Charles Pendelton
       2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 06

                    That deadly nutmeg tree


As I thought quietly to myself about the day, I wondered what would become of it.
Looking over to the shelf, I picked up a binder of jottings. Not interested in reading
the whole thing, I opened it and began to read several paragraphs from the first page.



It was the fall of 1981, and I was living in Annadale with mom and Ray. My parents had
left for the weekend with the brown & white Shasta trailer that they hooked up to the old
Karmann Ghia and dragged down to Shohola Falls. It was about 5:30 in the evening, when I
picked my friend Dave up at his house. He wanted to celebrate his most recent job as a New
York City Transit Authority token clerk, but couldn't quite figure out where to go or what to
do. I, having ended a torrid love affair with my former girlfriend Sharon, had no intention of
consummating another disastrous relationship for awhile. Sharon who was as promiscuous
as she was revealing is now somebody else's headache, while David’s girlfriend Luisa broke
up with him due to a more personal matter. He wanted her to have the baby, and she didn't
want to be tied down, so instead of nurturing it, in utero she murdered it before telling David
he should find someone else. Someone more mature, I think she meant older. Finally, after
months of intense pain and grief counseling sessions, he found it within himself to move on.

                                                             The One Way Street - Falsely represented society




                                                         It was only natural.

From his house to my house I drove, and throughout the whole car ride he just would not
let up about the failed relationship. When finally we arrived at my house, it appeared that
all was calm. Then he started up again until I became depressed. After a mild lamentation
about Luisa and the baby he would never see. His baby boy or girl, what color would it
eyes have been, and that four letter word which begins with a “C” and ends with a “T”
repeated time and again behind moist eyes. I knew now that we would not be going out to
any club tonight, and so I decided it would be best at this point if we just stayed inside.

                                                                                   
The Atlantics - You tell me why


What would be the purpose of going out to have a good time, when the person you are with

has erected an invisible wall between himself and the world? It just didn't make any sense.
 
                                                                                   Sounds Unlimited - About you



Some time elapsed before we hopped in my Grandfather's old car, which is now my
stepfather's new car and drove to the nearest Sav-on. I picked out a warm but friendly
case of America's favorite rice beer and carried the rectangular box under my arm to
the counter where I laid it down. It then occurred to me as I was studying the design,
why this beer is so popular. Because it is red, white and blue, resembles the American
flag, and is the most refreshing beer on the entire planet! As I was examining some of
the smaller text on the carton, a couple of rapscallions playing tug of war pulled apart
a rather large bag of M&M's scattering them everywhere! Ah, the joys of parenting!!!


                                                                              Pg 22
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I then displayed my identification to the cashier where I paid for the beer, and we left.
From there we stopped at Vittorino's and ordered a pizza pie. I parked the 1972, black
Galaxy 500 alongside the house, turned off the engine and went inside. The time was
now nearing seven. I put the entire box in the large yellow stand up freezer and waited
a good hour before going down to retrieve it. Dave was saying how much Luisa loved
Budweiser, and this would be the first one he is having without her. I then pulled
two
cans
out and put them on the table. Dave hastily goes to open his and the ring
tab
snaps off! Dave starts laughing insidiously and says, “that cunt, she put the curse
on me. “She didn't put a curse on you Dave, I'll get the can opener. After it happened
again I said, on second thought, I take that back. She did put the curse on you!!!

                                                            October Country - My girl friend is a witch




Halfway through the case, I made a ridiculous suggestion. “Look man, it's only a quarter after
ten, I have an idea.” My mom has an unopened tin of nutmeg in the cabinet. I heard that
nutmeg can pack a pretty sweet punch!” Dave began to laugh and told me I was unequivocally
out of my fucking mind. Okay I said, and slapped twenty dollars on the table. If we don't get
buzzed you keep the money. Fine he said, let's do it. We boiled some water and proceeded to
pour it in the blender. Tapping the can of nutmeg slowly, we watched the gritty powder fall
into the water while the motor ran. The water soon turned oily and had an overwhelming
industrial solvent smell. Oh God I thought, what are we doing? This is going to be like
drinking Mr. Clean! I stopped the motor and all the ingredients sank to the bottom of the
blender and became one solid mass. Seeing that it could not be poured, being that it had a
consistency of sand, Dave uttered in a very despondent and baritone voice, get the spoon.



We waited for the liquid to cool before eating it with great effort. Needless to say,
each spoonful went down like noxious poison and burned the back of our throats.
We gagged and nearly puked throughout the entire endeavor, but managed to keep it
down without vomiting. After the ordeal, I reached into the fridge and pulled us out
two beers each. Drink fast I said, you're about to lose this race! Dave was ahead for
the first stretch, but as he began to belch uncontrollably, I soared ahead to the finish
line! Your just-a son-of-a-bitch, he said, with a long animated face while looking
blindly toward the floor and shaking his head adamantly! “You’re just a sneaky
fuck,” he continued to blurt out with eyes bulging! We continued to drink the rest
of our beers though our tongues and throats were numb and our stomachs queasy.


                                                                              Pg 23
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


From out of nowhere Dave begins laughing! I can't get over those two kids! Did you
see the size of that bag? I know, they were all over the damn place and one even went
down the back of my shirt! What a raucous those little bastard's made! And how!
It was around twelve thirty when Dave phoned for a cab. He said he had a lot of things to
do tomorrow and left. I apologized for the grand fiasco and assumed the nutmeg had
been counteracted by the beer and that's why the night had fallen into ruin. He told me
to replace the can with a new one, and said he was not going to take the money. The cab
finally arrived at a quarter after one, and Dave left feeling rather drained. I had my last
beer alone in the quiet kitchen where I tried to figure out what went so terribly wrong.

Saturday morning upon waking is how this story begins

My eyes sprung open like an automated device on spring levers while I lay there
motionless, neck moving like an insect. This new head of mine felt more like a
balloon filled with air than my old head, and my face appeared to be distorted like
a surreal mask had been put on while I was sleeping. One that was not my own.



           It seemed as though when I looked forward I was, in fact, utilizing more
          
peripheral vision than I should have been. Almost like my regular eyesight
         
was now somewhat obscured and when I observed myself in the mirror, I
         
couldn't see the details of my face but instead something more disturbing.




My eyes flicked open and closed at a sharper rate, due to the increase in shutter speed, and
each one of them was now filled with an indiscernible amount of sticky fluid. Microscopic to a
viewer behind the mirror in my room, but logical in theory, I attest! They were not irritated and
they did not hurt. They were simply uncomfortable, and I would have kept them closed for the
duration of the day had that been possible. Not to mention they were 4x their normal size!
 


                                               (((It waits for you to wake up!!!)))



The hairs on my head did not feel right to me at all. They were too stiff and bristly like that
of a boar or warthog and my bug face was now very similar to that of a fly, while my heart
was going so fast I could no longer hear it. I was immensely concerned about what was
going on but felt absolutely powerless to do anything to stop it. Like throwing yourself
from a tall building and then realizing you made a mistake. Why the hell did I do this for
I thought as I panicked? There was a flash of light that appeared for a brief moment near
my sternum and appeared to open me up at the middle of my chest, separating my being.
There was nothing gross about it. Nothing red or disturbing from that aspect in the least.


                                                                              Pg 24
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It was just so shocking to witness that it brought an intense level of distress to my system,
and I did not know what was going to happen next. In a matter of minutes, the full effect
of this drug would be realized. Without leading you astray, I can honestly say that in these
moments of pure terror, it felt as though a bomb had been surgically implanted inside my
heart set to detonate at an undisclosed time. It was extremely difficult to breathe, and my
face, hands, and arms were completely numb. As I anticipated my own death, a death
that could have easily been avoided, I slowly imagined the Lord God turning the flame
up a little higher. You did this to yourself, now you will never see my kingdom!


The tragedy of my situation was coming into focus!!!

I was dying and not a human soul could save me. I tried to walk, but my legs collapsed
under their own weight. The more I tried to move about, the worse everything became until
it felt like the entire town was resting upon my chest, and it seemed like I was carrying the
fortitude of the entire world with me as I ran full steam toward the stairs! At this point, my
heart was going faster than Keith Moon could play, and there was no way of undoing it.




The fact that I knew what nutmeg was meant that I deserved what I was getting.
David, on the other hand, was completely innocent in the matter. It was I who
pulled him into this, and I knew that in the end I would have to answer for that
dearly. David who has an occasional drink every once in a while to stimulate
his mood, or to agitate his senses. David who won't even smoke pot because
it is illegal. . . Oh David, I do not think you will be ready for this! 




This was the end, I thought. There were a number of things that could happen now,
and none of them were good. I could develop intense chest pains and collapse from
a heart attack. I could get an aneurysm or a brain hemorrhage and have a stroke.
Or if my kidneys were to give out, then I could become paralyzed, or even worse.



Aside from being labeled a spice, nutmeg is in fact,
a very effective, fairly toxic,
amphetamine-like psychedelic. What I didn't know at the time, was that when
taken in large quantities it can cause extreme psychosis, terrible nausea followed
by palpitations leading to convulsions, severe liver damage and finally cardiac
arrest. Had I known all the facts, I never would have taken it. Even so, how
was I to know the high was going to last more than forty eight hours?



                                          I was standing in the eye of the storm;
                                 a teaspoon more and I would have died for sure.




    Dear Lord, if you are out there I beg of thee,
don't let go of me now!




Suddenly, I was surrounded by screaming sirens as I bounded for the staircase
in a vain attempt to reach the telephone below. Four steps were all I could muster
as I desperately clutched the wooden banister for dear life! These dark grey
cartoon teapots were tooting quite loudly as they taunted me inside my mind,
where the sound of sirens abounded. I was flabbergasted to the point of diving
out the nearest window, but did not wish to succumb to injuries withstanding.



The ungodly seraphims ranted in tones above reason to further
paralyze my damaged mind, until I was, but a portrait of the insane.



                                                                              Pg 25
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


He's trying to summon an ambulance. . .
An ambulance?
Yes an ambulance!!!
We must stop him from calling this ambulance!
I will have his head!!!

These aerial creatures were acerbated to the point of boiling
as they bellowed aloud from the top of their infinite lungs
before abducting me into their sick and twisted musical.

He's running, he's running, he's getting away!
He's going too slow... He'll never escape!
Can't you all see that this boy is in fear?
Freeze in your tracks and get back over here!!!



I was in a state of complete and utter terror as I struggled back up the steps
and into my bedroom where I crouched down on the rug. On both knees,
I began to pray and could almost sense God wanting to smite me! Who
can say for sure that the next life isn't going to be filled with these monsters,
so I had to give myself at least a fighting chance to save my soul.

And so would begin, the art of collective bargaining between entities and spirits
who would have willingly pulled me apart at the seams for nothing more than this
minor infraction. An iniquity which has created the abomination of the year.



It soon felt like there was a rope slung over the banister and three men were pulling
it with all their might. I felt like I was slowly being hung and there was absolutely
nothing I could do about it. I wasn't quite sure if I was even breathing anymore. If I
was human anymore. In fact, I knew only one thing; my heart was no longer beating.

I felt like I was in a wooden tomb that to my dismay, was slowly being sealed!



I know it must be hard to fathom but after two solid hours of
mind
wrenching torture, I was going to be absolved of my sins.


Before I could say anything, I was reassured by the four dark grey teapots
who introduced themselves to me by name. It wasn't like a person to person
introduction. It was more along the lines of how you would envision a ghost,
if you ever had the misfortune of running into one. In reality, I think I was
listening to the voice of my own conscience. Like a carousel it went around.


Hello, I'm teapot of the North - (sincere)
I'm teapot of the South! - (angry)
Hello Lad, I'm teapot of the East - (revered, mighty)
And I am teapot of the West, pleased to meet your
acquaintance! *tilting its lid* - (empyreal, inspiring)

                                                                              Pg 26
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


We do not mean to glorify our own standings by this haughty behavior
and aggrandizing at will, but you had to be stopped! He was running
for
the telephone! Yes he was, he was running to the. . .


And the confusion began again as the meeting of the teapots ran amok! Each one
trying to speak over the other until it was nothing more than pure unadulterated chaos.



My cardboard shell of a head now felt like it was only half there. The bottom half seemed
to have disintegrated hours ago and those little black bugs that were still falling out of it were
everywhere. I knew they were an illusion, unless however, the chemistry of my body mixed in
with the nutmeg created them. After a week of living like this I'm sure I'd be completely mad,
to a point of raving. I felt the back of my head, and it felt like a light bulb. Okay I'm still intact.
Had I felt a rather large incision, then I would not have been able to stop my mind from
destroying me. Very soon, there would no longer be anything falling out of it.




The pure unmitigated despair I felt in my heart must have been my soul burning and so
once again I prayed for God's mercy. I now realized in all my foolishness that there is no
one on the face of the earth who is beyond reproach. Everyone will answer for themselves.


I entered through a door which had opened in my head to see the effigy of Jesus
emerging from the clouds in a burgundy robe. He was handing someone a solid gold
chalice 3/4 filled with deep red wine. The chalice appeared to have 4 large diamonds in
the center on all four of its compass points. Then the image faded and I was escorted
back to my cell. My penance it seemed had not yet been fulfilled and so in this place of
torment, I was bade to suffer some more. After about a half an hour the teapots stopped
bickering and one said, I think he is beginning to understand. The atrocity you have 
committed today has been requiemed by prayer. Now do you see why we stopped you?
Consider yourself spared from the torment of fire for you see the good lord has once
again bequeathed your soul. With that they vanished as quickly as they came.


No longer would there be any ambiguity.
No longer would there be anymore strife, I was free!



The room was so quiet I could hear only the mild sound of my inner ears manufacturing
their own noise. Kind of like the sound you hear the day after a loud concert. I looked
at the clock to find that three hours had passed. My heart had begun beating again and
was off the chart. Knowing that I would be allowed to live was far more than I could
ever ask for and as strange as it may seem, I was now genuinely happy. If I were to
die at this moment, I honestly believe my soul would be in peace.




                                              Reunited in Heaven at last!


                                                                              Pg 27
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It wasn't long before the telephone rang! Although I now had the heart and body
of a ninety five year old man, I managed to find my way down the stairs and used
all my energy just to answer it. Hello? I said to the muffled voice on the other
end of the line and sure enough it was David! He told me he spent the better part
of the morning cowering in bed and praying for salvation for he was stricken
with interminable fear. You don't even believe in God, I said shocked! 




“I do now,” he shouted! I told him the tale of the four dark grey teapots, and he tumbled over,
breaking the chair! “Don't laugh,” I said to him through the communicator; “this is serious
business!”  “I'm sorry, don't take it personally or anything.” David then continued to laugh
wholeheartedly before telling me his little adventure. “Listen you're not gonna believe this,
but it’s true! My mother comes up with a cup of tea, right? All of a sudden, the phone rings,
it's her friend Dottie. . . Do you know the only thing she’s been saying, on-the-phone, for
the past hour and a fucking half, has been Yeah-ahhHaa-hmmm? Yeah-AhhHaa-hmmm!!!
I swear to God, she never changed it! I'm gonna die if I don't stop laughing!!! Holy shit!!!
Yeah-AhhHaa-Hmmm!!!


Suddenly there was the sound of an impact crash on the other end of the line followed
by a loud boom! David picked up the phone and said, are you still there? I asked
him what had just happened, and he said that he tripped on an extension cord and went
headlong into the closet door breaking both doors off their tracks. You gotta see it,
he said, guffawing in merriment! I now had to hold myself back from laughing deliriously!

My head! My head, I can't talk! My head went halfway through the bedroom closet door!
Just then his mother could be heard entering the room. What's going on in here, David?
She sounded quite concerned as she scurried about the room. My lungs retching for release,
but I refused to give in. That poor little cup of tea, I thought, resting on her nightstand as she
bolted from the room, what was it her seventh!?
How cold it is going to be when she returns!



You're destroying this house, she screamed out in fury like a possessed nun!
This whole house you're destroying!!! David then tried to explain the situation
to his mother the best he could, but his mother being a solemn woman refused
to hear any of it! I then pictured that austere face of hers in front of David
and with that, I started to slip. . .


I tripped. . . Because I tripped!
Will you let me talk?
Okay, I broke the door on purpose with my head!
(There was a long pause)
Why would you do such a thing, asked his mother in shock?
Because I tripped!!!

                                                                              Pg 28
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Unable to stop the tickling itch that begged for laughter, I exploded! Swinging off my chair,
I dropped the phone to the floor and collapsed. I don't know how long I was laughing for
or how much oxygen I lost to my brain, but when I regained my composure some twenty
minutes later, every part of my being ached in the worst possible way. I heard a song that
sounded like a tea commercial playing loudly in my head. Did I just make that song up
or did the fool thing just start playing on its own? Damned if I know.


Dave's mom sure knows how to make tea, boy I'll say!
Go with the best. . . Go with Earl Grey!



Little jingles like this one would attach themselves to my brain, and I would find myself
totally unable to get rid of them for hours at a time. Kind of like when you get a song
stuck in your head, and it will not go away! After that I went up to my room.


I couldn't help notice the curtains as the wind blew gently through them. I saw a man
kissing a woman on a hill near a castle. The wind changed course and the dark knight
came and changed the fate of the two young lovers. There was tragedy, doom, glory
and finally peace as the story concluded. I watched the curtains manufacture dreams
for me and wondered how it was that I never saw them before. If everything was
exactly the same, then what has changed to make me see what before I could not?
I just could not comprehend it. I was spellbound!


Two hours later I spoke to Dave on the phone again. What happened before with your
mother, I asked politely? She wants to take me to a psychiatrist. Because of the door
incident? No, something else happened. . . Well, can you tell me, I asked curiously?
My mother was really disgusted with the whole door thing and left the house to go
shopping. As soon as she left, I went downstairs for a glass of milk and a cookie.
I don't even know why I did that! It wasn't like I was hungry or anything! I just had
to move around! So anyway, to make a long story short, I fell up the stairs and the
glass of milk broke. I got confused! I wasn't sure what I should do, so I left it there.
You left a broken glass of milk on the stairs? Yeah, (laughs) and the cookie too!

With that I let go a roar of laughter that would not be topped to this very day,

and collapsed to the floor! I could not catch my breath for minutes at a time and
thought I might actually die from laughing!!! The pain I felt later on that evening,
was similar to a man shot from a cannon into a steel wall.


                                                                              Pg 29
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


At around 7 pm, I was to meet my friend John at his aunt's house. They were having
an outdoor party in the backyard, and he told his aunt I would come. I left the house
before five, just to be safe, but found myself standing at the bottom of my block.



Disoriented and completely unaware of what was happening, I stood there as if waiting for a bus.
Scratching my head with a perplexed face, like I had just been dropped off somewhere in
México!



Only yesterday I knew this area like the back of my hand, and now my memory was like
that of a dying tortoise. I struggled with the reasoning of the how's and why's, and for the
life of me couldn't get it right. I knew I had to go a certain way, but nothing made sense.




My perception of reality was not altered as much as my instinct of direction was.
I went straight then left and down, but it did not take me to the house at all, only
further from it. I was lost, but I knew all the streets. I felt senile, confused and
old as I stared up and around at what should have been a very familiar block.

 
                                          The Electric Prunes - Ain't it hard



My brain seemed to be in a place all by itself where everything was fuzzy in its confusion,
and if someone asked me what 6 + 9 is, it probably would have taken me three hours to solve.
That was because the memory sector of my mind had been bordered up like an old abandoned
house, and I couldn't help wondering what would happen if I had to live like this forever. A
burned out drone, staring at vitreous shadows in a deluded haze commonly known as dementia.
If this is what I have to look forward to in later life, then maybe it's better to die young.


                                                   
                                                  *After several hours, I was happy I left early!*


Bantam laughter could be heard over the ridge of houses as far as a block away, and I had
pinpointed the location to be that of his aunt's party. I arrived promptly at seven and entered
in through the back gate, where the mighty roar of people filled with alcohol charged the air.
On a small runner of grass the length of the house I traveled until I reached the backyard.

Standing on an array of firmly set paving stones, it did appear to me at first like we were all
on one big crazy chessboard! The sun shone so resplendent upon the handle of the barbecue
grill that it touched off a wild nerve in my eye, and I had to look away. I was overwhelmed with
excitement and couldn't wait to have a drink of something; anything! Aunt Dana was dervishly
whirling, being spun by a partner whom I had not yet met. John was talking to his cousin Vinnie
and his cousin was going on and on about this new car of his. A Delta Eighty-Eight Royale. “This
new fuckin' Oldsmobile I got Johnny is fantastic! It'll run circles around these other pieces-a-shit
you see on the road. Come around, I'll take ya for a spin in it one day, you'll see.” He smoked his
fancy cigarettes and spoke like an Italian gangster while John just listened and nodded his head.


I made my way over the squares carefully to where the alcohol had been stationed and then
suddenly began to feel out of place. Walking over to where my friend was standing, I waved.
Hey-man, he yelled in a glowing tone! Glad you could make it! He then shook my hand
before introducing me to his cousin Vinnie. Then, he casually escorted me over to a part of the
backyard where the alcohol was stationed. I swiftly declared Boodles & tonic to be the rouser
and after that very first drink, it was all Bishop to King 9. . . Whatever the hell that meant.




                                                                              Pg 30
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Later that evening, after a delightful barbecue and some enchanting conversations with my friend's
niece and cousin, John drove me home in his souped-up, light blue Chevy Nova. As I got to the top
of the steps, I turned the key. Upon entering, I realized my heart was now at a much slower speed
than it had been earlier. It was now like Herb Albert playing Whipped cream. So relaxing, I could
have almost fell asleep. It was like being on two amphetamines instead of twelve!

I toyed with the idea of brewing a small pot of coffee to get things going again; not that I ever
really would have. It was just an eager temptation thrown in from afar, which gave me reason
to ponder something so insane, that it made me stop to question my own sanity.


Eighteen hours after ingestion and not having slept at all, I watched my bedroom curtain's dance for me
again, only this time it was different than it was during the day. This time it was slow and erotic. I could
surmise, it was mainly because there was no sunlight shining through it, but rather electric light cast upon
it, besides, the drug was winding down, and it was getting late. I followed the backdrop until it subsided
like black paint thrown onto a magic canvas. The spectacular image then faded to naught. Every scene
shown to me on that wonderful screen was continually changing in its own way before being repeated.




As I followed the road to Mulhaven, on a magic carpet ever so gently blowing, I realized that life is
merely a compendium of words thrown into context, promulgated for those around me to hear. The
thoughts and expressions of these words and ideas had been somehow separated from their implied
meaning. The context was clear, but the destination of perception had stopped by the deer crossing.
Yes, I was now fully aware of reality, but with a heightened ability to daydream. I no longer had to
focus, to see what lie behind the hidden veil of truth. That mysterious wonder was now uncloaked.




Xiphosuran shapes in the buttery sand marked the erosion of a colossal shoreline.
Castles made from seeds of men decay in the morning sun, like old grain elevators
on long abandoned country roads wither. I watched a maiden draw a symbol with
her finger in the sparkling silica as she knelt down in reverence to the memory of
her kinfolk taken from her in a violent windstorm. They now lay buried beneath
her in the center of what used to be their home, but is now only a skeleton. This
is what time can do as the fair maiden knows all too well. Mountainous ridges
carved deep into the steep wall from the side of an impressive canyon lay furrow.

Below, the equestrian's mare rides alone
through a dry deluge in his preeminence.


Where vultures pervade the sky, ever looming and cow skulls blanched by the sun
become as common as mirages. . . They are grave markers. Saddened and without
hope she turns away. Granted, she has brought me a bucket of tears but are they
really for me, or are they mine? As the pail expands to become an ocean, it soon
evaporates to become an inlet of salt. Birds swoop down and take a crystal of
this salt home to their nest for one is all they can carry. It is the seed of fertility.
They will give it to their young, so they might have life.
. . A life to live freely.



As the scene washes away a sandy universe takes its place. In the end, it was irrevocably the same.
Much like a sea wave when it rolls in, as it retracts and is pulled back into the ocean, the muddy
sand left behind seems to dry up almost instantly. For a brief moment, the sand blows dry as dust.



Water has now become nonexistent.

Delicate shadow's cascade through rivers of dried
seaweed and hollowed out bones to erect a new day.
Such hope lies in waiting, but I find the fair maiden has perished.




                                                                              Pg 31
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Eventually, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. There I dreamt, I was living in
the Soviet Union delivering packages of the utmost importance to the Kremlin, but the
Kremlin was simply a dilapidated storefront. Suddenly, it seemed as though somebody
was following me, and so I started to run. I never thought I would escape. Finally, I made
it to the way station where I delivered the package to Мальвина, (Malvina), who was
my mother. “I'll take the package from here Роберт” - (Robert).



I then went back to my hotel room overlooking the Basilica and waited.


The telephone rang and I immediately snatched it from its cradle. It is done, I said
in a cool tone and hung up. I then waited for further instructions. There was a fast
knock on the door, and so I opened it. Three men dressed exactly alike in grey casual
sweaters and matching pants stood, anxiously awaiting my command to enter. Come in,
I said hesitantly. Do you realize what you have done? said the first man and ordered me
to turn on the television? I did as I was told, and there was the small package I delivered
this morning. Malvena was the spy, and now all of Russia is looking for you!




They are going to torture you day and night, until you give them names. They will take you
to the factory.The factory? The factory where they lop off the fingers and smash all the
toes! The factory where every one smiles on the outside, but once you are inside, a smile
is nowhere to be found. THE FAAAAACTORY! My God, I thought they tore it down!



“Make it easy on yourself comrade; bedroom, third draw to the right. “You hear that,
said the first man looking out the large window? “They are in the street now. They are
coming up.” With that they left and closed the door. I heard the sound of heavy boots
like thunder coming down the hallway and knew I had to move fast.



I hurried into the bedroom and pulled open the third draw to the right. The sound of
a doorknob attempting to be turned abruptly led to the door before kicked open. “I will
not be taken alive.” Not to a place that makes Stalin's gulag seem like summer camp.
I could hear them conspiring against me, and it kind of felt like they were setting a trap.



The Russians entered a second room, and began smashing everything in sight.
“There is nowhere to hide,” I thought to myself calmly as I put the gun to my
left temple, never imagining this could be possible. Looking down, I saw the
hotel room key on an orange metal tag by the Matreoshka near the end table.



As I picked up the rusted and filthy tag that looked like it had been lying for several
years in the back of an old toilet tank, the truth had revealed itself and was plain for
all to see. Room #1302. I grinned for I was amused at the sheer irony of it. I then
thought to myself loudly, "only in the heartland, do Bolsheviks fear no reprisal!"

                                             Orange Bicycle - Jenskadajka


As the sound of glass objects breaking and men cursing in demon tongues came
closer, the bedroom door burst open and the hammer instinctively fired.



My eyes opened and my heart was still beating, though very fast. I thanked the Good
Lord for his kindness and for saving my soul from the fires of perdition. I was relieved
to be home, rather than lying face down in a blanket of red along the banks of the Volga
river. I closed the book after reading less than a paragraph. I was glad I documented the
nutmeg ordeal and returned the book of jottings back to its rightful place on the shelf.




At exactly three o'clock on a rather warm Sunday afternoon, I hear Ramon pulling the
car up in front of the house. They have returned from their little getaway, and are now
entering the kitchen. “Hi Charlie,” says mother in a manner that would imply she was
fatigued. “Do anything good over the weekend?” I felt like saying, “Yeah, I did half a
can of nutmeg which nearly gave me a freakin' heart attack. “I had Alzheimer's disease
for a day, and I'm not really sure if I still have it.” “I had a sneezing fit this morning where
I unconsciously slammed my forehead into the kitchen table where I was sitting, nearly
giving myself a concussion, and now I find it rather difficult, if not impossible to shit."

Of course, I would never say these things, but the effects of the drug had left me
feeling skittish. My mind is still groggy, but in an entertaining kind of energetic
way,
my body feels like it is participating in a Vaudeville act! I must separate
myself from them, and so I take a pleasant stroll down my block. The sun could
be a bit warmer, and my mind could be a bit sharper, but who is to complain?
Later on, I still had no appetite for food, but managed to partake of some fish.

Sunday was drawing to a close. . .


No longer were there any visions to beheld in curtains hung high;
neither were there any shocking revelations to run in fear from...
Only a deep need to enwrap myself in my comforter and sleep.
This night, there would be no dreams for me to remember.

I was awakened to the sound of leaves scrapping against the window.
A heavy gust of wind had kicked them up to where I was resting silently.
Everything was normal again. I thought about the nutmeg ordeal, and came
to the conclusion that it was indeed worth it. . . Anything that brings one
closer to God is worth it, but it is never, ever going to happen again!!!

Those days are now long behind me!

From my bedroom window, I could now see Mother walking down the block
like she was campaigning for a cause. A woman full of vim and vigor in the
morning! She rounded the corner like a cosmonaut, and I thought. . .

This is ground control to Major Tom;
you've really made the grade!


                                          David Bowie - Space oddity

                                                                              Pg 32
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reviews for chapter 6

Harriet Mormer - One page of Charles Pendelton is longer than an entire chapter of James Patterson!
Two masters in their own right. One is a master of mystery, the other a master of madness and I really like it!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If any image on this site is considered to be offensive, it will be removed. If it has been copied without
proper consent, please contact me immediately and the image will either be removed, or credit shall be
given unto the person or persons responsible. Whether it be an artist, photographer, cartoonist., etc.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----

PG 22) Books on books by Jonathan Wolstenholme

PG 22) Genova Bay vision by
Jacek Yerka - http://www.yerkaland.com/

PG 22) Back side of the moon
by Vladimir Kush - http://vladimirkush.com/

PG 23) Where there's life. . . Orchestra and chorus conducted
by Russ David - http://tinyurl.com/ohwup6q

PG 23) Oddment 83
by Leah Palmer Preiss - http://www.leahpalmerpreiss.com/ 

PG 24) Visions of Nobrow
by Matt Dangler - http://www.mattdangler.com/

PG 24) Faces in a mirror
by R. S. Connett - http://www.grotesque.com/

PG 24) Self portrait
by Beau White -
http://tinyurl.com/o7lwrqn

PG 25) Damocles
by Heidi Taillefer - http://tinyurl.com/kcr28ta

PG 25) Untitled by Brad Yeo

PG 25) Chained
by Nathan Rosario - http://tinyurl.com/no6hqn9

PG 25) Help me
by Gérard DuBois - http://tinyurl.com/mnawn6

PG 25) Hierophant
by Chris Mars - http://www.chrismarspublishing.com/

PG 25) It was no surprise
by Nathan Spoor - http://www.nathanspoor.com/

PG 25) Response Art take 2
by Sante - http://tinyurl.com/ndbf3fg

PG 26) Oubliette
by Craig Maher - http://craigmaher.net/

PG 26) Judgement
by Joe Vaux - http://www.joevaux.com/

PG 26) Help!
by Otto Schade - http://www.ottoschade.com/

PG 27) Letting Go
by David Ho - http://www.davidho.com/

PG 27) Samsara
by David Ho - http://www.davidho.com/

PG 27) Eternity
by Samy Charnine
- http://charnine.com/

PG 27) Untitled
by Brad Yeo -
http://tinyurl.com/md6j637

PG 28) Goodly Creature
by Leah Palmer Preiss - http://www.leahpalmerpreiss.com/

PG 28) Daughters of Evolution III
by Charles Wish - http://www.charleswish.com/

PG 29) Oddment 60
by Leah Palmer Preiss - http://www.leahpalmerpreiss.com/

PG 30) Moving forward
by Layla - http://tinyurl.com/kzsulnk

PG 30) The Western Express
by Martin Wittfooth - http://martinwittfooth.com/

PG 30) Between sand and stars
by Jeff Christensen - http://tinyurl.com/mundgwo

PG 30) Thinking one
by Rafal Hrynkiewicz - http://angstyboy.com/

PG 30) Split time 
by Catherine Lall - http://tinyurl.com/lc7az7l

PG 30) Chess
by Vladimir Kush - http://vladimirkush.com/

PG 31) Coffee Nouveau by Gennady Privedentsev -
http://tinyurl.com/jw5824q

PG 31) Multiple 
by Gil Bruvel - http://tinyurl.com/lzqsw9q

PG 31) Spiritual
by Dean Fleming - http://www.deanfleming.com/

PG 31) Birdland
by Leigh Palmer Preiss - http://www.leahpalmerpreiss.com/

PG 31) The private wave
by Jacek Yerka - http://www.yerkaland.com/

PG 31) The tenuous light of the dream
by Gil Bruvel - http://tinyurl.com/lzqsw9q

PG 32) Lengiz
, Books in all Branches of Knowledge by Aleksandr Rodchenko - http://tinyurl.com/k6o27lg

PG 32) Big Brave Communist Worker Fixes
a Poster on a Wall - http://www.sovietposters.com/

PG 32) Chimneys
and smokestacks built and repaired - http://tinyurl.com/lazkrln

PG 32) Long live powerful aviation
of the socialist country! - http://tinyurl.com/4z943p5

PG 32) The eerie hour by Alessandro Fantini

PG 32) The population bomb
by Patrick George -
http://patrickgeorge.biz/illustration

PG 32) Trade unions do not represent the interests of workers

PG 32) Cross references
by Jonathan Wolstenholme