zero plus nothing equals - 14. the stranger

by jeremy witherington

part fourteen of 31

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avast, thou knave! what a curious phrase. even for a curious dream. number ten woke up. his connection had been repossessed. so he decided to tell himself a story. it was a bland afternoon in the town of nowhere. but the young person was determined to be served. the king was irate. business was bad, and he was under the weather. he knew he must not get too excited. the sun shone on the coral reef on the horizon. the knave was sad, and gazed longingly at the young person. the king blamed the knave for the bad business the town was doing. and the king also did not care for the longing glances the knave was directing at the young person. suddenly a stranger appeared on the horizon. the stranger was riding a strange beast, such as had never been seen before. the stranger arrived on the dusty street and tied his strange beast up in front of the saloon. as the church had been burned down earlier that week. howdy, the king politely addressed the stranger . what is good about it? the stranger replied, apparently mishearing the king’s word. well, the king, polite as ever, replied, the sun is shining, and plans are in effect to rebuild the church which so unfortunately burned earlier this week. where is the queen? the stranger rudely interrupted him. i am afraid she is indisposed. in that case i will be on my way. would you like a drink? the saloon is open, even though the church burned down. without bothering to reply, the stranger turned and untied the strange beast which he had tied up only moments before, and remounted it. and rode out of town, never to be seen again. this is all the knave’s fault, the king mused bitterly. next

zero plus nothing equals - 13. number one

by jeremy witherington

part thirteen of 31

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number one woke up. they were lonely. well, kind of lonely. actually, quite lonely, if you really want to know. number one suddenly thought of number ten. number one called number ten on an impulse. did they not call them on the phone? hello, is this number ten? you woke me up. i am sorry, i was feeling lonely. i was not feeling lonely, i was feeling sleepy. i am sorry. it was thoughtless and unconscionable of me. i bet you do not even know to sell unconscionable. i believe the phrase you want is spell unconscionable. now you are being hostile. goodbye. number one stared at their phone. what an ampersand number ten was, they thought ruefully. number ten closed their eyes. it was the year ___________. depending on how you look at it. it was the beginning or the end do you mean, the beginning of the end? there was nothing good on. number one was still lonely. well, maybe a little less lonely. they went back to sleep. and dreamed they were walking across a desert inside a great walled city. next

zero plus nothing equals - 12. sally

by jeremy witherington

part twelve of 31

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sally johnson woke up. she got up and got dressed. she had a dream in which she was lost in a strange city. will i ever find my way, she wondered. i had better watch my step, or they will find me, whoever they are they will think i have returned from the dead. forgive me, i did not mean to ignore the program. it will not happen again. flowers bloom in the spring. unfortunately sally was not a flower person. except in her dreams. where the flowers were behind the windows of the endless stores she passed trying to find her way back to the hotel. where she was supposed to be attending a seminar at that very minute. a seminar on ” loss - its true meaning”. how ironic, she thought. a seminar on loss and i really am lost ha ha. on an impulse she decided to enter one of the endless stores with flowers in their windows. as luck would have it, at that moment she woke up from the dream. outside the sky was gray. it was too late to go anywhere, even if she had somewhere to go. maybe it was cold outside anyway. maybe it was cold in paris or rome. or all the other places she would never see before she died. get a grip, sally told herself, and get up and make yourself a sandwich. a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich. eating it would beat walking through the endess streets in her dream of the strange city. which was not paris or london or hong kong or singapore or even new york. but where was it? and where was she? and who was she? next

zero plus nothing equals - 11. jose

by jeremy witherington

part eleven of 31

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jose chen woke up. he got up. he made himself a ham and cheese sandwich. its juicy deliciousness invigorated him and cleared his mind. he had to do something today - what was it? suddenly he understood everything. but he had a hard time remembering anything. but there were always exceptions. up up and away. sometimes it was exasperating. jose’s best friend was named rick. rick was a great guy with a great sense of humor. jose had not herd from rick in a while. maybe he was not such a great guy as jose remembered. be that as it may, jose remembered him fondly. things might have turned out differently. you never know, jose had another friend named pedro. in another universe he might have kept in touch with pedro. but sadly, not in this one. it was had to all very sad. suddenly what jose had to do popped into his head. he had to go to work. of course! and to go to work he had to get dressed. and out the door. next

zero plus nothing equals - 10. the road at night

by jeremy witherington

part ten of 31

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the red dog ran down the dark street, chased by a man wearing a blue hat and waving a butterfly net. a woman in a green dress stood in a lighted window and watched the man in the blue hat chase the dog and wave the butterfly net until they both faded from sight. it is so sad, she thought. they were there, and now they are gone. a ilmpid tear rolled down her heavily rouged cheek and she stifled a sob. a man sat behind her on the left side of a long couch upholstered in dark purple, with his left arm, encased in the sleeve of a maroon smoking jacket, extended over the top of the right side of the couch. nothing. i was just feeling sad. sad about nothing, i suppose. i saw a man wearing a blue hat chasing a dog down the street with a butterfly net. really? what kind of damned fool chases a dog with a butterfly net, especially at this time of night. who knows? he might have been an interesting character, but i will probably never know now. tell me more about this fellow. what color coat twas he wearing? i suppose he was wearing a coat, as it is a bit chilly out. his coat was a curious shade of puce. all shades of puce are curious. there you go again, making light of everything i say. i am sorry. why don’t you go for a walk? it might clear your mind of all the wretched detritus that has been cluttering it up lately. that is a good idea. thank you for your sympathetic understanding of my brain problems, which have been relentlessly ongoing lately. don’t mention it. be sure to wear a jacket, as it is a bit chilly out. * the woman in the green dress put on a pale blue coat witth a pink hood and stepped outide. the night was cold, but, lost in her wandering thoughts, she hardly noticed that it was. the man in the maroon smoking jacket took hsi arm down from the right side of the dark purple couch and heaved a melancholy sigh. next

zero plus nothing equals - 9. bunky

by jeremy witherington

part nine of 31

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warren hastings, the third richest man in the world, was getting out of his limousine one morning in front of his office building, when he decided to have a little fun. what he considered in his strangely inaccessible brain to be fun. he took a magic marker out of his pocket and wrote on the side of the building - bunky is smiling. debbie willis johnson, an aspiring journalist and photographer captured the moment. harrison walker, a personal assistant to mr hastings, who followed him out the limousine , considered the message on the wall and decided to leave it as it was and hastened after him into the building. what were the make and model of the limousine? let me get back to you on that. the rest of the morning passed peacefully. mr hastings did what he did and harrison walker assisted him in doing it. bunky was forgoten. except by debbie willis johnson. harrison walker went to lunch with gorgeous george mathews, warren hastings’s chief of staff, and mentioned in passing the curious incident of the morning in which mr hastings had written his whimsical (?) message on the side of the building. george mathews wasted no time in calling one of his underlings and giving him or her their marching orders. harrison and george resumed attacking their salads. and there the matter might have rested. sam o’neil, the city editor of the gazette, was not much interested in debbie willis johnson’s story. but he wished to get into debbie’s good graces, so he purchased her photo of mr hastings message on the building wall for a modest sum. debbie was short of loose cash and happy to get the money. and there the matter might have rested. later that afternoon, after a not particularly delicate negotiation with some unscupulous rascals from asia, george mathews casually asked warren hastings - who is bunky? bunky? mr hastings asked with a great show of bewilderment - i don’t know anybody named bunky. nobody in the 21st century is named bunky. you watch too many old movies. they will rot your bran. and then where will you be? george made a mental note to have the message removed from the side of the building. next

zero plus nothing equals - 8. the apple

by jeremy witherington

part eight of 31

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an apple fell from a tree a banana grew on a second tree a cat climbed a third a dog walked around a fourth eddie had a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich frank had a mushroomburger with spicy fries gloria went for a walk around the block but she was in no hurry i wish i had better news to give you jerry rushed into the cafeteria he knew something the others did not their luck was about to change - not necessarily for the better maybe some day things will be different nobody knows anything eddie and frank and gloria all went back to the office jerry patiently waited for his two hot dogs and then hurried after them the street was strangely quiet roberta, the branch manager, raised her eyebrows at jerry when he finally arrived roberta suspected jerry of being a snitch but tomorrow will get here soon enough unless it does not eddie and frank took the news in stride, but gloria played the victim card who is anybody to criticize her? except me and you of course the young always laugh at the old - it is nature’s way zoroaster was a prophet who lived a log time ago maybe he liked apples maybe he never saw a banana in his life next