billy and al

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

billy! billy jones! billy turned around. it was al rogers! that lying bastard al rogers! billy kept his emotions in check. how are you al, billy inquired smoothly . pretty good billy, pretty good, al answered agreeably. it’s been a real long time, billy said pointedly. a long time since you stabbed me in the back. come on, don’t be that way, al laughed good-naturedly, don’t forget - don’t forget what?, billy replied, his cold blue eyes narrowing to slits. don’t forget the way you fucked my girl friend, said al, most amiably. yes, i thought i fucked her pretty good, said billy with a knowing wink. you think you own the world, don’t you billy, al responded a bit more heatedly. aw come on al, don’t think everything so goddamned seriously, you know the score, billy chuckled. but inwardly billy was seething because who was this fucking asshole who couldn’t take a friendly joke. but al was even angrier because he had always been jealous of billy’s good looks and conspicuous wealth. and now here the son of a bitch was rubbing his nose in his inferiority and helplessness and poverty. something exploded in al’s brain and he resolved to destroy billy and the whole rotten system that produced his ilk. on his side billy just wanted to get away from al and proceed on his merry way to the tennis club. it was great seeing you again al, billy announced with an unmistakable air of finality as he turned swiftly on his heel. al could only seethe in mortified outrage as he watched his adversary saunter away with the supremely disdainful air of an eternal conqueror. oh what kind of world is this, al thought with burning mortification, and how much longer can things go on in this intolerable fashion? if billy had known what he was going on in al’s mind he might have been mildly amused or again he might not. in any case it is not known if al and billy ever met again or if al’s bitter resolve ever led to any kind of action. ***

doors

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

donald did not like doors. he was always afraid of being trapped behind them. he was afraid that the locks or doorknobs would not function and that no one would hear his cries for help. doors in rooms with windows he did not mind so much because he felt he could break them or shout for help. he did not like being alone behind the doors in rooms on the higher floors of tall buildings because he thought no one would see or hear his wavings or entreaties if he were trapped. he did not like the rooms in modern buildings like the one he worked in because the windows could not be opened or broken. he did not like doors in rooms without windows - like bathrooms or large closets or storerooms - even in his own house, and he always left them slightly ajar without completely closing them. when his mother was alive she tolerated this, along with donald’s numerous other eccentricities. when his mother died donald purchased a mail order bride from a foreign country. the new wife quickly took charge of him and treated him with contempt. when she realized his aversion to closed doors she was highly amused. and took every opportunity to lock him in the bathroom or one of the large closets. donald’s pathetic cries and poundings were met with loud laughter on her part. the neighbors either never heard anything, or minded their own business.

walter and his enemies, or nightmare at noon

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

walter walked down the street he was on his way to meet zorine a woman he had contacted online he hoped the meeting would go better than the last similar encounter he had had and was resolved to make a better effort to not pontificate about his obsessions at least in the initial stages of conversation and before they ordered lunch. suddenly walter realized he was being followed by his two worst enemies, morris and jardine they were half a block behind and making no effort to conceal themselves when walter looked back a second time morris waved at him! it was obvious they meant business well, walter meant business too there was a police station on the next cross street and he resolved to enter it even if it meant being late for his date with zorine which in any case was not a matter of life and death without giving morris and jardine the satisfaction of looking behind him he turned left on main street and walked up the wide steps of the police headquarters although he expected to be greeted with indifference if not outright contempt he in fact received the most courteous attention from the young sergeant at the front desk. when he explained his predicament she picked up a phone and after a few words which walter could not make out told him “please enter the fourth door on your left, sir, and a couple of technicians will be with you shortly.” although walter was slightly nonplussed by the term “technician” rather than “officer” or “detective” the young woman’s manner was so pleasant and winning that he followed her instructions without demur. two persons were waiting for him when he entered the room. a slender young woman with a bald head and a husky young man with a walrus mustache. the young woman smiled at walter. “would you like something to drink?” she asked. “yes, i would, thank you, very much,” walter answered. the young woman pointed to a small refrigerator in the corner. “help yourself.” “thank you,” walter answered. he opened the door of the small refrigerator. cold air flowed out from it. after some consideration walter selected a bottle of perrier water with condensation forming on it. when he turned around the young woman and the young man were gone! the door to the room started to open. and who should enter but morris and jardine! ***

the basket

by nick nelson

illustrated by palomine studios

a gray morning. albert found himself walking down a street in a strange city. strange to himself, that is. he supposed that the people who lived in it did not find it strange. albert was carrying a plastic basket of the sort used by shoppers in supermarkets. the basket was blue, although albert’s experience was that such baskets were usually red or green. he felt a bit foolish carrying it down the street, but as he did not know anybody in the city he was not too concerned. through a series of circumstances he did not understand or remember, he was to deliver the basket to a man at number 19, of the street he was walking down. number 19 was a red brick building, as were all the buildings in the street. albert walked up a short flight of gray stone steps. the front door opened when he turned the doorknob. the interior was quiet. there was a small table just inside the door but there was nothing on it, not even any flowers. albert went up a flight of stairs and found room 2-c and knocked on its door. after a few seconds, a man opened the door. a bald man of medium height and size. he had a mean look on his face. albert handed the man the basket. “terry told me to give this to you.” he told him. the man did not reply but scowled and took the basket. then he closed the door in albert’s face. happy to have successfully executed his commission, albert went back down the stairs and outside into the street. what had terry called the man he delivered the basket to? the preacher. that was it, the preacher. as he walked back up to the street to the bus station, albert tried to remember what had been in the basket.

monkey

illustrated by palomine studios

i was walking down the track with a monkey on my back the monkey's name was joe but he didn't seem to know that my name was really sam and not father abraham as i had falsely claimed when i had to take the blame and do some hard time for an unspeakable crime for which i was accused because i was born to lose the beautiful and best they never let you rest they twist your primate tail as into the sun they sail and the moon can not compute the monkey that is mute but it whispers in my ear as i dissolve in total fear into a puddle in the road but the train is never slowed it comes roaring around the bend as all my troubles end and the monkey, quite untroubled floats away in a silver bubble to a distant galaxy where everything is free

freedom

illustrated by palomine studios

billy jones decided to test the limits of freedom. he did not go to school on a particular day. instead he went to a supermarket and bought two dozen eggs. he took the eggs to the nearest subway station and boarded a train to the suburbs. the car was about half full. there were a good number of people of all ages, but there was enough room for billy to maneuver . billy took the eggs out of his shopping bag and began throwing them at the riders. he was quite close to them, and did not miss any, with the eggs he managed to throw. he was overpowered by two muscular young men who were laughing heartily at the proceedings. the two young men held billy down after a very brief struggle. the transit police came and arrested billy, and then turned him over to the county sheriff’s office. billy was held in a cell by himself until his grandmother came. he was released on her personal recognizance and ordered to appear in court the next week on charges of vandalism and disturbing the peace. he was told he should consider himself fortunate he was not charged with assault. while waiting for his grandmother billy reflected on the lesson he had learned. freedom was an illusion.

the best

illustrated by palomine studios

bud was a regular guy. he went to work every day and paid his taxes. he was a football fan. and a nascar fan. basketball, not so much, and baseball bored him. one day he had to take time off from his job to go downtown to see his lawyer. the lawyer who was handling his divorce. when bud arrived at the lawyer’s office the receptionist told him the lawyer was running late and hoped he did not mind waiting. bud decided to grab a bite to eat. there was a little pizza place a few doors down from the lawyer’s office. they also served burgers and hot dogs and bud ordered a couple of hot dogs and a coke. he was asked if pepsi was o k and he said sure. the hot dogs were really good. damn, these are the best hot dogs i ever ate, bud thought. i wouldn’t mind getting divorced every day if i could get hot dogs like these.