The Peter?

“Just step up to the counter, Hi, I’m Peter, you are?”

“Randy?”

“Are you sure Randy?   You don’t sound very sure.”

He stands very still and stares into space like he’s really thinking about it, “Ya, Randy.”

“Okay, that’s great Randy,” Peter writes something down on a pad. “And Randy, I’ve just got a few questions. Where were you born, Randy?”

“Where am I?” Randy asks still acting kind of spacey.

“We’ll explain all that later, Randy. Now If can get just a little information we can speed this up. Where were you born, Randy?”

“Errrrrr,” Randy scratches his head.

“We can come back to that question if you would like,” Peter says as he flips a page on his pad.

“No, no, I was born just outside of Des Moines, Indianola?”

“Good,” Peter puts down the pad and flips through a thick book that appears on the counter. “Here you are,” Peter says as he taps a line of type in the book. “And how did you die?”

At first Randy just stares in disbelief and then he relaxes as it all comes back to him. He sees the word Kentworth very close-up, just for a second, “I stepped off a curb…and there was a truck…”

“Yes, that happens more than you might think, “Peter picks up the pad and scribbles truck.   “And one last question, did you have any last words?” Peter holds his quill above the pad and waits.

Still not quite believing this is happening Randy responds, “I think I was talking to my daughter on the phone, “ he thinks for a second, ‘“I said, “tell your mom to pick up some milk.”’ Randy looks at Peter and grins.

“Okay, great, go through the door with the big blue number one painted on it and all your questions will be answered,” Peter looks to the line of people in front of his counter and starts to wave the next person over.

“Does door numbered one lead to the good place?” Randy asks still holding on to the edge of the counter.

“Oh, sure, nothing evil makes it this far. Next!” Peter says as he gives his attention to a young lady at the front of the line, “and what is your name miss?”

The girl is a little quicker with her answers, her name is Sally, born in Sacramento, she must have died in her sleep. “I just woke up here,” she answers Peter.

“And do you remember your last words?” Peter asks.

“My mother was tucking me in…she asked if I felt alright. I think I was sick. You know, running a temperature?” Peter nods and holds his pad up. ‘“I said, “I’m fine mother.”’

Thank-you, through the door with the red number three on it please. All your questions will be answered there.” As Sally finds her way to the door Peter shouts, “next!”

A nervous man in his early fifties steps up to the counter. He is still out of breath from whatever it is he has been through, “who are you?” he asks between deep wheezy breaths.

“I’m Peter”

“The Peter”

“The little rock, that’s me. What is your name sir?”

“So I’m dead?”

“Very. Your name?” Peter asks with his quill at the ready.

“Todd, but call me Toby.” Toby reaches out his hand and shakes Peter’s hand.

“So this is Heaven?”

“More like the pearly gates, Toby. And where were you born?”

Toby looks around the small, simple office. Seven doors with numbers of different colors and a white counter; the walls are plain off-white without any knick-knacks or pictures of any kind. “Not what I expected,” he states. “Grand Island, Nebraska!”

“And how did you die?” Peter asks.

“I was running,” Toby rubs the side of his head and tries to remember more. “I remember climbing up some stairs,” Toby says, still unable to remember how he died.

“Can you remember your last words,” Peter asks showing more interest than his usual level.

Toby thinks, rubs his head some more, and then his eyes light up, “S#&T!” he shouts.

Peter’s eyes widen slightly and then he picks up a phone that just appears on the counters top, “Paul, you got a minute? Good, you’re going to want to hear this one. Paul, bring James with you.”

“Lets go back to how you died Toby, take your time, think it through, Paul and James will be here in a couple…”

 

 

Toby (the complete story)

Long before the end of the world several prominent scientists had suggested ways in which the end might come; none of them had come anywhere near the truth. The end did not come when the asteroid destroyed half the earth’s atmosphere. When one third of the earth’s population died in a plague that no cure was ever found for the earth continued; re-population turned out to be the number one skill of humans. The greatest of wars in which all the weapons conceived by man took part did not bring an end; in fact the clean up of the planet made necessary by the contamination of the bombs lead to a period of great health throughout the surviving, prosperous, population. No, the end did not come with a great flash, there was nothing for the talking heads on the television sets to proclaim with great intensity, no film of women screaming or babies crying, no the end came on a peaceful quiet day. I remember the pale blue sky, just a few wisps of white cloud placed here and there for accent, and sweetness in the early morning breeze, the last morning was one of the best mornings the earth had ever produced. The end came from one small, seemingly insignificant, action, the action of one small insignificant man.

This man, the man who would eventually bring about the end of all humanity, was born to a simple man who was married to a simple woman living in a simple wood frame redwood sided home, next to simple wood frame redwood sided homes in a neighborhood of simple wood framed redwood sided homes. The homes were newly painted (having been newly built) in different colors so the inhabitants could tell which home was theirs without looking at the brass numbers on the posts next to each entryway. The father of the man who would bring about the end drove his new fifty-four Chevy Bel-Air power glide four door family car down the average street of track homes and turned up the driveway and parked in the carport of the fourth house on the left side, the chocolate brown one.   The man had only recently become a father; he and his wife had waited until the promotion at work had come through. When the size of his monthly check increased they sat down together and made sure their extrapolated future would justify bringing another life into being. The numbers added up. A college education was all but assured. Their love was strong. Toby, a twenty-inch long, eight-pound baby boy was given the second bedroom of the two-bedroom house all to himself. At first he spent much of his time either within the barred walls of a wooden baby crib or in the arms of his mother Sally. Sally baby talked and rocked the small infant, encouraged him to coo and smile, when he giggled her whole world sparkled, when he cried her whole being was devoted to finding a cure. This afternoon he nestled in her arms sound asleep, Toby’s breathing was so relaxed Sally watched the rise and fall of his tiny chest to insure he still possessed the life he had recently been given.

Ralph, the man who had fathered the person who would one day bring an end to life as we know it, set the car door into place and walked on the four foot wide walkway to the front of the brown house, opened the unlocked solid wooden door and stepped through the doorway. “Honey, I’m home,” he shouted to the inside of his home. Toby did not wake but smiled in his sleep at the sound that had already become a familiar part of his day. Sally placed him into his crib and made sure his blanket was in the proper position. She closed the bedroom’s door almost all the way, leaving a four-inch gap between the door and the doorframe so Toby could be heard if he had a need.

Going to Ralph at the door Sally put her index finger to her lips and whispered, “he’s sleeping,” and then she stood on tip-toes and welcomed Ralph home with a kiss that was a good deal more then the minimum expected. Ralph held her at shoulder’s length and took a long look at his beautiful bride. Her blonde hair had been cut short after the birth of his son and covered her head with natural curls, her blue eyes sparkled, he sighed at his good fortune and, bending down, Ralph returned her kiss with another that was more than was the basic required kiss. Together they walked, hand in hand, to their new son’s bedroom and watched silently as the joy of their lives slept. Toby would grow up in a home filled with love. His care would be complete. He would not lack those things a young boy needed but he would not be raised without proper discipline; the boy who would one day bring about the end of all mankind would be taught right and wrong. As he grew he was often complimented on his good manners and the way he cared for others.

The first sign of trouble in Toby’s life came at the age of twelve. He was attending a very well respected middle school at the time. The school had all the extras needed to guide young minds. The school had a very successful athletics department, the football team not only possessed shiny new uniforms but almost every year won at least one playoff game. The school had an arts program that sent students traveling in buses all over the county and sometimes even to other parts of the state for special events. The school, and this was the part Toby enjoyed even though he did show some signs of trouble in his life, had a very adept chef and produced lunches that were as good as lunches anywhere, at least anywhere that had to present one thousand two hundred lunches to crazy children in less than twenty minutes. But with every advantage Toby still felt out of place attending this fine school. He complained to his parents once, during a slightly heated discussion with primarily his father, he was heard to remark, “I didn’t ask to be born.” Toby tried to share his problems with his friends at school, of which he had several, but they each felt their problems should be attended to and did not spend as much of their time felling sorry for Toby as he felt would be right. As luck would have it a couple of years passed and at the age of fourteen Toby decided maybe life was not so bad after all and he found a comfortable place in a very respectable high school not a long walk from his very respectable home.

High school presented another chance for failure. High school introduced Toby to women. Toby had always had good eyesight and the opposite sex had always been around but in high school Toby discovered they held an attraction he had not delved into before.   Toby discovered women: when bumped up against not only did they not smell like boys, they did not feel like boys, or smile like boys, and they certainly did not giggle like boys.   Toby discovered that his reaction to women was totally different than the way he reacted to others of his own sex, and he discovered he especially enjoyed the difference. Toby did not go mad with this new information. He did not become some sort of sex crazed manic. He took it in stride and in most cases he kept this new knowledge very much to himself. But there was one exception. The exception was named Jill. From the first time Toby saw Jill in the hallway having trouble with the combination to her book locker he knew she needed his attention. She was just a silly, giggly, girl. She looked a lot like Toby’s mother had at his age but Toby did not take the time to realize this, he did not think about much other then how pretty she was and about how her blue eyes sparkled when she laughed and about how much he would like to be near her. And so he waited for an opportunity, not like a lion waits for its prey, not with confidence and a well laid out plan. Toby waited for an opportunity to meet Jill with fear and insecurity.

After what seemed much longer than a few days he found his chance, “before you pull down the handle you need to jiggle it like this,” Toby jiggled the sliding latch on Jill’s locker and pulled it down, just like he had been doing with his own locker since the school year had begun.

Jill smiled at him and said, “Thanks.” Toby felt his heart melt. “You’re Toby. Right?” Toby’s throat went dry and he produced an expression on his face that Jill could not discern. “You’re in my Spanish class.”

“Oh,” it wasn’t much of a sentence but it did prove Toby was capable of speech.

“Thank you for your help. I will try that jiggle trick next time I need in my locker,” Jill said with another melt your heart smile.

“I could just wait here and help you,” said Toby, finding his words and even sounding a little smooth.

“Silly,” she giggled. And then the bell rang giving Toby one of the best ideas he had ever had.

“Could I walk with you to Spanish class?” he asked. It was his next class and she had just told him she was in it. He carried her books and they found they could talk to each other easily. It was almost a full week before they held hands and a few days after that before they shared a simple, quick kiss. He had no reason to create a plot to bring about the end of this world, but the first bits of an idea started to form in his young mind.

Schoolwork became a constant search for knowledge. Toby approached every subject with a strong desire to find out everything his teachers could tell him. Some of his teachers felt he demanded more of them than was proper but most were encouraged to have a student with such a strong desire to learn. When Toby entered college his need to know amplified and he plunged into any subject that professed a search for the unknown.   Every major religion received his attentions. The sciences, both practical and theoretical, the mathematical or speculative captured hours of his daily life. He was respected both by his fellow students and his professors. But even with his devotion to these disciplines he found time for making friends and having fun. It became a daily concern of Toby’s to know why he had come in this existence, was he here for a reason or was he just here? He asked the question of everyone from the professor held in the highest esteem to the man on the corner with a sign that read will work for food. Many people had ready answers. Some were short and to the point. Some of the people he asked seemed very sure, without any doubt at all as to the reason for mankind. Others he asked gave long carefully thought out answers that led in circles and were the same as no answer at all. But Toby continued to search for the true meaning of life. While he searched he also found his one true love, married, had two beautiful children, provided his children with the best of educations, then spent years living in an almost empty house looking forward to visits by the grandchildren and then he stayed by his wife’s side as she quietly left this life, still in love with Toby as he was still in love with her.

Toby still had his books, he still had intelligent friends, he still watched the news for clues; it seemed impossible that in all of life he could not find the reason behind it. And then one night, while lying in a soft bed in the home of his eldest daughter’s house where he could get the additional care he needed during these days, he understood. The great grandchildren had come for a visit and he had tried to keep up with them. He had gone to bed feeling very tired and very content with the way his life had been spent. He closed his eyes and was very still. He could smell the smell of the clean sheet that he had pulled up around his chin. Then he knew. The reason for his existence was so simple he had almost missed it. He filled his lungs with the air he would need to call to his daughter and give her the news but the universe had been waiting for him to come to know the answer and now that he had it the universe no longer needed to be, and so it ceased to be.

You Know The Drill, part ten -the final installment.

The last day began like the day before. The sun lined the mountains to the East as we finished our coffees. I finished my coffee. Todd finished his eggs, bacon, hash browns, biscuits, gravy, and coffee. Todd’s pulling the rope on the bucket – he needs lots of ballast. The first hole of the day slipped into the ground like it was made of warm butter it took us less than an hour and a half. We were rolling.

“We should drill an extra hole here and take it with us,” Todd retold an old driller’s joke. Most old driller’s jokes aren’t very funny but they help pass the time. Our next site was a little different, three holes, close together, at the end of a two-story group of twenty apartments. It took a while to get past all the parked cars. We had a skip loader on hand to move dirt out of our way as we drilled, most of the dirt would need to be hauled away.   The skip loader operator had a dump truck. The first hole went well, no records were set but we had fun. Todd had a way of keeping things light and he was the best rope puller – possibly in the world. The first day with Todd on the job I told him to brace his feet and pull as hard as he could on the rope that swung the bucket. I always told rope pullers that. The first bucket full, the first swing, the dirt dumped at Todd’s feet.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Good.” The bucket filled again. Todd, now with the recently added mound of dirt to stabilize his feet pulled me clean off the drilling table! This had never happened before. I fell to the ground and Todd let the bucket swing over my head and rest gently on the edge of the drilling table. His grin suggested he knew exactly what he had done but I could only be amazed. Todd had worked most of his life as an auto mechanic and apparently this gives you amazing arms!

“How’s that?” he asked.

“It’s never been done before,” I answered, while brushing dirt off my pants and forearms “Pull as hard as you can without pulling me off the table,” a request I had never thought of making, Todd just grinned again, he had made his point.

The space behind the apartments was tight and second hole destroyed an unknown apartment dweller’s hidden marijuana patch but other than that nothing unusual happened. It was late enough to go home but we wanted to at least set-up on the third hole, if we drilled down the first three feet or more the drilling bucket could be left in the hole and we wouldn’t have to fold up the mast. We backed the truck to within six feet of a six-foot tall chain link fence and started the drilling process. The plan was to take out about three buckets, leave the bucket in the hole, and go home for the night. The next day, after my coffee and Todd’s breakfast we would finish it up. The third bucket came out of the hole. I pulled myself onto the drilling table with one hand on the top rim of the bucket. Todd hooked the bucket and gave it a little push. And then I pushed and he pulled until I was about to release the latch that opened the bottom of the bucket. The one-inch round length of steel welded to the top of the Kelly bar, the same one-inch length of steel that also screws into a swivel, the swivel that ended in a loop of steel that connects to the wench’s cable, that one-inch round short piece of steel, it broke.  I do not know what took place in Todd’s mind but he had a better view of what was happening. At first I thought he was just pulling me off of the drilling table again. But the bucket was going straight out and not following its arc. Todd kept pulling, not only pulling the bucket out but pulling it away from the back of the drill rig giving me a place to land. I rolled under the truck’s axle between the back wheels. The top rail of the chain link fence six foot behind the table was hit so hard and fast that it tightly wrapped three sides of the Kelly bar. The Kelly hit the drilling table and put cracks in the steel supports that held it to the truck frame. I thanked Todd for continuing to pull the rope and giving me the split second needed to find shelter. Repairs were made in the next few days. Holes continued to be drilled for a short time. But this was the last day drilling was fun and pipe lying jobs started to take the place of drilling holes. The drill was sold to someone in Mexico – hopefully they parted it out or sold it for scrap. I really believe the fact that I can walk without a limp or even walk at all is due to Todd slightly adjusting the direction of the falling Kelly bar and pulling as hard as he could. Thirty years have passed. The construction business was left behind twenty years ago, but I would like to say, once more, thank-you Todd.