Chapter Twenty Six

Friday morning we piled into Russell's SUV. Front seat was Russell, Mary Beth, and Me. Mary Beth was the college student that saved my life. Second row was Cynthia, Louis, and Lisa. Louis removed his arm so they would have extra "elbow" room.... His words, not mine. Third row, my son Louis, Bob, Deborah, and Oprah. Deborah was the woman I saved from the river. Candace followed in her silver Mercedes with my ex-wife, Carol and Dr. Granger.

On our way out of town we drove by the drug store where Raymond worked. It was surrounded by news vans with their giant satellite dishes on top. Cameras were everywhere and all good citizens were being interviewed. There were so few local residents on the street that morning that news crews had started interviewing each other. It was what news professionals refer to as a "cluster ." We had stopped for a red light a half of a block from the drugstore when there was a knock at my window. I rolled it down and made eye contact with a raven haired woman, dressed to the nines, wearing a pearl necklace.

"Are you Clark Martin?" I had to think about it for a while. No one had called me Clark in a long time.

"Yes, just call me Marty."

"Whatever. Raymond left this for you, told me to make sure you get it." She was carrying a large Manila envelope. Her look became puzzled. "What happened to your head?"

She had noticed the scar left on my shaved skull. It's funny that with the bandage on, no one ever asked what had happened to me. When all my friends gathered at my home to leave, the shape of the injury became a topic of discussion. Russell said it looked like Jesus with his arms outstretched on the cross. Louis commented that it was the spitting image of Colonel Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame. I can see both, but you have to fill in parts of the Colonel's face with your imagination. Think of Jesus' arms being the fancy moustache and his feet joining at a point at the bottom being the tip of a goatee. Whatever it looks like, it garners attention everywhere I go.

"Rabbit bite." I answered as I reached for the package in her arms.

Her face drew up like she had taken a bite from roadkill. "Nasty." She said as she released the envelope into my hands. She turned and tried to outrun the swarming press in her high heels, her ankles breaking from left to right as she moved. A beautiful young reporter from the TV show "Access Hollywood" named Maria was the first to run her down, breaking her run just long enough for 10 more reporters to catch her. She disappeared into the mass of video equipment and news-manity like a hammer sinking into quicksand. I don't know what happened to her, but from the looks of things, I would guess that they ate her.

We sped out onto the hiway and began our Odyssey to the Ohio Valley. In an attempt to keep Bob occupied during the trip, Louis had given him an MP3 player filled with 8 hours of music. On the outside that seemed like a good idea, but now the car was filled with the sounds of Bob crooning to the oldies.

"Hurt so dood, Tmon Baby mate it hurt so dood, sumtine lub don't feel like it should, mate it....hurt so dood." The Johnny Cougar Mellencamp song "Hurt so good" was filling Bob's ears and coming out of his mouth like cheese from a grater at top volume.

Oddly, Oprah seemed to be soothed by his singing and immediately fell sound asleep.

We reached Louisville in an hour and a half and stopped at Cynthia's apartment so she could collect some fresh, tacky clothing. Bob stopped singing as we crossed the Ohio River to Indiana. His face was pressed against the glass and when he removed it he left a wet impression of the bottom half of his face. Deborah pulled a hankie from her purse and wiped it clean.

I was deep in thought as we entered the Hoosier National Forest. I was trying to understand why I was collecting people the way I was. It gave me the feeling of being a human sized snowball rolling down a sparsely snow covered hill, picking up more snow and debris as it rolled faster and faster to the bottom. I was a colorless figure, changing and developing a new image of myself from the crap that was sticking to me as my journey evolved. I was given no choice as to what stayed attached and what remained. The concept frightened me.

I also thought about who would play God in my movie. Everyone I could think of was already dead. I'll let Central Casting find someone.

Mary Beth put her hand on my knee."You feeling ok?" She asked. I nodded my head yes.
"What's in the envelope?"

I was avoiding opening it. I didn't want to be any part of the Raymond story. Reluctantly I bent the clasp and pried the seal apart. It was a book with a green "post-it" stuck on the cover.

The book was "How to pick up Chicks." Raymond had written on the note "Thanks buddy, I don't need this anymore."

I had no memory of the book, or even of knowing Raymond well enough for him to call me "Buddy." I opened the cover to find a message inscribed on the inside leaf.

"This really works!" was scrawled in black permanent ink. Below that was a hastily written signature.

"Marty." it said.

Chapter Twenty Five

I saw a catfish as big as a cow! There have always been stories and tall tales concerning the size of some fish in the river but I never really believed them. He swam by me without one bit of interest. I think that's how a giant fish would survive long enough to grow so large. Show interest in nothing and never bite on anything with a hook in it.

In the last few weeks I have seen visions of heaven and hell. I was figuring that I had no chance of making it out of the water alive and I was hoping that it was heaven for me. I also wondered what the new fall lineup on Fox TV might be like. Maybe it was because I had unselfishly tried to save a drowning woman and her "baby", but a heaven that I had yet to see opened up before my eyes like the curtain drawing on a fabulously decorated stage. It was a combination of the most pristine vacation beach resort that could ever exist on earth and a city that was built with gold and peace. People were swimming and golfing. People were flying freely, doing loop the loops and laughing gaily. There were people enjoying all the earthly pleasures and some that could only be found in heaven. Knowledge was flowing like water and all questions could be answered if they still mattered. It was heaven for God's sake!

I knew everyone there and they all knew me and loved me. It was like the best bar that ever was.

I walked onto the veranda of a beautiful beach front hotel. The guests were laughing, singing, and dancing. God walked into the presence of his guests. He was tall and slender and wearing a white jacket with yellow pants and yellow shoes, no socks. His face was pleasing but not handsome and he was starting to grow a beard. It was coming in gray and was in contrast to his neatly combed brown hair. His glasses had a slight orange tint to them, he looked very European. As he walked through the dining area people would jump up and hug him or shake his hands. Some men gave him cigars.

"Congratulations!" said a distinguished looking gentleman wearing a Michigan Wolverine t-shirt. "How many does this make for you?" He asked.

"This would be number fifteen."Replied God.

"What are you....Catholic?" Asked the guest.

They both laughed.

I knew what they were talking about. I knew everything. God spotted me and came rushing towards me.

"Marty! So good to finally meet you. I have heard such fantastic things about you." Said God.

"Me? You've heard fantastic things about me? My lord!"I was very excited.

"Yes you Marty! This whole thing with you and the chicken bone, and being caught between life and the afterlife, I can't wait for the movie."He held my shoulders and shook them as he spoke.

"Can you tell me if I'm dead?" I asked sheepishly.

"No Marty, that ridiculous bandage came unraveled, you floated back to the top of the river and you are being resuscitated by a heroic college student that just happened to be sitting near the water as you drifted by." God pulled out a cigar cutter and nipped the end off of a Churchill. Winston Churchill stepped in with a powerful lighter and fired it up for him. As God began to puff Churchill looked at me and smiled.

Franklin Roosevelt stepped up beside him and extended his hand to me. "Nothing to fear Mahhty!"

I started to cough and water began to pour from my lips. I was laying on the muddy river's edge looking up at a threatening sky. A soaking wet woman was pressing on my chest and blowing air into my lungs.

"You're alive!" she screamed.

"Damn it to hell." I replied.

Chapter Twenty Four

Cynthia and I got up out of bed and dressed. She was busily trying to figure out how to make the TV work and I was simultaneously trying to figure out why I had ever married such a nut job in the first place. I was also wondering how I could have ever divorced such a fantastic woman. Was this my personality or just another result of having had a chicken leg in my head?

My bandage was really bothering me. It felt heavy and itchy and was unraveling . I entertained thoughts of removing it but let those emotions pass.

Oprah was looking as if he needed to go pee, so I put on my shoes and walked him into the July sun. It was the kind of day that I've learned to cherish. The sky was bright blue and dotted with wispy clouds. The temperature so high that the grasshoppers and locusts were singing to keep cool. As I walked down the street I would occasionally feel my feet leave the ground, I was wondering if I was about to walk up to heaven. Oprah pranced and sniffed with delight as we walked. He peed on every single thing that looked inviting. He didn't wait to find a hydrant or tree, he peed on stones and blades of grass. He stopped to pee so often I thought I heard air come out of him instead of urine at times. I didn't mind the frequent stops, I was glad to be alive. When a car nearly struck me and caromed off a tree and into the river that runs along the street I only smiled because I was so happy to be on Earth. Oprah started to bark and bounce as the automobile sank nose first into the water.

Cynthia had found MSNBC on the TV and watched in amazement as Lester Holt introduced the reporter at the Hospital in New York. "The city is abuzz as one of the most controversial births in 2000 years is believed to have occurred at Marcus Hospital, reporter Jay Walters has that story..." He paused and turned to a monitor.

"That's right Lester." Lester nodded his head slightly, he was "right" again. "Celebrities and politicians are arriving here by the minute in what some believe may be a new chapter of the Bible. A child, reportedly born of a virgin has set this part of the world on it's ear and is causing it's share of celebration and consternation across the religious and political landscape. Certain clerical figures have referred to this event as a blasphemous hoax, while others hail it as proof of the existence of God. Some politicians are carefully avoiding taking sides as they await a reaction from their constituents, while some have proposed a hearing in the senate to decide what steps the United Stated should take in reaction to this rather disturbing development. Lester, while it is not surprising that well heeled celebrities have been invited into the celebration that surrounds this circus like event, we have learned that for some unknown reason a man named Raymond Rayburn, a drug store owner from a small town in Kentucky has been shepherded into the elite inner circle of celebrants. We have a crew headed to the town Alfordsville Kentucky to get more information that we'll be reporting to you later.

"I remember a story not long ago from that part of the world Jay, is this the man that was caught in the middle of a tornado and ended up with a chicken stuck in his head?" Lester stared intently at his reporter, proud that he was able to call up that piece of information from his rolodex like memory.

"It very well could be." said the reporter, caught flat-footed by the question. "It's hard to imagine that there would be any other reason for this person's involvement in such an exclusive event."

I took off my shoes and told Oprah to "Stay!" I might as well have told Oprah that Edison was the Anti-Christ. At this point in his life he had yet to develop any understanding of the English language. I tried to pull my t-shirt up over my head but there was just too much going on up there to let it pass in the time allotted so I pulled it back down and jumped into the water. I immediately began to wonder if I knew how to swim. I fought my way to the driver's side of the car and found an unconscious woman floating to the length of her seatbelt. Fortunately the window was partially down so I could grab it with both hands. Using my feet as levers I summoned all of my strength until the window broke free. I reached in and unbuckled her restraint and pulled her by the shoulders from the still sinking automobile. Pulling her against the river's current I managed to drag her from the water and onto the muddy shore. Oprah was still there barking, stomping his feet, and spinning in circles like he was celebrating. He immediately ran into the mud and started licking the woman's face. I pushed him away, pinched the victim's nose and opened her mouth. Seconds after I puffed into her mouth, she spit up a gusher of river water and began to cough. "You're OK!" I yelled.

She went from near death to wide awake panic as she looked towards the water. "MY BABY!"

"Oh my God!" I gasped. I hadn't seen a baby. My hands slipped out from under her head causing it to make a plopping sound as it fell into the mud. I jumped up and ran back into the swirling maelstrom. My legs pumped furiously as I swam back down to the sinking car and into the window. I searched with my hands desperately but could find nothing. My heart pounded with fear that a small child might be helplessly drowning in the murk. Little did I know at the time that the childless woman liked to refer to her Toyota Tercel as her "baby."

I felt every square inch of the car until I was both satisfied that there was no baby to be found, and I was completely out of oxygen. When I worked my way out of the open window I did not rise to the river's surface as I had planned. My extra large bandage had soaked up ten times it's own weight in water. Instead of going up...I went gracefully down. Down, down, down.

Chapter Twenty Three

"Thomas Edison was the Anti-Christ." That's what Cynthia was telling me when I came back from Hell and after I saw my Father. "He messed around with Electricity and Magnetism and the offshoot was the light bulb and that led to working around the clock and of course that led to the Television and eventually the fluorescent light bulb."

"I see your point." I replied without ever seeing her point.

"So people can stay up all night and watch television and grind up the souls of the dead!" She was getting very hot.

"Soul grinding is very bad!" I was trying to appease her just in case she had a gun.

"Magnetism is comprised of the souls of the dead and a generator grinds them into electricity, the way cotton is spun into thread. This is then used to power factories and light bulbs all over the inland empire. Souls are being destroyed by the millions every second." She rolled over and grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand.

"What about candles?" I was really curious.

"What about candles? Do you think a candle can help a car fly at 100 miles per hour at night?" She bit down on her cigarette like it was a corn cob pipe.

"Do candles use up souls?" I asked.

"Don't be a smartass Marty! Of course candles don't burn souls.......That's crazy!" She laughed.

"Tee Hee!" I giggled in recognition.

"Surely on you trips into the afterlife you've discovered these things?"

"Not really, but I haven't really had this discussion with the dead yet."

"Well it's true. Don't even get me started on fluorescent light!"

"Too late."

"fluorescent light is the work of the devil!" She accented the word Devil with a frightening stare that made me gasp.

"What's so bad about fluorescence?"

She looked at me like I had a brain injury. "They make me look all pastey."

"What do you think of Tesla?" I asked in an attempt to see her eyes flare again.

"They were pretty good but they reminded me of the 5-man electric band." She was of course referring to the band Tesla and not Nikola Tesla, the master of lightning.

"How did we get started on this discussion anyway?" I asked.

"You were laying here, talking endlessly about Thomas Edison, and I thought I would just put my two cents in!" She sucked a big chunk of smoke and spit it out in a cloud.

"I was....I don't remember that!" I scratched my bandage.

"Thomas Edison this....Thomas Edison that....You went on and on.....And on."

"I must have been talking in my sleep, I'm sorry, I'm awake now."

Cynthia squished her half-smoked butt in the asktray, threw back the covers and said."Good, now let's talk about something Cynthia likes to talk about!"

Across town, Russell was watching CNN. He was sitting in his own, nicely decorated living room, watching his big screen television. There were several religious artifacts adorning the walls. A painting of Jesus with a visible heart hung above the TV. His rosary was on the coffee table. The CNN anchorwoman gave a verbal toss to her reporter in New York City, he was standing in front of a hospital.

"That's right Carmen." He said. Reporters at CNN are instructed to say "That's right!" to whoever reads the prepared story that is used to toss to them. He had written the lead and emailed it to the newsroom so Carmen could read it. It said. "The child that some people are referring to as the New Baby Jesus, was born in Manhattan today, Chester Burnett is live with that story." and she was right.

"I'm standing in front of Marcus Hospital on the upper east side where the baby that medical science has proven is the result of a virgin pregnancy is resting in the maternity ward, awaiting a reaction from a curious public."

Russell screamed. "Arrrgh" and grabbed a whole sackful of Fritos and shoved them into his mouth. Fritos were the staple of his eating disorder.

Russell's phone rang, it was Louis to see if he was watching.

"Louis, don't start with me, this is crazy!" Russell was talking with his mouth full.

"Merry Christmas!" said Louis as he hung up. Russell slammed the phone on the floor.

"A limousine has just pulled up in front of the hospital surrounded by a police escort." The CNN cameras were focusing in and out trying to see who would emerge. "My spotter in the driveway is telling me that it's rock icon Madonna along with Microsoft chairman Bill Gates."

"I knew it." said Russell, pouring a diet coke down his throat so quickly it spilled onto his polo shirt.

"I can see a third person getting out, what some people would refer to as the third wise man! I don't recognize the face, let me talk to my people in the know here..... Well they're telling me it's an unknown Drug Store owner from a small town in Kentucky. Carmen, I don't have much info here, but apparently this mans' name is Raymond, and he is from Alfordsville Kentucky.

Russell sprayed the diet Coke mixed with crushed Fritos out of his mouth and all over his giant TV set.

Chapter Twenty Two

"Mmmm, Marty, I missed you, it's been weeks!" Cynthia cuddled and surrounded me.

"You're Cynthia, right?" I asked

Cynthia was a pixie and a gorgeous beauty. Her body ran as hot as one of those big machines that melts lard at Louis' feed factory. She had a lilting drawl in her voice that would occasionally drift off into a hard hoosier redneck bite. Sometimes when she wasn't watching her speech a "Fish" would become a "Feesh" and instead of giving a "Push" she might give you a "Poosh."

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to fill me in on everything." I was not just interested, but I was stalling for time. Whatever it was she had in mind, I wasn't going to be able to be any part of it for a while.

"Yes, I'm Cynthia." She spoke in a pattern so succinct it sounded like an Elementary teacher preparing her students for a fire drill. "You and I were married for a time, but we split up. Since then we have seen more of each other than we did when we were married." She straightened the sheets and folded them tightly around her chest. "I could never compete with all the women you used to take up with, you were always so busy that way."

"Oh my god." I let the words slip out of my mouth before I could stop them. This was not something that I was ready to hear. The things that I was discovering about myself were not making me happy.

"What?" She said with a smile. "You didn't know that you are a dog.... Or at least used to be a dog?"

"I was hoping that I was a good person, who helped people, and loved his friends." She coughed at my words.

"Oh Marty, you're a great person, that's why every woman in the world wants to be your lover. That's why men follow you around like a cult. You're like a refrigerator and every woman you meet is a magnet. You don't mean to be a ladies man, you're just too nice a guy to say "No" to almost anybody. People have tried to take advantage of you, but they just can't seem to do it, you always end up being an idol. I was so in love with you when we were married, but you were always getting yourself involved with other women. I tried to get even with you, but it only made life worse for me. I decided to leave you and move to Louisville to get a fresh start. Since then our relationship has been fantastic. We've even discussed getting married again."

"You're making all of this up aren't you?" I asked.

"A lot if it is lies, yes." She answered in a matter-of-factly manner. "It's up to you to discover the truth."

"What about you, you work in Indiana?"

"I work making bats at the Louisville Slugger plant across the river in New Albany. I'm a lathe operator. Some of the people that work there are real assholes, and the pay isn't that terrific, but for the most part I really love what I do. I enjoy watching people like Paul Konerko hit a grand slam in the world series with a piece of lumber that I probably shaped. It makes me special." Her eyes watered in excitement and wonder.

"Oh wow, I said, Paul Konerko!" I shared her wonder. "That sounds very special."

"So do you remember anything about us Marty?" Her look of wonder turned to one of worry.

"Cynthia, I'm having a hard time remembering who I am, combine that with the constant visits from the beyond and the trips to the grand reward, and the great punishment, and I am afraid I'll never remember the things that I really should." I paused as if I were waiting for her to cry or to strike me, she did neither. "I'm not sure, but I believe I just found out that I was having an affair with my best friend's wife."

Cynthia began laughing wildly. "Elizabeth?"

"What's so funny?" I said angrily

She stopped her laughing in a hurry."Oh, I'm sorry honey." She cupped my face in her hands. "I'm sorry."

"What made you laugh like that?" I need to know.

"It's just that..." She was pondering what to say next. "How can I put this?"

"I really don't care how you put it, just put it!"

"Elizabeth was the one person that you could say no to." She said with a straight face. "But that didn't stop her from trying. She would call you at all hours, she showered you with gifts, she would slip into your bed, but you always turned away her advances. Even when you found out that Louis was cheating on her, you still didn't take advantage of the situation."

"This is wonderful" I said. "This is the best news I've had since I've come out of the hospital."

"It's not all good, Marty." My happiness was short lived. "One birthday she made you a German Chocolate cake and left it at your house. When you realized where it had come from you took it back and dropped it on her back porch. "

"What's so terrible about that?" I asked.

"You were so angry that you threw it on the porch and left. The cake splattered all on the steps and sat there for hours before she found it." Cynthia brace herself to tell me the rest.

"Oh my god no!" My head started spinning again. I was big on head spinning these days. "Don't tell me the rest, I don't think I can take it."

"She grabbed a broom to clean the mess but the cake had attracted every bee in the tri-state area. She didn't even know she was allergic. She died right there on the porch. You never forgave yourself."

The spinning became fierce. I was heading off to the building that looked like an old ice rink. The one with the address on it that said "1 south Hell" I was looking at Cynthia's beautiful blonde face as it began pulling further and further away. I was being sucked into the sewer and it was like looking at her from the end of a dark tunnel. "Cynthia?" I called.

"Yes, honey, what is it?" Her voice was a cry.

"Who is Paul Konerko?"

Chapter Twenty One

I awoke the next morning after an arduous trip to Hell, with my left arm asleep. It felt like a distant piece of lifeless meat that couldn't be part of my own body. I imagined that it must be how Louis feels about his missing arm sometimes.

Hell is nothing like I've had it described to me in the past. My Mother had told me when I was younger that Hell was a big ocean of poop and the sinners were constantly, exhaustingly, swimming while trying to keep their heads above water... Or above feces. When you would reach a calm place to float and rest, the Devil would come by in a motor boat and either run you over or push you under with an oar. What I saw, that night, was what most people might describe as Purgatory. It was in a building that looked like an old fashioned Roller Rink. The walls were crazy and uneven and painted yellow on one side and green on the other. There were black pipes for a ceiling and lint and dirt was everywhere. I walked into a large open room that seemed to be very much like a Automobile License Facility, filled with blue and orange plastic chairs in front of a large TV set. The room was longer than the eye can see and everyone was sitting there, silently, watching the TV. If someone tried to speak, the person next to them would hold their index finger up to their lips and tell them to be quiet. Not to insult anyone, but the entire time I was there the TV was only showing the FOX network. I was there for about 5 hours and found it uncomfortable at best. The reason I was there had everything to do with what happened after my living room meeting adjourned the night before.

I turned over in the bed, away from the naked body of my ex wife Cynthia, to discover my arm was asleep because my late father was gripping it at the wrist and squeezing with all of his might. He was squeezing so hard that it was hurting him more than me. His face was bright red and the veins in his bald head were enlarged. He was looking at me but not seeing me, somehow I could tell that his sight was somewhere distant. His teeth would clench and unclench giving the appearance of pain and some kind of unnatural happiness. "I can't let go!" he shouted. "I can't let go!" I was so shocked and frightened I couldn't speak. You have to understand that after all that I had experienced up to this point , it wasn't easy to scare me anymore, but this had a feeling that surpassed everything to date.

"I can't let go, I can't let go!" I will hear his words for eternity.

After what seemed like forever, choking back tears, I opened my mouth and said the magic word. "Dad?" I coughed.

His look of pain changed to a wide grin and he let go of my arm. As he retreated from the edge of the bed his old frame straightened up and he appeared to get taller. Then he became younger looking. His bald head filled with thick brown hair. His stained teeth whitened, like a one of those commercials for tooth bleaching. His yellow, bloodshot eyes cleared to become white, glowing orbs, his irises a deep, ocean blue. He was gone.

After the meeting, most of my guests departed, talking among themselves. Louis followed me as I went to the back porch to smoke a cigarette.

"You know I don't really believe much of this other world stuff Marty." Louis didn't smoke, but he never let it come between us. "I think it's all Kentucky Fried Bullshit. Some of the people here tonight think you're nuts."

"How do you know that Louis?" I was fumbling through my pockets looking for a light.

"I could hear them talking among themselves. You know my hearing is pretty good. I can hear a rat piss on a ball of cotton from twenty miles!" He stared at me intently.

"Why would a rat piss on a ball of cotton?" I found the gold lighter and momentarily held it so I could read the inscription again."

Louis became somber. "If it is true Marty, I need to know." He paused and licked his lips, shot a glance to the ground and then back into my eyes."I need to know if on one of your trips to Heaven or Hell, if you've seen my wife."

I read the inscription to myself..."Marty, Love you always....."

"I need to know if you've spoken to Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth." I finished reading the inscription in my head. I gripped my fingers tightly around the lighter and pushed the ignition. My hands trembled almost comically as I lit the coffin nail in my mouth. I tried to push the lighter back into my coat pocket with my fist swelling from the death grip I had around it and tore the seam that hems the opening.

"I am terribly exhausted Louis, you have to go!" My voice quivering as I spoke.

"Just tell me yes or no, we'll discuss the details later."

"No!" I took a two letter word and somehow made it shorter. I ran into the house and into my room and locked the door. Getting undressed was easy, all I had on was my coat. I let it drop to the floor and I slid into bed

Cynthia was already there.