to travel." I looked back up at him and the branch moved.

I jumped.

"Will you excuse me." He said and got up and walked out of a door on the other side of the room from where I had entered.

I stared into the mirror across from me and I realized it was probably two-way. I made motions in my notebook like I was writing and thought about just running for it.

Then he entered the room again with a bandage over his cheek.

Not even mentioning the obvious he went back into the interview.

"We started our company - well, I wasn't there - but the company was started on Earth -"

"Earth?" I asked. I was positive I was being put on.

"Yes, Earth. The planet you're on now. Then, we ventured outward into the solar system and began work on Venus, then Mars, then we expanded to the asteroids and now we even have operations on Pluto."

"So, is this Jackass or something?"

"Excuse me?" And the branch popped out of the bandage, this time fluid accompanied it and ran down his cheek.

"Look, your face is falling off again. If this is a joke, I just want to be paid and then I want to leave. I seriously am unemployed and need work and don't have time for this.

He looked at me gravely and said "This is not a joke. I apologize for my face and if you're more comfortable, I'll have a human interview you."

"Sure. So, you're from?"

"Venus."

"I'm sure you are. I was under the impression that on Venus you could boil nickel - what's your story, champ?"

The other cheek erupted, but this time three small branches tore from his skin and more of the clear liquid ran down his face.

I pulled the chair back away from the table and said "Now it's just getting weird. That looks real."

"That is real. Would you like to see the rest."

The lights went up behind the mirror and I could make out several large insects peering at me. They all had the branches up and down the sides of their faces and they moved.

I turned for the door and the man explained "You don't leave here. You signed a confidentiality contract before interviewing and if I was to let you leave and spill the beans on what's outside this planet I would have to answer to the company."

"I'm getting the fuck out of here." I pulled on the door and it opened to the hallway I entered from, but where there were walls once before there were windows and it was night. I felt the building lurch and peered down to see the Earth below me.

"Do you see my point." His hand fell on my shoulder and I pulled it away and ran down the hall to the elevator.

"Where are you going?" He yelled after me. "This is the beginning of a great career path. I won't tell you that it will be easy leaving your home. It wasn't for me."

I looked back and he was undressing. I backed against the elevator and as his clothes came off I realized he had the body of a fat manequin with no discernable human characteristics underneath his wardrobe besides skin.

And then the skin came off and I was staring at a large bug on all sixes.

Around the mandible was a device that he spoke out of, I assume to make the correct noises humans use to form words.

"You're as ugly as I am to you." He said and moved closer.

"I want a human!" I yelled. "Can I talk with a human?"

"Sure, but you'll have to get used to this. It took me awhile too."

"Nothing can live on Venus!"

"When the company came to our world, we were told nothing could live on Earth."

"But...science!"

"Are you a scientist?"

Then I just began yelling "Help!" over and over and over again.

The Colony

The Colony

As I entered slumber and felt the last remains of the day slip away I traveled to another part of the galaxy and awoke inside a man much like me on a planet much like ours.

Colonized thousands of year before my arrival, the colony resembled our planet in most every way.

But…there was simplicity to the society, a trust in fellow, and a beauty you would have to drive far to witness on our own great organic spaceship.

And yet, there were metropolitan holes, the number of which would compliment our own patches of rustic beauty.

All of this I sensed right away, like entering a movie and being able to distinguish the mood from the outset, if created by a superior director.

This colony had a superior director.

A group of men and women called, simply The Council ran the world and dictated the rules of society and the happy colony followed in step, as happy people not accustomed to unhappiness will do.

But I also sensed a great secret. Something of a dread that reflected the general happiness like an object and shadow.

As weeks went by I became accustomed to my new body and the world I lived, and yet the dread never left me.

As time went on, I learned of the rules of the society and some of them didn’t fit well with my own understanding of how a good society works.

For instance, there was a curfew at sundown that was strictly enforced. I say enforced only in a loose sense as no one dared to break it and, therefore, no one enforced it. And any chance to was quickly diminished by the prescribed dose of what I could feel to be large amounts of sedative.

And there were two other cracks in the façade: an absolute horror of touching the ground and a pilgrimage at the age of forty to some unknown other colony on another world.

Let me explain, the ground wasn’t verboten; it was only the natural ground. Inhabitants were made to walk, commute, and travel only by sidewalks, roads, bridges, etc.

The pilgrimage struck me as odd as the men and women leaving would leave behind all friends and family (strict breeding laws left all their children at the age of twenty) and this was all accepted as providence.

As time went on the dread and the longing for my own world and the next day to meet me drove me to break a law and I found what I had dreaded for so long.

As the sun went down, I left my wife and children sleeping and ventured out into the night.

Upon leaving the home, I heard the most awesome crackling noise and looked around to find the entire plain in front of home moving.

Thinking the sedative had worn off, I walked down the path and across a bridge.

Half way across the bridge the most terrible feeling of a stick running up and down my leg jarred me and had only a moment to look over the bridge and find a very large insect, the size of a hyena, trundling under the bridge.

I turned and broke into a sprint back to the home.

The moving around me began to get frenzied and realized in horror that the insects were everywhere.

I opened the unlocked door (no one locked their door) and lie awake inside my dream, inside the colony trying to find a way back to my home.

The next day I attended a ward meeting and explained what I had saw.

My story was accepted with large smiles and dismissal.

That night, the feeling of claustrophobia and horror left me as I took the strong sedative and dosed off.

The next morning I decided to take my wife’s pills. Then I ventured into the neighborhood and entered homes and explained that I was here by The Council to take their drugs too.

By the end of the day I had the majority of the neighborhood’s drugs, with not one complaint from the neighbors.

Then the sun down.

Terrific screams filled the neighborhood as people looked from their windows, in their insomnia, at the moving ground.

The bugs seemed to only come out at night.

Having been satisfied with my wholesale awakening of the neighborhood, I took a sedative, also giving one to my wife and went to bed.

“It got her.” It was my neighbor. It was early morning and I had awaken to the pounding on the door.

“What got who?” I asked groggily.

“A bug got my daughter.” She left the sidewalk and went on the…the…ground. She was digging when a black head came from inside the hole and…

The people began to add up at my door and their stories varied in degrees of god awful, and I soon began to loathe my decision to free them.

On the other hand, it explained the other rule and I fixed my mind in figuring out what the last rule of pilgrimage meant.

I gave the neighbors their drugs back, but some refused and every day after they would show up on my doorstep and preach to the others about the lies of the government and my sainthood for saving them.

With my ego stroked thoroughly, and a happy diversion from the guilt of being remarkably close to the mass homicide of the neighborhood, I vowed to my followers to get to the bottom of the pilgrimage.

By the end of the week we had banded together and followed a pilgrimage up a large hill and as the smiling 40 year olds were thrown into a pit of bugs for the rent on the land, I thought back to my own world and woke up sweating.

Sam Nunn, Pulled Out of Retirement Magician

No. No. This will be different. I WON'T play Mary Had a Little Lamb at the Bris.

It's been awhile since I've been on stage. I had some magic in my own life recently - my wife disappeared with all my money! Ha, just joking. But really, I had an oxi problem and tried to kill myself.

I've opened for Doug Hennig, Gallagher, and that other - Copperfield. My wife also opened for Copperfield, but in a different way.

So, UHF show, how are you folks? Oh, sorry, UFC. Shit, I mean USO. Sorry cadets.

So, you kids don't think unicorns exist, huh? Well, check this out - it's OK, it's my horse and that's red glue, calm down Mr. Ferguson.

Look, Lady - Yes, I've been drinking, but no I did not pull a swtichblade on your son. It was a switchblade comb. A really, really, really sharp switchblade comb.

No. No. You said you wanted magic. I don't care if my website has Harry Potter on it and says that I am that kid from Harry Potter and that I'll stay for two hours - I'm Sam Nunn and I'm a magician and that's what you're gonna pay me 5000 dollars for.

Kids, your friends might tell you that magic isn't cool when you get older, but check this out! That's a fifty dollar bill for an hour of magic. You know what you can buy with fifty dollars? Of course you don't, but when you get older I'll tell you.

I will now pull a rabbit out this top hat. Watch. Ta da! And this rabbit! And this rabbit! And - why is there so many rabbits and blood?

I will now make this bottle of whiskey disappear!

I imagine you would like this balloon shaped like a BALLOON!

A magician never tells his secrets. But - once I picked a woman's nose while she was sleeping and ate it.