Aboard My Train Of Thought, Scott C. Endsley [reading comprehension books .TXT] 📗

you still think I need to be on meds, huh?

DR: Well, I've asked your family to come today. They want to confer with you what they feel about your situation.

ME: Family?

DR: Yes, just a moment... they're right outside the door. Maggie! Matilda! Please come in, folks!

ME: Matilda?! Maggie?!

DR: Yes, have a seat and let's begin with you, Matilda.

MATILDA: Oh yes, I do worry about him much, he's just not himself anymore!

DR: Tell us about that, Matilda.

MATILDA: Well, he hasn't played a game of ping-pong with me in ages!

ME: But.... But.

DR: Maggie, do you have any input on the situation?

MAGGIE: Forgive me, Clyde, but you really need help!

DR: Matilda?

MATILDA: Oh, luv, I miss my old friend. Please, do it for us!

DR: Well, there you go, Clyde. I realize this is professionally unethical, asking your family to come without your permission, but I really care for you, Clyde. Now, about this writing business... why don't you take up something less harmful to your health. Say, something like poetry, maybe. This story writing is going to get you killed, and that's the truth.

ME: Truth?..... Truth comes as a cynical comedienne, yet she's the only one laughing. She opens up her book of candor, as I walk away.... I'm no longer kissing her shadow... I spit out the dust between my teeth and realize the bitter taste of asphalt..... Pulling away at the pedestal, I fall to the ground, though she's left standing.... not to notice. A rose colored thorn and yet I didn't feel the razor's edge, I chose to listen instead to the voice of Desire. He would often whisper to her in song, but she wasn't listening, instead she left him babbling.... trying to say what's never been said before. How she must have loved the moment. Desire is a stranger to me, now. He still beckons me, but I can't forgive him for all the foolish things I've done! Truth offers me her book once more.... though reluctant, I peek inside and see myself on a lonely beach, resembling Vincent Van Gogh holding his ear in his hand. But, after gazing up into the Starry, starry night.... I throw it into the sea and begin Painting holes in my memory!......

DR: Yeah, Ok, so forget my idea about poetry. Maybe you should take up crocheting. Anyway, don't forget your meds.

ME: Ok, no problem. Oh Doc, my insurance company called about a week ago and said they won't fork over anymore payments for the year, until I meet next year's deductible of $200... and I'm flat broke until then!

DR: Why that's wonderful, Clyde!!!

Me: What do you mean?!

DR: Don't you get it, Clyde? You're finally well, and you won't have to come see me anymore! But, to be safe, let's schedule an appointment for early January after you meet your deductible, just to make sure you're still doing OK!

ME: By the way, Doc... I have a question.

DR: Sure, what is it?

ME: Do you have a name?

DR: Oh Clyde, I'm so sorry, you'll have to excuse me. I'm Dr Radford, but you can call me Alice...

ME: I'll bet that surprised the readers!

DR: Readers, Clyde?

ME: Ah nothing. Must have been a tongue spasm from all the Prolixen I was on. Come on, Maggie! Come on, Matilda! Ok, let's get this settled right now..... Who wants to drive?

DR: Ok, Clyde, hang in there. See you next year!.....(Sigh) Poor fellow!
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THE MARK OF THE ANTI-BEAST
(Episode 1)
"I realize this is an odd place to take an intermission, but," my Right-brain asked my Left-brain, "Whad'ya think of this double trilogy so far?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Left-brain shook his head, "A lot of confusing stuff, man!"

"Oh yeah, whad'ya mean?"

"The first trilogy was called, Aboard My Train Of Thought... how can you board a thought?" Left-brain asked bewildered.

"You know what I don't like about you, Lefty?"

"...What?" Left-brain didn't ask, after a long pause.

"You're supposed to say 'what?'"

"Ok, what?" Lefty sighed.

Right-brain shook his index finger and scolded, "you're so doggone literal, you never make an attempt to think abstractly!"

"Well if it weren't for me, Mr. Hipwing would be a blooming idiot and unable to engage in a regular conversation, without going all out in left field... no double meaning there. Hey, did you notice that the word antiestablishmentarianism is nowhere to be found in this book?... Oh, I was wrong, there it was..."

"You musta put it there, I sure as heck didn't!" Right-brain scoffed.

"Is all of this some sort of allegory?"

"I never thought about that, Lefty, I'm impressed!" Right-brain expressed.

"Wasn't he the one who invented the internet?"

"Who?" Right-brain asked, confused.

"Allegory, of course!" Left-brain proudly answered in jest.

"Cute... Humor isn't YOUR job, that's MY job!" Right-brain complained.

"So why does this book need a sixth story?" Left-brain asked.

Right-brain thought wisely to himself and answered. "...Because it's missing."

"Hmmm, I guess that's logical enough..." Left-brain commented while tossing the manuscript aside. "But while you're writing it, I'm going to go do some of what I am more adept at doing, like balancing the check book... See ya."
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(Episode 2)
It was an unusually solitary evening in the town of Dunghill, Missouri, as Ira Stippens lay in his bathtub, reading his waterproof version of The Confessions Of Saint Augustine, while chomping on a freshly picked pear plucked from his neighbor's backyard tree. Suddenly, he took notice of something seriously distracting. He quickly raised up as his bathwater forthwith seemed to gasp for breath. At first he was shocked, then quite disgusted... He hadn't cleaned in between his toenails in over a month; much less trimmed them. Still dismayed, he pole-vaulted out of his bathtub as there came a knock at the front door. Ira, with mind still occupied on his toenails, swung the door open and was at once greeted by a scrawny, bald, tambourine-carrying, Hare Krishna type.

"Where the blazes did YOU come from?!" Ira smirked.

"Dallas, Texas....Why?" the stranger asked. "My name is Ravi Ohlee. Did you know that by eating meat, you're eating Jesus?"

Ira, being a devout man in his own right, quickly picked up his New International Version study bible, then paraphrased slightly, "Jesus said, 'it don't matter what you put in your mouth, it's what comes from inside that defiles you'... in other words, you're full of crap!"

As Ira was about to hurl the door shut, Ravi wedged his foot in what was left of the narrow opening. "Do you always answer your door naked?"

"The door is not naked!" Ira muttered as he slammed it closed and went back to his welcoming bathtub, and proceeded to cleaning his toenails.

Just who was this man, Ira Stippens, a man of many legends? No, just an insignificant member of the board of trustees at The First United Church Of Prosperity, in Dunghill, who wore the same army fatigues, day after day, since retiring from his service in Viet Nam.

A lonely and eccentric divorcee since his late 40's, when he returned from Nam a changed man. He had let his hair, beard, and sideburns go, before his faithful wife greeted his return, and to her displeasure, he was now a total stranger. Their wedlock of 20 years came to an abrupt end when she filed for divorce on the grounds of "unrecognizable differences."

But Ira was a well respected member of the church community, and despite his rather good-for-nothing appearance, he was the biggest contributor in the entire fellowship. Dr. Screamer, the church pastor, was quite fond of the old man, but the congregation's only elder, Brother Name-It-Claim-It, had a bad taste in his mouth when it came to Stippens, and tried more than once to persuade the pastor to ask him to step down from the deacon-ship.

The church monthly evening fellowship dinner and singing service was about to come to order one significant Sunday evening, as Irma McGillicutty waddled with sheet music in hand up to the piano, and began playing a rather staccato version of "Onward Christian Soldiers." It was at that moment that Ira came inside from having a smoke and reclined in his own pew. Widow Jane Rutherford sweetly tapped Ira from behind and eagerly commented, "Good evening Ira, are you wearing Old Spice Aftershave?... It smells so manly!"

Ira, who was not going to let himself be taken in by such ladylike flirtations, him-hawd, "...Uh no, it's VERY Old Spice underarm deodorant," in return.

Brother Name-It caught a glimpse of Stippens sitting down and whispered something naughty in his wife's ear. She slapped his knee in a humored scolding. As Irma banged on the piano with much enthusiasm, several church members noticed her feet were no longer touching the pedals. Then her hands could no longer reach the keys. She seemed to be ascending slowly upward. Then she realized the same thing, and shrieked like a cat under a rocking chair. The eyes of the congregation followed her up toward the top of the ceiling, as their mouths opened as wide as the suction end of a toilet plunger. She had just crashed through the steeple attic stained-glass window when her husband of 35 years woke from his snooze and queried, "Do we eat yet?!"

"Oh my God!" Brother Name-It lamented loudly, "The rapture! I've been left behind!!"

Dr. Screamer rushed up to the podium and tried to throw water into the fire, so to speak, and urged for calm. "Everyone settle down, there's got to be an explanation for this! Now let's quiet down as brother Barnhardt will lead us in hymm number 145... Let's take it from the chorus:

"... And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he calls me up on the phone...."


Following the dinner and fellowship, Ira, like always, volunteered before the evening was through, to clean up. Dr. Screamer begged for everyone to give him a hand... he received a standing ovation (before they all rushed to Martha's Sip & Chew... ). After locking all the doors, Ira headed home, but was startled to hear what sounded like someone moaning in pain. He got out from under the street lamp and noticed the Hari Krishna freak he had encountered days earlier, shaking his tamborine, and singing while holding out a coffee can. "What the hell are you doin' out here?!" Ira demanded.

"Oh yes, it's the naked bible thumper," Ravi scoffed. "Have you heard that the end is near? As we speak, Brahma and Vishnu are snatching the enlightened ones from the earth before the great Shiva destoys the planet!!"

"What are you talking about, does this have something to do with the disappearance of Mrs. McGillicutty?!" Ira interrogated.

However, before Mr. Ohlee would respond, a greenish haze engulfed his entirety as he slowly floated upward with a sense of tranquility on his face. Ira was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat, as the man faded into a single speck in the night's sky. Why was this happening? he wondered... It all surely wasn't an act of God. No, Stippens knew something sinister was at hand, for he smelled something foul... as he sat on the curbside and began biting his filthy toenails.
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(Episode 3)
Subsequently having been rehired into the highest office in the land by way of the back door, I was in deep bewilderment the following morning over