THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES CAN SOOTHE THE HEART OR SHATTER GLASS

When Einstein and Bohr made their revolutionary discoveries they built them out of dreams. The truth came first. Numbers came later. When Michaelangelo revealed his David, the rock came first, but the hand of the artist set free the masterpiece within.

Reality... at least in one  form... already exists. It is for us to discern what is necessary among legions that are not. Do I confuse you? Well, how could I  not. For you have never heard my voice . Call me a disembodied spirit, if you like. Yet that is  not what I am. For my essence has never been imprisoned in the flesh.

You have read of an enemy, of aliens waiting to transform/destroy (they are one word to us) your world. I am one of them. We conjure shells when shells are needed. The plane-like, swimming creatures in the incubator known to you as Europa see them. They see light reflecting off iridescent, scale-like armor encasing a form somewhat like yours. That, to them, is strange enough.

Are we coordinates in space? No. Are we coils of energy. No. Think of us as frequencies, or rather collections of frequencies.... grand harmonics imbued with self awareness. Some experience us as the 'Music of the Spheres.' But while certain songs are sweet, others are not. And while some songs soothe the heart, others shatter glass. You have seen us destroy. But wait. You shall see more.

Ask not my name. It changes instantaneously, as do I.. But I have told you too much. Lailah approaches our presence. She moves through the sphere. Oh, it is real, at least she and the others experience it as such. And we know her mission. she was sent to bring back a sample of our substance. What a meaningless purpose.

I know she belongs to an exotic group. I know she is what you call a 'vampire.' We are aware of your abilities, as well as your disabilities. And we are more than well prepared. So please do not trouble yourselves. Relax and hear the music. Forgive our impetuous ones for any damage they have done. That will soon end.. For to paraphrase 'The Beach Boys,'...... you're pickin' up good vibrations.

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Doctor Franklin sat at the head of the table. Members of the scientific elite flanked the sides. Each had a small , working model of a great armonica set  before them. Some were impatient. They touched their device, just lightly, just along one of the shimmering rims. Others merely sat and stared. The walls of this long and  narrow room were made of glass, thick glass, beyond which swam the mermaid-hag and other unusual specimens. Lights were low. Small halogen-like points illuminated each individual crystaline apparatus.  No one spoke. The mermaid-hag amused herself swimming up behind various egg heads present and making lewd gestures as she kissed and licked the glass. Everyone pretended not to notice, but a young physicist from Japan couldn't help her nervous, tittering outburst.

Doctor Franklin, ever the considerate host smiled and began to talk ----- Illustrious brethren, behold the elegant, elaborate toys before you. And kindly refrain from tickling them until you know their favorite spots.....

He rotated a few of the discs on his piece of equipment, producing a barely discernible high pitched whine. And as he did so, something began to condense out of the ether. An undulating form almost materialized over the table. Was it a snake? Was it a worm? Was it a maggot?  Shocked men and women pushed back into their seats. Two reached for inhalers. But then the old patriot did something else. The whine stopped and the repulsive 'thing' slowly evaporated.

So now you know why----- chuckled the notorious reprobate. ....... Low-level staffers silently entered, distributing sleek, new tablet-like devices to all in attendance . Doctor Franklin waved his away, but he took a small container out of a waistcoat pocket, opened it and deftly popped two ever-so-slightly large contact lenses into his eyes. Then he blinked, smiled and clapped his hands, calling each silicon screen to life......

Follow along, as I speak. I know  you understand the equations and representations before you.I myself will use an experimental piece of equipment. --- he said. The images appear right before my eyes, as if upon a translucent screen. It's easier on my old, arthritic fingers. Doctor Hawking, as some of you may know, has a pair just like them......... So did Steve Jobs (he sighed), but I don't know who has them now.......

And  so humanity begin to construct a defense...........

~I~~I~~~I~~~~I~~~~~I~~~~~~I~~~~~~~I~~~~~~~~I~~~~~~~~~I~~~~~~~~~~I

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A VAMPIRE AT THE KEYBOARD SHARES SECRETS

there are many of us here. please excuse my mistakes. i am not very good with these devices. i touch as few keys as possible. no disembodied spirit channels passages through wilkravitz's fingers. i, jonathon, write this myself. those in charge make no communicative equipment available to us. the other vampires don't mind. most are of a certain age and computers are foreign to them. I fall into that group too but something made me different. i needed to connect. look at the assemblage of souls in my 'family.' we are human and vampire. and among the humans we have those you would call witches, in addition to representatives of long forgotten clans. thank god for our blog. thank god for that voice.

they keep us in underground bunkers. the walls are light tan. the floors are linoleum and slightly darker. ceilings are white and from what they tell me, the light comes from plain, translucent, rectangular fixtures called 'chicklets.' we sleep in little cells, not prison cells, more like monks' cubicles. no one has a roommate. there's a large, well stocked library for those who like to read. some play card games. we've all become addicted to the most wonderful assortment of aroma candles fashioned from oils and resins found only in the middle east.a few follow 'reality' shows. and if you can believe it, there are plans for a vampire talent show. Papa's going to do a magic act.

he sleeps somewhere else. they've identified certain old ones...... very old ones. my thousand years count as nothing. renate isn't here with us. she visits from time to time. she cooperates with the scientists and investigators . but she roams free.

physicians take small samples of our blood. they stockpile it. there's a collection of tiny glass vials in a laboratory two levels down. i suppose they're also searching for the so-called prometheus quark - that 'quantum' particle believed to be present in vampiric fluids and tissues. so now we're some kind of supermen.

most of the life-eaters here (a name we prefer to 'vampire') stick to the one feeding a month rule. and they confine themselves to 'unworthy' souls. but the authorities discourage us from planning our own menus. suggestions are made. victims are offered. i don't know who does the 'shopping.' i don't know where they find them. must be combing the whole world, because they come from all over. there's a circular, polished concrete chamber, rather like the pit we had back in philadelphia, or the one papa had in catalunia, when he first found me.

two individuals climb down into that space via a metal ladder affixed to the side. the victim goes first. his destroyer follows. scientific personnel observe from a 'theater-in-the-round' arrangement up above. i recognized one from the television. i saw her on nightline. the chinese are here too. they've got everyone. look, i'm not going to describe what happens in that pit, because it's humiliating. feeding is a very private thing to us. our hosts know this. they acknowledge it, but claim it's all necessary. our enemy is powerful. we have few potentially effective weapons. my brethren...the vampires, are one of them. every useful thing must be known. so we cooperate.

they're trying to obtain some enemy material. at this point it could be organic or inert. it doesn't really matter. experts want to learn how it will hold up to 'sublimation.' you know, what vampires do when we pass through solid matter. on earth, sublimating through a mortal human destroys them. the 'body' retains its shape for a heartbeat or two before raining down to the ground in a torrent of watery gruel. I guess we'll be among the shock troops....... that's why lailah is out there right now.....oh, god, why did they send her?

i know. i know. i know. you want me to tell you about the well of souls. you remember what happened last night. but i'm not ready to do that now. and no, it's not back here in the complex with me. look, we're not prisoners. we do move about on the outside. they allow us a modicum of freedom. but keen, observant eyes are everywhere. and not all belong to 'friends.'

be patient. you'll find out. and if you can't wait, use your powers. humans have them. telepathy, i mean. don't deny what you know to be true.....Scottosh beedosh....Beedosh boposht... Boposht skeedosht.... see the truth...know the truth....do the truth...........or something like that........look, i know old andalucian, classic hebrew and aramaic and two dialects of vahmpeerigo (vampiric tongue), not to mention english.....isn't that enough.

now let me stop. i have to find sarah......

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TIME TRAINS TOWARD AN UNSURE FUTURE

Her maggot-like encasement transformed into a frothy, bubbly mass which disappeared like beer foam. She was left lying wet and naked upon the fine polished floor of a vast chamber. A yellow-brown roof vaulted overhead. It appeared to be translucent. She could see the vague, fuzzy shape of Saturn looming through the horn-like substance. Creatures, or more correctly, entities sped all about her. Some had physical properties. Others were nothing more than dense ghosts. A few left only voices. Were these the Enemy? Lailah wasn't sure, but what else could they be?

A quasi solid 'sea horse' rocked toward her through the 'air.' It looked at her through limpid, compound eyes. Then it said something, though the sound waves never traveled through the atmosphere, but went directly to her brain. It told her to be dry... and she was. It told her she was clothed..... and soft, warm, cloth 'pajamas' enveloped her body. Then she rose up into the empty space and followed the creature as it rocked off before her. They progressed toward what could only be described as a small, throbbing sun. As they approached it, she saw that the floor was only a large platform suspended in space. And the vault overhead became the interior of a huge sphere. Other beings moved toward the pulsating light as well. A small number were human. Most inhabited other forms.  Some were coming back from the light. They seemed to pass right through her.

A seething squadron of metallic worms writhed toward her, like a teeming mass of minnows in the sea. Every part of her body was explored and recorded by tiny, 'electric' mouths, as they wriggled in between the fabric and her skin. The sea horse guide stopped and waited till they were done. Lailah looked at her hands and realized all the soft tissues of her body were transformed. The pigment was gone. She was as a jellyfish with bones and the blood in her veins was  sea brine.They hovered  for a moment, then went on. And she heard the light, caress her as they entered.....

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Doctor Franklin hurried back and forth on his little electric scooter. Legions of specially trained longshoreman struggled to load pallet after pallet of delicate equipment into the holds of immense, big-bellied planes. Huge crystals (made by N.A.S.A. according to Anti-Enchantment-Bureau specifications ) encased in protective silicon foam, were lowered onto hastily constructed, impact absorbing platforms. A warm November breeze played with the wispy tendrils of the alchemist's hair,as he directed this massive operation..... a modern day Noah preparing for another type of Flood. When he was done, ten score silvery 'arch-angels' took flight to various points around the globe.  Ley lines they are called, channels of energy coursing through the planet, elusive in their meaning, yet powerful, none the less The old patriot whispered a prayer as each ascended . A few hours hence, scientists would begin carefully assembling huge, Great Armonicas. in cities 'round the globe. After the last plane left, the old man's keepers bundled him into a massive black SUV and headed home, stopping once along the way, so that Doctor Franklin could visit his supposed grave. He liked gazing through the black iron fence at the shadowy marble slab in the old, mellow church-yard. And he tossed in a bright, copper penny, deftly aiming it for a spot near his headstone. Then they left. But I am wrong. They stopped a second time, passing by a Wendy's drive-through-window. The old man likes his nuggets........

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It was peaceful in the Jersey Pines. wilkravitz played Yatzee with two of the elves. Edith knit outfits for the cherubs The Red Paint people did chores. They appreciated well run homesteads. Mr. Edith rocked out on the porch trading  quiet conversation with a 'mythological' beast (I think it was a Jersey Devil) standing off in the shadows of a cool, yet balmy evening. Pin-Head-Mel talked gibberish to the dogs....... And I think they understood.

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Jonathon and Sarah left the other life-eaters behind and made their way back into the Old City. They met Lailah's father and the pious Armenian churchman led them silently through the nervous crowds toward a rough hewn portal. Jonathon opened the heavy door, allowing them to pass through and enter the dark passage leading down toward the Well of Souls....... Yes, it really exists. Speilberg didn't invent it. And it's not in Egypt........ Those who regularly sojourn with us may remember an earlier visit to that place. Perhaps they went too soon. Perchance the time is now?

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WONDERLAND CONFRONTS OBLIVION

The universe is a strange place. Some planets speed around huge broiling suns, careening off each other near crowded galactic centers. Night time skies resonate with a ghostly pale light provided by trillions of white-hot stars. Life is rare in such places, preferring the cooler, calm confines of the more suburban outer arms. Picture an octopus turning a pirouette. Each tentacle inscribing a graceful arc as it spins through the sea. We would be a sucker three quarters of the way out to one of the tips. And by 'we' I mean Earth.

Now it happens that galaxies occasionally collide. The stars involved rarely so much as touch.. Interstellar space is like a fine mist. In this case, imagine two ghosts skating toward each other and passing through the opposing ectoplasmic fog like a zephyr through a cloud. Quite graceful, no? Yet some  universal laws are inviolate, such as the 'express' checkout is anything but, male lions cannibalize 'foreign' young and gravity will not be defied. Thus some unfortunate solar systems get thrown out of whack. And we know what happens when you digress from the law of whack.......They simply kick you  out of the galaxy....any galaxy. 

Does life end on the worlds unlucky enough to be married to such stars? No, everything goes on as usual. The dog still dumps on the rug. The kid who cuts the grass leaves a mess. And aluminum chlorhydrate still contributes toward Old-Timers disease..... maybe. But the night time sky grows ever blacker as the glittering 'ship' sails away.  Galaxies retreat. In the first few million years the 'old homeland' fills the sky... a lacy incandescence against the darkness. Then, far into the future, it appears as a tiny glowing smudge, before winking out altogether in the vastness of God's Parking Lot.

Souls planted on those isolated worlds dream not of other realms, for there are no other realms. The best ships sprung from the neurons of the best dreamers could never reach them. There is earth and there is sky. The day is bright with sun. The night far blacker that death. Would such cultures continue to evolve? Perhaps. They might make ever more cunning electrical devices. They may concoct exotic, life-extending brews and fashion buffet sneeze guards that actually work.

But one thing they do have that we don't is protection from alien enemies. A wind storm roils o're the Sahara. Abrasive, silicate particles rise up from the dunes and dance into the sky. All is red. All is one. Horizons are abolished. Cities are no more. And the Sphinx burrows in for a long, long nap. People in advance of the edge of this nebulous tsunami look up in awe at the stratospheric wave about to break. Some die of fright.Others begin to laugh and babble incoherently. Mothers and fathers hug their children. Old ones say their prayers.

The monstrous storm flies 'cross the 'Sea Between the Land' (Mediterranean) and does a lesser job of decimation upon the northern shore. How fared the Holy Land? Tolerably well, actually. The force exploded westward, merely touching them with dread. People of all faiths dug out from the never-melting snow, escaping from tombs too weak to hold them.

But far toward the setting sun (burning in a blood-red sky), on a relatively small river emptying into the Atlantic Sea, a three hundred and twenty year old alchemist (Doctor Franklin) extracts a series of notes from the ether. His Great Armonica gives second birth to The Lost Chord and wondrous beasties blow in from the cosmic void.

Instantaneous communication devices spread the Good News from Alaska to the Moon. Plans are made. Technicians called forth. Replicas of the crystaline device find berths in the bellies of Earth's most gigantic flying machines. The Light of Salvation winks over the waves. Are they safe? Not really. Not yet. But humanity has a weapon now. Pray they use it well.

Do the aliens know of it? Are they aware? Do they comprehend such things?........ I cannot tell. Their disembodied spirits..... if they have disembodied spirits frequent other Heavens and I've yet to hear them speak. But the Manta-Ray folk on Europa know.... and they weave their prayers with ours.

On a great ship... if one could call it a ship, Lailah knows too. And from her place among the enemy, she hums an ancient song.....................

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NOT EXACTLY TINKERBELL, MORE LIKE A TINY, LITTLE GINGER FROM GILLIGAN'S ISLAND

Doctor Franklin has his theories. If you remember the time he experimented on Jonathon. If you can recall the nights our 'young' Andalucian hung suspended in the magnetic web of the Great Armonica. If you can visualize the instant when the cloud of butterflies materialized out of the ether and fluttered into our world, then you'll know. For what the eternal scientist did was access another universe. He knew it. A few of the agents recognized it too. And that key may unlock the door to our salvation. You want proof? Well, I suppose  you had to be there. But if you were, you would have seen it, because those gossamer little creatures weren't exactly card carrying butterflies. Not Earth butterflies anyway. Oh, they still had the real long, juice-sucking tongues. It's just that some of the other details were a little different. I know almost all of them died, or dematerialized back where they came from, but a few didn't. Look in the mermaid-hag enclosure. See the tropical plants? See the colorful, flower-like jewels flitting about? Now here's where we zoom in for a close-up. See?! See!? See!? That one. The blue one. The opalescent one. Focus. Pay attention. Shhh, shhhh. Now say hello to Tinkerbell face to face. Boy, Disney's was only a joke compared to this one. You wanna know who she really looks like? Not like Tinkerbell. Not like her. Ginger, the tall one from Gilligan's Island, that's who she really looks like.

Franklin can't do anything constructive with her world. It's too different. He's searching for some place a little more copasetic. A realm exactly like ours, save for maybe one tiny detail. And I do mean tiny. Like maybe a place where soft pretzel vendors don't pee in the bushes, or the top score on S.A.T.'s is 2200 instead of 2400, or like maybe their Justin Bieber started out with  another kinda haircut. It has got to be a place where we could live. If it's close enough, we'll all have duplicates there. That could pose a problem.

Now this is pie-in-the-sky, but the best solution would be finding a parallel universe with a solar system just like ours, but without an Earth. What, you're saying we could never transport the whole planet there? But with all due respect, you don't know how harmonic theory works. All we gotta do is get the ball rolling and the rest  goes right along with it.

If the place also has traces of a certain molecule, even better. For scientists from that Israeli desert installation made a discovery. They got a hold of some enemy DNA and tested it. You know how an allergist tests for reactions? Well, that's what they did. And a particular variation of what we would call common table salt 'neutralizes' them. They go phssst! Bye, bye, just like a puff a smoke. Hows did they get this elusive crystal? Well, they don't call this The Land of Miracles for nothing..........

Speaking of that desert installation, the vampire-human get-together is winding down now. Sarah's collapsed at a table with the Resurrected John Lennon, Bob Dylan and Yusef Islam (you know, Cat Stevens). She's high from her cat-nip-like aroma candle. The formerly dead Beatle is likewise intoxicated from too much of some kind of an orange-chocolate liquor drink they make around here. He's singin' Michelle' to her. Don't even remember all the words. Islam sleepily drums a beat on the table and Dylan's schmoozin' with some scientist about the possibility of life on the sun.... I don't know what he was drinkin'. Seems to me most of them could use a little Tea From The Tillerman (Stevens reference). You know, the caffeine might wake 'em up.

Jonathon's outside talkin' to some Reformed Rabbi. I don't know. He might be a Unitarian Minister. It's dark. They look up at the Firmament, all silvery spangled. Our guilt-ridden, eternally hopeful and reverent, immortal Spaniard sighs, He asks a question. He gestures toward the star-strewn skyway and says - What is the meaning of all this?.... Then he turns toward the carefully arranged desert shrubs - Why is it all here?..... The dapper spiritual guide exhales and says - Have you ever seen a toddler spill a cardboard drum of Legos on the floor? Well, it's a lot like that. It's not about the Legos, but what the baby does with them .Jonathon smiled. He nodded - I knew that.......... Then why did  you ask? - said the clergyman. But the 'young' vampire simply shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the sand.......

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DANGEROUS ALLIANCES AFTER MIDNIGHT...... A CAFE WITH MAGGOTS

Potentates have known about other islands of life in the sky for centuries. Hammurabi knew. Ezekiel knew. Julius Ceasar traded Saturnalia baskets with them. Your president, sitting in the midst of the Imperial American Capital knows too. So did the Bush ones before him and the Clinton Super Friends as well. They all knew.... They all KNOW.  Look, if we can all accept the fact that they knew about and exploited vampires. we can swallow this one too.

But most of the 'funny-folk' we had truck with were  sorta friendly. They might play a prank every now and then, steal a baby, sprinkle us with zitz (I think they did that to generate human pus. It has industrial applications on some worlds.). Only this crew happens  to be different...... extremely different. They don't want to rule us. They don't want to convert us. They don't want to eat us........ All they want to do is make us disappear. Look, I'm trying to be nice. 'Disappear' is just a cozier way to say 'kill us.' Ever 'put down' a dog? Well, then you know what I mean.

Actually, here's where I'm a little bit lucky. They can't do shit to me, 'cause I am already dead. Zebulon burnt up like twenty five centuries ago. But I know what the fire feels like. And I can imagine what they have planned for all a you.

Most a they vampires are out at the desert facility. Look back a few weeks. We blogged about it before Jonathon left Jerusalem the first time. Are you familiar with the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau installation buried under the old navy yard in Philadelphia? Well, it's a lot like that. They ain't formulated no plans yet. The vampires, I mean. But it just may be that the space cadets we got comin' (not countin' the ones already here) can't do nuttin' to them, at least not to the ones who can sublimate. Right now they're havin' an aroma candle social. The humans are eatin' cherry-cheese kugel (sort a like a bread pudding that thinks it's a cheese cake) topped with ice cold sour cream.. Claim it's very satisfying and refreshing. But I don't know. They didn't have nuttin' like that in my time. Our big treat was like baklavah. You know what baklavah is? It's got honey and filo dough pastry. My mama and my aunts used to make it. One a the kitchen slaves used to make it too

Right now you're probably sayin' - What the hell is this God damn, son-of-a-bitch, disembodied spirit talkin' about!? Who the hell cares about cakes!? We want creatures and vampires!!

Well, OK..... Gimme a heartbeat to collect myself.......

CUT TO - A  tiny outdoor cafe deep within the Old City souk (marketplace).

Lailah and Jean-Michel (two vampires) are seated at a small table far back from the artificial illumination. They have a 'guest'.... a third being. Any passerby caring to give him a look sees a perfectly nondiscript human. He wears tourist clothes. He appears to sip tourist-blend coffee. Could be some guy in a food court at your favorite mall.

But the two vampires see something else. They see a sticky, eight foot long, cyst covered, giant maggot struggling to keep its seat on the small, white, plastic chair. And he drinks not the aromatic, tourist blend kava brew from far off Sheba (Zebulon meanders through his mortal life), but munches on a generous portion of smoked human ass he's brought from home. Granted, they don't want to eat us all, yet an occassional exotic delicacy is quite understandable.

The aliens seek raproachment with the vampires. We don't step on their 'toes' and they won't step on ours. Maybe a few of the 'noxious' ones might bite, but the 'nobles' won't. Somehow they don't get that. I mean what are vampires? They're different. But they ain't shapped like pressure cookers, or French Poodles, or nothin'. They're humans, just essentially a  group of jazzed up, zhuzzed up humans.

Jean-Michel wants to throw up. He can't stand the way that space freak's mandibles operate. And the eyes look like two yellow-green mangos sruck onto a wad a sweatin' spoiled coconut-custard Jimmy Dean sausage links.

Lailah eyes don't say nothin'. She just sits. They want her to go back to one a the out posts. Maybe she's gonna be like an ambassador or something? Or maybe they're just playing games. But she knows what 'it' wants to do. They say she won't die. She's a vampire. How could she do that? But it's the way all non-native travelers are transported back with them. So she lets him do it. She gets up, hugs the Chevalier Jean-Michel and walks back into the dark alley. The maggot goes in after her. And the thousand year old French knight stands guard, as it arcs up over her trembling body, opens its oozing mandibles and swallows her down, inching along like a fat, disgusting, mostly decomposed boa contrictor.

And her tiny, bare feet kick and tremble a little, as the creature throws back its 'head' and 'gulps.'

The small table is empty. The plastic chairs rest askew. But a waiter comes over and rights things for a friendly, smiling couple from Vermont.......

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SHHHHH....THEY GOT MOTH-MEN AND CREEPY SPACE MEN OUT THERE

I didn't traverse the sea with the vampires. They asked me to stay back with Edith and the juveniles. They like me. I play with them. So I don't mind. We have some treasure stashed around here. Money won't be a problem. In fact, Edith and her husband (I wish I could remember his name...she calls him 'hey you!' or 'tell that skinny son of a bitch') are over at the Hammonton Lowe's right now buying some new laminate wood flooring for the cabin. She calls it a bungalow. But to me it looks like a cabin.

The elves love the freedom they have around here. They don't have to worry about people seeing them and all. One of the Red Paint guys says some mafia guys seen 'em. But who they gonna tell? Shit, they were plantin' somebody. So what if a couple of curious flying Justin Biebers and their equally exotic etherial Olson Twin girlfriends were flitting about through the treetops? Everybody knows how strange the weather's been lately. Fuhged aboudit.

I met a few other Pineys. They are some interesting individuals. One guy speaks in tongues. But all he knows is real juicy languages, so you gotta stand back a few feet. I don't know how people ever got 'intimate' in the land where they talk that language, 'cause everytime you go to speak soft in somebody's ear, they wind up gettin' all wet. Jus wanna push  you the hell out the car and say - Leave me the f**k alone, you sloppy bastid! But the others showed me how to hypnotise earthworms and levitate 'em up outta the dirt a little and that part was all right.

Edith says she feels the enemy. Keeps havin' those dreams. Keeps seein' what she calls Moth-Men standin' in the dark. They got a lot a dark 'round here...in the Pines, I mean. Sometimes one a the cherubs will all of a sudden laugh and point off into the shadows. They'll start kickin' their chubby legs and clappin'. But nobody's there. Once some strange guy...a human guy, I mean, came stumblin' outta the brush, moanin' and all. Holdin' his hannds out in front a him, like Frankenstein. But he had to do that. He couldn't help it, 'cause his eye-balls was all sucked out. We couldn't tell untill he got in closer. When he collapsed one a the elves tried fixin' him up. Think it was the Alpha Elf. Think it was Albion. He bit into his finger tip and when it started to bleed he wiped it around in the socket hoping to grow some new eye-balls or somethin'. But that only made the human guy thrash around and scream. I don't know. Maybe it'll take a few nights. Edith's husband poured about two cups a Piney Punch down his tater chute. That shut him up real good. He saw Moth-Men too, before they sucked out his eye-balls, I mean.

Sometimes I forget I'm human. That is an easy thing to do considering the kind a company I keep. Saw a shriveled up old merman swimmin' down the river the other night. We got lots a little rivers in the Pines. Guess he came in from the ocean. They hardly ever do that, but the aliens, or the enemies, or whatever you want to call 'em got them all spooked too. Jus' think what it would be like if Edith's dream comes true. Whole mess a merfolk fish-floppin' around on the cold, hard seabed, staring up at the roiling sea floatin' on high where the sky should be. I don't even like to picture it.

Yeah, them space devils is havin' their way with us. But Papa will think a somethin'. He's got lots a powers. He is the Swiss Army Knife a powers. Reanate's the same way. And there must be other old one out there. Damn, I wish I was over in Jerusalem. Could go for a good felafel right now.................

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