Scroll Top

CHAPTER TWO HUMANS

Copyright Michael Lutin 2017

 This material may not be copied or used in any medium existing now or in future formats for any reason, without the express permission of Michael Lutin or his representatives.

 

CHAPTER TWO HUMANS

AND IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE the coincidence. On the exact same day the Senators were all screaming bloody murder right there on the Senate floor, and the People outside were shouting obscenities at the flagrant, imperious excesses of their so-called leaders, and just as they were about to bust right into the Senate because they had enough of the bullshit, that’s the exact same day the bodhisattva Roberta was born.

And only one day before the magician Maya Sophiiya, discovered me

half sunk in the sand, lying with five dead People, dead all from what they said was natural causes, although we know there’s no such thing. It was she who brought me back to life, when I thought I had died, too. Imagine everyone in your life dying at once, although when you think about it everybody does anyway.

Of course it was long after the military coup that stopped the war. And it did.  As the People had grown just about weary enough to cause a worldwide rebellion, as you may have read in “The Vinyl Solution” a military man, a general, stepped forward to calm everybody down, which, thank God he did.

Because if he hadn’t been so strong and clever, and reassuring both the lawmakers who were screaming bloody murder, each believing he was doing right, and the ignorant, benighted citizens gathering in the streets,  we might not be here today to welcome the strangers when they arrived.

“Hey, Everybody, how’s it going?

And just as I was about to mention Miriam, about 1000 little white butterflies fluttered against my screen. I couldn’t tell if they needed a break from the heat or they were genuinely interested, and kind of knew what I might be going to say—-that the whole time during Miriam‘s pregnancy Jake’s family called her a whore and God knows what else. (I still call him Jake.)

But as soon as she gave birth to a big, beautiful bouncing baby boy, they were all “oh, honey, this is my beautiful daughter, and this little prize is my precious grandson.“

That was cute, but would turn out to be more than just hurtful and not just because Rebecca later died right there on the table on a night because nobody washed their hands.

Somebody, I can’t say Who right now, was interested, because three of them streamed right into the house in the middle of the night one night and whispered as Gently as a grandmother would, “Don’t  be afraid, Darling. Go back to sleep, just want to look at the baby.” Who were they? I’ll get to that.

But Miriam later said she was, like so many People these days totally paralyzed.

And back in the senate “Hey!” he shouted. “I don’t care who you are. We’re all brothers here. I take no sides. I judge no one. I’m here to keep peace and restore order,” and stuff like that. That’s what the military is really good at: convincing you you’re in terrible danger and distracting you from it at the same, but turning head around, convincing you they’ll take care of everything. And that’s what was going on.

Although this general stood not too much taller than one meter, from what I heard he was quite the ladies’ man and possessed all the equipment needed to satisfy a queen as well as excel as a Senator and crowd calmer downer.

But you may have read that he was later found dead, as so many activists have been even lately. Again natural causes if suicide is the expected outcome of anyone gaining fame by killing so many nameless foreigners in courageous battles.

So wait. You won’t believe this. Just as Great Great Great Grandma was winning her first (and unfortunately last spelling bee, which was part of the 87 billion bees we’ll discuss later), around the time the captain of an unsinkable ship struck an iceberg.

Funny I should mention it now, but guess who died about a year before that Caligula bash?

Anyway… All on the same damned day.

A lot has sure happened since the dinosaurs went underground and back into the sea, and all that ruckus in the Senate took place and the time Miriam got pregnant, and I was kidnapped, and much later honored to host the first evening, and I mean first time ever, that humans, Reticulans, Reptiles, Sirians, Veto from Toledo, Chico from Puerto Rico, Billy from Chile, Newt from Butte, Tiberious from Sirius, Bryan from Orion, Lars from Mars, Boris the Taurus, Pio the Leo, Harris from Paris, Vance from France, Sammy from Miami, More, from Alpha Centari, Nigel from Rigel- all great guys and others set down at a table together and socialized right there and what was called Washington DC, then capital of the 50 or so United States before the revolution.

It was a wonderful night, except for that nasty assassination attempt of the Emperor. It almost ruined the onstage reunion of Marilyn and Elvis.

It was fun watching all those overweight humans, myself included in that category at that time, squeeze through the tube to get to the café. And I had never seen live green spaghetti, writhing around in a big bowl the humans were afraid to eat from, which is sad because it did a lot for interstellar Astrological relations.

This was quite a while before that night at the Interstellar Café, prostitutes still in touch today, while I was still living on the rooftop in a deserted part of the city, one night quite late there was an unusually loud knocking at the door. When I cracked it just a crack, now remember this was back in the days before computers, texting, email or mind-o-phone. The following message was dropped at my door by an unknown person on a page printed and what appeared to be a very thin metallic sheet.

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO

JYLOO

And that was it. Since then I’ve learned a lot more, about that, but at the time I thought it was just some quack, or, for all I knew it could’ve been a little man coming up from the floor or the progesterone they gave my Blommy to keep me from skipping out on the whole thing. We’ll get to that.

But it sure changed things for me, like this!

Because it was right around that time I was walking home on what they used to call Good Friday. I was sauntering all the way down to my rooftop. It was at that time called Avenue of the Americas. Going against traffic as usual mind you, I happened upon a crowd gathered around a young black man. He was standing beside a gaily flowered colored panel truck – – something like what the old hippies used to ride around in and tell People money was bad.

He was cheerfully calling out to all the Friday night passersby and reminding them about love and kindness and generosity and things of that nature.

They were all laughing cruelly and making fun of him, at that moment and a terrible wind blew me backward, right through my bones, to hear all that laughing and jeering on a good Friday night, which to the people who used to be called Christians, was a very important holiday.

And then zip! I was right back with those two rich ladies from Antioch on another Good Friday quite a long time before that when it was just a regular Friday. There we were drinking honey water and discussing rich fabrics from the east.

And we wondered where their husbands were to let them walk around the city like that unaccompanied. But somehow it didn’t even come up, as I am still usually found fraternizing with rich ladies when their husbands aren’t around.

That morning we were sitting all alone, all alone except for the innkeeper, I suppose you could call him an innkeeper, where we were. Just longish wooden tables and crude wooden chairs, I suppose for People to come in and rest and drink honey water while rich ladies disobeyed their busy husbands.

For no reason at all, I can remember calling to the man pouring our cool drinks. “Hey, where is everybody today? It’s so quiet.”

And in a dull, uninterested matter of fact tone he answered, “oh, everybody’s up on the hill today.”

“What’s going on?” The both ladies questioned as if to find out what their husbands were really up to.

“They’re executing some rabble-rouser who’s been going around saying money is bad,” he said. “Just  another nut, but for some reason they’re going to knock him off.”

“Let’s go up and see what’s happening,” chimed the ladies in unison, in hopes of catching their husbands up to no good. “We can look at rich fabrics anytime.”

The afternoon sun was disappearing and the whole day had suddenly taken on an unusual chill. The innkeeper had exaggerated of course. Just handful of People up there, 20, maybe 30 were standing around, all kind of just watching, although there was one woman I remember there who was screaming a lot.

I was struck by the horror of the whole scene and wondered why anybody, including myself, would find a murder interesting, until much later when I realized many People actually enjoyed watching murder and stories of murder on what they used to call movies and television.

I already knew what this was all about. My own brother was one of the kooks who was following the madman and listening to him go on about how bad money was, over some romantic notion of love and kindness and things of that nature.

And there was this guy, funny, though, he looked so tiny and puny and scrawny  and despicably pathetic from where I stood.

So I moved closer, it was awful, so I could get a better look, and it was like a magnet that kept drawing me closer and closer and closer until his feet were just above my head. I couldn’t pull away. I could’ve reached out and touched his poor feet.

His legs were pale and becoming bluer the longer I stood there and watched him twitch.

My eyes traveled up his naked body (naked bodies are always interesting), until my eyes met his.

It was something so strange just as shocking when I dreamed of /my cousin Sylvia telling me a secret about pregnancy and life, his eyes met mine as an eternity passed between us, “Those eyes!” without saying a word it was exactly like when Arnold Schwarzenegger looked at me and said exactly the same thing, when we were stuck in an elevator 3110 Main Street,  in what used to be Santa Monica, California, number 90405.

Those eyes!

I couldn’t turn away even when I heard the man standing behind me whisper in my ear, even when I heard a man standing behind me whisper in my ear, “Isn’t it funny? Check this out. Within maybe 30 years, every single person standing on this hill today will have committed suicide.”