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| A 70�S REVOLUTION
By Charles F. Millhouse I met Jesus in purgatory at a smoke filled bar. He was drunk on whisky and playing poker with a one-armed hairy man whom had beaten him with a royal flush. I sat in silence; Jesus bummed a cigarette from me and lit it with a snap of his fingers. �Nice trick,� I told him. �But can you chew gum and walk at the same time?� He wasn�t amused. I reached for his bottle, but he pulled it away. �Get your own,� he told me, pointing at the bar. The dimly lit establishment was crowded and hard to get through. I ordered a bottle of bourbon and paid the bartender with a two-dollar bill I found rolled up in my jeans pocket. As I fought my way back to the table, Jimmy Hendrix stopped me. �Can you tell me where the crapper is?� he asked. I shrugged because I didn�t know, and he walked away scowling. Pouring myself a drink, I watched the Savior get beat yet again by the one-armed man. Jesus, pissed, tossed his cards on the table and took another shot from his bottle. �I�ve been waiting,� he told me. �What took you?� I didn�t have an answer for him. The last thing I could remember was driving my car off the road after leaving the concert in Hoboken. The fact that I was drunk and tripping on some kind of pill Ozzy had given me didn�t even enter my mind. �Sixteen years is a long time to wait,� Jesus said. �It must have been one wrong turn to miss this place.� �I remember standing in a long line,� I told him, �One that didn�t move very quickly.� �We�ve had a rush as of late,� Jesus said. �It doesn�t surprise me in the least.� �I appreciate the concern,� I said, lighting a cigarette. �But I really don�t know what all the fuss is about. I�m dead, what hope is there for me now? I�m just one step away from hell.� �Bullshit,� Jesus said, almost falling off his seat. �Hey, hey. How about a game of five card stud?� he asked shuffling the deck. �No cheating,� I said. �What�s bullshit?� �Going to hell�� he paused dealing the cards between the three of us. �Heaven, hell, it�s all bogus, bedtime stories to frighten children, nothing more.� I picked up my cards and looked them over; they were decorated with girls of the Caribbean and wore next to nothing�well I�m too kind. They were naked. I held a jack of spades, two of diamonds, king of hearts, three of clubs and eight of clubs. Not a good hand, but I was used to being dealt bad hands. Even now I was sure the Messiah himself was cheating me. �So what�s this all for�purgatory I mean, if there isn�t a heaven or a hell, then why this place? I mean it�s kind of redundant�if you know what I mean.� The one-armed hairy man laughed and Jesus gave him a smile. �What�s so funny?� I asked. �He thinks you�re dim-witted,� Jesus told me. �Just like everyone else who has come through here without the slightest idea about how things in the universe really work. �Why don�t you fill me in,� I said, pouring more bourbon into my shot glass. �Look around you,� Jesus said. �Go on�have a good look. You know many of the faces here, don�t you?� I nodded yes, seeing Janice Joplin and Elvis dancing next to the jukebox. I saw Jim Morrison sitting alone at the end of the bar, drunk off his ass and not giving a care...nothing new for him. �They�re not sure they want to leave here,� Jesus said. �They don�t want to give up who they were.� �You mean to tell me we can go back?� I asked. �Oh, yes,� Jesus said. �They all can go back. But the ones you see here chose not to. You see, to go back you have to give up who you were in exchange for your new identity.� I was, at first dumbfounded. Then a revelation fell on me like a ton of bricks. �That�s why the music on earth sucks now,� I said. The one-armed hairy man nodded his head in agreement. �But once you choose, there�s no changing your mind�it�s like a game,� Jesus said. �I�ve never been good at games,� I said. �My sister always beat me at jacks.� �There�s only one rule to this game,� Jesus told me. �There are no rules.� �That�s comforting,� I said. �Can I have time to think about it?� �Time is nothing here,� Jesus said. �But while you decide, have a look at your choices.� �I have �� �Three,� Jesus said, �like a game show.� �As long as I don�t become a pig in a poke,� I told him. �Let�s play.� I was led to three doors in the back of the bar, ironically each were numbered 1, 2 and 3. I stood before them waiting for Monty Hall to come out and offer me two hundred dollars instead of picking a door, but Jesus had other ideas. �Behind each door is a life,� he said. �You pick one and you go back to earth. Simple, don�t you think?� �Do I have a choice or do I just pick one�like pot luck?� I asked. Jesus |
| A book by its cover
By Charles F Millhouse Gale K. awoke every morning at 7:06 when a single beam of light from the corner of the rising sun caught just the edge of her window. The piercing rays cut into her sleep, raising Gale from her slumber. Gale would always start her day by changing her clothes, folding her night attire with a precise uniform fashion, keeping the creases sharp and placing them in the top drawer of her dresser. For breakfast she would eat one egg, boiled for one minute and a dry piece of toast along with a glass of apple juice, or prune juice. By 8:15 she stood next to the front door of her small, meager apartment and waited for the doorbell to chime once. As always she would open the door to find the same tall gray suited member of the government allocation committee standing erect with a black notebook tucked neatly under his right arm. He would say nothing, but would nod his head toward Gale, who smiled at him. With robotic efficiency, the agent would snap open the notebook, presenting Gale with her daily allocation, printed on a nine and a half inch by eleven inch sheet of yellow, recycled paper. He would snap his head towards her as the notebook was closed and returned under his arm. Gale would quickly close the front door, not allowing herself to see which direction the agent would head off in. From the yellow paper, Gale would read her list of allowances. On the top line it read: washday. Allowed twenty-five gallons of water for the day, a cup of detergent, and one-third cup of softener, drying time eighteen minutes. Next on the list it indicated that waste disposable would arrive at 8:32 a.m. Gale glanced at the clock on the wall that kept time precisely with governmental regulations; it said 8:31. Scurrying to the kitchen, Gale tossed her trash into a single black bag, and lobed it across the brown carpet that covered the whole living space to the waste removal receptacle. She shoved the bag into the small porthole provided by the government builders of Gale�s apartment, cautiously trying not to rip the thin plastic bag. Finally finishing her struggle with the trash, Gale pushed her short black hair back to keep the sweat out of her eyes and continued to read the list. Number three on the yellow paper dealt with food intake, telling Gale that she would be given-in accordance with government specs-eight slices of bread, four eggs, three cups of milk, a half a pound of beef and a bottle of apple juice along with a block of cheese for the week, to arrive at 4:17 today. Listed under line four of the inventory. Gale was informed that she could play music or listen to the nightly news for twenty-four minutes at her discretion, all the while reminding her that noise pollution must remain at an absolute low for her to maintain her privileges. Finally, the fifth and final listing in big bold black letters: REJOICE, it continued in normal lettering by saying: the time for your nuptials has arrived. The marrying agent will arrive on Friday at 6:11p.m, with your future spouse. Living arrangements will remain the same for both of you and within twenty-four months you will be allotted one offspring. Gale blinked her eyes as she looked at the paper, this wasn�t possible; she wasn�t yet marrying age; she was only twenty-eight. Marrying age wasn�t until thirty-two! How could the government make such a drastic mistake, she asked herself. She realized that the government doesn�t make mistakes and this had to be a typo of some kind. But, she thought, if the government doesn�t make mistakes how could there be a typo? After beginning her laundry, Gale K, ironed her special color jumpsuits and formal wear, placing them in their arranged areas. While in the back of her mind she dwelled on the fact that she would be married soon. Her dishes were next on her list taking in account her water usage for the day, remembering all the laundry she had to finish. After the dishes had air dried, Gale placed them in labeled cabinets; bowls and plates behind one door and cups and saucers behind the second. With the thought of noise pollution on her mind, Gale opted to use a steady whiskbroom to clean her carpet, while looking above in the creases of her ceiling for any unsightly cobwebs to be knocked down. After using her morning productively, Gale decided to make some inquires, perhaps, she thought, the list she received was meant for someone else; a neighbor perhaps. Gale picked up the headset to her telephone and punched in the number of Jenny T. While waiting for the call to be connected Gale once again read the list, trying to understand why now she had been chosen for marriage. Gale had always read in governmental reports that the number for weddings had stabilized, leading her to think there were plenty of matches. �Hello,� a voice said over Gale�s headset. �Jenny T, this is Gale-� �Oh Gale,� Jenny T sobbed a joyful response. �I just got the invitation. I�m so happy for you.� �Jenny T, Jenny T,� Gale tried repeatedly to calm her friend down. �There has to be some mistake,� Gale finally was able to get a word in. �I�m too young.� �What do you mean too young?� Jenny T asked. �The government doesn�t make mistakes.� �That�s what I thought,� Gale told her, �but I�m only twenty-eight.� �So,� Jenny T said in a long drawn out tone. �Just think how easy it will be on you to have the double amount of food coming into the apartment.� �How will that help me? There�s hardly enough room here for me. I�ll need to talk to someone about this.� �Who?� Jenny T reminded her how long it took to get a reply from the government through correspondences. �You�re getting married Friday.� �I�ll ask the allocation agent,� Gale said with confidence. �You�d be better off talking to a wall, you�ll never get a word out of him.� �Well, I�ll have to try,� Gale tapped her fingernails on her leg unwittingly. �I don�t have much time left.� The next morning Gale waited next to her front door for the single chime that would alert her to the allocation agent�s arrival. Over in her head she practiced how she was going to present herself. When the chime sounded, Gale opened the door with a deep smile on her face, as the normal agent tipped his head towards her and snapped his notebook out in his regular fashion. Gale cleared her throat. �I have a question,� she said softly. The Agent shot Gale a sharp look and then presented her the recognizable yellow recycled paper. �I�m scheduled to be wedded tomorrow evening,� Gale shuffled her feet and rolled her head back and forth feeling awkward speaking to an agent. �I think there may have been a mistake.� The allocation agent let out a sigh, rolled his eyes and reached back into his notebook pulling out a crisp white sheet of paper and handed it to Gale with a slight smile. He then clicked his head down in a nod and turned sharply waiting for Gale to return to her dwelling before he continued. Flopping down on her couch Gale began to read the white paper she had been given. Her eyes scanned over the words: In accordance with bylaw 275G passed in 2112, the marriage declaration has been rescinded and those who are within the age range of twenty-seven are now eligible for union. Gale let the paper drop to the floor next to her feet as she sat in silence. She breathed in deeply. The government had been in complete control for so long, she surmised, they had to know what they were doing. She decided not to give the matter further thought, then read her daily allocations Friday evening began with the arrival of Jenny T, who was wearing a light blue dress and carrying a bouquet of pink flowers. Gale greeted her friend, asking Jenny to wipe her feet before she stepped from the welcome mat to the brown carpet. Both spoke briefly since neither had seen one another since Gale�s last allocated visit. Taking Jenny�s pink coat and small purse, Gale place them both meticulously on a wall mounted coat hanger just feet from the apartment�s only exit. She led Jenny into the front room, and told her that she had set aside her trepidations about being wedded and that she kept her trust in the government�s decisions. The two then reminisced, but only briefly. Exactly at 6:11 the door chime rang and Gale opened the door with a bit of anxiety. Standing at the entrance was a tall sharply dressed man. Gale quickly took notice that his pants had been ironed and were sporting sharp creases. Gale smiled and welcomed him into the door, smelling his pleasant sweet odor as he stepped by her. Gale also noticed that the gentleman was close to her age, which pleased Gale. The fact she also found him most handsome was a bonus. Behind the crisply dressed man stood a long faced gentlemen, who held a black notebook under his right arm. �Won�t you come in please,� she told the agent who nodded his head. Gale introduced the two men to Jenny T, who was standing near the sharply dressed man. She was breathing in deeply and rolling her eyes in response to his generally good looks. �This is David L,� the government official returned the pleasantries with his introduction of the neatly attired man. �David...� the official continued as he opened his notebook to read, �...is a teacher and scholar at the trade school on level V, which entitles him to a special bonus allocation each quarter plus one for his wife. � Gale looked at Jenny T who whispered to her friend. �Who says you can judge a book by its cover?� Gale smiled at her friend, thinking that this may not be as bad as it seemed before. Not only was David L a well-dressed man, with a teaching degree, but he also smelled good and had white shiny teeth when he smiled. �If we could proceed,� the official said and nudged David a little in the back, telling the group that he had several other weddings to attend before the night was out. David cleared his throat and asked Gale to take his arm, guiding her to the center of the room where the government official faced them with Jenny T standing behind him. �This is a joyful moment,� the official began, �when two souls are joined together in matrimony; but it is also a time to consider their actions for the good of the community. When two join as one, the housing one vacates can be allocated to another,� the official adjusted his glasses slightly and continued. �What is being built here today, no one can tear asunder. One and one, remain one for the good of all. With the power vested in me by the government allocation center, I now pronounce you man and wife.� The official pulled out a yellowed recycled paper and then closed his notebook, saying, �You may kiss the bride.� Slinging his notebook back under his arm, the wedding allocation Minster handed David L and Gale K a list of do�s and don�ts for married life. �Keep these and memorize them and you�ll have a fruitful marriage in the eyes of the state,� he told them. David L followed the agent to the front door, while Gale huddled close to Jenny, both hugging tightly. �I�m so happy for you,� Jenny whispered as she pulled away from her friend. Jenny T wasted no time. She shook David L�s hand and congratulated him. She exited the small dwelling after collecting her coat and handbag. Gale held her hands to her side while she stood across from her new husband. �Perhaps we should go to bed,� Gale smiled. �I mean, its been a long day and you�re probably tired.� David T didn�t say anything, He stepped close to Gale and pressed up against her, each of them could feel the other�s heart beating steadily. Gale K. woke the next morning at 7:06 when a single beam of light from the corner of the rising sun caught just the edge of her window. The piercing rays cut into her sleep, raising Gale from her slumber. Gale reached for her new husband whom had fallen asleep next to her last night after a peak of passion, but he was not there. Gale sat up. The bedroom door, which was always closed in the morning, stood ajar. Gale bit her two lips together and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Between the door and the doorframe lay a pair of pants and dirty underwear. Gale snatched them up and exited the bedroom with them in hand. In the hall between the kitchen and the bathroom lay a dirty pair of black cotton socks, then a tee shirt; Gale was following a trail that led into the kitchen. There were two scuffed black shoes, a slightly used handkerchief and the white button down shirt that her spouse had been wearing the night before. Gale let out a slight sigh as she noticed several cracked eggshells on the countertop, along with an open half loaf of bread an empty container of milk and a burnt pan that was still sitting on a warm burner. On the kitchen table Gale noticed two of her dinner plates, one cracked as if it had been dropped while the other was half filled with cold uneaten food. Leaving the kitchen tugging on the daily garbage bag up the hall Gale stumbled over her husband�s night slippers, lying where they had presumably been kicked off. Lifting the garbage up with considerable strength, Gale K slammed the disposal unit close, exhaling slightly and propping her back against the wall between the trash unit and the front door. Gale brushed her hair out of her eyes, resting for a moment considering her new mate with a bit of repulsion. She then measured how David was as new to all of this as she. Gale stood firmly on her feet ready to take the challenge of being the good versatile wife that she was obligated to be. Turning her head slightly, Gale noticed a note hanging on the front door, written on the back of a yellow recycled allocation statement. Snapping it off the door with one yank, Gale proceeded to read it while in her stomach a very strong fire began to stir. Gale K, it said. Off to work at 6:15 like every morning. You�re a late sleeper. Like they say, you can't judge a book by its cover. Be home around 5:35 or so. Have dinner ready, and it was signed, David L. |