The Rest of My Life

Augusta's Story

2007-10-20T21:31:00.000-05:00

Augusta, Dusty, and the Bunnies

"I’ve just known Dusty for a couple of months, so my story doesn’t have quite the depth as her story. But sometimes we know someone better as a stranger than we know a long time intimate, so please take note of what I have to say.

I am first and foremost a cop. Most people don’t like cops. Cops enforce the law and are often blamed for the law. I could go on and on about how we don’t write the law, but that is for another time. I’ll try to stick with what I know of Dusty.

A couple of months ago we heard that the president of the United States was coming through Dustland and our mayor, Rube Adams, decided it was time to clean up our city once and for all. Though he had been treated for many years for his obsessive compulsion disorder, he never really was cured. When he said that he wanted to clean up, he wasn’t kidding.

He issued orders to get rid of every speck of dust in Dustland. He was sick and tired of his town being the butt of so many jokes because of its name. He wanted to be known as the mayor of the cleanest city in the United States (if not the world) and not the mayor of a cloud of dust.

When my sergeant received the proclamation to rid Dustland of dust he took Rube quite literally. I wasn’t sure if Rube really meant that every speck should be removed, but as a well-trained and obedient cop I was much better at taking orders than at thinking. Maybe that is why I never could graduate from college.

I received my marching orders on July 5, the day after Independence Day. I was told to go to Dusty’s house and both get rid of all her dust bunnies and let her know that in the future the harboring of bunnies would not be tolerated.

I put a dustpan and collapsible broom in my brief case and set off in my Hummer for Dusty’s house.

I had never met Dusty but I thought that this would be a rather simple call. I had been married for a number of years and knew women well. Though my wife walked out on me when she found a younger man, we did have some good years. She generally took my direction, as do most women. I’m a big man with a commanding voice. Not too many people stand up to me, especially women."

Dusty Continues (more)

2007-10-17T14:03:00.000-05:00

And each other, of course.
"I probably was pretty depressed. I couldn't leave the house. I tried to get his pension, but they said without a body I could not prove his death.

My dog, Dirty Hairy, just moped around, and so did I. Our friends were the bunnies, and only the bunnies. And each other, of course.

We learned to live on almost nothing. In time, our utilities were turned off. In the winter we burned the branches that had fallen in the nearby forest. In the summer we sweated out the hot days and enjoyed any breeze we could find in the evenings.

We took care of the bunnies. They kept reproducing, thanks to Dirty Hairy shedding hair. It wasn't a bad life, but I missed Softy, and I missed having a man around.

Then Augusta came, first under assignment to get rid of the bunnies. That evolved into a love affair and a business partnership. We commercialized the sanctuary and made enough money to get the utilities on and to pay the back taxes. Life was good.

Augusta got word that Softy was still alive, which is why we are here . . . looking for him. He heard that he was still selling pillows, and was in the next town. Augusta wanted to flatten the guy, and I wanted to embrace him.

And that's my story."

Dusty Continues

2007-10-15T09:36:00.001-05:00

Marriage . . .
"Somehow Joan was able to remove the key from the door. We ran down the stairs but Mom was no where to be found. To make a long story short, we heard a year later that she ran off with a cute street cleaner.

My friends and I continued to worship the bunnies. Softy asked me to the high school prom and I brought him afterward up to the attic to see the bunnies. I was madly in love with him.

One thing led to another and he asked me to marry him. Before I could say yes or no, he said that he wanted to marry me, and not the bunnies.

I thought that my love for him would certainly overshadow my love for the bunnies, so I said yes, I would marry him, and yes, I would get rid of the bunnies.

We had a fabulous wedding. Even mom and the street cleaner showed up. We all danced and cried with joy. Everyone was happy that I was getting hitched to my soul mate.

We moved into my house. My dad had passed by then, and my sisters had already moved out. Softy and I had quite a honeymoon in our love nest, if you know what I mean. But before long the honeymoon was over when Softy started asking me to vacuum up the bunnies.

I said the vacuum was broken and he said he'd fix it. I said that my back hurt. I said that I needed to vacuum in the morning when there was more light. I gave him one excuse after another. Finally one day he vacuumed up all the bunnies when I got my hair done.

I was so angry at him for not being more patient and understanding;. We start fighting all the time and he spent more and more time in his shack. When the shack blew up I was so angry at him that I was happy. But in time, I began to miss him terribly and was very sad that he had died in the explosion."

Dusty's Story

2007-10-10T12:04:00.000-05:00

Let Me In!
"So where do you want me to start?" Dusty asked.

"At the beginning," the others chanted in unison.

"Well, take a seat," Dusty said, as she motioned them to sit on the two logs.

Softy and Eliza sat on one log, and Augusta and the highway patrolman on the other. Dusty took a deep breath.

"I was born in Dustland and lived there all my life. My mother was a fanatic about dirt. If there was even one dust bunny anywhere in the house she'd go postal. One time I was grounded for a week because of one bunny she found under my bed."

"I felt sorry for the little critters, so I started a secret sanctuary in the attic. My friends would come over and we'd go to the attic and light candles and watch the bunnies dance as the wind went through the thin cracks in the siding. We'd ooh and awe and have a great time, until . . ."

"Until what," Augusta asked.

"Shh!" said the highway patrolman. "Let her tell the story as she sees fit."

". . . until my mother came up to the attic one day to tell me that she was going out. We were so engrossed with the bunnies that we didn't see her in time to hide them, and she was furious when she discovered that we'd been praying to the little creatures."

"Praying" Eliza asked.

"Shh!" said the patrolman.

"Yes, praying. We had kind of made up a religion, believing that the bunnies represented the second coming of Christ. Mom said that she had never heard of anything so infantile or so ridiculous, and that there was no way she'd live with dust bunnies."

"What happened then?" The patrolman asked.

"Shh!" mocked Augusta.

"She went down stairs to get the vacuum. We heard her muttering as she was coming back up the stairs with a vacuum hose following her, "I'll suck up those bunnies and give them the surprise of their lives."

"By that time, we were so committed to the bunnies that we would have given our lives to save them. So we closed the door to the attic and laid down against it so Mom couldn't come in."

"You never told me this," Softy said.

"Shh!" said the patrolman.

"You never asked. Mom couldn't deal with her kid defying her wishes so she gave one of her many ultimatums, saying if I didn't open the door in the count of five, I'd no longer have a mother."

"What happened then," Softy asked.

"Shh! said the patrolman.

"I wanted to open the door. I could hear how angry and hurt she was, and knew that I'd be better off with a mother, even if she didn't believe in sanctity of bunnies."

"So?" Augusta asked.

"Shh!" said the patrolman.

"My friend Joan got her hair stuck on the key and couldn't move to open the door. We screamed through the door that we couldn't open it right away. Mom yelled back that she knew we were faking it, and that she knew we were now hiding the bunnies, and that she was leaving and she'd never coming back. Our choice was to cut off Joan's beautiful blond hair, or to lose a mom. We looked for a scissors as we heard mom go back down the stairs."

Invasion

2007-10-09T06:09:00.000-05:00

Who Goes First?
All four of them started to talk at the same time. Blame, shame, hurt and guilt filled the air. Each voice became louder in an effort to be heard.

In fact, they were so loud that they couldn't hear the sirens until the highway patrolmen stopped his car behind Augusta's Hummer.

"What do we have here, Augusta?" the patrolman asked.

"I'm trying to get the story. Do you want to help mediate this dispute?" Augusta replied.

The patrolman had taken the conflict resolution workshop with Augusta. This was their first opportunity to try the five fold path to resolution that they had learned.

"Ok folks, why don't you each tell me what is going on?" the patrolman asked. Before he had a chance to add that the couples should talk one at a time, they all started in again, once again raising the noise level so high that the leaves started to fall on them from the trees above.

"One at a time. Who would like to go first?" Augusta added.

"I'll go first," Softy said.

"You've lost your inalienable rights when you died, mister. I'm going first," Dusty said.

"Ok, let's listen to Dusty." Augusta said.

"There is no way that I'm not going first. I gave up my home and husband to be part of this insanity. I'm sure I'm the one with the greatest lost." Eliza said.

The patrolmen took Augusta aside to decide who should go first.

"Ok, Dusty. We'll start with you. And everyone else listen. You all will have your day in court."

"Unfair," Softy said.

"Be a big boy now," the patrolman said

"Well, all right. But . . ." Softy replied.

"Quiet!" Augusta said, pointing his finger at Softy.

They Meet

2007-10-06T06:57:00.000-05:00

The Powwow
Dusty and Augusta's Hummer sailed along, as did Softy and Eliza's car. In a cloud of dust each saw each other's car coming and slowed down. The road was only wide enough for one lane, so each of the couples looked for a spot to pull over. None to be found, they both stopped their car, and Softy and Augusta got out.

As the dust settled, Dusty yelled out, "Oh, Softy, you are alive." and they embraced passionately. Then she remembered the torment and poverty that he had created and started to hit him, yelling, "you S.O.B. . . you S.O.B."

Eliza and Augusta were on the sidelines not quite knowing what to do. Augusta remembers his professionalism as a cop and decided not to punch out Softy. "Besides," he thinks, "Dusty is giving him what he deserves."

It soon becomes apparent that Softy is no match for Dusty. Five years of anger is quite a warrior. Augusta decided that he needed to stop the fight so he took his service revolver hidden in the leg of his pants and shot a warning shot into the air.

"Stop fighting immediately or you'll both go to jail," Augusta yelled.

With no where to go without backing their cars up, The two couples found themselves on two facing logs and sat down for a powwow.

Looking for Softy

2007-10-02T07:16:00.000-05:00

Two logs between them.
Augusta had almost walked out of the door of the police station when he heard his phone ringing. It was the sheriff in a nearby town who said that Softy is there selling pillows.

Augusta knew about the old road as well, and decided to go there with Dusty first thing in the morning. The Hummer should be able to take care of all the logs that had fallen on the road. The road was quite narrow and was just wide enough for one car, especially if that car was as wide as a hummer.

In the morning, Augusta and Dusty put a sign on their door "sanctuary closed for religious holiday" and took off to the next town.

They brought Dirty Hairy along. Augusta though he might be useful in identifying Softy should he be wearing a disguise. And neither of them knew when they might return to Dustland.

About five minutes down the road they came upon their first log. The hummer had a winch so it was quite easy to attach the cable to the log and pull it aside. "Let's hope there are more of those," Augusta said, still angry as could be at a man who would desert his loved one.

The Old Road

2007-09-30T15:50:00.000-05:00

Sleeping in the Car
Eliza and Softy checked out of the hotel and filled their tank with gas. They got directions for the old road and took off.

Softy was anxious to see his wife after five years. He thought he might try to reunite with her, especially if she had cleaned up her act a little.

Eliza, on the other hand, had no desire to let go of Softy and did not anticipate that her partner/lover still had eyes for his wife.

They wondered what Eliza's customer was talking about when she mentioned the logs that had fallen on the old road. Then they went over one more hill and came upon quite a number of them.

One by one they tied a rope around the logs and then backed the car up to pull the road to the side. After awhile, Eliza walked ahead with the rope and Softy followed. What was supposed to be taking two hours was taking all day and then some. The stars were starting to shine and they decided to sleep in the car and continue the next morning.

Softy was not anxious to confront Dusty in the evening.

Tar and Feathers

2007-09-29T07:32:00.000-05:00

". . . who'd like to tar and feather him with his own pillows."
Augusta went back to the office and started to work on finding Softy. He was so angry at the guy that he could barely see. Even though Softy's disappearance made it possible for Augusta to form a relationship with Dusty, Augusta was furious that Softy had left his wife destitute.

He knew that Softy sold pillows door to door, so he started calling all the pillow manufactures. They all knew Softy, and some had seen him since his disappearance. That seemed to make a case for Dusty to divorce Softy on the grounds of cruelty and abandonment.

But Augusta was not one to forgive and forget. No one, in his mind, should do to anyone as Softy had done to Dusty.

The challenge was to figure out where Softy now was. He decided to call all the police stations in the state. Perhaps Softy had been busted for operating outside the limits of the law.

As he called the stations one by one, they all knew about Softy, but none had seen him for quite some time. Softy had a way of leaving town just when his reputation started to go astray. Seemed like he would start a pyramid scheme, get paid for the samples, and then leave town. There were lots of customers waiting for their pillow. And there were lots of his "salespeople" who'd like to tar and feather Softy with his own feathers.

On the Road (Again)

2007-09-28T09:52:00.001-05:00

". . . not hard to pull aside if you have a rope."
Eliza and Softy reconstituted the old pillows into new ones. Eliza delivered the pillows and her customer was satisfied.

"My husband came home early and asked where his pillow was. I just said that I was washing it, so he didn't seem to mind. I think he'll be happier not knowing that I bought him a new pillow. If he doesn't notice that I had my hair cut and colored he certainly won't notice a new pillow."

"Good idea. I'll suggest it to future female customers," Eliza said.

"So are you going to stick around?"

"No, we need to be leaving town. We have a mission in Dustland. We need to see how someone is doing."

"Can't you just call or email?"

"No, we can't be that direct."

"Did you know that Dustland is just a couple of hours from here, if you go on the old road? There might be a log or two that have fallen on the road, but they are not hard to pull aside if you have a rope."

"Yea, we have a rope. We'll give it a try."

"Would you like to sell some pillows for us? We'll give you half of what you take in."

"Half! Wow, those pillows must have a great mark-up!"

"No, not really. We are paying to distribute the pillows around the US. It is our mission to give everyone a good night's sleep."

"Ok. I'll be glad to sell some pillows. As long as it is for the good of humanity. I don't really need the money."

"Fine. You can use your pillows as the samples, and we'll be through here is a week or so to help you fill the orders."

"Sounds peachy to me."

"See you soon. Write down your questions so when we talk next I can answer them."

"Bye"

"Bye"

More on God

2007-09-27T11:57:00.000-05:00

". . . his alarm clock that had some wires attached to it. . . . ."
"So you think that seeing is believing," Dusty said, adding, "there is no doubt that the world in wondrous and beyond our wildest imaginations. But believing that any force could create Earth is also a leap."

"Ok, let's agree to disagree on this one. What we need to do is to get you divorce. He is dead, isn't he?"

"Well, I think so, but his body was never found."

"Hey, you are going too fast. What happened?"

"Softy had a shed out back where he worked to inventing the perfect pillow substance. One day their was a giant explosion and everything was gone. Except, that is, his alarm clock that had some wires attached to it. Because there was no sign of Softy we just assumed that he was dead."

"As a copy I've learned not to make any assumptions. How about his pension? Did you apply for the pension?"

"I tried, but they said I'd have to wait ten years."

"Why?"

"Because there was no evidence that he was actually dead."

"That's cruddy. So you starve for ten years. If I ever meet up with Softy I'll teach him a thing or two."

"You really think he's alive."

"It is obvious. Why else would he make a time bomb?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

"Do you think we can find him?" Dusty said with tears of joy running down her cheeks."

A Different Kind of Test?

2007-09-26T10:58:00.000-05:00

"How about if we put 'God Saves' . . . ."
Eliza had the habit of saying things that weren't true. Like she had an idea for a different kind of test for God's existence. She just knew that the tests she had heard about wouldn't do. She decided to come clean.

"Softy, I really don't have a test, but I do think if we put our heads together we could come up with something."

"How about if we drop paper clips on the floor and see if any words form. If God wanted to he could form any words he wanted."

"But suppose he was on to us, and he didn't want people to believe because of physical proof, but rather believe because they had faith."

"Do you think he'd do that?"

"Why yes," Eliza said.

"Maybe we've already had a sign. The fact that we are being allowed to sell the pillows without a license seems enough of a sign for me."

"How about if we put 'God Saves' on the pillows since he did save our butts."

"And suppose that he doesn't exist, but that we were just plain lucky."

"Well, lots of pillows would be sold, we still wouldn't need a license, and . . ." Eliza stopped abruptly.

"And?"

"It is our mission to see if Dusty is alright? Perhaps we ought to just sell a couple of pillows and move on to the next town. Opportunity or not, our goal is not exactly prosperity but rather to move across the country."

"Sounds like a plan," Softy said.

I Think I'm Married

2007-09-25T07:44:00.000-05:00

It was black or white.
"I'm married, or at least I think I may be. Are you married if you don't have a husband?

Let me start from the beginning. Well, not quite the beginning.

Softy and I met in college. He lived in his place, and I lived in mine, and we mainly met for dates. Before we knew it, on a lark, we went to a justice of the peace and got married. We got along well, so we thought that marriage would be the next step.

Everything was peachy until we bought this house and moved in. Actually, when we moved into this house it was clean as a whistle and devoid of any bunnies. We thought we had a marriage made in heaven until the bunnies started appearing. Then the trouble started. He couldn't understand how I could worship dirt, as he called it, and I couldn't understand how he could worship cleanliness. It was black or white. Either the bunnies would have to go or he would divorce me. Well, I had never worked and he had a good job selling pillows so I decided that I wouldn't give him a divorce. I believed in the back of my heart that he'd come around someday and realize that the bunnies were god's creatures, just like the rest of us.

Not to digress, but that was another issue. He couldn't understand how anyone could believe in God because couldn't find him/her in a Sears catalog. And I kept explaining to him that he would just open his eyes he'd see that God was everywhere. We'd go back and forth about the bunnies, then we'd go back and forth about God and life went quickly from bad to worst."

"How could anyone who can see not believe in G_D?" Augusta said.

What Now?

2007-09-24T06:27:00.001-05:00

"Couldn't we call our pillows, 'Sleep w/G_D?'" Eliza said.
Softy returned to the hotel room to find out that they didn't need a business license because their pillow business had been classified as a religious organization. Softy is very impressed with the work that Eliza did on the officers.

The officers left the room, and Eliza and Softy went to dinner at the hotel restaurant.

After they ordered, they talked about their future in this little hick town they were in. They liked the idea that they were missionaries, but they were not very excited they people might expect them to extol God's word.

"Couldn't we call our pillows, 'Sleep w/G_D?'" Eliza said.

"Are you really comfortable with that. Yesterday you told me that God did not exist."

"Maybe he does exist, and we were put on earth to spread his word. That is why the officers changed their minds," Eliza argued.

"Get real. You did a real number on those officers, but it wasn't to promote the word of God."

"How do you know?"

"We'll have to devise a test. If God really wants us to work for him, he'll give us another sign."

"Remember that Mother Teresa only heard from God for three weeks during a fifty year period. Are we that patient?"

"No, but I have an idea for a different kind of test," Eliza quipped.

Success?

2007-09-23T07:36:00.002-05:00

Dusty should have been elated that her life had turned around on a dime. She now had a boyfriend, utilities, and friends for her bunnies. But characteristic of most outcasts, she was more comfortable with being ostracized than with being embraced.

She knew intellectually that her new life had much promise, and yet wondered what true happiness it would provide. She wondered if happiness was really the point to life, or would she get more satisfaction supporting her "cause."

Yes, she thought, she was put on earth to make it a better place. And Augusta had been sent to her, as an angel, to help her spread the word.

She knew that dust bunnies were more important that what they seemed. For centuries bunnies were swept out in the street, to be trampled on by packs of dogs, horses, and later cars. As Einstein refuted Newton, so had Eliza refuted all conventional wisdom. Finally these little creatures had a champion.

Dusty's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Augusta.

"Aren't you excited, my dear. Your life has turned around on a dime, and now your bunnies have a chance to give love and happiness to the world. Not only that, but others will start to breed the critters in their homes and businesses. It is the dawn of a new age."

"But Augusta, we are now in the public eye. And we don't have a business license . . . or a marriage license."

"One thing at a time, dear. What would you like to do first?"

"That certainly is one hell of a strange proposal. Are you asking me to marry you?"

"I am."

"Then I must tell you a story."

"I'm all ears."

Asleep

2007-09-22T08:52:00.000-05:00

The two officers laid down on the bed, resting their heads on the new pillows. Eliza told them to close their eyes, and they swiftly fell asleep.

Softy and Eliza didn't know what to do. They could leave the officers asleep and skip town, or they could wake them up and hope they had made their case that good pillows primarily existed to benefit humanity.

Eliza whispered to Softy, "Suppose we switch pillows on them, giving them back the old pillows, and then skip town."

Softy reminded Eliza, "Remember, we decided to become honest. Let's wake them up."

"How about if we get them a cup of coffee," Eliza said.

"I'll go get it. If we both go they will put out an all points bulletin for us."

Softy went to the hotel restaurant for a couple of cups of coffee. Eliza sat and watched the officers snore away. "My life is certainly more interesting that it was with Alfred."

Before long, the officers awoke. "Hey Charlie," one of them remarked, "the guy skipped out."

"No he didn't. He went to get you a cup of coffee," Eliza said.

"He better be back here in five minutes," the other cop, Ralph, asserted.

"He will. Now how did you like the pillow? Both of you were sleeping like logs. Here's a picture I took of you with my digital camera."

Eliza showed them the picture in the little screen in the back of her digital camera.

"Hey, that wasn't nice. You shouldn't have taken that."

"It is just a picture. And, don't worry. I won't show it to your superiors."

"Better not."

"Here's Softy now. I hear him walking down the hallway."

"You can count your stars . . ." Ralph said.

The Powwow

2007-09-21T08:03:00.000-05:00

The officers went outside after looking at the bunnies and huddled about fifteen feet from the house in a powwow that seemed to take hours. Their dilemma was whether to uphold the letter of the law, and or to follow their inner guide. They knew on the one hand that Dusty and Augusta were doing a great public service by getting people to be mindful of the down trodden, so to speak. And then, on the other hand, they had taken an oath to uphold the law, even if they should disagree with it.

But, they argued, what would they say to their maker, when asked why they followed the law when they knew it wasn't right. And suppose the law told them to kill their children. They certainly wouldn't do that.

They decided not to go back to the house, but just to leave the premises and issue a report that they informed Dusty of the complaint and of the law, and that she indicated she understood the severity of her actions.

Dusty and Augusta watched the officers leave, and smiled at each other. They certainly were on a roller coaster and this was a high point for their day.

The Knockers

2007-09-20T18:36:00.000-05:00

Well, it seems that we have a parallel universe here. Just as Dusty and Augusta were busted, so it appears that Eliza and Softy are in deep dudu, as the expression goes.

Two cops were at the door. It appeared that Eliza's customer's husband called the cops when he heard the story about the pillows. He was furious that his wife had shelled out $200 for pillows, took the old pillows, and hadn't even delivered any new pillows. It didn't sound legit.

"Let us see your business license, please," one of the officer's demanded.

"We plan on getting one tomorrow," Softy said.

"Then you can pay the fine tomorrow, after a restful night in the slammer. We know your kind and you are not welcome in this town."

"Now wait a second," Eliza said.

"What is it you'd like to say, Ma'am. Do you both want to spend the night in the slammer?"

"Officer, if we were giving out bibles door to door would you be so adamant that we have a license?" Eliza argued.

"Well, no, but pillows ain't bibles."

"Pillows may be better than bibles." Eliza blurted out, but then regretted what she had said.

"Excuse me, but we respect the lord's word in these parts," the other officer said.

"What I meant, sirs, is that if you have had a long day and you are really tired and you want to lay down your head . . . which would you use, a bible or a pillow?"

"An interesting argument, Ma'am. I'm glad you added that or we would have thrown away the key."

"Officers, just give us a second of your time. Would you both lay down on the bed a moment and put your head on our pillows. I think you'll experience a moment of relaxation? Do you know that your head weighs about 15 lbs? That is a lot of weight for the average pillow. Imagine the effect on your lovely town if everyone woke up with a smile on their face." Eliza couldn't believe that she was asking the officers to try out the pillows. Nor could Softy believe his partner couldn't keep her trap shut.

"Buster, what do you think? Can it hurt any if we lay down . . . just for a moment?"

The Argument

2007-09-19T11:07:00.000-05:00

Even though Dusty had second thoughts about converting her house to a public nuisance, as the officers called it, she was not going to take defeat sitting down.

"Officers, are you men of G_D?" she asked.

"Why yes, Ma'am, the lord is our shepherd," the tallest of the two officers responded.

"Well you then take a closer look at one of my bunnies."

"Ma'am, you are using one of the oldest trick in the book. Every day people use all kinds of excuses to talk us out of things. Any seasoned officer of the law has heard all the excuses and is resistant to falling for them."

"This is not an excuse. We both walk in the shadow of the lord (here she was getting her scriptures confused) and we need to be mindful of all beings, sentient and otherwise (and now she was getting her religious mixed up)."

"You use some impressive words, Ma'am. What would you like us to do?"

"Well, come over here and get down on your knees."

"You aren't going to knock us out with a stick," one of the officers joked.

"Of course not. Just come over here and spend a few minutes with one of the bunnies."
Dusty said very politely as she handed each of the men a magnifying glass.

"Now look at the bunnies and notice their luscious garb. Notice the sheen in their hairs. Notice how they tend to quiver as they look back at you (unbeknownest to the men, she blew gently on the bunny to make it quiver a little)."

"Wow!" one of the officers exclaimed, "did you see that guy move."

"Hold on to your gun," the other office warned.

"No, take a look at that little critter. She is a real looker!"

SCAM!

2007-09-18T17:21:00.000-05:00

Dusty took the woman's two pillows and carried them, with two "new" pillows to their hotel room.

As she started to go up the stairs the clerk said, "Hey Lady, what are you doing with all of our pillows."

"Excuse me, sir, but we sell pillows and these aren't your pillows."

"He nodded and went back to reading his magazine."

When she got to the room Softy was stretched out on the bed fast asleep.

"Wake up, sleepy one, I have some good news."

"Wh...a...t is it my lov...e?"

"I sold two pillows. Got $200 and their old pillows."

"Not bad, for an amateur. When I was starting out I once went to a children's home and sold a case of pillows. That's one hundred, you know."

"Shhhh... How could you do that to a bunch of poor kids?"

"They were thrilled to have new pillows."

"New? You mean old pillows with new covers."

"Dusty, you need to realize that there isn't any such thing as a new feather. Feather come from chickens, and you never know where a chicken has been. A pre-owned feather actually has less particulate matter on it than newly plucked feather. The foreign debris has had a chance to fall off."

"Be quiet and help me reconstitute these pillows. I've had enough of your stories for today."

"Your wish is my command, Eliza."

"Hey, who is knocking on the door."

Success or Busted

2007-09-17T14:10:00.000-05:00

Success is a two edged sword. As Emily Dickinson wrote, "Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed." In the first place, Dusty had gotten used to her private fetish being private. Now that the lights were on, and that it was out in the open, she was not so interested in the bunnies. She had risen from being unknown to being infamous.

She was concerned whether the public really liked the bunnies, or whether they were just laughing at her. And was Augusta in it for the money, or because he cared about her?

Would the bunnies stick around? What is like for a bunny to be examined in the flesh with a magnifier? "Look at that funny one," someone would say.

It was a hard moment for Dusty. She planned to have a talk with Augusta that evening.

As some tears came down her cheeks, she saw two men from city hall come through the door. They didn't look happy.

"We've had some complains from the neighbor, ma'am. Your house is a residence. You can't just hang up a sign and make in a darn sanctuary. You are not even supposed to have those bunnies, anyway. I thought Augusta and his crew cleaned them up. Augusta, what are you doing here? Are you a part of this?"

The Customer

2007-09-16T14:36:00.000-05:00

Eliza had to restrain herself from selling a pillow to her eager customer. Sure, she could have sold one pillow. But her goal was to sell both pillows, not to leave any "new" pillows behind, to get full price for the pillows, to have the customer to sell some pillows to her friends, to get the cash in advance, and to get the customer's old pillows before delivering the new ones.

As Eliza was learning the ropes she was also learning the true meaning of Chutzpah. In its purest form, chutzpah is unrestrained audacity. It is difficult to say no to someone with chutzpah because they take permissions for their actions with such confidence.

Anyone can sell a good product for a low price. The opposite is more difficult. A true salesman takes pride in being able to sell anything to anyone. That is the meaning of being a professional.

Eliza was a quick study. Her customer believed that she had a new best friend who had a mission in life to deliver unadulterated sleep to her and her husband.

She almost gagged when her customer brought out her husband's pillow. Not only was it lumpy. Not only was it flat. Not only did it smell. It had the most disgusting stains that she ever seen.

"Listen, Miss. If I was a salesperson, I'd tell you that was the worst pillow I had ever seen. If I was youR best friend, I'd tell you the same. I'm supposed to be an impartial researcher, but for the moment I'm going to step out of those shoes. Your husband should not be sleeping on that pillow."

"But why? He says it is his best friend."

"Well, you either like him or hate him. If you like him, you don't want him to die from the diseases in such an atrocity. And if you hate him, you don't want him to lose him mind from ceropity, do you?"

"Ceropity? What is that?"

"It is not a common disease, but we are seeing more and more breakouts now that people are keeping their pillows longer and longer. I'm going to have to take your husband's pillow. I promise I'll have a new pillow back for him before he comes home from work. And because I'm not supposed to be selling you anything, I'll give it to you at cost. In fact, I'd like to be able to bring you two pillows back for you and your husband. Now go get me your pillow."

"But what will the pillows cost?"

"Cost? What does a bout of ceropity cost? What does it cost to bury a husband and find a new one?"

"I guess you are right. I'll have to go to the bank. How much will I owe you."

"$200 for the two pillows. I'll get in trouble selling them so cheap. But I want you and your husband to be safe, starting tonight. Doing pillow research is my opportunity to make the world a better place. Now go get your pillow so I can be on my way."

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Opening Day

2007-09-15T16:54:00.000-05:00

The sanctuary was ready and the bunnies were dressed in some fresh dust. Augusta spent the night on the couch so he'd be able to be ready for the crowds at day break. They had forgotten to mention the hours on some of the publicity so Dusty and Augusta figured some would come at dawn.

The Hummer was gassed up and ready for the crowds. Dirty Hairy was assigned the task of keeping people from walking up the road. Only 4 people were let into the sanctuary at a time, and no kids under 10.

No one complained about the $5 tickets and everyone was delighted to see the bunnies under the magnifying lens. Dusty gave a little talk to each crowd which became more polished as the day progressed.

My dear friends of the Dust Bunny Sanctuary. Some day you'll be able to tell your children and grandchildren that you were here on the first day we were open to the public. I congratulate you for your choice to spend this fine day in a sanctuary with such a divine presence.

As you experience the bunnies, please try to feel the sensations you get from them. Notice their hairy texture and the variety of their colorations. It is not necessary to conceptualize your reaction with them. Just be with the bunnies and they will be with you. They will become your angels and will guide you through good and bad times.

Enough said. Now enjoy my friends and when you get home, stop cleaning and enjoy your dirt for the diamond that it is.

Perhaps Dusty went a little far, but the crowd loved it. It was evident that Dusty and Augusta would need to start taking reservation because the lines were going out to the highway.

Success had come to Dustland.

Lots has Happened

2007-09-14T11:05:00.000-05:00

Alfred called his buddy the detective to put out an all-points bulletin for Eliza. His buddy owed him because Alfred saved his life in Nam.

In the meantime, Softy and Eliza set out in opposite directions with pillows under their arms. They had a somewhat healthy competitive spirit to see who can sell the most pillows.

Eliza knocked on the door of her first customer.

"Hello, I'm representing one of the largest door-to-door pillow marketing companies and we are gather marketing ideas for the development of a new line. Unfortunately we don't have any pillows to sell you, but we'd like to show you our newest model. May I come in."

Eliza knew that everyone wants what they can't have. Lying was becoming second nature to her.

"Sure, come in. My husband is always complaining about his pillow. And yet when I try to get him a new one he complains that it is too stiff. Doesn't anyone make a pillow that is soft right out of the box."

"Would you bring out his pillow. I'd like you to compare it to this one that I have underneath my arm."

"Sure. I'd love to show you the disgusting lump that he calls his best friend. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could switch it out and he wouldn't even notice it."

"Remember, I'm not selling these pillows. I'm just looking for some marketing opinions. But maybe something can be worked out at a later date."

"We'll, let me get his lump of a pillow. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, that will be nice."

The Grand Opening

2007-09-13T10:42:00.000-05:00

Progress went lightening fast on the commercialization of the sanctuary. The press release was written and Augusta gave it to his friend on the newspaper. His friend started to roll on the floor laughing, thinking it was a joke.

Augusta almost lost his temper, but instead laughed with his friend a little and then admitted that the sanctuary was out of the ordinary and that is why the sanctuary should be of interest to the public.

Well, the newspaper ran the article, and understandably it caused a lot of commotion. One prominent citizen wrote a letter to the editor:

How dare you run an article about a dust sanctuary. Do you not respect the Christian value that cleanliness is next to godliness? Do you not realize that dust bunnies are the eye sore in any home and to glorify those buggers is nothing less than sin? Get off your high horse of tolerance and grow back your moral backbone.

Well, the letter and the fact that the sanctuary was now the main topic of conversation in Dustland was great PR for the opening. In fact, for opening day, Dusty and Augusta decided to limit the visits to 5 minutes so that more people could go through.

Then Augusta painted large bunnies on the doors of the Hummer and on the side of the house. Dusty was pleased with the progress, though concerned that the bunnies were not yet arranged safely in the house and that the path for the visitors was not yet indicated on the floor.

With the opening two days away, they decided that they'd spend the next day on these issues. Augusta came back with a thin red carpet to indicate where people should walk, and some magnifying glass for the visitors.

He called the power company and got the electricity turned on. He worked out a payment plan with them for Dusty to pay her past bills off.

The sun was shining brightly on Dusty's Sanctuary. It was a good day in Dustland.

A New Day

2007-09-12T08:28:00.000-05:00

Softy and Eliza drove into the sunrise, believing that they had Alfred's blessing.

Far from a blessing, Alfred was so furious that he could barely see well enough to drive to work. Then he remembered their meager savings in the local National City Bank and realized that he should go by the bank on the way to work. He discovered that she had taken all their savings, which added considerably to his fury.

He did go to work, however, knowing that he'd be out on the street without his job if he missed another day of work. "How am I going to pursue Eliza and keep my job?" he muttered to himself.

It wasn't long before Softy and Eliza got hungry and decided to stop for breakfast. They'd had never been to a restaurant together.

Softy ordered eggs sunny side up, but not runny, toast with half of a pad of butter, and coffee with a little nutmeg.

Unbelievably, Eliza ordered the same and they then knew that they were made in Heaven for each other.

"Do you think I really should have taken all the savings, Softy?"

"You said you were just borrowing it. With your brains and my experience, we'll be able to pay him back with interest."

"Don't you think I ought to give him a call or write him a letter. I certainly don't want him to come after me."

"He find some chick and forget about you and the money before the sun sets."

"I hope so."

"Do you think we could sell some pillows in this town?"

"Let's give it a try."

The Press Release

2007-09-11T07:15:00.000-05:00

It was starting to get dark so Dusty lit a candle. Then she proceeded to write the press release.

Hear ye, hear ye . . .

"Dusty, this is not a resolution, it is a press release."

"Ok, if you are so smart Augusta, you write it."

"Don't mind if I do."

Announcing the opening of the Mid-America Dust Bunny Sanctuary

"I didn't mean that you'd name the sanctuary. I started it, so I should name it. How about "Dusty's Home for the Ignored?"

"That's a little esoteric, whatever that means. How will they know who the ignored are, and suppose that people want to be taken in by the home because they feel ignored. You don't want that, do you? How about "Home for Destitute Dust Bunnies (HDDB)?"

"I like that, Augusta."

Home for Destitute Dust Bunnies (HDDB)
Starting September 15 Dusty and Augusta will be . . . .

"Augusta, I never agreed that we'd be partners."

"Well, we better settle that first. May I be a partner in your enterprise? I want none of the profits. I just want to see your sanctuary prosper."

"That is very sweet Augusta. How about a "limited partnership?" You'll be the directer of the shuttle service and PR."

"Ok, if that all you'll give me for now, I'll have to take it."

"Good. Now keep writing before the candle burns out."

Alfred Comes to his Senses

2007-09-10T08:13:00.000-05:00

Alfred fell asleep in his chair, leaving the TV on. Eliza was glad of that so she wouldn't have to make excuses why he couldn't make love (if you want to call it that) to her.

The morning sun burst through the window and awoke him. He staggered into the shower, knowing that it was his only chance to get to work looking decent and on time. His boss had threatened to fire him numerous times because of his slovenly appearance and tardiness. He knew that a cat had nine lives and he wasn't as lucky as a cat.

He forgot to turn on the light in the bathroom. His head hurt from his drinking, and anyway, bright lights were not what he wanted for breakfast.

He reached to adjust the shower head and felt the rolled letter hanging from the shower. "What's this?" he said to himself.

He unrolled the letter, turned on the lights, and started reading. He then remembered that Eliza told him the night before that she was leaving him. His face turned red with anger.

"There is no way that bitch is leaving me," he said out loud, "Eliza, Eliza, come here this instant."

But the house was quiet and he figured the worst. She had left already.

He knew that he couldn't afford to lose his job, so he put the letter on the sink and went back into the shower. He knew that he'd come up with a plan to find Eliza and she'd be sorry that she had run out on him. "That bitch will never run out on me again," he muttered to himself with confidence.

Dusty Listens to the Plan

2007-09-09T17:03:00.000-05:00

If Dusty or her bunnies weren't in such a predicament she would not have been so eager to hear Augusta's plan. This was a time when something needed to be done or her house and its residents (the dust bunnies) would be evacuated.

"Well, Dusty, my idea is that you charge people to come and see some your bunnies. Initially you could just open up one room, and you'd hand people magnifiers and they'd come and see your bunnies. There is not too much happening in Dustland and people will appreciate the opportunity for a new experience. You could even play dust bunny music, wear a dust bunny hat, and serve bunny lemonade. But let's start . . . ."

"Hey, wait a second mister, you are on probation. You are assuming that we'll be partners."

"Didn't you notice how I cleaned up, stepped gently, and brought you flowers?"

"Yes, but what will you look like tomorrow? In any case, keep talking. What could I charge people?"

"I think people will be thrilled to pay $5 for the opportunity to see a few of your most interesting bunnies."

"I'm interested. But they will have to take their shoes off and step on designated marks on the floor. We can't take any chances. How do you think we could get the word around?"

"Press releases are the best and cheapest way. Other than signs, that is. Let's do a sign on the highway, and a press release."

"Sounds great. If we write the press release, can you type it at work so it looks good."

"Sure, I'll be glad to do that. And I know someone at the newspaper."

"Say, I don't have any parking."

"Dusty, I've thought of everything. I get to use my Hummer on my day off. How about if I shuttle people from the road to your house one day a week. They'll get 15 minutes at the sanctuary for $5, and then they get shuttled back."

"Yes, and they'll love the Hummer ride as well as the bunnies. And we could ask them to become members of the sanctuary society that will entitle them to one free tour of the sanctuary each month. That way I'll get a little cash flow right away to get the utilities turned on."

"Now your thinking!"

Dusty hugged Augusta and then went off to find some paper and a pen to write the press release.

Letter for the Shower

2007-09-08T15:00:00.000-05:00

Eliza decided to write Alfred a letter because he tended to be confused about what she would say to him. She'd leave it hanging from the shower. His most sober moments tended to be in the morning when he took a shower.

Dear Alfred,

My name is Eliza. That might seem like a casual repetition of a fact you already know, but I'm leaving you because you don't really get it. I never wanted to be primarily a woman, or your wife, or even a homosapien. I just wanted to be Eliza and to surround myself with others you recognize me as such. It is not primarily my mission in life to wash your dishes or stinky underwear. It is my mission to be me.

I am here, or am I? Some part of me has been married to you, trying moment by moment to recreate that original love that I had for you. But when you come home, day after day, drunk and stupid and mean, it is hard to be here, and I tend to live more in the positive aspects of my past, or in the hope I have for the future.

In a sense all of us Earthlings are here and everywhere. We host atoms who belong to everyone who is, was, and will be alive. We have histories that go back to the beginning of time, and dreams that extend to the end of time. Part of me will always be here with you, and part of you will be here with me, no matter where I go.

I'm not sure what the "I" is of me. That is going to be my search. What will it look like as I paint this picture of "I" with words, with actions, and pictures? Who is Eliza?

In my search for her, you certainly will be part of my heart and soul. And I thank you for that.

Peace be with you, Alfred.

Your loving partner,

Eliza

Eliza went to the bathroom and tied a string to the shower head. At the other end of the string she put the letter, rolled up tightly.

Augusta Starts to Sell "the Idea"

2007-09-07T12:18:00.000-05:00

As Augusta walked toward the door of Dusty's house with some trepidation. Part of him was attracted by her caring nature, and part was repulsed by her squalor. Then he remembered his plan, and confidently proceeded.

The door opened slowly before he was able to knock on it. Dusty always did that so as to not stir around the dust bunnies. Augusta realized that the safety of the bunnies must be a high priority if they decide to commercialize the sanctuary.

"Hello Dusty, it is good to see you."

"I am glad that you have returned, Augusta, and you look like quite the gentleman. May I take your hat? Would you like something to drink."

Augusta knew that giving her his hat was one thing, but getting something to drink was courting danger.

"Here's my hat. I don't need anything to drink. Just had breakfast."

"Will, come on in."

As Augusta came it, he walked very carefully to avoid the bunnies. In fact, to the outsider, it might have looked that he was doing a ballet dance as he stepped so carefully on the few spots of floor that weren't already occupied.

"Augusta, I assume by your dress and manner that you took some of my suggestions to heart. I'm so proud of you for doing that. I know that it must have been a blow to your ego to hear such criticisms."

"Dusty, I have taken seriously your suggestions and find them helpful and reasonable. I do have an idea that I'd like to discuss with you for the dust bunny sanctuary."

"Augusta, before you start I need to let you know that I don't think I'll be here long. I owe five years of back taxes and have no income. I can't get welfare because I own the house, and I can't live in the house anymore unless I can get welfare. Great to be in America, isn't it."

"Let's not start comparing America with some other countries that I've been in. But I agree that you are in a quandary, and I have just the plan where you can not only stay in your house, but you will get enough money to turn on the utilities. And you'll be able to share your love for dust bunnies with the world."

"I'm all ears," Dusty said.

Eliza Confronts Alfred

2007-09-06T14:23:00.000-05:00

Alfred came home early that night, as Eliza was planning her escape. Her suitcase was packed and hidden behind a bush. It would have been easy to leave Alfred as he was snoring away one more hangover.

And that was the plan. Except Eliza had a smile on her face that she couldn't hide.

"What's going on, Eliza, you have that look on your face?"

"What look is that, Alfred."

"It is the look of having something up your sleeve. Let me look at your sleeve."

Alfred grabs Eliza and tries to pull up her sleeve. When she resists, he tries to kiss her. She resists that too.

"Leave me alone. I told you that I can't stand men who have been drinking."

"The bottom line is that you can't stand me."

"Yes, that's right. I can't stand you."

"Now the truth is coming out."

"And I'm leaving you tomorrow."

"How are you going to do that? I support you."

"That's my problem."

"It certainly will be. Is my mother in on this?"

"No. Of course not."

"So where will you go."

"On a mission of mercy."

"So you're going to become a nun or something."

"More like something."

"Good riddance. I hope to never see you again."

Alfred went to the icebox and got another beer. He opened it and sat in front of the TV, turning it on loudly with his back to Eliza.

"That wasn't so bad. I wonder if he'll really let me go that easily," Eliza wondered.

Augusta Decides

2007-09-05T16:36:00.000-05:00

Augusta’s father always said, “Go for it.” Augusta thought of his father as he made his decision to pursue his relationship with Dusty. But he knew that when he focused on some of her specific traits he was unsure of his decision, so he just focused on those traits that were more to his liking, especially the way she cared for him.

He knew that, if he was going to get her to change, he’d have to change himself, or at least make some pretense. So he decided to put on some regular clothes, a little bit of aftershave, some dress shoes, and pay her a visit. First he made a stop at the flower store, and then a stop at the candy store. "No six pack of beer, maybe a bottle of wine. Maybe flowers and candy are too much,” he thought, “No, maybe flowers this time and save the candy for the next.”

He decided to call Dusty first, but then remembered that she didn’t have a phone. Her poverty was certainly an issue. He wondered if he could get her out of her situation.

He pondered too how she could pay her property taxes. It seemed that she lived on nothing. Certainly she should be able to charge admission for visits to her sanctuary.

The light bulb went on. Before Augusta was a cop he sold air conditioners. He had quite a flair for sizing up his customers and emptying their pockets.

If he could get Dusty sold on the idea of going commercial, perhaps she would be able to afford such things as light and heat. Augusta smiled, thinking, “It is a brilliant idea, if I must say so myself.”

It was one of those days when he was in a hurry, yet every traffic light was red. Finally he pulled into Dusty’s drive and saw her looking out of the window. He hid the flowers behind his back and walked toward her house.

Will Eliza Spy?

2007-09-04T06:34:00.000-05:00

"Softy, I'm having some trouble understanding why you'd go to such lengths to fake your death when you could have just divorced Dusty."

"Dusty would have been so heartbroken if I told her I couldn't stand to live with her."

"But think how devastated she must be to believe that you are dead. And she might be starving to death without any water or heat. You said that she is too strange to be able to work at a job."

"Well, I am worrying about her."

"Worry does not feed the stomach. We need to go to Dustland right now and make sure she is alright."

"But what if she is not. What can we do?"

"We need to take care of her. Somehow?"

"But how?"

"There is only one way. But before we get to that, let's see what the facts are. We'll leave tomorrow for Dustland and we'll only sell enough pillows along the way for gas and a little food. Agreed, partner?"

"Agreed!"

Augusta Cleans Up

2007-09-03T07:01:00.000-05:00

The combination of the remaining lard and Hairy's saliva made August feel especially dirty. "What am I getting into?" he wondered.

His mother had told him to count to 10 when he was faced with a confusing situation. He tried 10, but his confusion remained. "Maybe she meant 100," he thought.

Finally he made it home, sitting on old newspapers in his car so that he wouldn't soil the seats. The lard, unfortunately, dissolved the ink on the newspaper and words, in reverse, covered his legs and cargo shorts.

He threw his clothes in the wash and went right for the shower. He couldn't get the water hot enough or stay in the shower long enough to feel clean again. He got out of the shower, dried himself off, and then decided to show once again. "Now that's better," he concluded.

He became clear about two things taking the second shower: 1) that he could never see Eliza again, that he could take her as she was, or that he could change her and 2) that he would change her as she wanted to change him. "Tit for tat," he thought.

The Big Confession

2007-09-02T10:20:00.000-05:00

"Eliza, I may be a married man. I'm not sure. I was married to a crazy gal named Dusty who runs a dust bunny sanctuary. She and her dog, Dirty Hairy, are filthy. They not only liked dirt— sometimes they both even looked like dirt. Life was a living hell for me.

I needed to get out, and I wanted Eliza to get my pension so she wouldn't starve to death. I knew that she was too far gone to work at a job.

I had a shed behind the house where I conducted chemistry experiments to improve the pillows. I tried to make a synthetic pillow that would cost virtually nothing to produce and would have the softness and recoverability of a feather.

Before I got too far into my research I came up with the idea of faking my death. After exploring a number of options, I decided to blow up the shack and make it look like I was blown up as well. That way Dusty would be able to get my pension, and even remarry, should she find anyone who could stand her.

So on one cold day in October, I made a sort of time bomb with a couple of chemicals and a clock. I was out of the shack just in time and watched the explosion from behind a tree in a forest. I saw Dusty and Dirty starting to run toward the blaze, and then I vanished.

Perhaps curiosity did kill the cat, but I really want to know if Dusty is alive and well, and if she got my pension. Is she heartbroken? Has she found a new man? Did she get remarried? Have I been officially proclaimed dead?

I could use your help here. Obviously it would be a disaster if I went and knocked on her door. I'm wondering if you could do a little leg work for me? If you'll still have me, that is."

A Mess

2007-09-01T10:17:00.000-05:00

It was a sad mess. Dusty greased up Augusta with the lard from the inside of her house, then went outside and pulled him out. Time for a shower, you say? Well, remember that Dusty had no running water.

If Augusta looked bad with the boots, the cargo shorts, and the Hawaiian shirt, he really looked bad covered with lard. And then the flies discovered him. He turned black with a solid layer of flies. He tried rolling on the floor to squish the flies, but Dusty got hysterical, fearing that her bunnies would die too. Finally Dirty Hairy, who had been sleeping, got into the act and started licking the lard off Augusta from head to toes.

Eventually Augusta was lickety clean, so to speak. The flies were sluggish from the great meal, and Dusty was relieved that there was no longer extreme turmoil in his habitat.

"Augusta, that was quite an experience that we had, wasn't it. Some day we may be able to laugh about it. In the meantime, maybe you'd like to take your hat and go home and change. I assume that you decided that change was an acceptable price to pay for our relationship."

"Now wait a second, Dusty. You'll need to tell me how you can like me, and err . . . not like me at the same time?"

"A lot of what we like in a person isn't right in front of us, but it is what we know about them. It is a combination of our experiences and our projection into the past . . . future, I mean."

Dusty talked like one of her university professors. Unfortunately she didn't understand what he meant when she was in college and still didn't understand it any better.

"What arrrre you talking about? You are avoiding my question. But I'm so uncomfortable to be covered with Dirty's saliva, and so confused about our relationship that I will go home. When I clean up maybe I'll be able to see the whole situation with a smidgen of clarity."

"Now don't you forget your hat. I'll be waiting for you. I hope you'll come back. Now I have to feed the bunnies."

Eliza Responds

2007-08-31T06:51:00.001-05:00

"Softy, you must understand that I'm madly in love with you. Perhaps love is blind, but to me you are the savior of humanity.

And to save all those chickens by reusing the feathers . . . what a wonderful idea.

As you were talking, I started wondering if the deception is really necessary, or could we turn your recycling of the feathers into a talking point. Imagine if we said that our pillows use renewable resources. In addition, we call them "peace pillows" because everyone would be sleeping with the energies of others. Feathers are so light that I believe they have a lot of room to soak up energies."

"Eliza, those are interesting ideas. I can see that you'll be a good partner. But perhaps you'll want nothing to do with me when I tell you the rest of my story."

"How could I have nothing to do with you. I love you. And I learned from the Bible that we should not criticize the splinter in your brother's eye until we see the log in our own eye."

"Wait until you hear my story. I've been living alone with this burden for five years now, and I need to tell it to you."

"What could be so terrible, Softy. Did you murder someone?"

"Well, I murdered myself. But let me start from the beginning."

"If you murdered yourself, then you must be dead."

"Not quite. Now be quiet and I'll start from the beginning."

Augusta Arrested by a Dog Door

2007-08-30T19:09:00.000-05:00

"Augusta, you silly thing, you are stuck in the dog door. Shhh Dirty, stop that barking."

"Why didn't you answer my knocks."

"I discovered that one of my bunnies has been murdered. I've had that bunny since Softy left."

"Will you p l e a s e get me out of this door. I think you need to pull me back out from the outside."

Dusty carefully opened the front door (so as to not cause a breeze that would disrupt her bunnies) and went toward the dog door. She grabbed Augusta by the boots and started to pull. It became immediately obvious that he was stuck. She put on her thinking cap and decided to brainstorm: leave him captive stuck in the door, tie a rope to him and to his car and back him out, cut him in half, cover him with lard and slip him out. The last idea seemed the best, as it usually does.

"Augusta, just hold on, I'm going to get some lard and slip you out."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dusty. That is the problem."

"Augusta, please have a sense of humor. It isn't every day that a cop is arrested by a dog door."

"Well, hurry up, will you?"

Dusty went back into the house and got the lard. "This will be very messy," she said to herself with a grin on her face. She went outside, but then decided that it was the part of him on the inside that needed the lard to slip back out. She went back inside and said,"now hold still while I take your shirt off. We don't want to rip the shirt when you come tumbling through the hole."

"Anything. Just do anything to get me out of here. What would the other cops say if they saw me like this?"

The Story, Part 1

2007-08-29T19:09:00.000-05:00

"Eliza, before you get too involved with me, you'll need to know a few things about the pillows that I sell and about my past. Having been raised a good Catholic, I was taught to believe that confession will help the salvation of my soul. I can't really talk to a priest because he might think that what I have done is so bad that he'd turn me over to the authorities.

First, let me tell you about the pillows I sell. I used to buy fairly good pillows from wholesalers. But my credit got worse and worse, and so I had to improvise. If you notice, I always ask the customer for their old pillows. The truth be told, the problem with most pillows is that they haven't been adequately fluffed. I take the old pillows, rid them of their casings, dump the feathers into a heavy duty garbage bag, and viola, I have the makings of a new pillow. Pre-owned, as the car salesmen like to say.

I take the feathers and fill them into a pillow bag, as the industry calls them. Then I whip out that little sewing machine I have in my trunk and sew the seams together. I attach a look-alike label to the brand the Neiman-Marcus sells, and my total cost is never more than a couple of bucks a pillow.

You might think I'm sleazy doing this. I would understand that, but before you jump to any conclusions, please listen to why I believe that I make the world a much better place for all my customers.

As the Buddha discovered, people suffer. He was off-base thinking that the source of suffering was that they did not know their essential self. They suffer because they don't get any comfort at night. And I can alleviate that suffering by selling them a comfortable fluffed pillow.

Now you might wonder why I don't sell the pillows for ten dollars rather than one hundred and forty-nine dollars. We tend to enjoy quality things. And to the novice, there is little difference between quality and expensive. So I make it expensive and they love it.

Eliza, before I go on with the second story, I want to be sure that you are still with me, and that you want to join my missionary, so to speak, and give comfort to the multitudes that suffer so severely."

Augusta Decides

2007-08-28T14:11:00.000-05:00

Augusta cooled down from the criticisms and decided to go back to Dusty's house with Dirty Hairy. He was a forgiving soul and knew that she only meant good with her criticisms.

When he returned to the house he knocked repeatedly on the door. No one answered. Dirty became quite agitated and started barking as they both wondered what happened to Dusty.

He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He knocked again to no avail. Did she leave the house? Was she alright? Augusta did not know.

Dirty Hairy was not going to stand by. He leaped up on Augusta and knocked him down, and then ran off into the house through the dog door.

As Augusta watched Dirty Hairy from the ground, through the corner of his eye, he remembered how he learned to crawl through small holes in basic training in the marines and felt that he could make it through the dog door, or at least give it a "college" try.

So he got up, brushed off some of the mud on his pants, and walked over to the door. He then looked at the door, looked at his waist, and looked again at the door. "It is going to be close," he said to himself, "but I think I can make it."

Augusta sucked in his breath and started through the door. But Dirty Hairy wanted no part of letting Augusta use his door. The dog alternately barked and growled ferociously, making a big raucous. But Augusta was a brave marine and continued through the dog door, only to get stuck half way through. "Should have taken off my pants," he thought.

Then Augusta saw Dusty on the floor apparently staring at a dust bunny with tears rolling down her eyes. She was weeping hysterically.

"Dusty, Dusty," Augusta called out.

Eliza Steps up to the Plate

2007-08-27T06:42:00.000-05:00

Eliza was desperate. She didn't want her opportunity to escape her torturous life to vanish. She decided to use the direct approach since the indirect approach was failing.

"Softy, I would like to go off with you and sell pillows on the road."

"Eliza, why would you ever want to do that? You'd have to leave your husband."

"I'm not sure that I could take another day with him. He treats me so badly, and this town has nothing to offer me."

"But the pillow business is very difficult. Selling to people you know is one thing, but cold calls are another. You have to be on your toes all the time, and you have to be able to stand the abuse."

"Oh, Softy, I would so much like to go under your wings and to learn the ropes."

"But would your husband let you go?"

"Of course not. I'm his virtual slave."

"Then what will you do?"

"I'll pack a suit case, and we'll just go before he comes home."

"Do you have any money? We could use a few bucks to get to the next town."

"I have $500 or so in my bank account. Since it is getting late we'd have to wait until tomorrow to withdraw the money."

"That would be good. We could travel pretty quickly then and he couldn't find us.

"Great. I could have the money and be ready at 10 tomorrow morning."

"Here, give your mother-in-law this pillow. Take her $150. The other pillow we can use in the next town to get orders. Do you think we ought to start selling kid pillows? We could tell people how a good pillow can raise a kid's IQ by 10 points. But we can talk more about that tomorrow."

"Okay, Softy, but before you go, may I kiss you."

"Eliza, of course. But before you do, I need to tell you a story."

Augusta's Dog Walk

2007-08-26T07:02:00.000-05:00

Augusta had never walked a dog before. And this dog hadn't been walked in a long time. When these conditions occur, the dog usually walks the man. If it is a big dog, the dog runs the man. If it is icy or muddy, the man falls down. And if it is a really large dog, the man falls down and is dragged.

Dirty Hairy was bred to be a hunter. A soft mouthed dust bunny hunter, that is. Though no dust bunny would be worth her weight once mixed with canine saliva, training is training, and dirty hairy knew his role in life.

You might be thinking that Dirty, as Dusty called him, would snatch up domesticated bunnies that lived and romped in the house. But no, he knew the difference, and only went after the undomesticated bunnies that lived outside.

Dirty Hairy, like other hunters, had a great sense of smell and could track a bunny for miles. His concentration was perfect, which is why he graduated from his class with honors.

Augusta, on the other hand, had been cut down to nothing with the criticisms. He had great affection for Dusty, which made them sting even deeper. He knew that it would be far easier to simply walk up the road, turn around, take back Dirty to Dusty, and then leave forever.

It initially made no sense to him that this woman who professed to care so deeply for him wanted him to change every bone in his body. "What kind of love is that," he wondered.

Augusta, being a cop, was in pretty good shape. To remain a cop, he had to work out two times a week and to keep his weight and body fat under control. But still, it was quite a challenge to keep two feet on the muddy ground with Dirty tracking ever bunny that was within his sniff.

So Augusta's focus went back and forth between attempting to figure out the "dilemma," as he decided it was, and trying to stay on his feet. He had read an article on "mindfulness," and was somewhat confused about how he was supposed to concentrate on his dilemma, and at the same time stay upright. "We always need to be multitasking or our system will break down," he said to himself.

He remembered some of what he learned in his economic class from college and decided that he'd do a cost benefit analysis of becoming Dusty's soul mate vs. running off with his tail between his legs.

If he ran off, he thought, his life would continue to be relatively devoid of intimacy. But he could enjoy his cigars, his stomping like a bull in a china shop, and his ugly clothes. On the other hand, if we went with Dusty, he could enjoy a new and exciting intimate relationship, but he'd have to tolerate a slightly (to be generous) kookie woman.

The Door

2007-08-25T06:52:00.000-05:00

Eliza's sweaty palms could hardly grip the door. She tried to turn the door knob, but her hand just slid around, never quite being able to turn it. Then her Catholic upbringing started talking to her, "what am I doing? I'm married to a good man." Next the survivor/romantic stepped in, her hand firmly connected with the door knob, and she swung open the door.

There was Softy with two pillows, one under each arm. Softy was about 5'6" and had a beer belly. To see him with a pillow under both arms was a little bit comical, though Eliza only saw the prince on the white horse who had come to save her.

"Softy, Softy," she said, "it is lucky that you've brought me some more pillows. Madonna wants to buy one."

"Hi Eliza. I thought that you might sell one. You were so enthusiastic about the pillows. You know that is the secret of good salesmanship. To truly love your product." Eliza thought that the second secret was to truly love Softy. Her heart was racing so much she realized that she needed to sit down.

"Come on in and get out of the muggy summer heat Softy."

"Don't mind if I do. Do you have a glass of water?"

"Sure. Would you like it with ice cubes? Maybe a slice of lemon?"

"How about with both? That will be great!"

Softy sat down on the plaid couch, with a king size white pillow on either side of him. Eliza went to the kitchen to get him his water. When she returned, she realized that it would be difficult to sit next to him because of the pillows, so she took one of the pillows and put it on the easy chair, and then plopped herself next to Softy, but because of the softness of the couch she probably ended up closer that she intended. She figured that if God had wanted things to be different he wouldn't have had her own such a soft couch.

Softy was a little uncomfortable being so close to Eliza. He started sweating a little. Eliza noticed the beads rolling down his brow and went to the bathroom to get a washcloth with cold water.

She brought it back to him and lovingly wiped his brow. The wind from the ceiling fan blew against his face and gave him a slight but pleasurable chill.

"Tell me, Eliza, did you have to sell the pillow to your mother-in-law, or did the pillow sell itself."

"Well, the difficult part was to get her to try it out. When she heard the price she wanted nothing to do with either me or the pillow. Finally I made a deal with her and she tried it, and then the pillow itself went into action. Her drunk son-of-a-bitch husband loved the way she looked when she awoke, her bags having disappeared from under her eyes and all, and so he told her to buy it, no matter what the cost."

"That is called a turn-a-round," Softy said. "I love that kind of sale. One minute you wonder why you knocked on the door, and a moment later you want this person to sell pillows for you. How about if we see if Madonna wants to sell pillows as well. You'll get a commission, since you found her, and the two of you could transform your town to becoming a haven for happy bagless under their eyes people.

Eliza was a bit dumbfounded about what to do next. Sure, it was great that Madonna sell pillows, especially if she would get a commission. She felt that she was missing a good opportunity to make the move on Softy.

Augusta Ponders

2007-08-24T08:12:00.000-05:00

"Dusty, you have said some very hurtful things to me. I think I'll take a walk down the road and take in what you said. I learned in a workshop not to react instantly to such criticism."

"Augusta, please remember that it is only because I care for you and that I desire to pursue a relationship with you that I would say such things."

"I know that Dusty. What I'll have to think about is what will be left of me if I become who'd you like me to be. Let me take a walk."

"Would you like to take Dirty Hairy on a walk with you. He'd love that. He hasn't been on a walk with a man since Softy died."

"Sure. I can do that. But remember, I'm not making any response to your criticisms until I have a chance to process what you have said."

In the workshop Augusta learned a good process for taking criticism. Listen, then breathe deeply, then tell the person what you heard, then go away and consider what they have said, and then respond to the criticism (in person, if possible).

"Before I go on a walk, Dusty, I'd like to be sure that I'm hearing your criticism correctly. You want me to change three things: that I dress differently, that I give up cigars, that I give up beer, and that I walk gentler around your bunnies. Is that correct?"

"No, not exactly. I don't mind if you drink beer when you are not around me. And the cigars are fine as long as I don't have to smell them on your breathe. Maybe when you go hunting with the guys. Though I'd like you to be sure not to take any bullets when you go hunting so you are sure not to kill anything."

"Dusty, now you are going too far. Way too far."

Then Augusta remembered that he needed to process her criticisms so he took the leash that Dusty was holding in her hand and hooked it on to Dirty Hairy and they left in a flash, with Dirty Hairy leading the way down the road.

Softy Returns?

2007-08-23T07:21:00.000-05:00

Eliza slept much later than usual. Having spent much of the night thinking about Softy cut in on her sleep, so that when she finally did fell asleep it was hard to wake up.

As well, she didn't want to face Alfred that morning, who'd be groaning about his hangover and about how we should just kill all the people in the world who weren't white and Christians. He wasn't a very nice man.

When she did awake, she listened carefully to see if Alfred had left the house before she opened her eyes. One advantage of living with a loud husband is that you always know when he's around, she thought.

She did not hear him, so she took a quick shower and put on some slightly enticing clothes for Softy. She contemplated packing but then decided that would be a little premature. And if Alfred should find the suitcase she'd be raked over the coals, or at least locked in a closet again.

After the shower and getting dressed she had a little breakfast. She didn't want to eat too much because her jeans were already so tight, and besides, this was as good of a time as any to start getting ready for a swimsuit.

Then she turned on the television to pass the time until Softy came. The first program was about people who loved animals more than humans, and the next was about women who left their abusive husbands. This was "close to home," she thought.

As she became more and more immersed in the stories of what these women endured, she momentarily forgot about Softy, only to be jolted out of TV land by a couple of sweet and non-threatening knocks on her door. Eliza quickly made sure her hair looked good and that her almost see through blouse was tucked in to her jeans. Then she ran to door following her racing heart. Was this Softy at the door? Was this her opportunity to have the kind of life she had dreamed of?

Dusty Reforms

2007-08-22T07:24:00.000-05:00

Dusty is totally disgusted with Augusta. She is so put out by his rough manner, slovenly dress, smelly cigars, and awful beer. She realizes that she has three choices: tolerate him, throw him out, or change him.

She decides that toleration will not add to the quality of her life. And neither will throwing him out. So she decides to change him. He already has shown that he can change, as he moved from wanting to clean her dust bunnies up to recognizing that they are decent beings.

"Augusta, I am very disappointed in you. The other day you were a perfect gentleman. You were wearing that beautiful uniform with the six pointed star. You didn't smoke a god awful cigar, and you didn't have a six pack of beer. In addition, you walked gently around the house, careful not to squish any of my fair hairy friends.

If you'd like to be here with me, which I would love, you'll have to clean up your act. What will it be?"

No one had ever spoken to Augusta like this. Dusty certainly was going out on a limb giving Augusta this ultimatum. Had she made a terrific mistake? Would Augusta leave with his tail between his legs, never to return?

Hairy is quite agitated by Augusta as well. He joins in with Dusty's tirade by barking and growling. Augusta is red-faced, somewhere between being embarrassed and angry. No one had ever spoken to him this way, though he remembered as a kid that his mom had talked to his dad like this every day when he came home drunk. Finally his dad had enough and left for good. Augusta wondered if he should leave and put an end to this insane abuse.

Eliza Looks for Softy

2007-08-21T06:04:00.000-05:00

Eliza didn't have a good way to contact Softy. She just had to wait and endure Alfred's foul breath and torrential wrath.

As she went to bed that night, with her head on her new pillow, she positioned her body as far as she could from Alfred. She turned her head toward the door and thought about how her life with Softy might be. They could be a real team since she had such a flair for selling and Softy knew his way around the country.

Eliza had no idea that Softy was married, and that he had abandoned his wife, Dusty. And she did not know that he was supposed to not only be dead but disintegrated as well.

As she laid on the pillow, she decided to run through a day with Softy, starting with how she'd wake up early one morning while Alfred was still asleep and get her packed lavender bag that was hidden behind the bushes on the side of her house and then she'd meet Softy down at the corner and they leave her little hick town behind in the fog.

They stop at roadside truckstops and eat apple pie and chocolate ice cream for breakfast, and work out the details for scoring a few pillow sales to get her through the day. Each day, except Sunday, she'd work hard with Softy. On Sunday she and Softy would sleep in until noon, and then after a leisurely lunch, would take a walk and look at store windows discussing what they'd buy with all their pillow money. Maybe some day they could buy a house and a swimming pool. Of course, she'd have to start doing something about the way she looked so that Softy would like to see her in a bathing suit.

After their daily strategy sessions, they'd separate and she'd focus on selling and he'd focus on leads for the following day. As well, it would be Softy's job to buy pillows from the pillow companies, which he'd be able to do because he knew them all and was able to get the pillows on consignment.

As she daydreamed on, only to be interrupted by Alfred's repeated nudges for sexual favors, she imagined how at the end of each day they'd have dinner at some expensive hotel, and she'd tell Softy about all the pillows she had sold, and also how she was going to clinch some sales tomorrow where she had left pillows today.

Each evening they would watch television in their hotel room and zone out from a hectic but fun day. As the late movie ended, they'd go to bed and hold each other tightly as they slept. It would be a much better life that her existence with Smelly Alfred, she thought.

Before long Eliza dropped off to sleep, only to be awakened periodically by Alfred's awful snoring. She'd repeatedly give him a sharp elbow in the ribs, and he'd shut up for a few minutes giving her a short and punctuated respice.

Augusta Returns

2007-08-20T06:45:00.000-05:00

Though Dusty vowed not to fall asleep until Augusta came, she was wiped out from her long day and fell into a deep sleep.

She had an amazing dream about her dust bunnies having a meeting and deciding that they would come to her as a group and insist that she go out and look for Augusta. As the dream continued, she did find him, but he was in trouble, hanging on for his life on a root at the edge of a cliff. She pulled him to safety and he kissed her with a kiss that seemed to go on forever.

She was awakened with a knock on the door. She ran frantically to the door and said that she'd be there in a minute, then ran to the kitchen, stubbed her toe on some debris, splashed some water on her face, and went back to open the door.

Augusta was at the door so she opened it very carefully as to not to disturb any of her bunnies. What she saw was not quite the same man about which she had been fantasizing.

She remembered Augusta in his uniform with the six pointed star. He was wearing cargo shorts and a blue flowered Hawaiian shirt. He had a cigar hanging out of his mouth and a six pack in his hand. It looked like he hadn't shaved for a few days.

"Let me come in," he said.

"Well. Ok."

Dusty followed Augusta who clumsly trod across the floor, dropped his seat into the couch dislodging a large cloud of dust, and then opened a beer. Remembering his manners, he said, "Dusty, wanna a beer?"

Madonna Tries

2007-08-19T19:31:00.000-05:00

Madonna had a long day, and the instant that her head hit the pillow she fell sound asleep. Eliza had quite a long day as well, so she decided to take a nap and let Madonna enjoy the benefits of a truly soft pillow.

Hours later they were both awakened by Madonna's husband, Alfred. He came in like a tornado, red in the face from too much sun and too much drinking. He started yelling at Madonna and Eliza, "what are you girls doing here . . . sleeping on the job?"

Both Madonna and Eliza were started by Alfred's rough demeanor. Madonna started to meekly answer Alfred, but before a word came out of her mouth, Alfred took one look at her and said, "is that the same woman who is my wife?" He wasn't one for a lot of complements.

"What do you mean, Alfred?"

"Mean. I mean, you look so refreshed. And those god-awful rings are gone from under your eyes. Did you get one of those operations? That will set us back."

"Alfred, Eliza is selling these wonderful pillows and I just had the sleep of my life."

"And you look great. I don't care about the price. Just give Eliza her due and I'll take you out to dinner."

Madonna slipped Eliza $149 and Eliza promised to bring Madonna a new pillow within a couple of days. Eliza couldn't wait to tell Softy of her success. Perhaps she could make enough money to run off with someone like Softy and leave her little hick town and drunk husband behind.

Slipping on a Ice Cube

2007-08-18T22:24:00.000-05:00

Dear Dusty,

No sooner had I dropped the last letter to you in the mail box had I received a call from my boss on my cell phone. The current head of our homeland terrorism unit slipped on an ice cube and broke his hip. To make a long story short, I have been given the job until he recovers, with the added bonus that I'll be his assistant when he is able to come back.

The good news is that I'll be remaining in town. The bad news is that I'll be out of the unit of conforming those like my lovely Dusty who harbor undomesticated animals, so I won't be able to assist your friends.

I would like to see you again and I will call on you soon.

Affectionately,

Augusta

Dusty was overjoyed to say the least. What had appeared to be a tragedy was now a wish come true. She went back to the house and decided to prepare herself for Augusta's return.

First she decided to iron her clothes. This was a little difficult without electricity, but she built a fire in the fireplace and heated up the iron. It worked fairly well except it left some odd soot shapes on her white blouse.

Next she decide to wash up. She had a pail of rain water that she had collected and a bar of coat saved from when Softy used to do a lot of traveling. She scrubbed her hands and face, but left one finger dirty so that her friends would recognize her.

Then see went back to her waiting routine: pacing, sleeping, dreaming, and then meditating. When would Augusta come? What would it be like to see him now that she had decided to give him her heart?

Another Try

2007-08-17T21:12:00.000-05:00

Eliza has made a resolution not to give up too easily. She recognized immediately a number of problems that would be the result of leaving Madonna's home. For one, it would be harder to face Madonna in the future, and for another, she'd have to explain to her husband where $150 had been spent. He might throw her out as well.

She remembered a movie she had seen about a civil rights march and decided to just simple lay on the ground limp. Madonna would have to figure some new strategy to deal with the woman who stole her only son.

"Eliza, you can't just lay there on my floor. I need to get the house ready for my bridge club."

"Madonna, I'm going lay here on the floor until you try the pillow."

"Eliza, there is no way that I'll put my head on a $149 pillow."

"That is your choice Madonna."

"If I put my head on the pillow I might stain it with my hair spray and then you'll tell me that I have to buy it."

"No. This particular pillow is the one I bought. Should you decide to buy one, it will be a brand spanking new one."

"Ok, then, I'll lay my head on the pillow if you'll promise to leave before my friends come over."

Madonna grabs the pillow and throws in onto the couch. You could almost hear the pillow shreak she threw it so hard. Then she laid her head on the pillow for a millisecond, and then threw the pillow back at Eliza."

"Ok, Eliza, I tried the pillow and it is terrible."

"You didn't close your eyes and relax."

"I don't have time to relax."

"And I don't have time to leave," Eliza said, "put the pillow under your head and close your eyes and count to 100. Then I'll leave."

"Promise."

"Yes, I promise."

Reversing Time

2007-08-16T23:05:00.000-05:00

Dear Dusty,

I’m sorry that I did not have time to tell you in person, but I’ve been reassigned to Port Herman and will be leaving tomorrow. The evening I spent with you was one of the most special evenings of my life, and I regret not being able to get to know you better.

If you are in the Port Herman area, please look me up. In the meantime, please take care of your dust bunnies. I have left word with my superiors that you no long are harboring non-domesticated animals so your friends should be safe.

Yours truly,

Augusta Hitchcock

Dusty could barely believe her eyes, and thought for a moment that perhaps the tears in her eyes were creating the words. She wiped them away with her soiled shirttail and then read the letter once more. Unfortunately, her first reading was correct.

Here she had made a choice to give her heart to Augusta and now he was gone. This thought brought about another round of tears, and then the rational side of Dusty came out. She remembered how, in the Superman movie, Superman was able to reverse time by flying around the world, faster than the speed of light, in the opposite direction of its orbit. Not being much of a flyer, Dusty had another idea.

What would happen, she questioned (remembering again the Zen riddle of the hand clapping in the forest) if I just put the letter back in the mailbox. If I had never read the letter if wouldn’t be in my mind, would it?

She carefully resealed the letter and placed it into the mailbox. She really wanted to be sure not to see this letter again, so she stuck it toward the back of the box.

But something was in the way. Lo and behold, it was another letter from Dusty. Could it be that something has changed, she thought?

She dried her eyes and sat down to read the new letter. She noticed in this letter the same aftershave lotion that she loved so much on Augusta’s skin.

Cranky Mother-in-law

2007-08-15T23:18:00.001-05:00

Eliza dropped by her mother-in-law’s house. She was confident and eager that this would be an easy sell. Softy, who was a master salesman, had sold her on the idea of the $149 pillow. She walked in with the pillow under her arm.

“Madonna, I have the most exciting pillow for you. You are going to love it. No more sleepless nights or waking up with bags under her eyes.”

Madonna was quite embarrassed about the bags under her eyes, and talked about them frequently. But if anyone else mentioned them she was ready to chop their head off.

“What do you mean “bags.” Do I look that terrible? What is wrong with your marriage that you always have to come over here and insult me?”

“Madonna, you are very beautiful for your age,” Eliza said, putting her foot deeper in her mouth.

“For my age. And tell me, why are you so cruel?”

“Please, let’s start all over. I have a pillow that will bring peace and contentment to your life.”

“Hey, listen lady. You may be frustrated with that son of mine, but I don’t need no damn pillow to be happy.”

At this point Eliza was getting quite frustrated. She was starting to wonder if she could sell pillows to anyone. Everything she said seemed to unsell this spectacular product that she had.

“Will you please just lay your head down on this pillow and close your eyes.”

“Eliza, that is the oldest trick in the house. Then you’ll steal some of my silverware and . . . “

“Madonna, I’ve made a good faith effort to do something nice for you, and you are full of such evil suspicions.”

“Ok. Ok. I’ll try out your pillow. How much is the pillow, anyway?”

“How much does a sleepless night cost you? How much is spent on sleeping pills in the United States each year?”

“Don’t con me, you daughter of a bitch. Just tell me how much is the pillow and I’ll put my head on it.”

“Madonna, it is $149 and worth every cent of it.”

“No pillow is worth $149.”

“How can you say that? You haven’t even tried it. Suppose you got so much rest that you could see a way to clean up your house a little?”

“And now you are calling me a bad housekeeper. Girl, you better get out of here before I throw you out of the window . . . pillow and all.”

With that, Eliza, in tears running down her cheek and a pillow under her arm, made a beeline to the front door.

A Letter from Augusta

2007-08-14T23:20:00.001-05:00

Siddhartha learned to wait. Though I question how hard that is once you are mindful of the present and dispense of the past and future.

Waiting for Augusta was another matter. What should you do when you wait? Pace, sleep, dream, or meditate?

Dusty decided that she’d try all four, and then start rotating between then.

Pacing was a little bit precarious, since half of her bunnies were now back on their feet, so to speak. She had to walk very softly so as to not squish any of the bunnies. She remembered the Alexander class she took many years ago with Softy where they learned to be (almost) weightless. The bunnies appreciated how Dusty’s feet would just barely graze their backs.

Sleep has its own problems. We never look very good when we first wake up, so she didn’t want to be asleep when he knocked on the door. And besides, she didn’t like to jump out of bed upon awakening because she might hurt her fair hairy friends.

Dreaming is not a bad strategy for passing the time, especially dreaming while awake. The problem with dreaming is that it can raise one’s anxiety level because our mind races at such a crazy pace with all kinds of thoughts seemingly randomly interjecting themselves into every nook and cranny of our brain.

Meditation is good unless one goes too far and loses any connection with either their self or the world. Then it is like sliding down a muddy hill and having nothing to grab on to.

One by one Dusty cycled through these strategies, perking her ear up with every creak she heard in her house, hoping that it’d be Augusta’s boots walking up her driveway.

Pacing, sleeping, dreaming, and then meditating . . . and then starting all over. Day would turn to night, and night would turn to morning. Before long, days had passed and she wondered if Augusta even got her letter, so she walked down to the mailbox and discovered that not only had the postman picked up her letter to send to Augusta, but that she had received a letter back.

It must have been doused with Augusta’s aftershave lotion because she knew it from him as soon as she opened the mailbox. Her heart started racing. What was in the letter?

A Can of Beans

2007-08-13T23:59:00.000-05:00

Softy now had $75 in his pocket, enough for a few nights at the Crazy Eight Motel, and then some left over for some pillows.

As he walked back to the hotel he met a man who was obviously destitute. The man gave Dusty some sad story about he finally had a job he could do, but he needed some “bus money” to get to work. Dusty asked him why the authorities didn’t help him and the man said that he did ask a cop who said that he’d only get a ride if he through a brick through a store window, and that the ride wouldn’t be to any gainful employment.

To make a long story short, Softy wasn’t just called Softy because of the pillows that he sold. He also gave money to anyone with a sad story.

He gave the man enough for bus fare. Then the man said that his wife and kids had the same job and needed bus fare as well. Dusty gave the man another $5. And then the man, seeing that a sucker is born every minute, told Softy that the family hadn’t eaten yet today, and that they all had a bad blood sugar problem, and if they didn’t eat they’d have to go to the hospital and then they couldn’t work.

Nest thing that Softy knew is that he was handing over another $10 to the man, which left Softy a little short. He now had enough for only one night in the hotel.

It was getting late, so he bought a can of beans it the quick shop and went to his room in the motel.

Back at the motel he heated up the beans by putting them in the tub filled with warm water. By the time the evening news was over they were tolerable.

Soon Dusty dozed off and didn’t awaken until the next morning. Not having enough for any breakfast, he went to the pillow warehouse to get some pillows for Eliza. Then he headed back to her house and knocked on the door.

“Hello Eliza. How are you today? I have your pillows.”

“Oh, I decided that I only want one pillow. How much would that be.”

“Eliza, I told you that you and yours will have a tremendous fight with only one pillow. And your mother-in-law will think you are absolutely nutty if she doesn’t get the chance to lay her head on one of my pillows.”

Hearing Softy’s confident voice was enough to put Eliza back into the pyramid scheme. She cheerfully accepted the pillows and paid Softy some more money, telling him to come back tomorrow for the rest after she had let her mother-in-law try it out.

Hooking Augusta

2007-08-12T23:33:00.000-05:00

(Start 07/18/07)

Dusty decided she would need to decide between Augusta, who might never come to see her, and Softy, who, in her mind, was dead.

Neither of these guys were “a bird in the hand” but Augusta would be more likely to come knowing than Softy (she thought). So that’s one for Augusta.

On the other hand, she had many fine years with Softy, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. The many fine years constituted one for Softy.

But they didn’t see eye to eye. She remembered that Softy liked things clean, and she liked things dirty. Augusta, on the other hand, was starting to find a place in his heart for the bunnies. Score one for Augusta.

Now that Softy was older, he might change. He might be more tolerant. Score one for Softy.

But, sometimes older people are less likely to change. Score one for Augusta who had already indicated that he is a changer.

Dusty remembered that Softy was dead. That has got to count minus two.

But both snored the same, so they are even on that account.

Looks like Augusta won, she thought. The next challenge was to get Augusta back in the house, without appearing two forward.

She didn’t know quite what to do, though she saw out of the corner of her eye a hat that had fallen off the end table. She over to it and realized it was Augusta’s. “An opportunity,” she thought.

She could take it to him, but she didn’t have a car, and she might have to leave it for him and then she’d never see him, and that would be a lost opportunity.

No, she’d write him a letter. But she didn’t have any stamps. Oh, she had a idea to get it to him.

But first, the letter:

My dear Augusta,

Thank you so much for respecting the wishes of the bunnies and allowing them to continue to exist on this planet. They, and in turn, I, are forever indebted to you.

You left your hat here and I would return it but I don’t have a car and I don’t know where you live and if I went to the station house I might miss you. Please come by the house at your earliest convenience and get your hat.

She put Augusta’s name on the envelope as both the sender and the receiver. That way, if the letter were sent without a stamp it would go to the return address.

Much admiration,

Dusty
CEO, Dust Bunny World

Partners

2007-08-11T23:23:00.001-05:00

(Start 7/18/07)

Softy sat watching while Eliza tried out the pillow. He watched the tension lines leave her face and her smile move into a deep sleep. It had been a long hot day, so he decided to do a little shuteye himself. He was sure that he’d wake before Eliza.

The next thing he knew Eliza was shaking him. “Oh, where am I?” he said, startled.

“You must have dosed off. I’ve been trying your pillow. Here, take this. It is some good green tea. It should give you a little energy to get through the rest of the day.”

“Oh, that is so nice of you, ma’am. I guess I dosed off. No way for a pillow salesman to act.”

“It was so comforting to see someone relaxed in my home. My husband never sits still. He is always either eating or watching the tube. I love quiet.”

“How did you like the pillow? Am I going to have to paint your house?”

“The pillow is wonderful. How much is it? I’ll buy it.” Eliza said, imagining that it would just be $10 dollars or so.”

“Well, this is a very well-made pillow with a lot of bb.”

“Bb,” Eliza said, “what’s that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s pillow talk. Bb is bounce back. Some pillows are dead. You lay your head down on them and they never recover. Other pillows, like this one, wake up with you and recover their original shape.”

“Ok, I’ll take it. Whatever it costs. I need to sleep like I did on this pillow.”

“Will that be cash or check?”

“Do you take credit cards? And how much is the pillow?”

“I can take your credit card numbers and process it when I get home. But there is a discount for cash.”

“How much is the pillow?”

“Let me tell you a story,” Softy said, getting a little too slimy for my taste. “It is not the price of the pillow that should concern you. It is the price of insomnia. Nothing worst that tossing and turning all night because you can’t lay down your head. This pillow gives much more than it takes, if you know what I mean.”

Eliza is starting to want to throw Softy out and his pillow. She raises her voice and says, “tell me, for the last time, how much is the pillow?

“For you, ma’am, only $149.”

“$149, for a pillow! My mother-in-law would never stop laughing. I can’t spend that for a pillow.”

Softy started toward the door, but then turns around. He’s pulled this move many times.

“Ma’am, I understand your anticipated of ridicule. But actually when your mother-in-law sees the lines disappear from your face she’ll want what you have.”

“But I can’t spend that amount of money on a pillow.”

“I understand that ma’am. You and your husband will fight over who sleeps on the pillow. There are some couples that actually share these pillows, because the pillows are so large. But here’s what I’ll do for you. Remember that I’m here on Earth to give a good night’s sleep. That is why I wake up with a smile on my face each morning.”

“So what’s the deal?” Eliza said.

“I’m not a very good salesman, ma’am. I care too much for my customer. How about you buy one pillow for $149 and I give you another pillow for your husband free?”

“But that still is too much money.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Softy said, remember a technique from his Verbal Aikido for the Salesman workshop that he took years ago.

“I notice that you are home. Looking at how you are dressed, I suspect you don’t work. Is that correct, or am I getting too personal?

“What are you getting at?”

“Will, I have a proposition for you ma’am. I’ll give you the two pillows for $149. And I’ll give you a third pillow to loan to your mother-in-law. If she wants to buy it, we’ll split the money 50-50. And then I’ll give you another pillow to sell. Some day when your husband is out of town, you could have a slumber pillow party with your friends. You’ll be earning hundred or even thousands dollars a week.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. A purchase that was going to make a serious dent in your grocery money will now actually give her enough money to get that red stripped dress she eyed at Macy’s.

“Oh, it is a deal.”

“Wonderful. I’ll bring the pillows later this afternoon. Of course, I’ll need $75 as a deposit, though. That is the cash price since you are doing the two-for-one deal.”

“Sure, just hold on a minute.” Eliza goes to her cookie jar and gets the money. She then gives it to Softy, counting it out slowly. 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 65, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75.

“We are now partners,” Softy says.

Double Dilemma

2007-08-10T23:56:00.000-05:00

(Start with 7/18/07)

Dusty needed to think long and hard now about her bunnies and her life. Her bunnies were safely hidden away. Should she let them out and hope that the cleaning crew doesn’t return, or should she keep them in hiding a bit longer? And maybe Augusta would return, and maybe he wasn’t quite as crazy about her hairy creatures as she was.

And then there is the matter of love. Her heart had been given to Softy. Little did she know that he was still alive. But Augusta had some redeemable qualities. So what should she do?

What she always done when facing a double dilemma. She sat in her dustiest chair and started counting her breathes. She knew that if she could empty her mind and create infinite space then the answers would come upon returning to earthly consciousness.

As she sat in the chair a big cloud of dust appeared. Wow, she thought, how fortunate I am to have such a wonderful dirty home.

Thoughts raced through her head. “Chatter” was the word for this that she had learned in a meditation workshop. She started with a very simple goal: to complete one breath without thinking of anything else. Soon she went to two. Then she started to think of her accomplishment of getting to two breaths and realized that this thought of success was also chatter, so maybe she should go back to one breath at a time.

It wasn’t long that the monthly air raid sirens rang and woke Dusty from her meditative state. She did feel calmer, though, and knew that she could now resolve her double dilemma.

The first issue was whether or not to let the bunnies out. She thought about how the key to Buddhism was to take the middle ground, so she decided to let out half of her bunnies. That way she could put them back in less time, should the need arise.

The second issue was a little more complex. Who should she choose for her next soul mate, Softy or Augusta? She decided to make a list highlighting each of their virtues, thinking that she’d give her heart who ever had the most positive virtues. She knew that both had some negative virtues so she would have to subtract those from the positive ones. Then she started thinking that a negative virtue is at lease two times more significant than a positive virtue, so she’d have to subtract two positives for every negative.

At first she thought she’d analyze one man at a time, but then she thought it would be better to consider issue by issue.

In all fairness to both men, she thought she should first come up with a list of issues, and then she could evaluate each according issue by issue. She’d give the same weight to each issue, knowing that though she’d be underrating some issues and overrating others, in the end things would even out.

Eliza Tries It Out

2007-08-09T22:52:00.001-05:00

(Start on 7/18/07)

Softy stood a few feet from the door. He knew that would help to put the housewife at ease. When she opened the door, he gently smiled at her and introduced himself.

“I’m Softy and I’d like to show you a pillow. I’d like to give you the opportunity for a good night’s sleep.”

“Hi, I’m Eliza. But I’m in a hurry and I slept fine. Why should I but a new pillow.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to be critical, but you do have some rings under your eyes and you are a bit stressed. May I come in and show you this life saver of a pillow.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“Insist. No, ma’am. I’m sure your neighbors will welcome the opportunity to be transported to heaven every night. But if you’d like to join them, please let me come in out of this unbearable heat.”

“I must have forgotten my manners. Please come in. May I offer you something to drink.”

“Sure, a little water will be fine. No ice please. It reminds me of my ‘x’”

“Was your wife ‘cold?’”

Softy laughs. “She never had that problem. She used to embed dustbunnies in ice cubes. I never knew what I might be drinking.”

“I bet you are glad to be away from her. Let me get you a glass of water and tell me a little about this woman. She sounds like a real kook.”

“Ma’am. Maybe some other time. Some men sell bibles, engraved and all. Do you know why?”

“To make money?”

“No money in bibles. The gold leaf for the engraving often blows away and so goes the profits. They distribute bibles to save lives.”

“So what is your point?”

“I do need a little money to live on. But my mission is to give everyone a good night’s sleep. As a youngster I had terrible insomnia until I found the secret.”

The mention of “insomnia” brought tears to Eliza’s eyes.

“I don’t sleep so well, to be honest. I can never get my head in the right position.”

“Ma’am, why don’t you lay down on your couch over there and give this pillow a minute. If you aren’t transported to heaven in 30 seconds I’ll paint your house.”

Softy took a lot of chances with his sales pitches. He felt that he had a good product behind him and that it would not fail him.

Eliza felt assured that she just has gotten a free paint job. She went over to the couch and put the pillow under her head.

“Now close your eyes and relax your body a little. Feel how the pillow cushions all eleven pounds of your head.”

Augusta Leaves

2007-08-08T22:22:00.000-05:00

(Start 7/18/07)

After hiding all the bunnies, Augusta and Dusty went to one of the windows and watched the crew clear the log from the road. The saws had quickly cut it up into pieces that a man (built like Paul Bunyan) could lift. The crew had backed up one of the Hummers to the log and was filling it up with logs.

It wouldn’t be long before the road would be clear and Augusta would be leaving with the other men. The bunnies were safe, and a relationship was brewing between the Dusty and Augusta.

“Oh, Augusta, I so appreciate your help in saving my friends. To what do I owe this change of heart.”

“I saw how much you like them, and you have shown me that, though they are not exactly domesticated, the bunnies are up to no harm.”

“Augusta, I would like you to come back to visit. Will you do that?”

“I would like that, but I have a very important job. I do not know if time will permit.”

“But you must find time. My friends told me, while you were sleeping, that they would very much like see you again.”

By this time, the road was clear and the Hummers started rolling toward the house. Augusta knew if would be better if he went outside and diverted the ambush. He gave Dusty a peck on the cheek, waved goodbye to some of the bunnies that were hiding behind the sofa, and went out to meet the cleaning team.

“Augusta,” one of the men cried out, “we’ve been worried about you with the crazy woman. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I am fine. She’s not so bad. Even made me coffee in the morning.”

“Do we need to come in and clean up?”

“No, I took care of them. I think we can leave Dusty alone.”

“Okay. Let’s get rolling. There is much more work we have to do today. The log really set us back. The boss is fuming he is so mad that what was supposed to be an easy sweep turned out to take so long.”

Augusta and the rest of the cleaning crew took off, as tears once again rolled down Dusty’s eyes. What started as one of the worst days of her life ended as one of the best.

Dusty started to remember how nice it was to hear Augusta snore. And then she remembered Softy and more tears came to her cheeks. She wondered if he was watching her from the other world.

Floating Softy

2007-08-07T22:05:00.001-05:00

(Start 7/18/07)

Traveling east across the southwest, Softy had few places to either sell pillows or buy gasoline. So when he did get to a town of any size he would go to work and stay “on the job” until he had enough for a cheap motel, a few meals, and gas to the next town. He had lived this way for some time now and couldn’t imagine any other mode of subsistence.

He had 5 pillows in his trunk, and knew that he could net about $100 for each. It was the same work to sell one of these pillows as one that costs 14.95, so he chose to focus on the more expensive pillows.

Most people suffer in one way or another. They are lamenting about what they might have done in the past, or worrying about what might occur in the future. They wish their lives were different. That is was either warmer or cooler, that their house was either bigger or smaller, that their town was either . . . and so it goes. Everyone wishes that things would be different.

Softy knew this from when he studied Buddhism in college in his comparative religion class. Capitalizing on this suffering was his secret for success.

Ten o’clock in the morning was the best time to sell a pillow. The husband was at work, and the wife had her coffee and a talk on the phone with her girlfriend. She was starting to suffer. She was thinking about some man in her dreams, or 20 pounds that she’d like to remove from her body, or the fact that she’d have to drive her kids around in her rickety car all afternoon.

Softy started a sale before he even left his car. He would sit still in his car for about a minute and clear his mind of everything but the job at hand. Then he’d go to the trunk and get a pillow. He’d walk up the sidewalk to the house. This would not be a normal work, with one’s feet slamming down on the concrete as if the sidewalk had no feeling. He would guide himself along the sidewalk, barely making any contact with his feet to the ground. Most of the time he was being watched by the inhabitants of the house, and if he could demonstrate peace of mind with his behavior he could sell a pillow.

Anyone would give anything to alleviate his or her suffering. It was imperative that Augusta showed that he had something that they needed.

He’d knock on the door. Not with an obnoxious kind of knocking, but rather as a monk might ring a bell. He knew this was another opportunity to put the housewife in the right frame of mind. He used to say that the sale was almost done before he took a step into the house.

Augusta Jumps In

2007-08-06T22:36:00.000-05:00

(Start on July 18)

As Dusty was bringing the “coffee” to Augusta, her footsteps were suddenly wiped out by the sound of chainsaws. For Dusty, this suggested the end of her world. For Augusta, it represented the end of a memorable chapter of his life.

Dirty Hairy started barking at the men with the saws. It wouldn’t be long now before they removed the logs and brought the Hummers back to do their job.

Dusty knew that if any measures were to work that they’d need to be drastic. Prayer certainly could not be relied upon. For 365 days Dusty had prayed for the return of Softy, and that had not worked. Since then she had become a doubting Thomas, never wasting any more time communicating with the man in the sky.

Dusty started brainstorming. She knew that it was important to initially entertain all thoughts when brainstorming. Burn the house down, so at least the bunnies would not be entrapped in a powerful vacuum machine. Douse her self with gasoline and threaten to light her self on fire if they come any closer. Quickly pick up all her favorite bunnies and hide them in a dresser drawer. Let them clean her house and start all over populating her sanctuary. The ideas continued to pour out.

She knew from the creative thinking class she had taken that she had to pick one idea and go with it. She decided to pick up the bunnies and put them in her dresser. First she removed all her clothes and put them under her bed covers. Then she got her special cotton dust bunny broom and started collected her fair-weather friends, one by one. She kept yelling at Augusta “if you have a heart, please help me. Not for me, if you don’t care about me, but for the humanity of Dust Bunnies.

Augusta stoically sat sipping the worst cup of coffee in the world, startled to see Dusty in such a frenzy. How could he help after taking his policeman’s oath to uphold the law?

But strange things do sometimes happen. Strange unpredictable things.

Augusta came to bat. He started yelling to Dusty, “quick, what can I do to help?”

Dusty replied, with a tear of joy dropping down her cheek, “Please, carefully move all the furniture. Many of the old timers are in rest homes.”

The two worked together as if they had been partners for umpteen years. As Augusta moved the furniture, Dusty picked up her friends and hid them safely before the cleaner crew came.

Selling Pillows

2007-08-05T22:07:00.000-05:00

(Started 7/18/07)

Selling pillows was easy for Softy. He had a line for everyone. “Ma’am, how long has it been since you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” or “when was the last time you gave yourself a real gift . . . and one that didn’t cost you an arm and a leg.”

Without cash, however, it was hard for him to get pillows on credit. Imagine the look on the wholesaler’s face when a stranger comes in and says he’s a great pillow salesman and he’d like fifty pillows on credit.

Sometimes he would start by asking for fifty and then settle for five. He had to usually leave something, and that something would be his gold watch that his grandfather had left him when he died.

The markup on pillows is pretty high, so where he might be able to buy a 650 Fill White Goose Down king size pillow for twenty-five dollars he could sell it for 150 to 200, depending on the neighborhood.

He guaranteed everything. He’d say, as he restrained himself from kicking the beast across the room, “ma’am, I’m going to come back tomorrow. If you didn’t get the best sleep of your life, I’m going to give you your money back. But if you did sleep well, I’m going to try to sell you a few more pillows for those whom you love. You’ll even want one for that poodle of yours that almost bit me on the leg." And he always was good on his word. And he never had a pillow returned.

Sometimes he’d get a complaint about how the new pillow made their neck stiff. He give some song and dance about how important it is to have your head elevated when you sleep, and the fact that the new pillow made their neck stiff was only an indication about how problematic was their old flat pillow. He’d ask them if they sat on the pillow for 5 minutes before sleeping on it the first time. If they answered in the negative, which they’d always do, he’d apologize profusely that he had neglected to tell them to do that, and told them to do so and their neck would be fine the next morning. And he’d come back the next day to see how they had slept.

Sometimes he’d only need to have one pillow. He’d collect deposits equal to his wholesale cost for the pillows, and then deliver them the next day.

His greatest challenge was to sell pillows with only a picture. Softy was so likable that he could do this, when needed. And he’d still get a deposit, using some story like “I just sold my last pillow to one of your neighbors and he suggested that you might want one too. I like to see everyone wake up with a smile on their face so I’m giving you an opportunity to receive, with just a small deposit, the greatest experience of your sleeping life.”

Softy had his customers eating out of his hand before you could say “dust bunny.”

Snoring with Softy

2007-08-04T23:04:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading July 18th)

Augusta quickly fell asleep “watching” TV with Dusty. The excitement of the reflection of the flickering camera died down quickly and it had been a very long day.

Dusty was beside herself with joy. This day started so badly with the officer coming to clean her house, and now was so great with a man in the house, even if he did snore. In fact, the snore was quickly becoming music for her ears.

Dirty Hairy came in and lay by her feet. He circled around three times before he lay down so that he wouldn’t squish any bunnies.

Strangely, Dusty started thinking about Softy. Maybe it was because Augusta reawakened that part of her. She wondered whether some of Softy’s molecules were now in her body, as some maintain. Would she know it, she wondered? How he mercenary side wished that a body had been found so that she would have receive the life insurance and pension. Now the money is in Limbo and available to no one, especially not in her hands to fund her impoverished sanctuary.

Dusty moved over to the couch next to Augusta, put her head on his shoulder, and fell into one of the deepest sleeps that she had ever had. She matched her breaths to Augusta’s snoring and started to imagine that they were one.

Dirty Hairy started to nudge her a few hours later. The sun was starting to rise and it was time for some breakfast. Dusty did have some bunny food for Hairy. He didn’t know the difference, and this way she could claim it as an expense for her non-profit bunny sanctuary. (She didn’t really have non-profit status, but her “slight” quirkiness had created this illusion, among others.

Dusty quietly got off the couch and went to get a blanket to cover Augusta. Maybe he’ll sleep longer if he does start to feel the morning chill, she thought. She went to the kitchen and started to warm some water with her Sterno heater. She didn’t have any coffee, but had various containers of dead bunnies that she would mix with her collected rain water to make a pretty wicked brew.

As the water was heating, she noticed that the snoring had stopped. Augusta was waking up.

“Just a moment, honey,” she called, “I’ll bring you some . . . coffee.”

Softy Returns

2007-08-03T23:41:00.000-05:00

(Start with 7/18/07 please!)

Softy, in the meantime, spent his whole life being taken advantage of in one way or another. A beggar came up to him the other day and gave him this long song and dance about how he finally found work, but he needs bus fare for him and his family to get to the job. Softy wiped away his tears and went right for his wallet. He not only gave him sufficient bus fare for a very large family, but gave him enough for some clean clothes as well.

Softy often wondered about Dusty. As much as it was difficult to live with her, he often worried whether she was okay. Sometimes he regretted not trying to get her committed to an institution of some sort. But then he would remember how happy she was in her squalor, as he’d like to call it.

He wondered how she took his death and whether she was getting his life insurance and his pension. He worried whether, without a body, they would formally pronounce him “dead.”

How he wished that he could just visit her once and see how things worked out. And he’d love to see Dirty Hairy, his favorite, if not filthiest, all-time dog.

I don’t know what overcame Softy here, but he decided to go and visit Dusty. But he needs to be sure that she doesn’t know it is he. Softy realizes that he had two choices. Either he can disguise himself or go undercover. He nixes the undercover idea he knows how rarely Dusty goes out. So a disguise it will be.

Not being the most creative soul, he decides to imitate a disguise that Tonto (of Long Ranger and Tonto fame) once used. So he dresses as a poor Mexican peasant and brushes up on his Mexican broken English. Then he starts the long drive to dustland.

His plan is to come to her door and just see how she is doing. He certainly has no intention of getting back into her life.

What if she has found a new man? Should he protest since, unbeknownst to her, he is still the rightful husband. Or should he let it be using the argument that everyone is better off not knowing the truth. Dusty would like this dilemma, he thought.

He figured he could find out if she had received the pension and life insurance to see how she and Dirty Hairy were living. Dirty Hairy’s ribs would be quite prominent if he was not being given enough food.

Softy had his own issues with money. He could not work any regular type of job because he had destroyed all of his identification. And he could do very much except sell pillows. He slept on a pillow. He sat on a pillow. He loved pillows. He knew he’d have to make some money to get across the country to Dustland.

Open your Eyes, my Friend

2007-08-02T22:37:00.000-05:00

(Please start story on July 18)

“Let’s watch television,” Dusty said.

“A splendid idea,” responded Augusta, “where is the controller?”

“Over there, on the floor, in the corner,” replied Dusty

Augusta started to get up, until Dusty put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down.

“Don’t think for a minute you are going to move that controller. It has been in the corner collecting dirt for a few years now, and I’m sure the batteries are dead as well. As well, the bunnies that surround it would be disturbed if you move it.”

“Hey, wait a minute. How are we going to watch TV if there is no power? Do you have a battery operated TV or something?”

“Augusta, you have so much to learn. You unfortunately understand your responsibility to uphold the law, and that is about it.”

Augusta was thinking that this woman was really far gone, but he decided to keep listening. He learned this strategy in a workshop he took about dealing with the mentally ill.

“What do you see in the picture tube, Augusta?”

“I just see a few reflections,” Augusta replied.

“Ok. Now I’m going to light a candle and I want you to see all the subtle changes. Look at the flickering in the reflection. Oh, I can now see you in the reflection. Let’s just watch it a while and you’ll see the magic of minimalism.”

Dusty felt that her education was not wasted when she used big words. She remembered one thing from each class she had taken. In Art Appreciation she had a quirky teacher who not only spouted “less is more” in every class, but showed the class on the last day a film by the Canadian film maker, Michael Snow, called Wavelength.

The film teaches one to increase the sensitivity of their senses almost as if they were trying to meditate but couldn’t get rid of the “chatter.” It shows a day in a NY city loft, where nothing too much happens for 30 minutes except the light and the street noises change (like a symphony of light and sound), and the camera moves toward the window.

Dusty was smart enough not to tell Augusta about Wavelength, at least for now.

“Augusta, why don’t you sit on the couch and I’ll sit on the chair. Move to the couch in slow motion and we’ll watch it on the television. Then I’ll sit in the chair. See how my refection moves in the glass.”

“This is silly, lady.” Augusta said. “There is a ball game on tonight, and we are watching these dumb reflections on a piece of glass. Do you think you could pull this off in the neighborhood bar? The guys would start chanting ‘turn on the game, turn on the game.’”

“Be still and open your eyes, my friend.”

The Chair

2007-08-01T23:38:00.000-05:00

(Story starts July 18th)

It is quite hard to predict the significance of an event. Take for instance a knock on the door. It could be a delivery truck, though that would be unlikely because it was getting dark and there was the tree laying across the driveway.

It could be the neighbor kid doing “trick or treat” except Halloween won’t occur until about three months from now.

It could be another officer who was brave enough to climb over the tree to offer assistance to Augusta.

Or it could be that there wasn’t really a knock, but rather what they heard was a simultaneous figment of their imaginations, brought about by a combination of Augusta’s guilt from straying from his oath and Dusty’s excitement at having this fine man stuck for the night in her home.

And so it was (or wasn’t). Dusty ran to the door and looked through the glass keyhole. She tilted her head this way and that, but saw no one.

“Oh, they must have left already. Or maybe it wasn’t really a knock,” Dusty said as she remembered something from her college class in philosophy, “what is the difference, Augusta, between what really happened in the past, and what we believe happened in the past?”

If Augusta didn’t have a real migraine before, now it was coming on. Augusta was a steak and potatoes, black and white, tell me the law and I’ll follow it kind of guy. These questions that Dusty was asking were like a bad dream. In fact this whole day has been like a bad dream. How he wished he had been assigned parking meters today. But, on the other hand, he’ll never forget this day . . . if he lives to survive it.

Augusta decided to give Dusty’s question a shot, “You think too much Dusty. It is really quite simple. What happened, happened. What we believe either was and wasn’t.”

“Suppose the hand claps in the forest, but no one hears it. Did it happen?”

“Of course,” said Augusta.

“And suppose the hand doesn’t clap, but through some unique quirk in nature, everyone around the world heard it. Did the hand clap?”

“No,” Augusta responded. “Either the hand clapped or it didn’t, and it doesn’t matter who heard it or didn’t.”

Then it became clear to the two of them that Dusty was still sitting on top of Augusta giving her version of an Oriental massage.

Dirty Hairy, at this point came over to them and started barking incessantly.

“Oh, my,” said Dusty, “you put your brief case in front of his doggie door. Don’t move . . . I’ll be back.”

Dusty went to move the brief case and Augusta got up off the couch figuring that he’d be less likely to be sit upon if he sat in the wood chair.

Caught Off Guard

2007-07-31T22:25:00.000-05:00

(This story begins on 7/18/07)

Dusty returned from the kitchen with a smile on her face. She had fixed (in her mind) quite a meal for Augusta and was sure that he’d be pleased.

“Here, Augusta. Stewed tomatoes and corn flakes. This was one of Softy’s favorites and I thought you’d like it.”

(Unbeknownst to Dusty, Softy actually liked it because of the analogous colors and contrasting textures, not because of the taste.)

“Oh, I could eat a cow,” Augusta said. But what he didn’t say out loud was that this sure wasn’t a cow.

Dusty forgot some silverware, so she went back to the kitchen to scarf up a spoon that was reasonably clean.

Augusta took the spoon and. forgetting for a moment what was on his plate, eagerly took a bite. He tasted the tomatoes, and then started chewing on the accompanying corn flakes. He gave Dusty a nod of approval, thinking that this wasn’t too bad.

Just when he was beginning to feel at home he heard some abominable noises. He looked around the room. At first he was mystified, but soon realize that Dusty was slurping her tomato and corn flake stew as if she had been starving for years. The sound was so offensive he said, “Oh, no, a migraine is coming on.” He laid face down on the couch and covered his ears with pillows.

This is just the opportunity that Dusty was waiting for to demonstrate her massage talents. She jumped on top of Augusta and began to rub his hair with her fingernails, while simultaneously jumping up on down on his buttocks.

Augusta, in his tired state, was caught off guard by Dusty’s advances and thought that she was attempting to overpower him. He started to reach for his gun, but Dusty thought he was reaching for her. She puckered his lips and laid a wet one on his.

Augusta had never had a woman throw herself at him and was now quite taken by the attention. He returned the kiss, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dusty said, “Oh, Augusta, I’m so glad you came into my life. Will you stay here forever with me? Let’s not answer the door.”

Augusta remembered the oath that he had taken to uphold the law and withdrew from the kiss. He got up, forgetting that he was feigning a migraine and walked to the door.

The Escape

2007-07-30T20:56:00.001-05:00

(This story begins on 7/18/07)

Authors don’t usually admit when they lie, do they? Well, I want to set the record straight about something. Yes, Softy was truly Dusty’s husband. But he is not in another world. There is no other world. When you die, you get buried, or thrown to sea, or cremated. Then eventually your molecules disperse and you become part of everything else. And you don’t look down and smile or cry. Forget that.

Having said that, my sources tell me that Softy is not dead, but actually had faked his death to get away from Dusty and her (in his words) fetish. He did not plan his escape in advance; rather, it just spontaneously happened one day.

Softy was Mr. Neat. He couldn’t stand dirt. Maybe their marriage was made in heaven, but it certainly didn’t work on earth. And he didn’t like cold canned food either.

Dusty had tricked Softy into marrying her but feigning that she was going to have a baby. They had never even slept together, but because he had thought about sleeping with her (as an older horny male virgin he thought about sleeping with everyone with a pair of legs), he felt that he must be responsible.

It soon became apparent to Softy that he needed his own place so he constructed a clean little shack behind the bunny refuge, as he liked to call it. He had a cot, a little refrigerator, a hot plate, and a small chemistry lab.

I mentioned that Softy sold pillows. What I didn’t mention is that he had a degree in chemistry and was forever trying to make a softer foam for a softer pillow. He never told Dusty what was in the shack. He just pretended that he needed to work there on his pillow sales leads and actually would spend all his time in the shack experimenting, eating, or sleeping.

One day he discovered that by adding sodium hydrophotate (don’t look that up, it hasn’t been discovered yet) to a conventional foam he could created an immense explosion by adding some ammonia in with the hydrophotate. First he tried it with a drop of ammonia, 2 drops of hydrophotate, and about a teaspoon of foam. Even with those small quantities, the explosion was louder that the loudest firecracker he had ever heard.

That’s when the idea came to him. Suppose he blow himself up and disappear? He’d be free forever and perhaps he could even find a more suitable mate.

Being the bright guy that he was he devised a clever set up. He first mixed together the foam and the hydrophotate. Then he put the mixture on the floor. His floor sloped, so he put the mixture at the lowest point.

He broke the glass on his clock and attached a string to the minute hand. The other end of the string was attached to an open bottle of ammonia. When the minute hand circled the clock the ammonia would be pulled over, and presto, his shack would disintegrate all over the town of Dustland. He would be dust, so to speak.

This was all fantasy until he started to hear Dusty calling him. It was their anniversary and she wanted them to have a “happy hour,” a glass of bunny ice cubes and dirty water for old times sake. He couldn’t go on another day. Without much conscious thought, he set up the “experiment” and gave himself 15 minutes to disappear. He packed a knap sack with a few essentials, and headed off to the nearby mountains to hide until things cooled down a bit. He left quickly, waiting behind a nearby tree (not too nearby) to make sure the explosion occurred. When he realized that he had not wound the clock for a while he wondered if the explosion would occur. 15 minutes passed and nothing happened. He decided to wait a few more minutes, and that was sufficient. When the explosion occurred he was thrown about 30 feet, flipping over in the air in every imaginable direction, but remained unharmed. He rushed off into the mountains and was freed from his crazy Dusty.

Bowling Down Bunnies Dead

2007-07-29T22:06:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

“Augusta, you must be getting hungry. What would you like?”

“Steak, potatoes, you know, anything fried and greasy.”

“But Augusta, you shouldn’t eat steak and potatoes. They aren’t good for the planet.”

“Why?”

“Steak” (in her lecturing voice) “comes from cows, doesn’t it, Augusta?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well. Cows are very heavy and when they walk around they squish things. A dust bunny doesn’t have a chance in a cow pasture.”

“Ok, I’ll buy that for the sake of argument. Tell me what’s wrong with potatoes, and tell me what is on the menu.” Augusta shot back, getting really irritated with crazy Dusty.

“Potatoes are the worst. In order to harvest potatoes they need to be dug up, and that disturbs the entire ecosystem.” Dusty knew she was making this up and hoped that Augusta wouldn’t challenge her on this.

“But what about the dust bunnies who have been inadvertently buried and now are resurrected by the digging for the potato. Doesn’t that even things up a bit.”

Augusta was sounding like Softy now with the way he was playing along. In fact, Softy, who was intently listening in on this entire conversation from the other world, smiled when he heard Augusta’s comeback. Dusty recognized this similarity and rather than seeing Augusta now as an antagonist he seemed more like Softy, part her soul mate and part diety.

“So . . . the menu. What is on the menu?”

“Oh,” replied Dusty, “I have canned vegetables and cereal. I only shop once a year so I need to get food that will keep.”

“I like peas and corn,” Augusta said, thinking he could stomach cold canned peas and corn.

“I don’t buy peas, Augusta.”

“Why is that, may I ask?”

“When peas are shelled they throw the shells on the ground. That unnecessarily covers up all kinds of good creatures. Not good,” Dusty expounded.

“And corn?” Augusta was beginning to realize that his choices were very limited and that he’d starve to death playing this guessing game.

“Corn is the worst. Besides wiping out the entire Mayan civilization by rotting their teeth, they store corn in silos. Not good at all.”

Augusta couldn’t imagine the problems with silos. “Why?”

“Well, the corn in the silos produce methane, and the methane is used now for cars. And most drivers couldn’t care less for dust bunnies and they just mow them down like there is no tomorrow. Corn, it is a disaster.”

“Ok, Dusty, just bring me whatever you have and I’ll pretend it was what I ordered.”

“Alright. But don’t complain if you don’t like it. Remember. I gave you a chance to choose what you wanted.”

The Aborted Kiss

2007-07-28T22:32:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

When I wrote that Augusta was snoring up a storm perhaps I understated the state of the union in Dustland. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a metaphor. Bunnies are really sensitive to any wind currents and Augusta’s snoring was getting the best of them (literally).

Dusty so enjoyed watching Augusta, but was worried all the same. She needed to act, and act quickly to keep him from leaving. She started to brainstorm: hit him with a frying pan, drag him outside, wake him up, stick a pillow over his face (she had quite an inventory of pillows from Softy, her late husband), or kiss him.

Kissing used to work with Softy when he was snoring. The challenge was to kiss him milliseconds after one snore but before the next anticipated snore, in case it didn’t work the first time she’d be spared the unpleasantness of the snore itself.

She wet her lips just a little to make sure that the contact would be immediate. She listened carefully to the rhythm of the snore and started to pucker her lips after each snore, as if this was a dress rehearsal. With every snore she moved closer and closer, until finally she could almost feel the warmth of his breathe.

Augusta woke up startled. All he could see, so close as to be out of focus, was Dusty’s closed eyes and her puckered lips. He forgot for a moment where he was and started to reach for his pistol.

Dusty quickly started to apologize.

“Oh, Augusta, I am so sorry. I was walking by you and stumbled on something laying on the carpet and . . . I know what this looks like, but please be assured that I would never throw myself at you, especially when you are asleep.” The more Dusty spoke the deeper she was putting her foot in her mouth.

Augusta, having recently taken a workshop on discerning fact from fiction knew that Dusty was lying. But he was curious where this might go, and knew that it was going to be a long night, so he nodded his head to pretend to let her know that he understood.

“Would you like some ice cream? I realize it isn’t dinner, but you could think of it as an appetizer. If you’ll wait here, I’ll go and see what I can whip up in the kitchen. You are welcome to watch the TV, though without electricity, the only channel I have is the one with blank screen.”

“That’s ok,” Augusta said. “I don’t need to watch TV. I’ll just sit here while you are in the kitchen. With my diabetes I can't eat ice cream.”

Dusty thought to herself what how Augusta is such a nice man. How she wished that he didn’t have a job to do, and how she wished that he were hers, forever.

Dusty went to the kitchen, realizing that she had a limited number of candles so she better make dinner before it got dark outside. She had no idea what kind of food Augusta liked, and how much he’d like anything that was cold and just out of a can or cereal box.

She went back to the living room to ask Augusta what he wanted to eat.

The Naming of Augusta

2007-07-27T22:36:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

Day turns to night and still no chainsaws. It looks like Dusty and the officer are locked in for the night. The Hummers decide to back up down the road. These guys (and gals) are not prone to spend a hot night in their car for a piece or two of dust.

They also realize that even if help comes, they won’t have chainsaws and lights. In addition, the logs probably shouldn’t be thrown down the ravine as it has been a drought and the logs might start a land slide.

Dusty decides to wake up the officer. But first she want to get herself “prettied up” a bit, so she washes her face, combs the knots out of her hair, puts on a little old lipstick, dabs on a little powder, and then a splash of perfume. In her mind, she’s “hot.”

“Officer, officer,” she exclaims.

“Oh, I must have fallen asleep. Sorry about that ma’am. What is going on?”

“Well, the Hummers have left. The sun is setting. I have some ice cream for you. But first you’ll have to tell me your name.”

“I have to get home. My brother will be waiting for me.”

“You can’t leave here. There is still that log across the road.”

“Fine. But I’ll need to call my brother or he’ll worry. He’s not well, and he is afraid of the darkness. Where’s your phone?”

“It is over there, underneath the garbage. But please walk carefully over there and lift up the garbage gently so you don’t disturb anyone.”

The officer walks over to the pile of soup cans and corn husks. The smell is a little hard to take, but the possibility of having some contact with the outside world is enough to take his mind off his current situation.”

He excitedly picks up the phone only to realize that there is no dial tone.

“How long has it been since you made a phone call?”

“Last time was when I called Softy on his last day of work. I guess I haven’t paid the bill for awhile. You know, Softy was a good man but he wasn’t much of a provider. He didn’t leave me anything.”

“Your choices are limited,” Dusty philosophized, “how about if you tell me your name.”

“It’s Augusta. I was born in August and my dad stuttered and stammered, and when they asked him my name for the birth certificate all that he could say was “it’s August” since I was born in August and my dad wasn’t given his share of brains anyway but I like the name okay. How about you? Do you like the name?” the officer said, forgetting for a moment why he was at Dusty’s house and trying to make the best of the situation.”

For the Moment

2007-07-26T22:50:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

The officer was not about to be held hostage in the house. He was trained to deal with the likes of Dusty. He mentally went through the arsenal he carried (gun, pepper spray, blackjack, handcuffs, chewing gum) and decided that the handcuffs might work best.

Skillfully he placed the handcuff around Dusty’s wrist and started dragging her over to the couch. He then intended to attach the cuff to the leg of the couch to give him time to let some air in.

By this time Dusty knew that she was in a great deal of trouble. What was almost a nice relationship between the two had become anything but.

As he dragged her across the room she was squishing the dust bunnies that were all over the floor. In her rage, she took the free hand, grabbed a small table, and hurled it at the officer. It hit him smack in the head and knocked him unconscious.

Dusty woke from a nap and realized that she was dreaming. She was a little warm, but, remembering her dream, saw that the officer had not yet complained about the heat or asked her to open the door or windows. She decided to become proactive and give the officer a glass of ice water, only to remember that all her ice cube trays were filled with dead dust bunnies, frozen in water, in hopes that someday medical science could retrieve them.

You must be wondering what the difference is between a live and a dead dust bunny. Live dust bunnies move around and continue to grow. Sometimes they even merge with others. Dead bunnies do neither. They do not change. In fact they compress over time and eventually become little dense black balls.

Dusty remembered that she did have some ice cream. You are probably thinking that she made the ice cream out of dead bunny remains or something like that. But no. This was the really thing. Made, in fact, by Ben and Jerry.

She scooped out the ice cream into a bowl and brought it to the officer. To her surprise, he was sound asleep on her couch. He was snoring up a storm and the bunnies were running away from under the couch. Dusty took a light blanket from the easy chair and placed it over the officer.

She then sat in the easy chair and watched (and listened to) her new found friend snore. Dusty fell asleep with a smile on her face, so happy to have a man in the house after so many years. It was peaceful now in Dustland.

For the moment.

Dusty Throws Herself in front of the Door

2007-07-25T23:24:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

“Look at that, officer. The lightning hit the tree and now the cleaning crew can’t come here,” Dusty said.

“Yea, and it will be awhile before the chain saw crew can cut up the tree and throw the logs down the ravine.”

“Perhaps “we” ought to use this opportunity to learn more about the life of dust bunnies. Did you know that animals are treated differently in different countries? For example, in India cows are sacred.”

“But the question is whether the “bunnies” are actually animals at all, and if so, are they domesticated pets.” the officer contributed to Dusty's lecture.

“But officer, perhaps there is another question that we should be discussing as well. Does everyone have to be the same? Do we all need to conform to your standards? Am I hurting anyone by being a sanctuary for my fair hairy friends? And would a moral creature like yourself pride himself in enforcing a law that was short sighted?”

At that the hairs on the officer’s neck bristled. He had grown up believing that because he wanted to be a cop and wanted to uphold the law he was a good person. Here was this poor excuse for a woman telling him that he was not as moral as he had believed.

And now the cognac (with additive) was wearing off. The afternoon sun was beating down on the dark roof of the house and it was starting to get warm.

“Can you open some of the windows,” the officer said.

“Sorry, sir, but they are all painted shut,” said Dusty with a smirk on her face.

“Ok, I’ll just prop open the door,” the officer said as he started to go towards it.

Dusty threw herself on the floor in front of the door and heroically said, “you’ll have to step on me first before you open that door and disturb my friends.”

Steamy in Dustland

2007-07-24T22:19:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

Note: I woke up this morning very confused. Since Softy (and others, so disposed) can see the future we can conclude that the future is determined. And so, though we agonize over choosing this or that, it is fruitless to do so because that choice has already been made.

I was caught in the dilemma this am if I should sleep longer or get up and write. I decided to get up and write. Or perhaps I should say, I thought I decided to get up and write. Then it became clear that in this postmodern world, though the past and the future are available to some, we all see different pasts and futures through our unique lenses, as we exist in unique presents. Therefore, we still do have free will, for the time being.

To recap the story, Dusty has tears rolling down her eyes like you wouldn’t believe. The log that fell on the road has detained the Hummers. The men can’t call because lightning has toppled the cell tower. A few of the cleaning crew (actually special police, but the PR people said they should be called the “cleaning crew”) decide to send out flares. The only problem is that it has been so long since the cleaners went to school that they don’t remember the code. They walk from Hummer to Hummer asking, but everyone has a different opinion about the right number of flares and the duration of intervals. No one is expressing much confidence in their opinion.

Except Straight Jack, a former eagle scout, who remembers SOS in the Morse Code. Three dits, three dahs, and then three dits. Perfect, they have 9 flares and light them with a 1 second interval for the dits and a 3 second interval for the dahs.

And they wait and wait. To pass time, they all turn on their radios to different stations and quite a symphony of chaotic sounds ensue.

Back on the ranch (I used that phrase before, didn’t I?), Dusty and the officer are getting closer and closer. The cognac has started to take effect on the officer, as does the aphrodisiac. You read that it wouldn’t affect him because of his Middle Eastern descent. What the officer didn’t know is that his father was from New York and that gene counteracts the gene unaffected by any aphrodisiac. It is getting really steamy today in Dustland!

Softy Sees All

2007-07-23T22:31:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

Dusty’s late husband, Softy (remember that he sold bed pillows), watched the entire drama from his seat in the other world. It was not a drama in quite the same way as it is to us because, early on in his new life, he had reached some understanding that life was as it was and that if it changes then it will be different.

But he was mildly interested in this relationship that was developing between Dusty (who had been a loner since his death) and the officer.

His life, in Earth terms, was relatively boring. But Softy was not bored because he had this television of life with not only infinite channels, but he could also see the past and even the future as easily as the present.

He could see that the officer would miraculously protect the bunnies from the Hummers and their Kirby unit. in time he knew that a very close bond would not only develop between his former wife and the officer but that Dirty Hairy would get a girlfriend too. A dust bunny would actually save the officer’s life. And many years later, Dusty’s house would burn to the ground, only to become regenerated as an infamous sanctuary for orphaned bunnies.

There is much more to Softy’s life, and also to the events above, but for now we are back at the ranch, as the expression goes. The Hummers are steaming up the driveway and tears are rolling down Dusty’s eyes. The storm has come and gone, and (not previously mentioned) the bunnies are freighted to death.

Well, the storm has not exactly “gone.” It starts up again only to change the course of history. Lightening, as if from the hand of Thor himself, deftly strikes one of the largest oak trees and drops it on the road right in from of the lead Hummer.

This is more of a problem than one could imagine. To both sides of the road is a deep ravine, and the men and woman in the hummers have strict orders not leave their vehicles until they make it to the house or they will be shot (dead). It is not a pretty world in Dustland.

So all the backup “cleaners” need to do is to call for help on their cell phones. Right?

Wrong. As they start to dial for help, a second bold of lightning hits the cell tower and disables it.

Now back to Dusty and the officer, and the bunnies who have just received this divine reprieve (or at least an intervention).

Dusty's Tears

2007-07-22T22:11:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

“Yohimbine. Cute!” the officer said as he sipped the cognac. “I was once a taster for a drug company and we were looking at different recreational drugs.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about sir, unless my husband had laced the cognac before he went to the other world. He always was complaining that I wasn’t affectionate enough.”

“I’m sure that’s the explanation, ma’am. But don’t worry. They discovered that it doesn’t work for men like myself of middle eastern descent.”

Dusty went to the kitchen to get herself a drink. This day will be one to remember. Should she dare serve the officer some dust bunny cookies? These were cookies shaped like a dust bunny, made from ice-box cookie dough.

Dusty still had a serious problem here. The backup officers would soon arrive and they might bring cleaning equipment that even Dirty Hairy would not be able to break. Things were not looking good. She decided to try to persuade the officer that her bunnies were not really animals.

“Officer, I’m wondering if you would reconsider your desire to eradicate my bunnies?”

“I cannot do that ma’am. When I took my oath I swore to uphold the law. And the law says ‘no non-domesticated animals’ within the city limits.”

“But officer,” she said, remembering the Socratic method from philosophy class, “what is an animal?”

“Well, ma’am, an animal is something that isn’t a human and that moves around.”

“How about if you were to drop the glass of cognac? Would the falling glass be an animal at that moment?”

“Well, of course not, ma’am. It would simply be a falling glass of cognac.”

“And suppose that I turned on the TV to the Saturday car races, and a car ran from the right side of the screen to the left side of the screen. Would it be an animal?”

“No, of course not.”

“So tell me again, why do you consider my fair hair friends animals? Aren't they simply organic material that blows around?”

“Ma’am,” he said, getting very irritated by this time, “I’m not here to play word games with you. You have broken the law and you know it. The backup troops are coming and they will be bringing a Kirby special vacuum unit and your friends will be sucked into oblivion. If this causes you undue stress or trauma we will provide psychological services to help you through it.”

Again tears started rolling down Dusty’s eyes. The end was near. And nearer than she knew until she looked out the window and saw 5 or 6 official looking hummers were coming up her drive way.

A Drink

2007-07-21T22:33:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

Dirty Harry grabbed at the broomstick with his canine teeth and broke it in half as easily as a knife cuts butter. Dusty’s eyes were so filled with tears that all was blurry. The officer’s face turned red with anger.

And then, a torrential rain started, with lightning and thunder. It was a little over the top for drama, but I must say it like it was.

Just then the rain stopped as quickly at it started, and a shimmer of sunlight appeared. The officer once again caught the light reflecting off of Dusty’s blue eyes.

“Ma’am, I’m certainly not going to do much sweeping with a stub of a broom. Maybe I’ll take you up with that drink until my backup arrives.”

“What can I offer you? I made some lemonade recently?”

“That will be fine . . . unless you have something a little stronger." The office said, half joking.

Dusty remembered that she had been a chemistry major in college. She still had many of her chemicals, stored in the pantry. “Suppose, she thought to herself, that she drug the officer. How might that change his behavior?”

“Sure, officer. I have something stronger. Just give me a moment.”

Dusty raced to the kitchen and started to feverishly wash a glass. Her mind, filled with webs since it was twenty years since she had been in school, started to think about what chemicals she had and how she could disguise their taste.

She found a bottle of cognac that her late husband had received for being the bed pillow salesman of the year (more on him later).

Dusty’s tears had dried up completely by now and she put on (metaphorically) her drinking cap. Or is it “thinking cap?” she wondered.

She thought that she might shift the equation a little if the officer fell in love with her, realizing that love and lust were distant relatives and from a distance might even appear to be related.

“Now, for a challenge. What should I use?” She thought to herself.

Dusty had not only been a good student, but she and her girlfriends had a club in college called the Society for Ugly and Horny Women (UFHM). They would share recipes and substances for aphrodisiacs. She went through in her mind some of the most effective ones, and bingo, hit the perfect one for the occasion.

She instinctively reached for her bottle of yohimbine, and poured a little bit of the clear liquid into the cognac. Yohimbine is the main alkaloid of Yohimbe. As a weak MAO inhibitor and alpha-adrenergic antagonist, yohimbine may increase genital blood flow and sexual sensitivity for some people (lifted from Wikipedia).

She brought out a glass of cognac plus, and found the officer now sitting in one of her dusty easy chairs, with Dirty Harry still growling under his breathe (the dog’s breathe, that is).

One Fell Sweep

2007-07-20T23:38:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

Dusty noticed how the officer’s blue eyes picked up a gleam of light from the window. She realized that she had been a little argumentative and abrasive, and decided to take another tack.

“I’m Dusty, officer. May I offer you a drink?” As Dusty talked she realized that all of her glasses were coated with years of dirt and that the officer’s complaint might be further enhanced should he accept her offer.

“Ma’am, I’m just here to let you know that you may only have domesticated pets in your house. The dog is fine, but the dust bunnies will have to go.”

“Officer, to do that would like cutting . . . off my fingers. Perhaps I could apply for a zoning variation.” Or divine dispensation, she thought to herself.

“You are welcome to have your day in court, but until then . . . .”

At that the officer brought out a dustpan and small broom from his brief case and started to scoop up some of the rabbits.

Dirty Harry started growling and barking, alternatively. Tears starting rolling down Dusty’s eyes in a steady stream. Life had gone from bad to worst in one fell sweep.

The Bust

2007-07-19T22:19:00.000-05:00

(Please start reading from 7/18/07)

Dusty was quite happy today. It was the birthday of one of her dust bunnies. One year ago she had discovered “Big Ears” in the corner of her bedroom. Most other woman would think to themselves that it was time to vacuum., and the especially diligent ones would pull out the vacuum and suck her up to oblivion. But Dusty had such a special place in her heart for these creatures that she had fabricated a holy vacuum hose so that she could still get the typical headache from vacuuming noise and smells, and, at the same time, preserve the longevity of her fair hairy friends.

Dusty’s doorbell rang. It had been so long since that had happened she didn’t recognize the sound. At first, that is. She ran to the door and peeked through the security peephole or whatever that is called. She saw a very official looking man with a badge.

“Oh, my God,” she thought to herself. “Should I open the door and expose my friends to the perils of fresh air, or do I pretend I’m not home and have an army of officials come back?”

It was quite a dilemma for Dusty. She decided to open the door, but to leave the screen door locked.

“May I help you, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, lady, I’d like to come in and talk to you about some illegal pets you seem to be harboring.” He replied.

“The only pet I have is my trusty pointer, Dirty Hairy.” She shot back.

“We have reports, lady, that you have some rather “unconventional” pets. If you wish to live in our community you will need to be like others. Please open the door or I’ll have to send for backup.”

“Ok, but please shut the door gently. I don’t want to disturb any of my friends.”

“Friends . . . that is exactly my point, ma’am. You are not like the others on your block. Perhaps you need psychological help.”

“I take care of my friends and you say that I need help. To what has this world come?” She said, remembering from school not to end a sentence with a preposition.

“Many people spend countless hours keeping their house clean. On the contrary, you spend your time as a curator of dirt. Can’t you see how wrong that is?”

“Is it wrong to care with souls who have a heart? And elegance, as well?”

Dusty and Bunny

2007-07-18T22:29:00.001-05:00

Dusty loved dirt. Not just the kind in her garden, but the dust balls formed from the hairs of her shedding (and happily filthy) pointer, Dirty Hairy.

Since her husband, Softy, had gone to the other world, her friends tried to fix her up with more appropriate mates. They found the best looking, most intelligent, and richest men in the territory, but none could compete with her dirt fetish.

She vacuumed incessantly. Not to clean up, but just to let the neighbors know that she was doing something about “her problem.” Yet she was careful only to use her specially fabricated holy hose so that none of her dirt would be disturbed.

Sometimes Dusty would get lonely on a Saturday night and she’d take out her flashlight and magnifying glass, and search for a corner that had picked up the best looking dust bunny. She knew that, in time, each corner would “come into its own,” and create a haven for her pleasure and all the microcosms that follow such a fertile environment.

Occasionally Dusty would stray from home and find public spaces that were particularly rich with debris. Because she was very ethical in her behavior, she would never litter. In fact, she kept a pair of shoes at the front door of her sanctuary so that none of her bunnies would leave her domain. She believed that dirt was the result of life grinding life, and that to interfere with this process was a sacrilege.

Dusty grew dirt like others grow roses. She had some weeds in pots around the house, but only because they helped the process along. And sometimes, or so she believed, they’d bring spiders, which were her best friends. Each morning Dusty would jump out of bed to inspect all of her webs. She would not only revel in their growth, but would be thrilled to see what new dirt they had captured.

Dusty would have birthday parties for her dust bunnies. She’d “bake” a cake by carefully brushing Dirty Hairy, and added to that a little “dirt” from a weed plant, and then, for frosting, a little grease from a dirty frying pan. She’d light some candles, depending on the age of the bunny, and she’d let the candles burn down to their extinction, hoping that a little soot would cover her “Sistine” ceiling.

Dusty was happy. She lived with her friends and protected them as one would their own flesh and blood. She did have an arch enemy, however, and prayed incessantly that he would stay away from her street.

“Dear Dirt God, who art on Earth, give me this day my daily dirt, and keep the city cleaning crews away, or their vehicles broken, whatever it will take.” (Dusty wasn’t so good at writing prayers, but they still functioned well to keep her neighborhood in shambles.)

Dusty even painted her windows shut to make sure that none of her favorite bunnies would run away. As long as her dirt was safe, Dusty could live happily ever after.

Rectilinear Shadows

2007-07-17T23:08:00.000-05:00

A common alternative to
being in the shadow
of another being,

is being in the shadow
of something that isn't a
being, but rather,

an answer, a formula,
a construct, or even
a rectangle.

Thinking problems are
equal to solutions, or
that now is the best time

for everything is
about being in the
rectangle's shadow and

not being patient
enough to wait for the
sun to pass overhead.

Shadow

2007-07-16T22:16:00.000-05:00

Sometimes when the sun
isn't shining we are still lost in the
shadow of someone dear to us,

dear, but love/hate, because
we cannot walk alone and
find our own path.

Even when they go away,
they stay, watching over
our every step and action.

And then we quickly turn
and lose them for a moment,
only to be glad that they aren't far behind.

Levitation

2007-07-15T22:43:00.001-05:00

I told my daughter
that I would never help her move
again. She asked if I had

lied, helping
her once again.
I told her

that breaking a promise
about the future
is not lying.

In any case,
she had a couple of
chemistry students

help move her couch.
I tried to interest them
in my ideas on levitation,

but they wouldn't consider it
an option.
I explained

that some
can move spoons
with their minds,

and that the difference
between a spoon and
a couch is minimal.

They seemed to be buying
the idea for a (short) moment,
but then, in spite of

their excellent education,
relied on their brute strength
rather than wishful moving.

I wonder who is holding up
all the levitating bodies
in the universe.

Time

2007-07-14T22:11:00.000-05:00

We personify time,
saying that she comes and goes.
We start this and stop that,

because it is time.
We wait on her while
she fixes her hair

and puts on her makeup.
When we meditate,
we forget about her

until the bell rings,
when we're rudely reminded,
"it's time."

Fighting TV

2007-07-13T22:40:00.001-05:00

I don't like fighting.
I do like
to turn on the TV,

but sometimes all I see
is fighting.
When we were kids

we wrestled with
each other a lot,
but we never

got hurt.
On TV, fighting
people are killed

faster than you can surf
through channels.
And when

the news comes on,
it doesn't get any
better.

I wish I could give
a friendlier report on
my dog,

who expired a rabbit
yesterday,
after a hard summer

of pointing
and sniffing.
Maybe some day

peace will rain down
and encourage us
to turn the other cheek.

Good and Bad

2007-07-12T23:11:00.000-05:00

The Buddhist has
trouble discerning between
good and bad,

obvious to the rest
of us, they often
have unintended consequences,

surprising even
the most accomplished
skeptic.

The man lost his
only possession,
the horse he used

to plow the fields,
only to discover
the reaper, which

gave him great
wealth so he could
board the Titanic,

and so
the story
continues.

Not Ruth

2007-07-11T22:30:00.001-05:00

Not Ruth, or no truth,
is certainly another option.
Perhaps she is so evasive

because she is not in hiding,
but rather does not (and never did) exist.
Could we live with truly

understanding the biology of
love or the inevitability
of death? Could we stand

to hear that we are below
average in everything, or
that our careless and

thoughtless acts had crippled
or killed good people?
Imagine a truthless

world where perceptions
are and will be as close
as we'll ever get to those secrets

we so yearned
to discover
in a previous life.

Diversified Truth

2007-07-10T23:12:00.000-05:00

Another view,
and probably at this late hour a more
realistic one, is that

truth is diversified among
all things, great and small.
Each of us, in our

uniqueness, knows
stuff that no one
else knows.

Wisdom in not
an individual attribute,
but rather a collective conscious.

Truth

2007-07-09T22:16:00.000-05:00

I just want to meet someone
who knows the truth.

As Socrates discovered
we know about one thing

but not another, and worse,
we don't know

how ill-informed we are
about so much.

I just want to meet
someone who knows
the truth, and, who,

in a kind and generous moment,
will be willing
to share it with me.

Followers

2007-07-08T22:11:00.000-05:00

They search for their leader
looking for wisdom
and/or validation...

the kind that should
come from within
but is sought

from outside. Be
it one god or another
it is all the same

titillating our greed
with everything from
happiness to eternal salvation.

Amy and Clayton

2007-07-07T22:24:00.000-05:00

Amy has been my
daughter's friend for 18 years.
Tonight was the celebration

of Amy's wedding to Clayton.
Actually, though,
it was the (local) celebration

of her celebration
in Florida
that took place

a few weeks ago.
It was in a boathouse
in Forest Park

(where they moved more
dirt that they did to
build the Panama Canal),

and they couldn't have
found a better venue
for joining family and friends.

I wonder who decides
such things as
who we marry,

and when we marry,
and where we marry.
We sometimes wonder

if computers will someday
think like humans,
but are we so sure?

Aren't we programmed
to make many of the choices
we believe need such long deliberations?

So we have two happy bright
and attractive 30 year olds (or so)
who got hitched (really hitched)

and now are talking
about having a baby
(I can see it in their eyes).

Life was not a breeze for them,
or for any of us,
for that matter.

But now they have reached a pinnacle,
and their lives are in (good) order,
and they will share it (in love)

with some little ones,
and with their family,
and their extended families

who are all still dancing at this late hour.
Best wishes,
Amy and Clayton!

Tigger

2007-07-06T22:24:00.000-05:00

If you are wondering why,
not just any why,
but why this is called

Tigger, or even Tiger,
when she looks like
anything but,

it was copied, oh
very precisely,
from a 17th century

Japanese Tigger
painting, which
is not much of

an excuse for how
off she is, except
that the Japanese

never saw a Tigger,
not in the flesh,
as they say,

but only in the
"Art,"
that is. . . .

A Couple of Screws

2007-07-05T23:07:00.000-05:00

After days of preparatory work
on the ceiling
it was time to raise

the drywall
and screw her in.
She was heavier that the drywall

that we had lifted
15 years ago,
or are we just that much weaker?

In any case, we had it in place after
a few tries when we discovered
we had to shave it here and there.

And then, after getting it up
and in place (no mean trick),
I realized that the screws

were on the kitchen table,
so Linda ran down the stairs
to find them,

only to not find them,
thinking logically and incorrectly
they'd be in a box labeled screws.

Sometimes I thought
management was hard,
but it is nothing

compared to manual labor,
where you'd give
your right foot

for another hand,
and then,
just for long enough to get in a couple of screws.

Mandala Sand Painting

2007-07-04T21:02:00.000-05:00

In Tibet they'd drop
colored sand grain by grain
year by year

until the image
was completed,
only, when done,

to destroy the mandala
in a single stroke,
to shun attachment

and to emulate
the impermanence
of life.

Dark Side Nightmare

2007-07-03T21:54:00.000-05:00

I thought that going
from teacher to dean was
a one way trip to the dark side,

only to discover that
there was a scarier
side going from dean to

the ranks of the unemployed.
Apparently I have a double
from the other side

shadowing me. It all started
yesterday when the local
hardware store called to tell me

that I had left some parts
for my pressure washer
on their counter.

They kept referring to me
as the teacher from the college.
I explained that I had been

to the store,
but not with parts from a
pressure washer,

and not with a little boy,
as they insisted.
They didn't believe me,

though I tried hard to
set them straight. Next I
was at the garage to pick

up my car and a man confronted
me and asked why I was following
him. I asked where he had seen

me and he said at an auto parts
store that I had never visited.
Again, he did not believe me.

The strangest occurrence was
how yesterday and today
I could see all the pasty white old

people who swarmed the streets
and stores in the middle of
the day like in the TV serial

"Dead like Me" where only the
dead can see the dead. Yikes,
is this happening to me?

Saying Goodbye Nightmare

2007-07-02T22:24:00.000-05:00

Leaving is a painful thing.
As I get farther away,
there is no longer a door–

a way to go back.
I reach out
to touch the place

where I was
and though my hand
is right on it,

I can't feel anything.
I go back to visit
and nobody knows me,

for those
I knew
have left as well.

Without an Hollywood ending,
I wake up in a cold sweat
and realize that,

indeed,
I have left
and now will need

to be where I am
rather than
remember where I was.

The Kid

2007-07-01T23:18:00.000-05:00

His wife told him to make a
picture of the grandkid,
The other woman

pronounced she
likes his poems
better than his drawings.

She was surprised to hear
that he had taught art
for thirty-five years.

Hilary Clinton,
bless her heart,
wants free health care

for everyone,
and the dogs bark,
asking to go out.

The fireworks
lit up the sky
a few hours ago,

ending in a rumble
that must be a minuscule version
of the war in Iraq.

My first day in my new life
was unfortunately and gladly laden
with the same numerous

and similarly convoluted
issues, memories,
and challenges.

Many Roads

2007-06-30T22:52:00.001-05:00

After 58 years in
school in various capacities,
I now face multiple possibilites,

all entrenched with considerations
and expectations.
I wonder if we do make choices

or if we are simply led my our
spirit guide who so lovingly
lets us believe we make

conscious choices about
such important dilemmas.
Unfortunately, I'm not sure.

Our ability to
change the course of history
is more limited than we would like to believe.