Morrison's

Morrison's

Take this for what it's worth. It came to me in a dream. I haven't been sleeping well, lately.

Please, enjoy.

Jim was slouched at the bar, drowning his life in alcohol. Unshaven, unwashed in the last two to three weeks, hadn't changed clothes in about a month. A real Esquire cover photo.

The divorce was five years ago. Contentious, acrimonious to say the least. He was about a year from having his liver and his kidneys check out and kill him. No job, no income.

Linda was no better. Promiscuous, overweight, two venereal diseases, one miscarriage, and one abortion. She also lost her teaching position and worked as a checkout girl in the supermarket. Their kids were constantly in trouble with the juvenile authorities. A real stellar family unit.

As Jim nursed the glass of amber liquid, a tall Oriental-looking woman claimed the stool next to him. She bent over to speak when a slightly seedy-looking character, only a little better looking than Jim, walked up and started,' Hey good loo-kin, why don't you come with me instead of....'

The look Karma gave him caused his bowels to evacuate and he stumbled backward in terror.

Karma resumed her interaction with Jim.

"You're killing yourself. Another 18 months, and you'll be gone. Linda probably wishes she would go the same way, but she'll last a little longer. Unless someone kills her. Your kids are a mess. What do you want?"

Jim looked at this woman, an unknown entity.

"I want it back. My life, the way it was. I want it to never have happened. But you can't give me that, can you? No one can."

"Yes, I can. I can send you back 5 years to that night. You can re-write history. I don't know if it will help, but it will be different. I guarantee it. What do you say?"

Jim looked on in mild, drunken disbelief.

"Sure; why not? Whatever you say."

He snorted and finished the bourbon, motioning for another.

Karma smiled. "Good. You will know what will transpire as the events unfold. What you do, depends on you."

She smiled, closed her eyes, and concentrated, and the universe flipped and everything shifted.

Five years slipped away, and it was the night of the disaster. They were seated around the table, Jim, Linda, Dee and Dave, and their other friends. Dee squealed as Jim said Linda was the most beautiful woman there.

"He's coming this way!!", whispered Dee.

Jim knew who 'he' was: knew what was coming. He braced for the interaction.

"Excuse me, pretty lady, would you like to dance?"

Linda's expression changed from love for me to rapture at his appearance, as she slowly started to rise. That was when I acted. I grabbed her wrist and said, "SIT DOWN!" She froze and her eyes snapped open in shock. I forced her into the seat, gently.

Dee started. "It's just a dance, Jim. Let her have this..."

"SHUT UP, BITCH!" I turned back to the prick and rose, moving right into his 'space'. Well, it was my space, too.

He was a few inches taller than Jim so he was looking down at him, but that was where it ended.

"She will not be dancing with you tonight or ever. I suggest you leave, NOW!"

Marc LaValliere was not accustomed to this amount of interference.

"Or what, little man?" he smirked. The two linebacker 'goons' with Marc had sensed something and were on their way to the group. But suddenly, something, some perception changed. Marc was no longer looking down on Jim, he was now straining to look up at someone who appeared to be at least 8 inches taller. Not only that but at least 80 lbs. heavier, broader, bigger, more menacing, with rippling muscles that put the tight end to shame. But it was the eyes. The smoldering hate-filled, glaring eyes. Marc shuddered, stepped back, sweating, and pissed his pants. The linebackers stopped short, saw what Marc saw, and fell all over themselves running the other way.

Marc La Valliere was scared. No other description. Maybe terrified, at what he saw. He backpedaled and turned, slipped and stumbling over his own two feet as he raced away.

But Jim hadn't changed. He hadn't morphed into something else. He was the same old Jim. (sound familiar?) But his image had changed. He turned to Linda, took her hand, saying, "We are leaving. We're going home, not to the hotel room, and we are going to have a long, LONG talk. NOW!!" Her eyes blinked, she grabbed her purse and rose. Dee interjected.

"LINDA! Are you going to be all right??"

"I don't know," she said, a lost look on her face and also in her eyes, as she followed her husband out the door.

Five years in the future of an alternate universe, Karma smiled, nodded, took a sip of her Gin and Tonic, and rose to leave.

The END??

I didn't know how to finish this. So I throw it out to my loyal readers (both of you) to supply an ending. I'm eager to see what others think. I have one other submission to the endless supply of "February Sucks" tales. Then, I will relent to just reading about them. Please, enjoy.

Now, lighten up -

Did you hear the joke about the piece of paper?

It was TEAR-ABLE!!

Courtesy of my ten-year-old granddaughter. I promised her I would give her credit. I just won't tell her where. Sorry, Shannon.