MichaelJNedell.com

The other night I went outside to call for the cat before heading to bed.. I threw a puffer coat  over my jeans and tshirt – slid my sandals on my sock-covered feet and went out the back door. It was wet outside, after a short rain that day, still not freezing but cold -the month long permanent freeze that comes every winter had only teased us a day or two so far and that night the wind was gentle and warm. It was almost pleasant walking down the  driveway with the moon nearly full and the stars all sparkly and the streetlights glowing and the neighbourhood all quiet – it was just cold enough to bring a mist to the damp ground, gently airbrushing the ground with a haze. 

I turned right at the bottom of the driveway and strode the sidewalk past Mark and Maries house, the wild tangle of the bare bushes in front of their house poking out a quarter way poking out just to  the sidewalk. Brown, interdependent, pointy multitudes of thin bare shoots leading back to thicker branches, to a naturally wild bunch of roots. 

We have rose bushes that do that in front of our house – bare now too – they poke out into the sidewalk a little. We call it the ‘first line of defence’ half-kiddingly. Mostly Sarah and I like the flowers. But it does feel like a pretty layer of nature’s dangers protecting our haven from the societal wilds of the street.

Speaking of wild – I wondered where that darn cat had gotten off to. I walked past their house, their driveway, calling out for him. 

It’s not even our cat, but he needs a place to sleep, and we have made: two drawers, half a closet floor and a random box with a towel – into beds for him. So maybe it is our cat after all. Sometimes he doesn’t show up for days and I feel happy for him. I imagine him out there catting it up and causing trouble and I love that for him. It’s like I have learned to say to myself during many experiences in life – “You don’t get to be a good trouble-shooter without getting into a little trouble once in a while. And everyone needs to know how to troubleshoot.”

I stopped in Mark and Marie’s driveway and called out the cat’s name, just a little louder than a whisper, careful not to alarm the neighbours, and I clapped my hands gently twice. The cat popped out of the shadows across the street and strut pranced across the asphalt, saying “What’s up” to me in a longer cat language meow of recognition. I turned and started slow walking backwards, saying hello back to the cat, telling him I was happy to see him with half word sounds.

He paused to rub his cheek on the stones that edged Mark and Maries bushes, just under the lowest overhang of thickets. I watched him and then turned to look at our house. The person in the upstairs apartment had a Christmas tree on the porch and it was all lit up and festive looking. I looked at our porch, at our tattered Tibetan peace flags flapping in the soft breeze. I made a mental note I have probably already made to replace those soon. And find the Christmas lights in the basement.

I turned to cajole the cat to follow me and walked backwards. “Come on in Mister Cat, we need to find the Christmas lights and festive up our porch a bit.” I walked backward up our driveway watching him follow me, guiding him into the back door and into the house. 

He went into the kitchen and sat in front of the empty food bowl as I took off my jacket and sandals and put them away. I heard him meow with an instinctual hunger that I have come to know. 

“Yea yea yea” I muttered, walking into the kitchen, getting a can of food from on top of the fridge, stepping over him to the sink to grab a bowl, pop the can and fork some smelly brown meaty goop flakes out for him, fluffing and poking it to fully cover the bottom of the bowl. A petite kitchen dance I have done too many times to count. I arranged the food pleasingly, adding five drops of water from a  barely running sink and stirring the bowl as I fluffed. 

I may not like having to feed cats this smelly stuff, but no meals go plated poorly in this house.

Happy with the circular balance of goo,  I slid the plate to the floor and he stepped to it and started eating it like a hungry goblin. 

I thought about Christmas lights, and promised myself to try to remember to find them tomorrow. Did I already promise myself to remember? Yesterday? Last year? All my thoughts seemed familiar.

I’ve listened to talks, and read articles recently on memory, and science says that there is no such thing – at least not how we have traditionally thought about it – there is no place in the brain where memories are stored or kept. When we remember things our brains are reconstructing a similar pattern that was made in the past, all our synapses and teeny tiny but no less magical electric sparks make patterns when thinking of past experiences. We reconstruct these patterns when remembering those experiences and they become instinctual and safe feeling. And from what the point of many of the talks and articles was – that new ideas and new thoughts create patterns too – differing more complex patterns – so we can guide our own minds to a more creationistic patterning – just as much as we can instil a known pattern by dwelling on a thought. 

We are making thought patterns and synapse surges with our thinking, setting off molecular brain fireworks from our ideas – or at least that is how I picture it. 

It has made me wonder about seeing a pattern in nature that we connect with. Is the pattern of the object itself similar to the patterns our synapses create? 

I went to make sure the front door was locked and looked out at the tattered peace flags waving gently in the darkness. Sarah says they have to nearly all disintegrate before we replace them. 

I tried to remember where the Christmas lights were and laughed, imagining the memory of the Christmas lights making a sparkling pattern in my mind like actual Christmas lights. Does thinking about Christmas lights make a darkened mind light up and feel festive? 

 I still had no idea where the heck the lights were.  I would have to search the basement tomorrow – or maybe the garage…

After I made sure the back door was locked and made ablutions, it was time for bed. The cat had beat me to it and was already snuggling with Sarah. I crawled up and joined them. 

Coming home late from a bar had become a Christmas Eve Tradition – of sorts – for Henry. With his own family scattered to the four winds and his immediate circle of friends gone to their apparently unscattered families, these last few Christmas Eves all ended this fuzzy happy walk home from town. Sometimes it was snow and cold wet sparkles – tight though the air was clear and crisp as the first bite of fresh hot hard-shell taco.
Swaggering his way up the main drag amidst the lights and few others wandering homes
It was tradition, and like all traditions was tinged with the melancholy and joy of the past years.
The fact of the matter was that he enjoyed this time by himself. He had his hobbies after all.
Henry built ornate birdfeeders in his basement workshop. Not the usual one-perch one-hole houses, but triple-decker and quintuple-decker structures that boggled the eye with unique angles and circular staircases. He sold them at local craft stores and made to order over the internet. Between that and his day job as a muffin man in the local pastry shop he kept himself very busy.
He did enjoy the company of his friends though, He looked forward to his Friday night poker game and his Tuesday night dinner pot-luck with the his other friends. On Saturdays he and the boys from the muffin shop would cruise the local scene and check out bands.
But this was now… Christmas Eve. It was just him.
Henry swayed toward the huge Douglas Fir that stood majestic and festooned with twinkling colored lights at the top of the main drag. He was singing a drunken version of White Christmas… not the Bing Crosby Version, but the Billy Idol version that he had heard on a punk Christmas album. He was singing along with Billy in his head, voicing the choppy guitar parts and playing air guitar, approaching the huge tree.
Suddenly he stopped. “What the hey!?” he said to himself.
The tree was marauded with lights, all furiously atwinkle, like usual, but it seemed to be moving- no wait- now it was still- but the lights were covered- shielded for a second- and now it- it seems to be- fluttering?
It’s not often a tree flutters… leaves flutter… but trees?

The next time you see a tree fluttering you’ll know how Henry felt.

He closed his eyes and shook his head to try and clear it, but when he opened his eyes the tree was still fluttering. “How drunk am I?” he asked himself.
He was answering himself in his head- not that drunk!- when the tree started fluttering faster and faster and then it rose off the ground and flew away- but wait- it was still right there… not fluttering anymore.
“This,” Henry said to himself, “is not my traditional walk home.”
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a figure half ducked in the doorway of a closed storefront. He was bent over sort of wrestling with himself… as if he was caught in his sweater. Henry walked over to him and saw that he was indeed caught in himself… he was caught in some type of… apparatus that was attached to his head. “Can I help you?” Henry said.
The man jumped up a bit in the air. He had not known anyone was nearby. “Who are you?” he demanded, still half bent over struggling with the thing on his head.
“I’m just Henry.”
“Just Henry?”
“Yup.”
“Well… help me get this thing off my head Henry… it’s stuck.”
“Umm… okay… now hold still a second.”
With some finesse and determination, the headpiece (which is what the thing was… ornate with lights and straps) was taken off off the gentlemen’s head. Henry held it while the man got his apparatus-free bearings, then handed it over to him.
The man put it down and held out his hand. “Gibson.” He said. “Gibson T. Narnell.”
Henry shook his hand. “Happy to make your acquaintance Gibson. Did you see the tree fluttering?”
“Well… as a matter of fact I did… I did see the tree fluttering… he he… yes..”
“Well what was that? I mean… I’ve, according to Tradition, have had a few beverages of the alcoholic nature, and my senses, are somewhat impaired… but still.. that tree was fluttering!”
“Yes… it was Henry… and I thought I was the only one who could see it!”
“Well I saw it too! “
Gibson just smiled. Henry just looked at him. He wanted an answer, He wanted also to perhaps go home to bed and forget the whole thing.
But then he saw the apparatus in Gibson’s hand. “Does it have anything to do with that thing in your hand?”
“My my… your a smart one, as impaired as you are… you put two and two together didn’t you… and you came up with what?”
‘Four?”
“Exactly!”
“Okay… so what is four?”
“Four is the sum of all the parts of two and two!”
“Gibson… you seem like a nice person… but your hurting my head with your quixotic vocal meanderings.”
“Okay Henry… I’ll let you in on a little secret… it wasn’t the tree fluttering at all… but many… many… birds!”
“Huh?”
“It was birds Henry… this apparatus can control the flight of birds!”
“Really?!?!”
“Yes… really… you see Henry, I am an inventor, and I’ve been working on this invention for the past two years of my life.”
“How does it work?”
“I… can’t explain it without charts and graphs and a lengthy diatribe into the nature of the psyche of winged creatures… so lets just say… it works!”
“Was this your first test?”
“As a matter of fact no.”
“Oh.”
“But this was the first test that worked!”
“Oh… that’s good… good for you. Congrats.”
“Yes… I wanted to wait until the morning light, but I couldn’t wait.”
“I could see how one could be excited about something like this.”
“Oh yes… excited to say the least… birds have long been under appreciated for there sheer power in our culture… why… there are just so many of them all the time!”
“I dare say that’s true Gibson. I make birdhouses… ornate birdhouses… and sometimes I don’t sell one for months.”
“You make birdhouses!”
“Yes!”
“Well isn’t this fortuitous. Yes yes indeed… perhaps you are the one person who could truly appreciate the grandeur of such an invention such as mine.”
“Um… it’s sort of cold… do you want to come over to my house… I live just up the street and you can try to explain this device of yours to me in further detail.”
“Do you have any wine at your house?”
“As a matter of fact I do!”
“Let’s go then!”
Gibson and Henry walked the two blocks to Henry’s house, opened a bottle of wine and talked for hours. Henry showed Gibson his workshop and his birdhouses and Gibson explained the concept behind the technology of the ‘bird directing apparatus’ to Henry.
Which Henry sort of understood… soft of…
What Henry did understand was this. If you put the thing on your head you could control the flight of any bird within your sight.
Eventually tiredness crept into their bones and Henry offered Gibson the couch to sleep on. Henry went upstairs and dreamt of birds…. of fantastic wide spread packs of birds… flying to and fro.

In the morning Henry came down stairs and started coffee, then went into the living room to wake up Gibson… but Gibson wasn’t there. Henry went back to the coffee machine to wait for its percolation and noticed something outside the kitchen window. His backyard was full of birds… and there… there was Gibson with the device on his head.
He put on his boots and went outside.
“Morning Gibson.”
“Morning Henry.”
“What are you doing with the birds?”
“Nothing right now… I wanted to see if they will just sit… which, as you can see… they are! What would you like me to do with them?”
“Um…. Make them fly up and spell out the words ‘Henry is cool’!”
“Gibson laughed and amidst his cackling the birds flew up… thousands of them… they rose and circled gracefully in the air… at first they went from the right to the left ,and then they circled back from left to right… and they spelled out ‘Henry is fool’.
“Hey… I said ‘cool… not fool!”
And Gibson just laughed.
The two, after a hearty breakfast at a nearby diner, drove west to a clear meadow out in the farm country. All day long they gathered birds and flew them in patterns and shapes… diamond paisley mandalas… stripes and circles and squares and wavy lines… they spelled out funny winged words and dive bombed the birds close to the ground, scaring squirrels. They tested the limitations of the device and they both came to the conclusion that there were no limits. This device controlled birds.. their flight… their non-flights… all their actions… with just mere thoughts.
At the end of the day Gibson had some birds in a form of a Christmas tree, some in the form of presents around the tree… and for the grand finale he did a Santa sleigh complete with reindeer flying in from the west.
And then they hopped in the car and Henry drove Gibson home. They both knew that if this device ever fell into the wrong hands it could be used for evil purposes, and that was no good. So they vowed to keep it a secret and vowed never to see each other again.
On Christmas night, Henry fell into yet another sleep where beautiful patterns of birds filled the sky.

—

On New years Eve, Henry had to work late, but made it home just in time to change his clothes and make it to a coworkers party for midnight. He was walking out the door as Gibson was walking up onto his porch.
“Gibson! Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year to you too Henry! I have a little present for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes… really… it’s another device… I have it in my car… go around to the backyard and wait for me!”
“But what about the midnight? There’s a party… and the fireworks!”
“My present has something to do with that… yes yes… and you should dress warmer… dress and warm as you can!”
“Okay.” Henry went back inside and changed into his ski suit, put on his hat and scarf and mittens, and went out to the backyard. Gibson was waiting for him with the device on his head and another device near his feet. There were already hundreds if not thousands of birds in the backyard, all fluttering their black silvery wings sitting in the branches held out in the chill night sky.

“So…” Henry said, “What do I do?”
“Here… put this on… it’s a harness!”
Gibson handed Henry a harness/seat/suit that was attached by a thick rope to a very very long stick that was horizontal to him laying on the ground.
“Am I… going to fly Gibson?”
Yes!”
“Is this safe?”
“According to my calculations, you’ll be just fine.”
So Henry strapped into the harness, lifted the long stick in the center and hold it long ways balanced over his head. He looked over and Gibson and kinda shrugged… I guess I’m ready he aid with a raise of his eyebrow and a shrug of his shoulder.

With a nod, Gibson maneuvered hundreds… and then even more birds so they held onto the stick with their claws. “Are you sure this is safe?” Henry asked again.”
“Your the test pilot Henry. You should feel honored!”
I just feel…. ahhhhhhhh!!!!”
With a roar of wings Henry took off into the air and floated up over his house… he swooped left, and then right, and then out over the waterfront where the fireworks had just begun. He was flown, not too close, but in a circle around them… by far the best vantage point he had ever had for the fireworks… and when they were over he was flown back to his house and landed in his backyard. “Gibson… that was so great! Gibson?”
But Gibson wasn’t there… all that was there were a thousand birds who suddenly rose up into the air and flew in a circle… you could barely see them, black as they were against the night sky… but they spelled out, in blacksilver lettering… ‘Happy New Year Henry!’
“And a Happy New Year to all!” Henry said back to the night sky… “A Happy New Year to all…”

For those of you who don’t know, the little town I live in has four block long closed to traffic pedestrian mall as its unofficial center. Street musicians, the occasional juggler and outdoor seating for the street’s restaurants festoon the promenade, which is replete with boulders and benches for sitting, all giving way to a fountain and a large Unitarian Church at the top, giving the street both its view and its name: Church Street.

During the winter the trees that line the walk are bright with small twinkling lights, and in the base of the fountain, turned off for the winter, sits a large, colorfully lit Christmas tree. I walk home from walk on that street every evening, and the lights, the people bustling about with packages, never fail to wipe away the memory of the days tasks and put me in a cheery, almost festive mood, and I would arrive at the house I shared with my three friends with a light heart, ready to join in the nights feast, which was usually in a state of mid-preparation.

Often, during the week preceding Christmas, the business association for Church Street had sleigh rides for the kids, the sleighs being small carts, and the carts being pulled by actual reindeer. I had to hand it to them on that one. Everyone loves a reindeer around the holiday season. Not only do they carry the carts filled with children, but they carry a long tradition of magic and wonder, and to top it all off, there cute as kittens. Now… I don’t  know how many of you have seen a reindeer, but they’re smaller than regular deer… more approachable… they have big round puppy-dog eyes and gentle sloping muzzles – small but ornate antlers – even their colorings seem warm and welcoming… rich tans and greys.

Even though I had seen that street and, after a few years, seen those animals over and over, I was impressed every time by their warm and loveable nature.

Last year, however, about three days before Christmas, my usual peaceful walk home up Church Street was disturbed by four or five police cars and a large mass of people crowded around the area near the top of the block. As much as I am a curious person, I have a tendency to avoid large groups of people and police. I like my bad news second hand. I took a quick left down a side street and went the back way home, arriving at the large house on Park Street, expecting, as usual, to my three friends and housemates in the middle of cooking dinner, which- I don’t know when it started – but it became a tradition that we enjoyed nightly – the one chance in the day to see each other.

But, as I came in the front door, took off my coat and put it on the rack, I noticed the silence where the usual sounds of feast-making would be. “Hello?!” I called out.

There was no answer. “Hellllooooo!”!? I called out again, to no avail.

“Curious and curiouser”  I said to myself, making my way into the kitchen, where the counters and stove sat unused. I went to the sink and poured myself a glass of water from the filter. As I lifted my head to drink it I saw a flash of movement out of the window that looked out on the backyard, and, squinting in the dim light, I saw Devry, my one male roommate, running around the side of the garage. “What the… “ I said to myself, Then I saw Julie and Kasha, my two female roommates run around the side of the garage too. It looked like they were carry something. They ran from the door in the side of the garage to the yard behind the garage, and then back again, and then closed the door behind them.

I put on my coat and headed out the backdoor. The windows in the big garage door were covered with cardboard and, in trying the side door I noticed it was locked. That was weird, because the lock had broke on that door over a year ago. They must have jammed something against it to keep it closed. I put my ear to it and heard the murmur of conversation. I knocked on it and called out “Hey!”

There was a sudden silence inside, and then Devry asked who it was.

“It’s Captain Mulfado of the Burlington Police Department,” I said, using a deeper official tone. “You people are in a lot of trouble.”

Inside, I heard something go clunk, and then heard some bustling sounds and then absolute silence.

I decided to end my small charade and said “Come on Devry, It’s me, Michael, who do you think it would be. Come on and let me in, what are you guys doing in there? Are we having dinner in the garage?”

The door opened a crack and Devry’s dark eyes peered out. “Michael,” he said, “You scared the crap out of me.” Then he opened the door,  reached out and pulled me inside.

When my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw Julie and Kasha in the corner, trying, impossibly to hide four animals behind them. “What the heck are those?” I said.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” Kasha asked.

“I will not!” I said. As the older person in the house I was often seen as the ‘authority figure’, which, as anyone who knows me could tell you, is a fairly ridiculous proposition.

They moved aside and I saw the four small reindeers that were usually carting children up and down Church Street.

“You didn’t.” I said

“We did.” said Kasha

I moved closer to them and bent down to pet one of them. Its cute eyes looked into mine and it nuzzled its nose into my hand. “Awwwww. I said, aren’t you adorable?” I said, petting its soft head. It , like all of them, was still wearing its cart-toting harness. A red and green affair that ran around their shoulders (or whatever shoulders are called on reindeer).

I stood up and looked at Devry. He, along with Julie and Kasha we’re all looking at me excitedly. “Why are these reindeer in our garage?” I asked.

“They followed me home.” Kasha said

“Yeah,,” Julie said. “Can we keep them?”

“Isn’t someone going to miss them? I mean, there were five cop cars on Church Street just now. Our house, my three friends, is ACROSS THE STREET from the freaking police station, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“They’re hidden though!”  Devry said. “It was a clean job, no one followed us, and now they’re  here… hidden.”

“How did you guys steal four reindeer out from everyone’s noses?”

Devry became animated and started telling me the story, with his hands flying this way and that, how they hatched the plan after seeing the reindeer ‘forced to pull those kids’ in the cart, how Kasha and Julie created a giant diversion while Devry steered the reindeer into his truck and drove away.

“Giant diversion? What on earth could make everyone on a busy street look the other way?” I asked.

“We streaked.” Kasha said. “Me and Julie.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” said Julie. “It was cold too…. Listen Michael – these animals aren’t meant to be pulling kids in carts so their parent will buy them plastic toys… these animals are meant to be free! If taking my clothes off and running on a busy  street will free them, then I’ll do it every day.”

“Besides,” Kasha added, “we wore masks.”

“And wigs.”

One of the reindeers snorted and stomped its little hoof on the ground behind me. I turned around and watch it pee on the garage floor

I turned around and looked at my three villainous roommates. “Okay… you stole them.”

“Liberated them!” Devry said.

“You call being hidden in our garage liberating? In a couple of hours it’s going to smell pretty reindeery in here.”

“I’ve got a plan,” said Devry. “I’m going to take them to my buddy Steve’s farm down Bakersfield way. I already called him. He said they could live with the goats.”

“When? “ I asked.

“Christmas day,” he said. “Maybe the heat will be off by then. .. and I thought transporting reindeer on Christmas day won’t look as weird.”

I have to admit he had a point. A weird point… but still a point… “So…” I said. “All we have to do is hide them for three days?”

“Yup.”

I turned around and bent down to pet the reindeer nearest to me. The three other ones came and crowded around me and soon I was petting each in turn. They were making soft whinnying noises of happiness. “I only have one problem with this whole thing.” I said, to the group

“What’s that?” Devry asked.

I stood up and turned around to look at the three of them “What are we going to do about dinner?” I asked.

Kasha and Julie both smiled at me. Devry said, “What about pizza?”

One of the reindeer behind me snorted.

 

On Christmas day we all got up early and exchanged gifts among ourselves (We do a secret Santa thing – I got a scarf!) and after a nice breakfast we all went out to the garage to load the reindeer in Devry’s truck for the haul to Bakersfield. We had to get moving too, because all of us had to travel to our separate family Christmas destinations.

I have to admit, the reindeer had grown on me, and I was sad that they had to leave. We all had spent the past three nights out in the garage feeding them and petting them, and they became like pets… bigger smellier pets… but still just as warm and loveable, with their big doleful eyes…

But the headlines of the missing reindeer (the national news even picked up the story) and the prospect of jail time didn’t thrill me.

I was the last one headed out to the garage. I was trying to partake of as much coffee as I could before stepping out into the frozen world. It had snowed lightly and I was lacing up my boots when I heard my three roommates yelling for me.

“Michael – they got out – they got out.” They shouted.

I ran outside. The three of them were running this way and that.

“What happened?”

“They must have opened the door somehow and got away!” Kasha said.

“Reindeers can’t open doors.” I said.

“Well the door was open,”  Devry said, “Maybe it wasn’t closed all the way and they just walked out.”

I ran to the garage door and looked inside, hoping this was a practical joke, but sure enough the garage was empty, save the random gardening tools and the makeshift bed of hay in the corner.

I turned around and stood in the doorway and looked down. My three roommates footprints almost entirely obscured the hooveprints of the reindeer, and I had to struggle to figure out which way they went, but soon I had followed them to the driveway and saw that they led out and away from the house. Devry appeared beside me, saw me looking down at the tracks and said. “They couldn’t have got too far. These tracks look fresh.”

I agreed with him. “ Kasha! Julie! “ I shouted. “Get some rope and follow us.”  Devry and I started run/walking, following the tracks.

At the end of the driveway they went straight out into the street and were obscured by tire marks, but then reappeared in the park across the street. I quickly scanned the park, but saw nothing. The park and the surrounding streets seemed deserted.

The tracks went to the right, toward the police station. I looked at Devry. “I’ll take the rap,” he said “If it comes down to that.”

“Hopefully it won’t.” I said. We both started running toward the police station.

The tracks went through the parking lot on the side of the station, and around back, toward the narrow passageway between the police station and the stone wall that bordered the park. Beyond the wall, a cliff fell away to the waterfront. I hoped the reindeer didn’t jump over the wall and go down the cliff! We ran through the parking lot toward the corner of the building.

But as we turned the corner we saw all four reindeer grazing on some weeds that stuck though the snow at the base of the rock wall. They lifted their heads and  looked happy to see us. We stopped, catching our breath and approached them slowly. Kasha and Julie showed up behind us with the rope and without too much trouble we managed to get the rope through loops in the harnesses the reindeer were wearing. We did this as quietly as possible considering the glass windows of the police station that had us in plain site. Luckily, the offices on the other side of the glass looked empty. We started herding the reindeer back to the house, stopping at the edge of the police station to see if the coast was clear. Julie whispered “Looks good… lets go.”

We got fifteen feet before two uniform officers came out of the front door of the building and started walking toward their car… the one car parked in the parking lot we were crossing. They looked at us and we looked at them and quite nonchalantly, Devry said. “Good morning!”

“Merry Christmas!” they answered.

It took them a second to understand what we were doing, but you could see their eyes light up as they realized what was happening. They both changed their stances and slowly approached us. “Okay folks. You’re going to have to stop moving. You’re going to have to hold it right there.”

Devry looked at me and I looked at him. He was trying to give me some sort of sign by quickly raising and lowering his left eyebrow. I looked at him quizzically and he whispered. “Get between the cops and me.”

I gave him the rope that held the reindeers and moved forward. The cops froze, held out their hands and said “Hold it right there buddy.”

“Officers!” I said, “You wouldn’t believe what we found in your backyard. We were taking our morning walk, we live down the block by the way (I pointed in the opposite direction of our house) and we saw these four missing reindeer behind your police station. Boy you guys must have quite a view of the lake. Prime real estate right here.”

The cops both stared at me. One of them said. “Put  your hands above your head buddy.”

“What’s this buddy stuff?”  I said. Putting my hands above my head. “You and I both know we haven’t even been formally introduced.”

I turned around then and winked at Devry, and ran as fast as I could toward the police station. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Devry and the reindeer start running the other way  – across the park. The cops didn’t know which way to go for a second. One of them pointed to Julie and Kasha and said, “Stay there!” And then both cops went chasing after Devry.

Soon, instead of Devry leading the reindeer, the reindeer were leading him. Maybe they were running so fast after being cooped up in our garage for three days. Devry was being tugged by the rope that was tied to their harnesses. Kasha and Julie and I gathered in a little group and watched the police chase Devry.  At first it seemed like they had a chance to catch him, but soon the reindeer were running faster and faster.

“They’re running right toward the cliff.” Julie said.

She was right. “I don’t think he can control them.” I said.

We all watched in rapt attention as the reindeer and Devry swiftly approached the cliff. Kasha grabbed onto my arm. I grabbed onto Julies arm. The policeman were shouting “Look out, Look out!” We all held our breath.

With a surge, the reindeer all jumped, clomped their hooves down once on the stone wall, then flung themselves into the air, with Devry trailing behind, hanging on to the rope for all he was worth. They soared off into the blue, their little hooves still moving. Devry was screaming at the top of his lungs. The police, like us, were stunned, and were left watching them disappear – headed East it seemed, headed into the weak winter sun. They seemed to move faster and faster. Maybe the wind was at their backs.

I came to my senses, tugged Julie and Kasha’s sleeves and we ran around the corner and ran through the back streets and snuck back into our house through the neighbor’s yard and the hole in our backyard fence. We all sat on the floor of the kitchen breathing hard and trying to process what had happened. None of us could speak..

Then there was a loud thud. It seemed to come from the roof. “What now?!” I said, and got up to see what the sound was.

But before I could get to the door Devry came in, He was holding his hands under his arms and shivering. “Soooo cold he said. Soooo cold….”

Julie went into the living room and got one of the blankets off the couch. “Here Devry, try this.” she said, wrapping the blanket around him.

“What happened?” I asked

“Where are the reindeer?” asked Kasha.

“I don’t ….know….” Devry said between shivers. “They swung once … through town … and then swung back over the house… they dropped low and slowed down enough … so that I could jump off on the roof of the porch.

“Which way did they go? Did you see?”

“No… my eyes were pretty watery from the wind and the cold. I don’t know how Santa does it. It’s freezing up there!”

“Maybe he wears a ski mask.” Kasha said.

“I’ve never seen a ski mask on him in any of the pictures.” I said.

“Maybe he has special eyes,” Julie said. “You know… or maybe he’s just really used to it, like he’s built up a tolerance.”

We all mulled that over for a while. Devry shivered under his blanket. Then Julie said. “Maybe I’ll make some tea. Does anybody want some tea?

Both Kasha and Devry said they would, but I said no thanks.

I had to go to my room and wrap some presents still. As usual, I was a little bit behind schedule.

When the coyote galloped into the men’s wear section of the department store in the new mall, I had a feeling that the day was going to circumvent the norm. Call it a hunch. It galloped in, looked me in the eyes, yipped, and bounced past me. Then it hopped on the escalator and headed up to the second floor.

Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead in this department store – I mean – I was part of the group that protested the construction of the new part of the building. My friend Steve and I were the ones who had chained ourselves to the trees that needed to be torn down. But my curiosity got the best of me. Maybe all those stories I have been reading lately about Zen Monks started to balance me. Who knows?

It was the day after Thanksgiving and I was on my way home from the coffee shop. The crowds, gathered around the enhanced entrance of our new mall., I noticed, were unusually thick. They were buzzing with a sense of heightened shopping awareness that was hard to ignore.

Like I said, maybe it was all those stories about Zen Monks. My anger at this massive— arguably architechecturally unappealing— building being built directly on the tree-lined path that I used to ride my bike on almost completely vanished. My anger vanished and it was replaced by a mild curiosity. If all those people liked it, then why couldn’t I?

Either way, I strode into the mall with an invigorating sense of fresh discovery, and I walked down the wide hall to the new department store.

The space! The staircases! I ended up in the men’s wear section. I was trying to ascertain the latest fashion trends so I would know what to look for at the thrift stores where I actually shopped. Here’s what I learned- the new black is black- and too expensive for me. I decided to see if they had a gadget section. I – like everyone I suppose – like me some gadgets.

There was an open area around the base of the escalator laden with fake plants, signs telling of sales, and a directory, which I headed towards.

That’s when the coyote ran past me. It was tan and grey, majestic and natural, bounding with the grace and ease of a dynamic musculature, and it seemed completely out of place. It was all curves and fluidity in a place of sharp angles and lines. Its eyes were a blue-grey. Its yip was less than a bark and more of a siren. It seemed lost, and confused, yet guided by the instinct to run.

It bound up the empty escalator, leaving a wake of dazed shoppers in its path. I heard footsteps like people were running after it. I ran up the escalator before the footsteps reached me.

At the top was a wide area similar to the one at the bottom, leading to house wares or the ‘linens’ section of the store. The wake of dazed shoppers and the occasional scream led me to believe the coyote had made its way to the corner– to the field of beds that composed the ‘bed’ section. I ran past the frightened shoppers and mothers and children and saw the coyote on the furthest bed. I made my way over, joined by some curious strangers, two of the mall’s security guards and six or seven of the department store’s workers, who had noticed the excitement.

The bed the coyote sat on was a king-sized four-post job. The posts were carved with elegant, but not gaudy, flourishes. It was the nicest bed in the lot, I thought. This coyote had some taste.

A loose circle of people formed. The coyote stood on the bed watching all of us, not growling, but definitely in a defensive stance. A security guard appeared next to me breathing hard. He said something unintelligible into his walkie-talkie, and then the walkie-talkie squawked something unintelligible back. I noticed the circle drawing a little closer. The coyote let out a low growl.

“Everyone just take it easy.” I said in as calm a voice as I could muster. “Let’s just all take a coupl’a steps back and keep our distance… okay….”

Everyone took a step back. I had learned a long time ago to speak up first. Those who spoke up first were often considered the ‘leader’. There were people starting to show up along the perimeter of the circle. I turned to the security guard next to me and pointed. “You should have someone keep those people back.”

He turned and looked at the approaching people. They were many in number. They were curious, as people are want to be. He turned to me, nodded his head, and walked off, squawking into his walkie-talkie and waving his arms at the gathering crowds. I asked the guy next to me, some random guy in a suit, if he had a phone that I could borrow. He reached into his breast pocket and handed me a little phone, which I flicked open and dialed.

I needed Steve. He lived only two blocks away. He would totally know what to do, I thought. He answered on the third ring. “Steve. I don’t know how to explain this, but I’m on the second floor of the new department store in the mall, in the corner near the beds. There is a very flammable situation that requires your special touch. There is a coyote in the mall, Steve.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I wish man… listen… things are very tense and there is an animal that needs help. There are suits and me and security guards and I’m sure the cops are on the way. There are no friendlies Steve, I repeat, no friendlies, and I am surrounded. I need help.”

Steve must have got the point, because he said, quickly, “Hold ‘em off. I’m on my way.” and hung up the phone.

I kept the phone up to my ear. I think the whole phone thing went with the whole ‘guy in charge’ image that I was creating.

When I looked at the coyote it looked right at me. It had a pleading look in its eye. Maybe it was my imagination. It had stopped growling but was looking intently at me, then, at everything around it, then at me again.

The loose group of people around the coyote–which I informally commanded– seemed dazed. We all had instinctually run here, but now what? The circle had once again, as circles will, begun to tighten up.             “Hey… come on folks… “ I said… “Let’s step back.”

Just as we all took a step back two uniform police officers ran up to us with their guns drawn. Oh jeez, I thought. One of them said, “Who’s in charge here?”

Everyone looked at me. The cops asked me what was going on.

Once again I mustered the calmest voice I could. “I think this coyote wandered in here off the streets. I think it’s just as scared of us, as some of us are of it. I think those guns are raising the level of excitation to a dangerous level… the coyote is cornered.”

The two officers looked at me, then at the coyote, then at each other. They slowly holstered their weapons. It seemed everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Even the coyote circled once on the bed, sat down, and let out a little yelp, as if it were happy with the way things were progressing.

The police officers conferred, squawked into their squeakers, and one of them headed over towards me. I put the phone up to my ear and faked talking into it. “Yup… uh-huh… that’s right…” When the cop reached me I acknowledged him with my eyes, but I held up my finger politely to tell him that I was on the phone. “Yes… I understand.” I said.

I clicked shut the phone and looked up at the officer, happy he wasn’t the one who arrested me just last year. “We’ve called animal control.,” he said.

“Good… but I have orders that this animal is not to be harmed…. in any way.”

“Well… I understand that… but this is a wild animal. If it starts to…

Just then the phone I was holding rang, effectively cutting the police officer off. I answered it and a voice asked for Harold. I held up my hand to the cop indicating that the call was important and started jabbering away. “Yes… I understand… well the situation appears very stable now….” The cop looked somewhat annoyed and drifted away toward his partner. The voice that asked for Harold hung up confused.  I was really getting into my role. I wondered just how far I could go… just what I could get all the people around us and the police to do at my mere suggestion. I continued jabbering away importantly into the telephone and started pacing a bit, like I imagine real people do in times of stress.

I thought I deserved an Oscar. I began to think I had a career in the theater. I began to see myself on stage playing the part of myself in ‘coyote’ the play.

The media showed up and I had to hop out of my head and be involved. Two camera people, four or five support folks with lights and wires, and two anchor people, which I recognized from the teevee.

The security guards had been doing a real good job keeping the perimeter secure, despite the ever-growing crowd. The cops had formed an inner perimeter; an inner circle of the people who had been here at the beginning of the event.

The outer group parted like an infamous sea to let the media people through, but they had been stopped at the outer edge of the inner circle. The camera people wielded their cameras like bazookas.

The media people and the cops conferred, they looked over at me and I walked over to them. “You can set up here, but no lights, you got it… bright lights will spook him… or her… “ I looked directly at the guys with the cameras, and their support crew. “You guys got that?”

They nodded. One of the news people, the woman from channel five, looked at me like she recognized me. She had interviewed me while I was chained to one of the trees last year. I moved away quickly.

I went and stood as close to the coyote as anyone had dared, and I stood looking into her eyes… from here I was pretty sure it was a her. And she was beautiful… It let out a little moan as we looked at each other, and I said, in a calm voice, “Everything’s going to be okay friend… everything’s going to be just fine…” and I repeated those phrases over and over to the coyote and myself like a mantra. I heard the news people start schpieling behind me. I stood there and chanted and wondered when my cover would be blown, staring into the coyote’s deep blue-grey eyes.

Many moments passed in this manner.

“Everything’s going to be just fine friend… everything’s going to be just fine.”

A man showed up demanding to know, “What the hell was going on?”

Apparently he was the store manager. He demanded to know what was going on and I’m not sure what else. I didn’t turn around. I heard him talking to the cops and I heard him saying “Who? Who the hell is he!?”

It would appear the time for action is nigh I thought to myself. I flicked open the phone and put it to my ear again.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around, pretending that I was listening hard, amidst a conversation, on the phone. The Head Mucky-muck started to say something but I silenced him by holding my finger up and going “Yeah.. I understand.” into the phone. We all turned as my friend Steve caused his usual commotion barreling through the expanse of the outer crowds. All six foot eight of him. He had nine or ten people following close behind. His head of flaming red hair led everyone like a torch.  “Yoo-hoo!” I called. “Ste-eve… over he-eeere!”

At the same time, from the left, came, in a flurry, two more police officers, and two white lab-coat wearing animal control officers.  One of the animal control people had a big net, and the other had a steel box, which, I assumed contained a tranquilizer gun. The Mucky-muck started asking who I was again and I held up my finger, effectively silencing him once again. I started talking into the phone, reciting loose bits of poems.

Steve made his way through the crowd and was now circumventing, to the right, the media circus. We made eye connection and I held up my hand flat, then I pointed to the coyote. We needed a wall right there.

The animal control people started setting up an area to the left. They opened their box and started assembling their gun.

The Mucky-muck started to scream that I should be arrested. Steve and the five women and four men with him formed a human wall around the coyote, facing out. They locked arms and looked straight ahead, determined. I turned to the left and said “Hey Harold! Here’s your phone.” and I tossed the phone to a still dazed Harold. The police officer, who had his handcuffs out, started to rapidly approach me. “Everything’s under control now officer. You can pull your men back!”, I said, and then I laughed heartily. He grabbed my arms, pulled them behind my back and cuffed me.

One of the other police officers came to help lead me away, but I went calmly and quietly. Behind me the scene started to turn uproarious, with the Mucky-muck yelling and the teevee people trying to narrate the action to the public. I noticed they were taking me around to the left, past the animal control people, who now had their tranquilizer gun out, but could not get a clear shot. As we walked past I surged all my energy and leaned to the left, knocking myself and both officers down into the guy with the gun, which fell out of his hand, bounced on the ground, and went off.

As I struggled with the police officers, who were now determinedly using force to pin me down, I saw the Mucky-muck grab his shoulder and fall to the ground with a dazed look on his face. “Bulls eye.” I said.

Then I did what I do whenever I get arrested. I started loudly reciting the Declaration of Independence. One officer leaned heavily on my back and the other smooshed my head into the floor with the full weight of his body. The carpet smelled like chemicals.

Just before I lost consciousness I heard the coyote howl.

 

—–

 

By the time I was released the situation had calmed down. The Department Store, anxious to avoid a riot, had let the ‘protesters’ protect the coyote, and the sense of tension lifted. In a way it was good for sales. Everyone came by to have a look at ‘the doggie’, as Steve called her, shopping while they did.

We ‘protesters’ kept a constant vigil. We called the local Native American Tribe, the Abenakis, for advice, and three of the Elders came by to speak with us. They thought we were doing a good job, but were about as perplexed by the situation as we were. The coyote figures heavily in creation myth, in history, but not in prophecy. “If it was a white Buffalo we would know just what to do!” one of them had said to me. They did do a cleansing ceremony for the space, and that seemed to calm the energy of the area down even more.

And they did say to be careful. The coyote is a legendary trickster.

But there was nothing tricky about Tara, as she came to be called. Nothing tricky as far as I could see. I ended up ‘taking charge’ of the night shift, along with five of six others, and the constant two or three security guards Filene’s insisted upon. I wrote mostly— I’m working on another novel— while the others did homework or read or slept. And I slept too. Eventually every night at two or so I would drift off… trying to catch up with that place where my dreams roam.

By the second week in December we were all pretty friendly; the security guards, The Department Store folks, (even Mr. Mucky-muck!) and us ‘protesters… and of course Tara. She allowed everyone to approach her, to change her water or feed her or clean her sandbox… and she even let me sit on the bed a few times. She would look at me with those pleading eyes and I would go over and sit while she stretched her head toward me so that I would pet her.

She would whine softly and I would look into her eyes and wonder why she was here… wonder what meaning lay behind her actions… Was this a sign of the ‘end’ that people like to talk about. Or was she just a hint at a new beginning?

The week before Christmas Tara started following me when I went anywhere, like to the bathroom. And she would follow me all around the store, with the security guards always following behind. In the mornings when I left she would whine and moan when I went to leave. Steve, who was ’in charge’ of the day shift, said that maybe I had found my other. He said that maybe this coyote and I were twins, split only at the soul, and as I sat looking into her blue-grey eyes— eyes that were the color of winter skies— sometimes I would think the same thing.

Tomorrow is Christmas and Steve and I are the only ones who are going to watch Tara, besides the requisite security guards… but even they are in on the plan. We had all been thinking about what kind of present to get her… I mean… a bone just didn’t seem to cut it… so we all came up with this plan. We are going to see if Tara will follow me… through house wares, down the escalator, through men’s wear, and out, through the emergency exit, to the street. Steve said he would park his pick-up truck right outside and drive us both into the hills. He said he knew a perfect spot. A spot where we could both run free.

It’s hard to believe another year has come and gone!! 2011 was another whirlwind of family fun and activity for us! We hope it was for you too!

Those who know me know I love to experiment with potentially dangerous chemicals. Well this year was no different! In my attempt to manufacture a compound that worked like glue, but would stay pliable, like clay, I made a small hole that burned through my workbench, the basement floor and about 12 feet down into the earth below the house. It smelled like static electricity in our house for weeks afterward and I am still experiencing a little light-headedness, but otherwise there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage. The dog seems a lot smarter – and I guess that is a good thing. But you know what they say – back to the old drawing board!

If I could only find the drawing board!

Sarah has continued her fervent tag sale shopping and we are quickly running out of room. We built an addition on the back of the garage, but we either need to have a garage sale ourselves, or renovate the attic into a storage space.

I guess I could always drop more experimental compound in the basement and build a sub-basement!

For our vacation this year we went to Branson, Missouri. Sarah and I were doing some recon – as we plan to launch our Country and Western Comedy Circus sometime in the next few years. We had a lot of meetings and saw a lot of shows -our fave was Yackoff Smirnoff – the Russian comic. He is just hilarious. We met with him afterward and tried to buy him some shots of Vodka, but he just drinks organic juice now-a-days! Talk about your disappointments. We bought tickets to his show the next day with the intent of heckling him, but we ended up being too hungover to get out of bed.

But we did have fun. To this day whenever one of us has a bad day, one of us will turn to the other and say – “Well – we’ll always have Branson!” and it never fails to perk us up.

The dog and the cat have been getting along better then ever (perhaps due to the dogs increased intelligence?) – they have quite a little routine worked out where the cat pretends to run away from the dog, and the dog pretends to chase him. But when the cat gets cornered and flops on the ground, the dog spins the cat around on his back with its nose, so the cat becomes a little furry break dancer. He has even developed some moves to come out of the spin – up on his one back leg (he only has three legs) or I have also seen him do a little handstand, or rest his paws behind his head, rapper style. I will have to try and video tape that for the youtube one day. I am sure – as with all cat dancing videos – it will go viral.

Speaking of viral, I developed a strange sensation in my right arm and went to see the doctor. It was a classic “It hurts when I do this.” type situation, so I almost didn’t go, because I know I couldn’t resist saying that joke, and I know doctors must be tired of hearing it!

 

But I am glad I went – after multiple exhaustive tests and a retinue of probing exams they found a strange virus developing in my bicep. They haven’t seen anything like it before, so they want to keep the virus alive to better study it. So now I have that going on. Sometimes I swear I can hear the virus in my arm talking – and I guess the doctors heard things from it too, which is why they seem so curious about it. Maybe it’s a “Horton Hears A Who” type thing and I have an entire planet living in my bicep!

Mostly I hear it recite Joyce – not the author – just the name “Joyce”. Or I guess it could be saying “Joyeux” – you know… for the holidays.

Well, I better being going. I have a Country and Western Comedy Circus practice this evening and it’s my turn on the highwire!

Hope all your holidays are happy!

 

When Stanley was 14 he was invited to a party by a popular girl in his school. Things did not go well. I won’t go into all the details, but it was bad… all the kids at the party standing in a circle pointing and laughing at him bad… In the following years, after subsequent failed attempts at socializing Stan just gave up, and took a dislike to parties, and the people that throw them. And go to them. Or talk about them.

He, as the saying goes, threw himself into his work. He had a natural gift for math, yet deep in his heart he longed for romance – the romance he would never have – so he fell, like many in his situation, into physics. Physics attempts to explain both the unexplainable and the natural movement of the natural world, much like poetry. He studied hard, got a scholarship to MIT and got his Doctorate a full two years early. His final thesis on Einstein’s theory  was lauded throughout the physics world, yet still. Stanley never got over his anti-social streak. He ended up back living in his parents basement after college, taking a mediocre IT job with a local company, where he had little interaction with people, going in at night and preforming backups and system upgrades in the wee hours.

With his computer knowledge and the office relatively to himself, he sometimes logged into people social network sites (he didn’t have one – no one would have friended him). The pictures of parties and people having fun were overwhelming and threw him into strange frenzies. He would storm around the office ranting. More and more frequently these heightened feelings would stay with him after he left work and went home, to his basement.

One morning, as was often the custom when he arrived home, his mother would ask him if he wanted dinner. He grumbled a yes and sat down at the table while his mother served him leftover leatlof from yesterdays dinner. She, as mothers will, asked him in a sing song voice. “How was work last night dear?”

“It was fine mom.” he lied.

“Christmas is coming up dear, so you want anything in particular form Santa this year?”

“No mom.”

“And then New Years is right after! You should fine yourself a party to go to and have some fun. You know – I don’t think I ever told you this – but your Father and I would never have met if it wasn’t for a New Years Eve party. You see… my friend Jackie – you remember Jackie don;t you dear? Well she had a friend named Betty – Betty Maker – and Betty had a friend named…

His mother went on with her long winding story Stanley fumed. He ate his meatloaf and fumed. He ate his mashed potatoes and green beans and he fumed. Then he excused himself and went into the basement. His head was swimming and swimming with thoughts. He rolled his blackboard to the middle of the room and started doing equations. Sometimes this would clear his mind, but tonight his train of thought was so strong that the equations focused his attentions of New Years Eve and the parties he knew would happen without him. He focused on how to stop them from happening. He stood at the blackboard for eight hours straight – a personal record – and then exhausted, stepped back and looked at the board…. he couldn’t believe what he saw. He re-checked and re-checked again. “Holy Schmogogie!!” he exclaimed. I think… I think I can do it!

He set off to the local electronics “Shack” store and bought a series of wires and transformers and adapters. It was early day after Christmas morning and he had the store practically to himself. A salesgirl of indiscriminate age was helping find the items.

“I really didn’t even know we had some of these.” she said, opening a drawer of diodes in the less trafficed aisle of the store.

“Well – I could have taken a computer apart to get them, but it seemed easier to come in.”

“Yeah. Easier. What are you going to do with these things?”

“Ummm… I really shouldn’t say.”

“Wooookay…. you aren;t building bombs are you?”

“Ha. No – well… not really… it’s complicated.”

“Here it is,” she said, holding up a 5 pack of 1 amp diodes. “Well , was that is or was there something else?”

Stanley took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and went down the list with his finger. “Do you have a cyclotronic phase reactor?”

“Right next to the remote control helicopters.”

“Really?”

“No. I don’t even know what a phase-o-tronic whatsamawhosie is. ”

“It’s like an advanced magnetron. I will have to take apart the microwave to build it I guess… . I am going to make a machine that can skip time. So New Years Eve will be skipped.”

“Cool. Wait. You mean for everyone?”

“No. Yeah. I am not sure really. Probably. I don’t know really.”

“Hmm… I wonder if I will still get a hangover?”

“Good question. I guess it depends on how much you drink.”

“And if your time-skipper skips me to the next day.”

“I guess.”

“I don’t really drink enough to hangovers.”

“Oh. Me neither.”

It suddenly occurred to Stanley that he might be flirting. That what he was experiencing was an extended period of interaction between two people that became casual… personal even. Wasn’t that flirting? He looked up from his list and into the girls eyes. She was looking at him. His eyes stared into hers… lowered slowly to her beautiful…

…name tag. “Betty” it said. He felt his face get flush. “I think that will be everything.” he said.

“Okay,” Betty said, moving towards the cash register. She could feel his nervousness and, being new to the job and a little nervous herself, she rung him up and he left.

She had almost forgot about him. As the days after Christmas turned busy with shoppers, and here she was learning the new quirks and intricacies of the job. You would not even believe the amount of people that need electronics.

Although new in town she was invited to a party that one of her coworkers was throwing. She wasn’t much of a ‘partier’, so at first she said no, but her coworker, Sally, had talked her into it. It would be pretty mellow, she said, her husband and her friends weren’t ‘party animals’ or anything like that. They would probably end up playing charades or something – at the very most one bottle of champagne might be opened. So she said yes. She was going through the closing rituals at the store, and as if for the first time allowed herself to get excited about enjoying a night out, when she remembered that guy who had come in early on the day after Christmas and bought the diodes.  “Oh!” she exclaimed aloud. “If he was successful making his… thingamawich…then I won’t even know if I have fun tonight!”

She looked through the computer for the transaction and got his name and address, and drove over to his house. His mother answered the door, and seem very very surprised to see her, but indeed let her in, offered her meatloaf and fresca, and then showed her to the basement door. “Stanley is down there.” she said.

She went downstairs and could not believe her eyes. Stanley was hunched over a large device festooned with wires and lights and gadgets. He was soldering something, wearing safety glasses.

“Stanley?”

“What mom?” he said absently.

“I’m not… mom.”

He looked up, his eyes became wide. “Betty!” he said. Then he jumped up, yelling “Ow! Ow ow ow ow!” He rushed to the workbench. Betty rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… ow!” he stuck his finger in his mouth for a second and said, “Wi-juss-burrliill.”

“Huh?”

He popped his finger out of his mouth and said, “I just burned it a little. Nothing bad. What are you doing here?”

“Well… I was thinking about tonight. I got invited to my friends house and I was thinking that it might be fun, and then I remembered you… and your device…. I didn’t want to miss the party Stanley.. I really want to go and not skip over it… ” Her head turned toward the device. “And this… wow… so this is what diodes and magnocyclers look like all welded together huh?”

“Soldered. Yeah.” he walked up to it. “I ran a preliminary test on the temporal mediators, I think it should be good to go, as the kids say.”

“Stanley… can I ask you something?”

“Why do you want to skip New Years Eve? Or make it skip or whatever?”

“I hate parties. There’s always so much… well… I haven’t gone to one in a long while…”

“Why don’t you come with me to my party? I think it will be pretty mellow, you know, like charades and whatever. Just some people from the store, so they might know about capacitrons or whatever.”

“But.. what about my device? I was just about to start it up! Once I route the power from the servers in the corner I think there are only 5 or 6 steps, and then BAM! It will be tomorrow!”

“But I like right now. And I think I will like later too. I like all the times Stanley, that pass, even the rough ones and hard ones and long ones and boring ones. All the moments that go by… well… that makes us into who we are… right?”

“Yeah… I guess… but I think this machine can open slipstreams into temporal reality. I think it can have far reaching… you know.. ramifications!”

“That’s nice and all… but… listen… you don’t have to come if you don’t want to… but I think it will be fun. You seem like a nice enough person when you aren’t trying to escape life… so I’ll make a deal with you. You come with me to the party, and if you don’t like it you can leave, and flip the switch on your device here, and skip time over for as long as you like… but first… you should just give the party a try… I think it will be fun.”

He stood looking at Betty and turned things over in his mind. “Okay.” he said, “I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” she smiled.

“But if I don’t like it I will come here and skip ahead to next New Years Day… a whole year!”

“Okay… ” she said, rolling her eyes. “Deal.” she stuck out her hand and Stanley took it, They stood there for a second shaking hands slowly for a second and looking into each others eyes. Then Betty said. “Come on. Let’s go!”

And that is what they did.

__________________

Somewhere in the North Pole, Santa was snoozing in his easy chair, another year under his belt. And elf came rushing into the room, startling him awake. “Rummhhp… ahem.. yesss.. what is it Bimbley?”

“We just got this memo form the Northern Quadrant sir – those situations you were wondering about… ” Bimbley handed his the note, “looks like they’re going to work out for the best….”

“Ho ho ho! Of course it is Bimbley! Of course… some gifts arrive a little slower then others.”

“Yes Santa. Well Good night!”

“Good night to you too Bimbley – good night to all of us!”

“Will you be joining the Elves for the New Years Party Santa?”

“Oh no Bimbley… I’ve learned my lesson. You elves are too much on Old Saint Nick.”

“Well okay Santa. Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year to us all Bimbley! Happy New Year to us all!”

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Thanks for reading!

Michael Nedell

michael (at) vermontsnows.com