My Brother's Keeper

Too late the morning

Flower frozen in night ice,

Grieving garden's sun.

"What's this supposed to mean?"

"It's a haiku."

"Need I remind you I'm the warden and you're the prisoner? Do you want to come clean on this or not?"

"Come clean how?"

"Writing is a privilege. They say we have to give you privileges but we can take them away too."

"I'm completely lost. Writing is a strain, it's very hard."

"Hard for you? How about your eight victims? How about their families? How hard is it for them? How would they feel to see you glorying in their pain?"

"That isn't about them."

"It's not? I can read the homonyms here. English was my major - unfortunately for you. 'Morning' should be 'mourning' and 'sun' should be 'son'. This is you mocking one of your victim's death."

"It's about me. Each night I die. After what I've done, how can there be hope? I killed because I was dead inside. But I only dug the hole deeper."

"Is that what the psychiatrist told you to say? I've heard all that crap before. If you want sympathy and forgiveness you're not going to get it here. You want to meet God? You're looking at him. I own your life. You see, I am my brother's keeper. And redemption is not to be had for a killer like you."

"I can give no argument. Everything is black."

"As black as a buried coffin, no doubt."

"I don't know what else to do. I'm not saying my writing has any value. I don't know what choice I have but to try and crawl back to the light. I'm not saying I deserve it."

"I'll be the judge of what you deserve. It is I who divines justice. There's a reason why I go home to a warm bed at night and you to a cold cell. Seems I need to make you understand that."

For good people only

"I understand I did my crimes."

"No! No! I don't think so. You are in my charge by the authority granted to me by God. I can do no wrong. But a slithering snake like you must stay in the dark - as dark as your victims' graves. That's what you need to understand."

"I'm lost, just trying to find my way. Sometimes, when I write, I feel I've done something. That I've made a connection. I'm not God. I have no way of knowing. It's probably wishful thinking. But it keeps pouring out of me."

"Filth! That's what keeps pouring out of you. I've been reading it for the past six months. And just for the record, I am God and know what is worthy and what is not. And I'm telling you, this is not."

"How can I know?"

"I'll show you how. Hanssen! Bring me a lighter." The guard stepping forward obliged from his front pocket. "I'm going to burn this notebook of yours and that will be the end of this now and forever. Through these flames I purify and make the world a better place. Now back to your cell!"

Hanssen spoke after the prisoner departed through the heavy metal door. "I thought you said one of your old writing contacts reviewed that notebook and thought it to be "shatteringly honest"."

"Yeah, so?"

"I though you was bringing him in here to let him know."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"I dunno. Because it's the truth?"

"The truth! The truth is he's a killer and must be made to suffer."

"I thought vengeance is the Lord's."

"Did I not say that by divine right I sit here? The Lord's vengeance comes through me. Do you want him to turn into some sort of successful writer after what he's done? How could there be justice in that? I am a stalwart of the Good Book. I am my brother's keeper."

"But you're not supposed to be, right? Nobody owns nobody, I always says."

"I don't know where you get that nonsense from but it's got to stop. You've got everything backwards, Hanssen. I own that bastard and every other prisoner in this place. How else would I be allowed to do that but by the grace of God?"

"Maybe God's got nothing to do with it and it's just people letting you do it."

"Enough of your idiocy! I don't have time to educate you. The total tonnage of what you don't know could fill a mountain. End of discussion."

Hanssen shuffled his feet. "Well, I know what I felt."

The warden by this time was writing with his head down, having already mentally dismissed Hanssen. "Nobody cares what you feel..."

"I guess that's good then, 'cause all I could help feeling when you was burning that book was 'Too late the morning.'"

A Tale Of Two Criminals

This will sound crazy but it all started with me thieving this penknife. Still got it, I do. But me whole life went down the toilet in a chain reaction. I was just a kid then but even so I didn't see no future in dark Liverpool. Anything I got I had to make myself, I knew. It's tough like that, just you against the world, making your own way not giving thoughts to what folks thinks is right.

I had me a sometimes running mate named Johnny. He's the only one what got the nerve I has. Neither of us thought twice of shoplifting what we wanted. The world didn't think nothin' of us, we didn't think much of it either. Expectin' them to hand you somethin' is the surest way to get stuffed. Me and Johnny wasn't gonna let that happen.

But Johnny boy, he was of a different sort. He not let nothing possess him! So he shows off his new knife to everybody, using it like he sees fit till his aunt who he's living with sees it and busts him. She takes him by the ear back to the store, making him say he's sorry. But that Johnny, there's no stopping him! He nabs a candy bar all the while and our whole gang was laughing. "This time I'm safe," he says, "I ate the evidence!" We was just rolling about the place.

But that was Johnny, always doing what he wanted no matter what. He went on to be famous with his rock and roll, still just doing what he wanted. But me, I was having none of that. I got me knife and no way was I going to get busted. I kept it secret and I kept it mine - no matter what. Looking back, I was awful dumb. I didn't own that knife - it owned me.

Secrets are like chains. You ain't free - and you think you got a right reason not to be free. Like me. I had a good reason now for lying. Thing is I never stopped lying. Me and Johnny went separate ways after he took his knife back. What was common between us was gone. I still respected his nerve but we was seeing the other guy as dangerous. I started thinking the less of me but I'd of never admitted it. I wasn't admittin' nothin'!

I could blame a lot on bad luck but when you take a wrong turn bad shit is bound to happen. Kumar, that Indian, thinks he can mouth off to me. We English never shoulda freed them damn Indians. He was always worrying about what other people was thinking and he hates I stole that penknife. He's probably still out there trying to please mommy and daddy. But when he threatens to narc on me, well, he got what was coming to him.

I hadn't been in a fight before. Kumar just brought out the worst in me. My ma was all like, "How could you!" like a shot somebody or something. Pissed me off her taking it so damn hard! I shoulda learn then if I'd been thinking. She'd been lot less angry over the penknife if I'd been busted for that than for the fighting. Plus I'd be free too. So by trying not to get in trouble for one thing I got in more trouble for another!

But I wasn't thinking like that. I was thinking Kumar was the source of me troubles. And that means you gotta fight. Anytime after that I had any trouble I used me fists. I was thinking I had to like it was life and death. That one little secret steamrolled on me. I was convinced solid if you couldn't get away with nothin' in life you was doomed. Just shut up the Kumars of the world and you'd be fine. Trouble was there's always one more Kumar.

I was gifted as a burglar. What was crippling to me in school was a blessing on the outside. Having always to figure things out for yourself makes the holes in other people show up like x-rays. To every building there's a psychology. I got real good at reading that and things just sort of fell into place. I was respected by my peers. But I was walking a tightrope.

For a while there I was on top. Walking down the street with all them suckers slaving away. I felt dumber than them in school cause I couldn't think the way the teachers wanted me to. But now I sees them as the idiots. Damn them for conning me! What a terrible thing to do to a child. Ate me alive. I just had to feel like I could get away something. It proved I was worthwhile.

Even the secrets got to be like familiar friends. With every job I was adding to the heap. Didn't need no drugs, that was its own natural high. "Normal" people was beyond boring. They didn't have nothin' to say! I was watching Johnny from afar, proud of him still sticking it to them, tellin' them to rattle their jewelry. Priceless! I was hoping Johnny would be just as proud of me too making my own way. The world is a criminal enterprise, yes sir.

It wasn't the stealing that made me a criminal. I never had no guilt about that. Some did, some didn't. Those that did didn't last every long. I called them "Kumars". Weak-brained, never taking a stand. But what did get me was the idea of getting caught. That penknife secret was still with me - not that I was ever much conscious about it. All I knew was I had to be free. But I couldn't just leave well enough alone.

It's not bad luck finding a dame. I have to keep reminding myself that. Me burgling had me feeling smart but how would that play with her? I had me convinced I was worthwhile but if the love of my life shot me down I'd never survive it. Wasn't until too late I find out she believed in me and understood what I had to do. I wanted to believe that, I wanted to believe with all me heart. I just didn't have the guts to find out. So I repeats that same pattern of spending a thousand trying to get out of paying a hundred. It really hurts bad saying all this.

One of things I remember when I was pounding Kumar was thinking, "You ain't white. You don't count like I do." I should have growed out of that because I know it's dumb. But really, I was just looking for an excuse for what I'd done. I'd never made peace with it. Never told him I was sorry. That was one thing Johnny had more guts than me. He'd say he's sorry, even if it did take a while. Guess what I'm trying to say is this all played into me killing Julio.

Julio wasn't going to rat me out. It was more of that "bad luck". His sister was dating a cop and he had these immigration troubles and...well, I took two and two and came up with five. I couldn't let go of it, I was counting on the lies to save me. I feared going to jail, away from the love of my life. Without the missing of her I might have been able to handle it but me head was spinning and I was taking no chances. I shot him during a job and went on the lam. I told myself maybe they wouldn't be so angry cause Julio wasn't white.

But there wasn't no place to run to, not in the whole of the world. Julio's sister ended up marrying that cop and he made it his personal mission to hound me. More bad luck. The longer I stayed un-captured the more I had to lie. The more I had to lie the less free I was. Then I heard a Johnny song saying, "One thing I can tell you is you got to be free." Much as it hurt, I had to face up to me crimes if I ever wanted to be free. Wish I'd realized that when it was just a chewing out for boosting a penknife.

For being a slow learner I got 14 years. I wrote my love a few times but she didn't respond. Now I just write her in me head, when I'm lying down at night still wasting life trying to explain myself. How do I let go of this deep secret? I thought I wasn't good enough. I hoped that a valid reason to lie. I know this will sound crazy but I could have been an honest burglar. I just didn't want to give up my excuses. I really just wanted to live, is all.

Shotgun Divorce

"I think what I'm going to do is shoot her."

"Shoot her?? But why?"

"Because it's like I'm on a frying pan getting fried alive and I'm going out of my mind!"

"Shooting her won't help that. It will only make it worse."

"How do you figure? I need her and it's driving me crazy. Getting rid of her gets rid of her being a problem."

"It's just the opposite. You'll only be adding to your problems. Shooting her won't make you stop needing her."

"But it has to! It's 24/7 fear, anger and depression. You wouldn't believe the agony."

"You fucked up. You had a chance to be with her and you fucked up. That's why you feel so lousy."

"OK, so I fucked up. But now I've got to live and that means without her - which I cannot do. I only ever felt like I was somebody when I was with her."

"That's why you need to keep her around."

"But there's no hope to be with her! And I can't stand the thought someone else is with her getting everything I lost. It drives me insane!"

"Still can't shoot her. It will end your life as well as hers."

"My life is not worth living. I've poisoned and littered my soul in hideous ways. Each day I go down to the river to pour motor oil in just so everyone can know how polluted I am."

"Does that help?"

"Nothing helps! But I can't stop doing it. I hate doing it but I can't keep it inside either. I need to shoot the river too."

"Face it: You will always miss her because you won't find another like her. You told me she's the first person not to make you feel guilty about your intelligence."

"You're not helping."

"Well, you got together in the first place for a reason."

"She thought I was something I was not. She thought I was an honorable person. I kept trying to tell her I wasn't but she wouldn't listen. So if I shoot her I'll finally prove my point. Damn, she's a stubborn woman!"

"You should have trusted her more."

"And she should not trust me at all! I never should have lied to be with her but I couldn't resist. Everything about her made me feel better."

"How did you lie exactly?"

"I didn't lie, exactly. I just sort of kept back facts of my failings. Problem was, with her I didn't feel those failings anymore, just when I was apart."

"So why didn't you go to the meeting with the counselor she proposed?"

"I was too afraid for anyone to know the truth."

"But you sabotaged everything because you wanted the truth out!"

"Funny part is, even with everything that has happened and she finally rejected me I still feel she doesn't know the truth."

"Running away from the counseling session was a mistake."

"I just couldn't face what that the counselor was going to say. I kept imagining it in my head. My failures exposed. She'd see the real reasons not to be with me, not the ones I was creating. The more I thought about it, the worse it got."

"If you had faced up then you'd be over this by now."

"I see that now but at the time you could not have imagined a more terrifying experience. I was paralyzed, it was complete panic. I kept thinking: "Anything but this!" I was absent reason. I did not want to lose her like that, to see the look of disappointment on her face."

"So how do you hope to make things better?"

"Better? How can anything be better? Everything is crumbling around me. Once you start running it never stops. It touches your whole life. I lie to people for no reason now. Baseless paranoia invades my dreams turning even the simplest thing into a nightmare. In my head I know it's groundless but I can't accept that as real."

"So you need to stop running."

"If I do, I'll die! Everything from the past will catch up to me. I still have to keep hope alive."

"Hope of what?"

"Hope that if I'd been honest with her things would have worked out better. She is more understanding than I gave her credit. It's easier to believe the worst so I don't feel so bad about fucking things up. Deep inside I still cling to her. She did me right and then some."

"Want to know what true hopelessness is? Never communicating. When you stop communicating and start living your life in your head it always turns out just like you've described. You think you'll solve your problems by removing the need to communicate but there's no getting around it."

"It's weird. It's like I've stopped even basic communication because when I do I feel all sorts of guilt. I'm out of control...just disintegrating..."

"It rots everything and will continue to do so until reversed. You'll find in a dishonest society where people hold back their true feelings it is the liars and deceivers who rise to the top. That is what happens when you stop facing the truth. Soon, your mantra becomes reversed: you tell yourself you must not communicate at all costs. That's when downfall comes."

"Damn, you really do know about this stuff, doc. You've got it all figured out. I was beginning to think no one had any answers. It does sting a bit going to a counselor now after rejecting it with Amelia. I fear her even more. But there's a price to be paid for past sins, I know."

"Yes, much mending must be done. Do not succumb to the unjust. Those who suffer under an unjust system are made voiceless. Silence your feelings and you become your own tyrant. Even if you gain a worldly profit from that silence there is no end game to it, just forever running."

"I see and understand. When you put it that way, it's easier to perceive it in others. Damn, doc, you should run for office or something. You could fix the world."

"We each have our calling. When I see you next time I hope I can hear a success story of you communicating!"

"Uh, sure, doc. Well, you see, it's like this. Speaking of communicating, there's no way I can pay your 300 dollar fee!"

"What? This is outrageous!"

"You said to communicate! Maybe you were wrong?"

"Never!"

"Well, would you have seen me if I had told you I couldn't pay?"

"Never!"

"Well, fuck, so much for communicating."

Cry "Havoc!" And Let Slip The Dogs Of War

Listen mindless and you will fear

The heedless ride of Fall Severe,

"Enemy plans heard in my ear!

"Better fight or you're a queer!"

Missiles launch from churchly steeple

Eradicating their evil people!

Hate's conviction never feeble,

Cheering glee from shearing sheeple.

Children flee the terror sky

On this day their dreams will die,

"Havoc! Havoc!" the foreign king's cry

Finger licking deadly men's pie.

"I'm the killing king!" he brags,

"Put beating hearts in zippered bags!"

"The horse to hell never sags!"

"Carry me high on war's dog tags!"

"Victory!" squeals comforted mother

Her hands bloodied by another;

God's sinless run for hopeless cover -

They unclaimed by any brother.

"More exotic than a doctor's pill

"This killing for my god's will!

"Crushing justice is my thrill,

"Peace needs my guiding hand still."

Crucified prophets finally faint,

"Our lies their truth shall not taint!

"It's lovely dreams we do paint -

"We've voted ourselves a lovely saint!"

Placing hope on terror's peace

Blood oils the war machine's grease;

Laughing bandits the new police,

Freedom's hope artfully fleeced.

Romans dance on their future grave,

Hanging high thieves who forgave;

Who dare stop this worldwide rave?

Who dare keep their soul to save?

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
 

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever lived in the tide of times.
 

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
 

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,

To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue-- 

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
 

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife

Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
 

Blood and destruction shall be so in use

And dreadful objects so familiar

That mothers shall but smile when they behold

Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
 

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
 

Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice

Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
 

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

With carrion men, groaning for burial

"Ya Dum Fukk!"

"I's sorry. Time for me to go now. Massa gotta beat me."

"Beat you!? Why would you let him beat you?"

"That jus' the way it is. Massa da boss. Ain't you a been 'round?"

"Well, yeah. That's why I know you can't let people beat you."

"Boy, you crazy or what? You gots to learn how things is! Don't ya know nothin', ya dum fukk?"

"But don't you mind him beating on you?"

"Oh, no sah. I don't minds. I ain't got no attitudenal problems. The massa got the rights to beat me."

"Nobody has those kind of rights."

"I ain't nobody's to be questionin' nothin'. Just gotta be a man and takes ya beatin's."

"Well, sounds to me like it'd really hurt."

"Oh, that part I doan like! I don't minds the beatin's but I sher do hate the hurtin' part!"

"I'm sensing a disconnect here."

"Ain't disconnectin' nothin'! What? You expectin' me to want them beatin's to hurts? What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I guess I'll be on my way then. I don't want to get beat."

"That you problem then, ya dum fukk!"

Wow, he seems a damn sight sore with me but not a whit against the person wailing the daylights out of him. Boy, I don't get that. I don't get that at all!

Then I noticed something else after walking a far piece down the road.

"Oh, sir. Sir? Can I show you something please?"

"Why, yes, my good man. You may show me anything you please! I'm a soul of great and even temperament just like all the good souls in this land."

"Wow, I can't tell you what a relief it is to hear you say that!"

"Praise be to us and our ways, indeed! Look around you. Do you see any shit? Do you see any shit at all?"

"Why no. You're right. I don't see any shit."

"That's no accident, my friend. We have a devised a shit free land! Civilizations since the beginning of time have strived to do what we have done but we are the first!"

"That's amazing. I admire your confidence. What's your secret?"

"Why, it's our glorious dam you see behind you. We keep all our shit behind there. Makes you wonder why no one else had done it sooner?"

"You think maybe it's because sooner or later you won't be able to keep building your dam high enough because shit never ends?"

"My dear sir, have no fear. Relax and enjoy our paradise! We are the most learned and technological of all peoples. Technology is the savior of our race."

"Technology can only go so far, though."

"Do not be a non-believer! Do not live the horrible life of the deceived and deluded. Why is it you cannot accept paradise found?'

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I was noticing this rather large crack in the dam and thought maybe someone should do something about it."

"But instead you found out how wrong you are! Science cannot be questioned!"

"You sure are convinced, I'll give you that much."

"You certainly flatter me, sir!"

"But aren't you going to do anything about the crack?"

"How absurd! Why would we do something like that? That's like admitting something is wrong."

"And it seems to me since this dam is going to break anyway sooner or later better to let it break now or you'll face even more shit down the line."

"Such negativity! You do yourself no favors with thoughts like that, sir."

"You're not going to beat nature! Just face up to it and get it over with! You'll be fine."

"You're on of them, aren't you? A truth terrorist! You just want everything to fail, don't you!"

"No, I want everything to work. What happened to that open mind you were talking about?"

"You, sir, belong in our jail! I can think of nothing more outrageous than unleashing a mountain of shit upon us! You must be the stupidest person in the world. Now get out of here before I arrest you, ya dum fukk!"

Sheesh. Why is it the more wrong a person is the more convinced they are? Man, not everyone can be this nutty around here - can they?

For some reason, the sight of a happy, cheering crowd gave me hope. I mingled in getting as intoxicated in hope as the rest.

"What's all the excitement about?"

"A Bitch Man is coming! The biggest Bitch Man of all! Oh my gosh, I so cannot totally believe it!"

"Well, uh, that's a good thing?"

"Well, of course it is, ya dum fukk! Being a bitch is what it's all about. Don't you want nothing out of life?"

"Of course I do. Just didn't think that was the way to do it."

"You are a dum fukk, aren't you? Oh, look! Here he comes! Quick, give him everything you have."

"What? Are you nuts? I'm not giving him squat!"

"Then you won't get squat, neither! Don't be a selfish freeloader! Give up the goods!"

"Seems to me the Bitch Man is the freeloader!"

"Impossible! He already has everything! He's no moocher!"

"Then what hell you giving him more for?"

"What kind of crazy are you? Everyone wants to be a Bitch Man!"

"Fuck that. I keeping my dignity."

"Wow, you are some kind of asshole. Can't you do something for the common good? You're just one of those people who wants to keep everything for himself."

"But that describes the Bitch Man!"

"You're some kind of brainwashed, aren't you? Life is about giving."

"Why not give to someone who doesn't have everything?"

"You are one dum fukk, aren't you? I'm not going to enable other people's bad behavior. You've got a thing or two to learn about responsibility. Good thing there are adults like me around, ya Lazarus loser!"

As the Bitch Man passed, everything was handed over to him until I alone stood clothed among the masses. Then, all eyes were on me. That's when the voices started.

"Look at the freak! He didn't give anything!"

"What an idiot! He'll never get anywhere in the world!"

"Some people just don't know any better. You can only feel sorry for them and shake your head."

"To hell with that! I say he's a dum fukk!"

"Me too! Go away, ya dum fukk!"

After that all I could hear were cries of "ya dum fukk" surrounding me and drowning me. I appeased them somewhat by saying, "Yeah, that's me: a dumb fuck." That caused a round of laughter. Then a friendly drunk man put his hand on my shoulder before passing out.

"Boy, I'd sure hate to be you, ya dum fukk!"

Yes, I used a forbidden song

A Traveler Of Both Time And Space

"Stop here! Put it down right here!"

The helicopter deftly landed on a sandy dune deep in the Great Desert. It was a dangerous maneuver but these were men on an historic mission. Satellite underground imaging had indicated an ancient lost city at these coordinates and thoughts of a Nobel phone call raced through their minds. They travelled not only to the deepest part of the desert but even more dangerously to their careers outside the accepted paths of human history. They hoped to find a long, lost truth.

To the naked eye, nothing was to be found. No one passed through these parts, not even desert caravans. When had a place like this ever been inhabitable? They were stepping far back into time - maybe too far. Portable Seismic indicators led them to a shallow spot and it was there excavation began. Could be weeks before anything could be found but these were not ordinary times demanding extraordinary efforts.

The howling, merciless winds had shifted the desert landscape with no living soul the wiser. But now, buried secrets inched towards daylight that altered not only the landscape but the consciousness of Man. Like a lid on a boiling pot lost artifacts of forgotten truths bubbled upwards undeniably. Almost as an extension of a global cry for answers the earth responded with her clues. To not know could be stood no longer.

It was that same global adrenaline that laced these explorers. Something inside said, "It is time." Time for what they did not know but to be on the cutting edge, to feel as the focal point of a collective energy excited their instincts like never before. Something profound was here - something liberating. Every field at its peak has its artists, these archeologists at last faced their moment in the sun. Just what had they tapped into? Was here a solution for so long missing?

It didn't take long before bones were found. That should not have happened. Should have been days or possibly weeks before any evidence would be found. Certainly, a change in the earth was occurring! As if by design, the skeleton was laid out in perfect formation. Only one thing wrong: the size. Rumors of giants have existed as long as the printed word but never had hard evidence been provided. But here in the whisper quiet sands was proof loud and clear - a shot heard 'round the world.

"My God, I don't believe it! He measures sixteen feet six inches."

"Look at the bone thickness. He'd have been terrifying in his day."

"But ordinary if he were part of a gigantic race."

"It must be some sort of anomaly!"

Digging furiously like a pack of ravenous animals, more bones and skeletons were found, all matching the size and density of the first one. Undoubtedly, were they to keep digging an entire civilization would be discovered just as the satellite maps had hinted. A revelation like this would shatter the history books and Mankind's complete understanding of its origins and history. No outsiders allowed.

The three men looked at each other as if they were on the verge of stepping into a new dimension. A discovery like this would etch their names as archeological gods forevermore. A sense of unreality crept into them. It seemed as if the planet was hurling out of orbit, a rocking of its axis that could change all life in the twinkling of an eye. There was a reason these types of truth had not been discovered before.

Transfixed by the sight of the skeletons, every answer for possible fraudulence was considered in each of the three men's minds. More of a reaction of deniability than anything, the implications thundered through these learned beings like an earthquake giving them no solid ground on which to stand. This simply cannot be happening! Had they taken a step too far?

"Can you gauge their age?"

"Approximately 15,000 years old. This area would have been a tropical paradise back then. Obviously, we'll need to take some bones back for further testing."

Take some back? This realization scared the men. Yes, they'd have eternal glory but what exactly were they bringing back? Would they be unleashing a destructive fact that could upend the structure of worldly beliefs? Take the bones back? Maybe not...

"We need to come up with an explanation. First, are they even human?"

"Human, definitely. But maybe not of this world."

"Nephilim! He must be Nephilim."

"The giants of Canaan?"

"They're mentioned earlier, in Genesis. 'The sons of God came in to the daughters of men, and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown.' Beginning of chapter six, I believe."

The weight of this thought both excited and suppressed them. The exact meaning of "the sons of God" had been speculated to have been everything from extraterrestrials to fallen angels. Before Earth was said to matter the Nephilim roamed freely as products of alleged mutant sin. Eventually they came to be wiped out as their time had passed to give Mankind its chance to move passed sin. Until now, this had only been a theory.

"So what does it mean?"

The unstated question was: what the hell else don't we know? Would a centaur be next? Atlantis? What is myth and what is reality after all? No one was willing to dig further.

"I think it means...maybe nothing"

"Means what? Say it, man!"

"I can't! I can't finish. I just can't."

"You two are pathetic. It means: we don't know who we are. We're going to have to change our outlooks drastically."

"That's not possible! This whole thing is absurd!"

"It's absurd to deny what's right before your eyes!"

"They're a plant! A bund of fakes!"

"You're talking rubbish now! Face it! We're on the verge of changing the course of history!"

"That's not our call! Let someone else find this later. Now is not the time for revelations."

"If it were not the time we'd have never have found it. Now is the time!"

An air of irrationality twisted their natures. That's when the chopper pilot noticed something even more disturbing.

"Hey guys, nothing is working. The GPS, radio, nothing. I've got no physical landmarks to guide us back out of here. We're in serious trouble."

"Wait, I still have my compass."

But the compass when taken out showed only a spinning needle unable to gain its bearings. "Dear God, has anyone seen such a thing?"

"I've heard of it before, in the Zone of Silence. Didn't we determine we're on the same parallel as the Great Pyramids?"

"Yes, so what?"

"The Zone of Silence is on that same parallel as well as the Bermuda triangle. If this is a similar energy portal as some say those are that could help explain this creature's presence."

"I think "creature" is a good name for it!"

"A race of prehistoric space beings with no connection to Mankind has been discovered - that sounds like a plausible fucking headline!"

"It's a relatively modern ideology that stigmatizes alien contact. Why shouldn't there be visitors from other planets? Logically, that makes more sense given the number of stars. Without that prejudice, our ancestors would have accepted the sight of aliens the same way as we accept seeing a dog or a cat, a completely natural occurrence. But now that we've turned violent to the idea, become so possessed by our own prejudices we feel necessary to keep insulated so that these beings can no longer show themselves without being destroyed."

"Hogwash!"

"You know it's true. Ask yourself! To study the nature of responsibility is to study the nature of the universe."

The chopper pilot noticed a return to normalcy of his instruments. "Fellas, I'm sure it's a coincidence but the more peaceful you are the less interference I get. I know that sounds silly..."

"No, that makes perfect sense. This is a place of densely polarized energy. A truth like this bears a high price, it doesn't come for free. Einstein had to face is own morality to bring his theories to light while lesser souls refused to go down that path. We, gentlemen, face the same hurdle."

"I'm sorry. I'm not ready to drop this bomb on the world. We can't just wipe out the foundations of beliefs. It is immoral!"

"The truth can only wipe out lies! Lies are a foundation meant to crumble. The earlier we do it the better."

"No, it's too soon! It's too soon! I can't take it! It's driving me mad!"

"I agree! This is too much! Not now! Anything but now!"

"You two are fools and cowards! Have some faith. The truth will set us free. There is no god higher than truth."

"This will bury us same as the desert buried them! You are driving us insane!"

"Oh, to hell with you. I'm taking a bone back to shock the world and open their minds. Besides, what we know now cannot be unknown."

"We can't let you do that!"

And so they didn't.

As always in history, the non-believers killed the believer, burying him next to the giants. But the resulting discord in their souls vibrated the energy field to such an extant no physical instrument could function, leaving the travelers stranded in the desert to die. The secret of the giant race remains a secret for now but a new rage entered the world, another degree added to the boiling pot, tilting another inch the earth's axis in bent disharmony.

Hello, I Love You. Won't You Give Me Your Shame?

"A world so lovely," she said dead,

Laying down her lovely head.

"Clear blue sky and shining stars

"With friendly killing near and far."

The corpulent king's mind does moan,

Wailing on unquestioned throne;

Makes him horny, hard and stiff

Ordering soldiers over a cliff.

Good little toyz are good little boyz,

Fear silences the human noise;

"I never question my king's order!"

Giving proof to mental disorder.

Yet when rushing straight dread down

Grinning soldier starts to frown;

"By death comes the pointed rocks

"Just to please a mad king's cock."

But who's to believe it

If they must bereave it?

"I'll sing a song to be king too!

"Then myself I'd be happy to screw!"

Over and over and over they went,

Claiming death as heaven sent;

Mourners march in raptured parade,

Maintaining still the deadly charade.

Blood stains the great white dove,

Squeezing dear suicide love;

Just one more precious drip!

Prays illusion's tightening grip.

Father to son, mother to brother:

"You ain't mine if you choose the other!";

Sun and moon boiling light,

Even the children lose their sight.

When every god's a flaming whore

Who can pay the company store?

Hungry hearts starve unfed,

Burning bridges might have led.

Wild fire out of control

Anxious to burn the telltale soul;

When the last love is finally killed

We shall fear what we have willed.

Stairway to heaven dutifully bought,

Crying angels plead for naught;

In Love's ear this chorus we say:

"A wonderful world we make today."

The Problem With Entitlements

en·ti·tle·ment noun

The fact of having a right to something.

When I hear end-of-the-world ranting and raving about entitlements in this country and what harm they do to us I can't agree more with that assessment! Entitlements most certainly play a huge role in our demise and when I hear impassioned speeches how they must end or we'll all sink I know I'm hearing the voices of true conviction and clarity. And that makes perfect sense. After all, who knows more about the sin than the sinner committing it?

Let's take a quick review of a few of America's laundry list of entitlements:

• CEOs feel entitled to 354 times the pay of the average worker

• Top 1% earners feel entitled to pay a lesser income tax rate than the middle class

• Corporations feel entitled to unfettered greed with no communal responsibility

• America feels entitled to take oil reserves by force from countries around the world

• The capitalist system gives entitlement to the de facto slavery of tens of millions

So when I hear outrage about entitlements, I'm right there with you, brother! This shit gotta end! These people are going to bleed us dry. Hell we're almost already there! There's obviously some bad actors among us wielding the vast majority of power who feel no sense of responsibility whatsoever if we are to judge them by their actions. Damn straight we need to "cut them off!"

But then I hear this funny satirical bit about how it's the poor hogging all the wealth of this country. Any money they get they better give right back, by God! That's sort of like robbing a man's home then throwing him in jail when he asks you for food. "Learn to be responsible!" we lecture while munching on his frozen pizza. Hey dude, I'm entitled to your groceries!

It gets even weirder when I hear many of those who've been robbed feel too guilty to even claim their due. The rich man is always right! He deserves everything! It must be true I saw it in a commercial - every commercial, that is. If someone's taking your money, work harder! Do it long enough and you too can enjoy the free ride of the rich.

In fact, this propaganda is so engrained in us it's been taken up as a moral cause. What did the commie Jesus know when he said what we do unto the least of us we do unit him? In that case, how about getting your lazy ass to work, hot shot! Notice how when you gave up your carpenter job is when you got crucified? Coincidence? I think not! Luckily, there are a few "pragmatists" among us who know better than to listen to a socialist:

A guide to the next debate on entitlement cuts

I don't need a crystal ball to make this forecast. Entitlement cuts are on the agenda not only for Republicans, but for the White House, which included cuts to Social Security and Medicare in its budget for the fiscal year that was supposed to start October 1st. So, the dialog in Washington will keep moving in the wrong direction: taking money out of the pockets of older Americans at a time when Social Security benefits already were cut by 1983 legislation, pensions are vanishing and many approaching retirement haven't saved enough.

Sequestration Forces Cuts to Long-Term Unemployment Benefits for Millions

"[I]t is the workers who have benefited least from the economic recovery who are bearing the largest share of the burden of these domestic sequester reductions," said the National Employment Law Project in a statement.

States move ahead with food stamp cuts

Some states are already embracing deep cuts to the food stamp program similar to those passed by House Republicans in Washington, ending the food subsidy for tens of thousands of low-income Americans regardless of what Congress does.

There is a massive redistribution of wealth going on - upwards. There are dishonest people living their life at the expense of millions: CEO's and the top 1%. There is a complete lack of respect for the work ethic: by those who fail to pay a living wage. Yes, we surely do need to "crack down" on these parasites among us. If we don't we'll all surely sink, just like the radios ranters say.

"My lack of education hasn't hurt me none.
"I can read the writing on the wall."

Black Widow Bites

SAN FRANCISCO (AP) Autopsy results were returned today for Deborah Hanssen, aka the Black Widow Killer accused of poisoning each of her three husbands. Chemical analysis revealed Mrs. Hanssen died of the same poison she used on her spouses. The poison presumably was smuggled on her person when booked into jail. Her alleged killings of three high profile Bay area businessmen caused a national media sensation with a trial date yet to be set. A suicide note was found at the scene in her own handwriting. Police report the note simply stated, "I only know how to kill".

*****

"I'm trapped...I'm trapped..." She slumped down, crestfallen, finally unable to escape the gathering doom chasing her for so many years. She'd waited and waited, always kicking the can down the road, letting her emotional debts pile up and now...it was too late. A lifetime of lies had come home to roost.

She couldn't stand another day living the lie of her marriage contract. She'd bet her life on living it forever, that she had made the right choice, that she was one of the "smart ones". But with his new plans to move to a Caribbean island and "go native" for the rest of their lives she knew she could not possibly stomach that in any form, fashion or manner whatsoever. She'd tried every argument she could think of, every possible scenario of making it work. But she inevitably was drawn to the same conclusion over and over.

"I'm trapped...I'm trapped..."

Her roots, her life support system, the last vestiges of her identity were firmly planted in San Francisco. She knew it was dangerous to have made such an extreme commitment but comes a time when the weight is too heavy and the burdens have to drop. She'd secretly anchored her ship and any moving it would rip her in two. She knew her dire predicament may sound outrageous to an outsider but she had learned over the years this was a reality she could not ignore without devastating consequences.

She considered divorce, of losing everything. She told herself she could always step out on her own even as she decayed inside, immersing herself more and more into a lifestyle of luxury and painless pampering that became her single last pleasure. But now, in this instant, in the twinkling of an eye, she knew she could never go back. The luxury and the insulation had become as much a part of her as the limbs on her body.

Hard to go back after a taste of this. Very, very hard.

The slide had been long and gradual, selling her considerable charms for a life of ease and approval. She thought she'd be called out for giving away pieces of her soul. But no one said a word! Some were even encouraging. Everyone was doing it - how bad could it be? She hated being called the "good girl" and wanted show she too could walk on the wild side. For the longest time, she lived the dream, having her cake and eating it too.

Not that there's hadn't been any side effects. Many of the things she most liked about herself were disappearing. But what the hell. Had 'em once, could always get 'em back! But time stole her physical charms and she was stuck as a pauper at a market with nothing left to sell. She knew that day was coming but on that day she'd then right all the wrongs of her past. Or would she?

Or could she?

Her causes, her precious causes she'd fought for over the years. What did they mean now? What did it all add up to? Nothing and nothing. She'd fought for "justice" in the lives of others, never bothering to pursue justice in her own life. Damn him! If only he hadn't decided to make this infernal move! However miserable, life could still limp along if he changed his mind. Or better yet, have him be simply out of the way.

She'd once read about the murder of a man by slow poisoning. She made a mental note of it. Did she know even then this was her fate? Sure, this was a sin. But who had ever said a word against her sin before? If no one had found out by now, would they ever? And just imagine the reward! No more threats to her life. She'd be on easy street that no one could take away. There were only two ways out of the trap: either she died or he died.

Her topless volleyball would have
mortified her religious parents

At the funeral she surprised even herself with her authenticity. "Bad heart" the lamented diagnosis. The widow in the black veil. It suited her so well! The world really is rotten to the core, never suspecting a thing. Her school friends who'd mocked her as a "goody-goody" were right. There are no rules to life. Why bother to be good? Why bother to be anything but a taker? To be anything else is to be a sucker!

Having sipped from the cup of betrayal her thirst became unquenchable. The enigma of her smiling vixen persona attracted ill bent suitors by the dozen, appealing to the worst of men's desires of mistreatment. Hell, she figured, why not kill these losers? She'd be doing them a favor. The seduction kept her alive, feeding off their naïve offerings, fools thinking if they deified her as an angel that somehow made them an angel too. That made her feel morally superior.

For the second murder she recruited a helper, sharing the thrill of the kill. Life was only getting better and better! Double the fun with a co-conspirator. Sex was off the charts, driving them both crazy in unfettered honesty. Not only that, but her accomplice was a long time friend of her second victim. Planning the deliberate demise of the willfully ignorant put him on a new high too. "I feel like the President!" Worse than crack is this drug of betrayal.

Too late did her accomplice realize his fate. He'd thought himself smarter, free of disillusionment. Sharing the secret was a bond she'd never break, he believed. But she couldn't kill him slowly like the others, he'd catch on. He had to be poisoned in a single stroke then come up with an explanation later. After him, she'd be done with marriage and its false promises. The world is a sham. Life is a sham. Right and wrong have no meaning. She'd spend the rest of her life proving that - in high style to boot!

But her explanation proved false and payment had to be made. Discovering her last husband poisoned caused her previous two to be exhumed. Her dark odyssey played out on the front page day after day to her horror. She'd convinced herself she'd be embraced for wicked ways by a wicked world. But even a wicked world need keep pretense of morality. They must prosecute her in full rage lest they betray their own selfish desires. But avoiding payment had been the theme of her life. Swallowing the fatal dose, she wondered if there had been any other way...

Overhaulin' The Soul

What a guy!

Braswell. That's all anybody called him. "Bastard Braswell", "Old man Braswell", "Braswell the butthead". No one ever had much use for him nor he them. Hell, I think even his kids called him Braswell. They couldn't wait to get out of that damn house. I don't blame them.

He got more eccentric over the years after the two sons left. He irked his oil fearing Texas neighbors to no end when he put solar panels up on his house - this was looong before solar was chic. He also got religion, becoming a devoted follower of prosperity preacher Kenneth Copeland. It further irked his neighbors when Braswell made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I don't think anyone really had a beef with that sort of pilgrimage per se, it was just the fact he was doing it.

"Individual responsibility" was his wall to the world. He'd never take anything from anyone no matter how dire his situation. The idea of feeling obligated filled him with a whole and irrational fear. He'd lash out like a wounded animal at any offers of help or even simple kindness. After a while, no one offered anymore out of a sense of self-preservation. Negative is as negative does and Braswell built his life around justifying that negativity.

Patrolling his property like a staff sergeant, he maintained a pristine environment. No way would he ever give possible cause for complaint to his enemy neighbors to give them the upper hand - and thus be obligated. But there was one curious exception to this rule: one half of Braswell's two car garage. It was there he stored his 69 Hemi Cuda. "Stored" being a gracious term as it was permanently parsed out in hopes of one day being the "baddest Cuda ever built."

To me that strung out car represented something more: an unfulfilled dream. Somewhere deep inside lay Braswell's unfulfilled dream and only he knew what it was. Knowing him, he'd never admit it but he had to express it somehow. And he did that through detached tires, primed unpainted fenders and an open hood never closing, waiting on something to come along and make it complete. Everyone else called the car parts nothing but an "eyesore".

One day I caught him crying in the garage. I was across the street and something drew my eye over to look at him. He immediately sensed me, scowled and stormed inside. That got me to thinking - thinking of something that'd never crossed my mind before: of doing something nice for Braswell. In fact, it struck me as curious I'd never thought of it before. How obvious! That's when I wrote my letter to Overhaulin'.

In the Overhaulin' show they sneak away a person's car for a week and return a one-off customized Chip Foose mind-blowing car that's out of this world. Chip is a happy giver and leaves no detail unturned. I often catch myself crying when the end reveal is done and the unsuspecting owner "has his life change", as they like to say on the show.

To nominate someone you're supposed to say how deserving they are. Having gone through some sort of sacrifice or health issue helps. But Braswell was the neighborhood asshole. So I had to come up with something unique.

Hi Chip,

I've often heard you say you love changing people's lives by giving them their dream car. You like to find deserving souls and reward them, so to speak. But I think that's limiting yourself and should try giving a so-called undeserving soul a chance. Talk about changing a life! Negative people never expect anything good to happen to them. They even avoid it sometimes just to hold on to their negative attitude! Believe me, I know. We have just such a guy here in our neighborhood reviled by everyone. No one reaches out to him anymore, he just keeps biting people's heads off.

I know this request may sound crazy to you but it makes perfect sense to me. I'm not even sure what kind of reaction you would get from him. I do believe it would be one of your most watched episodes. I do hope you will give this some thought. Thanks.

In the no-good-deed-shall-go-unpunished category, guess who got named as the insider. Chip even replied he wondered why he'd never thought of this before too. So I guess I was hooked at that point. And the stars really aligned for this endeavor when I learned Braswell was taking his undercarriage out to be powder coated, a long and arduous process as the entire car has to be dismantled. Knowing where he was going to have this done, I told Tony, the shop's owner, of the plans for Braswell's car.

He agreed to come up with an excuse for Braswell to bring along the car's dismantled body panels so the Overhaulin' crew would have those available to them. I was starting to get excited! As part of the surprise, the car's owner is pranked as to why his car is missing. This case was a little different as it would easily take a week for the powder coating. But my devious mind had something else in store!

I told the Overhaulin' pranksters that if Braswell thought something had happened to his car due to negligence that would completely feed into his negativity and anger. My suggestion was for Tony to say he forgot to lock the chain link fence one night and Braswell's car got stolen. The fake police would tell Braswell since his car was already in pieces it would make it very easy to sell them on the black market and would be virtually untraceable.

Tony actually knew Braswell and couldn't wait to deliver the "bad news". Braswell took it as expected. "How could you be so careless! I'll sue you for all your worth! You're an idiot! Do you hear me? An idiot!" Most marks on the show get upset to one degree or another when their car is gone but no one ever exploded like Braswell. Boy howdy! Talk about a bleepfest. I actually got worried we were going to give him a heart attack.

Hardest part of the prank was when I had to mosey over to Braswell's garage and ask him about the empty space to make sure he was buying our story. I expected to get his "nosey parker" routine but he was actually glad to see me. It gave him a chance to rage and vent, never once getting angry at me for violating the almighty sanctity of his privacy. I made all sorts of sympathetic sounds as my stomach churned to get out of there. Funnily, I actually felt good afterwards for approaching him even it was under false pretenses.

When the Overhaulin' fake police knocked on Braswell's door to ask him to come identify a stolen hemi Cuda they'd found the hidden cameras showed a confused but hopeful face. The old fucker could smile after all. God knows it had been a week of hell for him. He couldn't help but spill his guts on the ride over telling how much that car meant to him and this was perhaps the worst week of his life. He even started thanking the officers for their good work even at the risk of being - gasp! - obligated.

Unfuckingbelievably gorgeous result!

When they showed him into the warehouse where his fully restored car was Braswell was crushed. He immediately turned on the police for their gross incompetence explaining his car looked nothing like that. That's when the Overhaulin' crew revealed themselves and that the gorgeous beast in front him was actually his car. The man almost fainted and had to be grabbed before he fell from dizziness. Braswell was very distrustful at first but gradually came to accept that yes indeed, that was his beloved 69 Cuda.

Shit, I was bawling at that point. Braswell was like a little boy, scared to even touch it. He ran his hand along the fender as he would the body of a beautiful woman. He caressed the interior seats with awe but what really got him was the engine. I told Chip that Braswell wanted the baddest Cuda around so Chip arranged for a special high performance "Terracuda" hemi to be built and installed. Braswell not only had a one off car design but a one off engine to match! That's when Braswell broke down and cried, unable to face the cameras or the crew.

Things went south from there. I heard him mutter "I don't deserve this, I don't deserve this" on his way back out the warehouse entrance. I stayed hidden watching on closed circuit TV but no one could coax him back inside. I suddenly realized maybe I hadn't been so smart playing God with somebody's life. I knew how he must be feeling: Braswell was torn between his desire for the car and the desire to hold on to his negative ways. Accepting the car would mean never again being able to say "everybody's out to get me!"

I can't tell you how it finally turned out. You'll have to tune into the episode to find out. One thing I can tell you I was right about this being one of - if not the most - unique episodes in Overhaulin' history. Kindness really can change the world and this affair made me think of my own insanity in sometimes refusing kindness just like Braswell had. I guess maybe a lot of lives got changed that day. Be prepared to be surprised.