Mr. Z

 

The power from within is inexorable.  Try as one might, it is impossible to extricate.  We lost a lot of good men during this campaign, but truth be told, I am optimistic.  If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own two eyes, I wouldn’t have believe it.  The legend of the magical core is true! 

Magical.  That’s what they call it.  What a bunch of horseshit.  The power from within the sphere is immeasurable, but it for certain is not magical.  It is alien.  And it is ancient.  My scientists tell me they have never seen anything like it.  You should have seen the giddy looks on their faces when they made their initial report.  They were like a bunch of 12 year old boys that had just discovered a nudey mag under their older brother’s mattress. 

“The findings are off the charts, Mr. Z!  The power within the sphere is measuring at”

“Ah ah ah.  Layman’s terms please, Dr. Grustaph”

“The core is more powerful than 10 trillion atomic bombs.  And if we could harness this power, we could change life on Earth as we know it!  There would be no need for electric companies anymore.  Forget about fossil fuels!  We could…”

“Calm yourself Dr. Grustaph.  First we need to harness the power, then we can talk about saving the world.”

“Yes, sir.  You’re right.  There’s just one thing.”

“Oh, what is that?”

“There’s a strange inscription on the doorway of the antechamber leading to the sphere.  It would be advisable to decode it prior to fumbling with something of this magnitude.  As much as I’d hate to say it.  It might be prudent to delay further testing until we know exactly what we are dealing with.”

“I appreciate your concern Doctor, and believe you me, I share your apprehension. Nevertheless the President does not share the same sentiment.  I will attempt to persuade him to order a postponement of scientific experimentation and analysis until a linguist can get here, but let’s not kid ourselves.  You know exactly what the President wants to do with this thing and he isn’t about to put his plans on hold for a foreign language geek.”

“So, shall we continue our work then?”

“Why don’t you and the other coats take a break?  We have food and refreshments in the game room with your name on it.  You and your team have earned it.”

“Well thanks, Mr. Z!  We have been working nonstop around the clock.  A little respite is exactly what we need to recharge our batteries!  Get it?  Batteries?  Because, we are working on the most powerful battery known to mankind?”

“Brilliant and funny!  You’re the best Dr. G.  Now go get your team and take the day off.  I’ll call the President about your concerns, and let you know what he says.”

 

That was the last time I saw Dr. Grustaph.  He was a brilliant man.  No so much funny, but brilliant.  It’s a shame I had to kill him and has crew.

Another day, another class

The teacher sits at his desk, blankly staring at the clock on the wall.  Is the second hand even moving?  Its only 9am, but he´s already been at school for two and half hours.  The Honor Society, for which he is the advisor, had their monthly meeting in the gymnasium at 7AM, twenty minutes before 0 hour.  What the hell is zero hour anyway he wonders.  How can there be classes before school officially starts?  Does that mean these classes aren´t real?  Well, technically they are electives, but the students at his school are obliged to select either a morning or afternoon elective, thus there isn´t much of an election.  In addition, the students are also graded on their performance in the classes, which begs to question, are these classes electives or actual classes?  

The teacher´s muings come to an abrupt end as the strident school bell sounds, indicating the beginning of  the second hour, technically the third hour class.  ´´Hola chicos.  ¡Bienvenidos a la clase de español!´´ he cheerfully greets his students, as they shuffle their feet into the Spanish classroom.  A giant smile is flashed acrossed the teachers face and his body language is jovial and he exudes energy, though he is silently dying inside.  -How did I end up here - he wonders to himself  - and how much longer am I going to do this?-

This is Profe Feliciano´s tenth year as a Spanish teacher, and though he has more good days than bad, the daily routine and perfunctory life he has created for himself has started to drag his spirits down.  Ten years ago he would spend almost every waking hour thinking about his students and classes, planning and conjuring up ways to make his lessons enjoyable, magical, and relatable.  He hardly used the textbook, opting to create his own lessons and projects based on the personalities and preferences of his students.  Did it require more work?  Of course it did.  Did he mind?  Not at all.  He prided himself on being a creative teacher.  He devoured articles and books pertaining to the latest teaching strategies and techniques.  He picked the brains of veteran teachers and would scour the internet for classroom grants and scholarships for his students.  He lived and breathed being a teacher.  When someone would inquire on how he made a living, he would proudly proclaim ´´I´m an educator´´.  

Ten years later, he feels trapped.  - I love teaching - he tells himself, half convincingly.  I don´t mind they don´t pay me well.  I make enough for what I do.  Afterall, I get to listen to music, watch movies, and read while at work.  Also, how about all that vacation time!  Fall break, winter break, spring break and of course summers off.  Can´t complain about that!  

Of course, what he finds himself complaining about, even if the words aren´t spoken into being, is the mandane daily grind.  Grind?  Hardly.  He´s lacking challenge.  There´s no skin in the game.  There are no reprucussions.  His work doesn´t matter and his effort is for naught.  That is what is irking the teacher, the realization that what he is doing means absolutly nothing.  

Ten years ago, Profe Feliciano was in his early thirties and newly married.  Now, he has a mortgage, a cranky wife, two kids under the age of ten, and he´s balding.  Worse yet, the second hand on his classroom clock isn´t working.  It still says 9AM, although the bell rang five minutes ago.  

´´Okey chicos, saquen sus cuadernos.  Vamos a empezar la clase de español.  Perdónenme, el reloj no funciona...´´ 

Talisman Wearing Baby

Talisman-Wearing Baby

Adorned only with the emerald talisman his late grandfather bequeathed to him, the young babe is carried downstream like the baby Moses of biblical times. However, this child is not riding in a basket of reeds nor is this stream a tributary of a great river; rather the talisman-wearing child is floating precariously on a worn out truck tire through the swampy Everglades of Florida.

An overweight, diabetic stricken woman with fair skin, and far too many wrinkles on her face, for a woman in her thirties, is sitting on a bank with her three bastard children, hoping to catch a glimpse of some alligators. The woman has boredom written across her face, but she puts aside her feelings, for she delights in the enjoyment that her children receive when they spot a gator. Her boys' ages range from three to ten. Their names are not important, because they won't last long in this story.

Our fat, sun-dried, promiscuous woman is now lying on her back with her eyes closed. Though her eyes are shut, she can see an array of colors, as the sun rays try to penetrate her eyelids. She hears her two older children laughing, and desperately tries to ignore the whiny sniffling of her youngest. All she wants to do is catch a few zees before her next shift at the local diner, but her motherly instincts are too persuasive and she finds herself sitting upright, eyes wide open, and to her disbelief and shock, she sees a naked baby floating on a truck tire.

Her two little laughing angels are tossing rocks in the vicinity of the baby, trying to see who can create a bigger splash. The goal of their game is to wet the baby. The youngest child present, minus the talisman-wearing baby of course, seems to be enjoying the game, but can't seem to toss a rock far enough to have any hope of winning, which explains his frustrated whimpering.

Mother is aghast at what she sees, and to teach her children a lesson, decides to toss her oldest child into the river. He didn't land near the tire, but he did create a big enough splash to hit the talisman-wearing baby.

“Yeah Mom! You hit the baby!,” shouted the second oldest. This of course was not the response that the mother wanted, so she promptly picked up her middle child and threw him into the river as well. The splash, though not as big, also found its mark. The woman was delightfully surprised by her accuracy, and decided to see if she could pull off a hat trick. Without thinking, she picked up her crying toddler and launched him into the slow moving river as well. This time she overshot her throw and the boy actually hit the truck tire. He violently bounced off the tire on impact, and plopped into the river.

Mom instantly snapped back to her senses. The euphoria of child-tossing was completely gone as she realized what she had just done. Without hesitation, she tossed herself into the river and began to swim toward her drowning little bastard. Meanwhile, the emerald talisman that hung from the floating baby's neck began to glow. A peculiar little smile made its presence on the baby's countenance and the baby made, what could only be described as, a devious chortle.

Seemingly out of nowhere, four large alligators surreptitiously slipped into the stream. Though the origin of their wakes came from different cardinal positions, they each seemed to be heading towards the same destination. In a manner of seconds, the bastard children got their wish, the excuse for a mother got her much needed zees, and the talisman-wearing baby was free to float down the river in peace.