Darkness...can't see a thing...what's going on...where am I?... The sounds of barking reach my ears... I can make out a dim wall beside me now as I lay here, head feeling as if its oversized as it rests on my arm. Cider can make it feel that way on the morning after.  It's morning already? Barking must've woken me, I hear it getting louder and closer now.

     I sit up, pull my linen over my shoulder and clasp it at my side. Dressed in my short toga now, I venture out my little side hut ta see what the commotion's all about.

     It's that mutt I saw hangin’ ‘round earlier this week, he'd been lookin’ for scraps and got a hand out instead. I wasn’t hungry… um, he looked like he needed it more. Well, he's now hightailin’ it my way with a pack of kids and their dogs hot on his, well... tail. The kids are throwing rocks while their unruly hounds, um... hound him. Crap, I gotta come up with other cinnamons to describe this, well... this crap, or we'll never get this story ta roll.

     Not being one ta take kindly to bullies, though I was one... mostly to bullies, and those I love it’d turned out, who, it also turns out, were also bullies (where’d ja think a bully learns it?... I get better), um, so, not takin' kindly to these guys, I start throwing rocks of my own, and well, when it comes ta throwing crap at someone... I rock. 

     I take two kids down with one throw. Ricocheting off the first one’s kneecap, the rock shoots off at a weird angle that hits a passing bird overhead. Now this wouldn't have done much ta stop the other kid except that he's watching the ricochet too. Ya see, with his head tilted up, his mouth's open, and when the rock strikes the bird’s wing it lets out a "Sqwalk!" The bird also lets out whatever's left of its dinner from the night before... After it’d passed through its lower gastric track first, of course. A little green, black, but mostly white crap that ends up being deposited in the before mentioned open orifice of the bully. The boy's overcome with apperplexy (he’s really perplexed), and wipes the mass of white from his tongue, while at the same time trying in vain to stop himself from swallowing the crap that'd hit the back of his throat. The other kid’s on the ground holding his bleeding knee.

     Two down and feeling confident, I start double fisting the crap outta the bunch of 'em. What?... I threw with both hands... Rocks!!! What the hades kinda story do you think I'm writing here, smutt? You’re the one who thought that, not me... sicko. Sorry, that was a little judge-mental there wasn't it, I'm working on it... Either way, it was a blue humor, you're naughty (heehee). 

     Not ta be out done, the mutt turns on the crew nipping at his heels, and becomes the most vicious thing I've ever seen on four legs that I’d later let lick my face. Who cares about the blood on his muzzle? We revel in our victory, and dance about each other in the street as our vanquished low-tail it home ta lick and bandage their wounds. Of course, this little seen didn't go unobserved, and so it's chores as a punishment this morning, before I start my morning chores... At least I'm not alone while doing ‘em now. 

     Chores my arse, that's a load of crap, it's work is what it is. Others do this crap and get paid for it, not me, not yet (just an allowance), and when I do, it won't involve a damn pitchfork. 

     Time seems ta pass quickly for me, hey, I’m a teen, these times flyby. Spending most of my free time doing chores and seeing that the mutt doesn't chew on something that I can't replace, another ends up joining us two jokers over the winter as someone I admire, and love, left…

     My family are very much into the Healing School of thought, they also dabble in the Unseen, but mostly they don't look for it. It's expected of me ta follow in their School of Thought, but I don't want ta be so limited. Maybe it comes from one of my four grandfathers who was a genius at tinkering with the lyre. He could make that thing do things that only about 150 Atlanteans could replicate or do better. There wasn't a musical instrument that he couldn't play: lyre, drum, Pan flute, cymbal, rocks (certain rocks will ring), spoons... um, the lyre... Genius I tell ya! He was also heavily into the Unseen, tinkering with who knows what all, I mean owl. He tinkered around quite a bit, was a 33rd Degree Brickhead in the Unseen School of Thought (they're very secretive), and made 32 different owl-bums, not all of which were bums. Eight of them went golden and four went platinum. Heck, they all sold well, everyone listens ta music owl-bums. 

     When this man I love and admire passed into the inner chambers of the Unseen (dieded), his special owl-bums were divided amongst his children, my Mom and her three brothers. Mom gave each of her boys an owl-bum. Mines gold, and though I didn't make her, I'm still proud of Glaukopis none the less, for a bum owl with a strange name that is.  Gramps named her, I'm not sure it's hers though... Just a weird feeling, been getting those lately.

     So, it's the owl-bum who's lookout as she sits my shoulder, the mutt sniffs out the goodies ahead, and I get us into it... often, whatever the crap is. Often enough that all my parents have ta do is point at the pitchfork, and I know I can't get us out of whatever the "crap" is that I've gotten us into...again.

     We Atlanteans are quite advanced, though you probably didn't think so when I mentioned the pitchfork. Well, you seem ta know what one is, how advanced is your civilization? Anywho, us Atlanteans work a lot with different energies, crystals, and automatons by using said energies and crystals. You can fly from one side of playnet Tiamat to the other, and never touch down. If you've read anythin’ ‘bout Atlantis, or peoples past life regressions, you'll already be conversant with this fact. Or, maybe you've done a little hip-gnosis and checked it out for yerself, if you ever lived a life here that is. Not everyone has or is, like I am right now. So, we Atlanteans are pretty with it concerning lookin’ into how this Multiverse works, but we're probably just as arrogant about our knowledge as yer civilization is, and so push the limits of what Mom calls good taste and/or reason. 

     Take for instance the owl-bums, they’re music made manifest. The Multiverse in musical expression animates the owls with its natural/un-natural understanding of its workings. A sliver of the Multiverse is crystalized within them. Just as the unseen moves through music ta move each of us, it moves in expression through these little metal birds. A gift of the gods and a piece of the Multiverse’s understanding here on Tiamat. 

     That same crystalized expression of the Multiverse also sits in the center room of the Brain Complex, the School of Thoughts most prestigious (and only) school in Atlantis for those who train themselves ta think, well... thoughts, sheesh. I would think that thought woulda’ been thunk by you before I explained those, well... you know... maybe, I don't know. Anywho, this crystal sits there, doing nothing but powering about almost everything one can make that resonates with its vibration. This kinda’ limits its military use to such things as bombardment of an object in space with whatever chunks of asteroids are available at the time. I mean, you can't make things just blow up with it (that'd be even scarier and… and CRAZIER!), but... have you ever seen a shooting star disintegrate in the atmosphere? Now think of one about, hmmm, say one the size of Mount Olympus. Hades, that could change the shape of the very dirt of this playnet, cause gigantic floods, and it'd rain for over a month I'm sure... It could even destroy our home here in Atlantis with a tsunami, if not sink us out right. I just hope none of these bigheads get it into their, well, into their big heads ta bring one crashing down on us (Mom doesn't think destroying one’s own home is in good taste or reasonable). I think the Multiversal crystal is wasted just sittin’ there... I bet the Multiverse wants ta be here, on an adventure with me, not just sitting around waiting for someone ta take notice of it (whatever "it" is). 

     I'm on my own at home pretty much of the time. My folks are in the middle of a great undertaking to reverse some of the cellular engineering that other beings have perpetrated on the genetic trash bag we call humans. We aren't really natives of this playnet. Well, we do have genetic material in our make-up that comes from this playnet, but if you use that as a reference to which playnet one comes from then we humans are truly Multiversal citizens. We’re Multiversal mutts so ta speak, at least when it comes to our genetic makeup. 

     {PLOOOF!!}

     Suddenly I'm hit with a gigantic puff ball loaded with a white powder, my face is covered with the stuff as it billows out about me in a great cloud... WHAT IN HADES WAS THAT?!?... Oh, I should have written "make-up" instead of "makeup." Ducking another giant powder puff, I check my reflection in the shiny gold butt of Glaukopis... Hmm, not bad, the white face looks funny, but somethings missing... what ‘it’ is I can’t say [and so ‘mime’ was born]… huh?

     Anywho, many different beings from different playnets (even dimensions... well, really, it's different frequencies) have put a lot of... let's just say ‘crap’ inta our being the humans we are today. Some of these tinkerings have caused birth defects and/or bizarre combinations of species. Mom and Dad work with the auras of these poor souls ta bring healing. They're very successful at this, the effects are amazing and quite physical in nature. I'm told that what’s done is that they look at the being’s aura, then mold it with love and light to what seems beautiful and natural to the soul. Not all human/animal hybrids become one or the other, some become themselves utterly, and flourish in being the unique whatever they ares. Like Quetsiquatel, he's kewl with being a feathered serpent, likes the colors and all, plus, who wouldn't like ta fly? It takes training and strengthening in the auras ta become great healers like my parents. I can do a bit, I'm better with self-healing than others, and am told I’ll get better at it if’n this is the Thought School I wish ta choose as a vocation. 

     I don't know, I like Unseen thinking, I mean, we all want ta know, but, mostly, I've found people just believe they know... Bigheads, the bunch of 'em. Even those who don't think they know strive to, well... Well, come on! It's a catch 22, you can't win! It's a trick, ya see? The more you know, the more you know you have yet ta know, and it seems the harder I try ta think their way, the harder life gets as they think they know what they don’t. When I say such things, I'd be sent home. Ya see, I'm starting ta think that maybe the answer to the Unseen lay in a different direction for me. I have this feeling... I don't know, everyone says I'm a fool, I'm ridiculed for it. In fact, they created a new name just ta call me and I hear that others, who’ve my strange bent, are now being called it too. Hades, it's so catchy that it may last for generations ta come. They call me "the class clown" (yep, if you've heard it before, well, I’m the original goof that caused that term ta be glauxed, minted and pressed... look it up if you want ta know that bad... glaux I mean).

     I’m into seeing how the Unseen manifests in cooking. Well, that's the teaching we're doin’ at this time in the Unseen Thoughts at the prestigious Thought School at the Brain Complex located on the middle isle of Atlantis... Oh, I mentioned the school already?  Sorry, a bighead said I'd get extra credit if I plugged the school (hey, I need it I tell ya).

     We're playing with an inert life form and when you apply flamage, it just burns up and never wakes up. If you added eggs, ground wheat, sugar, salt and warm water to it, squeeze and beat the crap outta it, it’d come ta life and cause unseen airs to expand the mixture, growing warmer all the time. When baked with some high flamage, the mass raises up even more, browns and is airy from the unseen gasses, light and fluffy inside, while the outside becomes a little crusty. So that's what the bigheads call it, "fluffy crust," yeah, it's a little literal. It’s also good dipped into rabbit stew when you spread it with butter. 

     Actually, I wanna be sent home early, so I'm frittering around with the stuff, working on a new taste and I’ve used up all the sugar. There isn’t any left for anyone else ta work with... Okay, so I made a big batch of it. A really, Really, REALLY BIG batch of this stuff. I swear I’m close to a new recipe that I think will change the world... Maybe I just thought the sugar was salt... Crap, no one here will believe that either. Most of the sugar I used makin’ a kinda’ creamy, sweet syrup that I've finally gotten to the right consistency ta harden after cooling. I’ve about 10 gallons of the stuff hid away and not even close ta wantin’ ta share it with anyone... yet. 

     Goin’ back to frittering about with the doughy mass I created, hmm, something's missing. Ya see, I'd struck on the idea of covering it with the sugary cream concoction earlier, it's really good, but, well, for one thing it isn't pretty, in fact it looka’ likea’ pile of golden brown crap. Sweet tasting crap with the sugar cream, but crap none the less. ‘Til I figure out what this unseen and missing element is, it won't be anythin’ but... well, crap. 

      "Who?" Comes from my left shoulder.

      Glaukopis's letting me know I'm no longer alone by asking me ‘who’ this new arrival is. A bighead has come back ta make sure everything's put away, and he's caught me here all doughy handed, doughy haired, and doughy eyed... Crap, I see dough everywhere as I take notice of him noticing me and the doughy mass of messy, well... again, crap. Now I won't be able to get back to this crap 'til tomorrow, if they let me back in here at all after I do what I've planned. So I know, I'm going to be seeing a lot of blisters on my hands when my folks get home (not really, my hands got toughened to physical labor a long time ago). My plan had worked perfectly though. Well almost, it would've been nice to perfect that recipe too.

     Ya see, today all the bigheads of the different teachings of the Thought School are getting tagether ta discuss the invasion of the Reptilians from the Draconic system. The Reptoids (they don't like ta be called Reptoids, heehee), they aren't originally from that system though, they really did most of their creative evolution on playnet Tiamat, but had left it due to the rogue sister star that comes through every few hundred years. We figure, at some time, this rogue star got caught by Souls gravity as it passed. Before that we think the heavy little star just flew through the heavens on its merry way, well, ta here. 

     Ours is a binary star system, Soul and its sister, a red dwarf star that's related in the his-stories as Marduke. It has its own system of playnets, and causes havoc when passing by ours. Marduke beat the crap outta Tiamat in a star war, splitting it up in a cosmic display of energies that hasn't been seen around here since. Bits of Tiamat spewed inta space becoming the asteroid belt of today, the Hammered Bracelet, while the larger bit of its mass moved into an orbit inside of Mars, becoming the 7th playnet of Soul. Seventh when you’re counting ‘em from the outside, coming inta the system, that's how space faring beings count playnets, from the outside in. We're actually on the third playnet from our star, but others don't see it that way, only ground pounders count playnets from their star out, dumb apes. Later, after the star war, the Annunaki would come here ta mine this playnet for gold ta create a suspended particle shield around their playnet, which is part of our star’s, Soul, sister star’s system (say that last bit three times fast starting at ‘part’... fun huh? Well, yeah, it's lame fun, but it's pretty monotonous working with a pitchfork. ya try and keep yourself entertained). Seems that the Annunaki are exposed ta many types of energies as their red dwarf star travels its strange orbit, ever circling its bigger sister Soul every few hundred years. We humans are (mostly) what the Annunaki created ta mine said ore. Which also means we’re mostly half Annunaki. They used their own genetic material in our creation as they wanted smarter furry bi-peds... just not too smart. What's left of the other half of our genetic ancestors we don't see much of anymore, just an occasional big footprint where they've passed unseen. We're smaller than both the Annunaki and the big furry unseen ones, made smaller ta fit in lil holes ta get the shiny metal. Eww eww eek akk akk, monkey see, monkey doodoo, it's all a buncha’ crap, humans are still after gold, and most don't even remember why.

     We've been screwed with and experimented on by many other races ever since, but this playnet is our home, and we don't really call it Tiamat either. This is a new playnet where none existed before, we think of it as ours as we kinda’ were creatively evolved on it for the last 200 thousand years or so, maybe even a million, I don’t know, can’t remember it. Mostly we’re created to looka’ likea’ man, and haven't changed too much over the time since, at least naturally. Now the Reptilians want the playnet back and us off it or subjugated as slaves... and food. 

     Just recently, within a few millennia (well it's recent if you're as old as this Multiverse), anywho, a satellite moved inta orbit around our little bit of dirt. A giant hollow sphere that could be used as a launching point for a takeover. Many of the barbarian nations are calling it our moon now. Not us, that's no moon, that's a space station, we just don't know whose. If there’s a man in that moon he ain't a talkin’... yet. Maybe the bigheads will decide they need ta go up there and take a look for themselves... Now that’d be a heck of a thing ta do!

     That's for bigger heads to ponder and work out though, I've been looking for a chance for my own ‘heck of a thing ta do’. I've been wanting... somethin’. What ‘it’ is I really don't know, but while they're distracted I'm a gonna get it, a shard of the Multiversal intelligence. Ya see, I think I could do somethin’ really big with it... and have this feeling like I need it or will... at some point. If not this life, then maybe in another.  

     With Glaukopis perched on my shoulder, looking out behind me, and the mutt sniffing out trouble ahead, I make my way to the center of the Brain Complex at the School of Thought. I can feel the vibration of the energies before I ever lay eyes on the unseen crystal essence. A vibration that seems oddly familiar as the very air around me ripples with it. 

     Opening the inner door, one I've never seen opened before, I push through the thick air. Every hair on the mutt is laid flat as he pushes on beside me, driving himself like it's his destiny to do this with me. My eyes water at the bright and myriad colors of light that wash past and through me as I make my way towards the center of the room. 

     "Who?..."

     "Not now, owl!" I whisper harshly, my voice gravel from the strain of moving forward.

     That's the Multiversal understanding for ya, she's always asking me to question ‘who’ I think I am before I do somethin’ foolish. Like use up all the sugar in a seemingly vain attempt ta get at a taste of somethin’ I don't know, or implement a plan whose origin I can't identify, and seems ta be comin’ from some strange place... This is definitely the work of the Unseen. 

     I strain with the effort as I reach my hand towards what I can't see that blinds me so. A touch and its vibration suffuses my very being... The sound again seems familiar, like a swarm of bees almost, and suddenly the pitch changes, growing higher and faster. My ears seem about ta burst and, with the sound of a heart wrenching crack, I almost believed they did. 

     A piece of whatever it is has broken off in my hand. The pitch of the vibration seems ta scream at me, and I feel like I've wounded what I don't know. Grasping it tightly, I turn and run from the room. Not even lookin’ to see what I carry as the fear of what I've done consumes me, and drives my legs ta peddle the ground faster. Glaukopis takes flight from my shoulder as her usual perch is now jostling back ‘n forth with my arms a pumpin’. Tears are left in the air behind me as we make our way back home as fast as we can run, fly and lope... No one sees us... (doubt anyone'll read this crap) I think.

     At home, in my side hut, I'm nervous about lookin’ ta see what I've absconded with. What does a shard of the Multiverses intellect look like? Will it be somethin’ I can never take out in public? The mutt moves in and noses my hand, so we both take a good look at it... it looka like’a... like’a... like it's a... a spoon? What's this!?! Did I drop the shard and pick up this spoon in some collision with an eating utensil salesman on our crazy flight home?... No, that didn't happen so that can't be it. Okay, no matter that it looka’ likea’ big spoon, it has ta be what I took from that room. So, whatever it is, it’s not a spoon, it just looka’ likea’ one. I take a long look at what looks ta be a handle on this, what looka’ likea’ spoon, it could very well be used as a short sword... Okay, maybe dagger, if’n I hold it near the bowl end. Sharpish... very sharpish, just not that long and with the other end lookin’ likea’ bowl of a spoon, I don't think any will suspect what its true essence is. Okay... Kewl. Examinin’ it closer, it seems ta shimmer, and it’s as if I can see into it... A cosmic seen shows forth inside it, playnets, stars, galaxy upon galaxy pass inside this... well, whatever it is, it seems ta be cosmic in nature. I can see... I see... I see a small flaw at the end of the bowl of the shard... a jagged little hairline crack. 

     "Well, no one'll want a flawed overly large spoon, and I doubt any’d wanna take it. So... I think it's safe ta carry with me." I explain to the mutt who looks up at me with a wolfish grin on his muzzle, laughing silently.  

     Funny, I never named the mutt, he's just himself, and it seemed arrogant of me to decide what he wants ta be called so... Usually I don't have ta call him anyways, he's with me all the time, laughing at me or making me laugh. It just never really struck me that I needed ta name him. We understand each other, plus, I've never heard him call me a name either... 

     The shard is mine. It’s beautiful, strange, sharpish and could come in handy when mixing up the new recipe I still wanna perfect. I feel like celebrating, but as I don't have anyone ta share and celebrate with... I live vicariously through the mutt.

     My parents get home in time to witness the mutt pounding on the neighbor’s dog. Hey, not my fault she's in heat... I don't see it as my responsibility ta keep the mutt tied up while she pitches woo at him from the other side of a fence… Okay, I opened the gate for him. Hades man, I relate with him and feel his need to celebrate as much as my own. Empathic abilities have been showing up lately, and I'm a horny teen too. I ain't no rooster blocker, have at those hens and party cause that's how we get them eggs. I won't stand in the way of two consenting beings, I encourage it. If I can be my best friend’s wingman to his cock, and let fly the doors to that expression of nature’s passion, then I'll check ta see if I have a key... or lock picks... whatever works. So, yeah, I did it and head to the damn pitchfork. I was going ta be goin’ there anyways, and at least one of us has a satisfied wolfish grin on his mug as we head out to the apple orchard. No one the wiser of what I've done, nor of what I possess, we both have a smile. Oddly, Glaukopis is silent as she looks back at my folks, like she understands something I'm missing about them... or will (or maybe it's the double negative back there? no, seems I didn't miss that). 

     Like I said, people get paid for this.. this work. It irks me, it seems like there's a hole in my pouch, and I just can't hold onto any glaux. I'm working on 500 acres of apple trees, and a lot of work goes inta that mash of crap you call apple sauce. Right now, I get ta rake up all the pruned suckers layin’ about. A 'sucker' is a branch that just leafs out and never produces flowers... No flowers, no fruit, they just suck up energy, and grow longer. So, we cut those suckers off and some unfortunate gets ta rake the fallen severed suckers away from the trunks to be collected later, ta be used in makin’ stick furniture, and other weaved items. Nothing goes ta waste on Atlantis, we try ta work with our environment, it's where we live. Plus, everyone knows that nature isn't about competition but about balance. Think about it, in competitions, at the end, there is usually only one winner, all alone... So, tell me, what ya gunna eat now since ya done ate everyone off the playnet? Balance, people, find it.  

     I was told before given this oh, so exciting task (punishment) that I should fill any holes I come across. Ya see, when taking a cartload of apples out from harvest, it does the apples no good ta get bruised from said cart hitting a rabbit hole. Also, should I see any bunnies, I should take 'em out. Hmmm, rabbit stew does sound good...

     Apples. It's said they are a Multiversal fruit, rife with symbolism. I've seen it. You'd think so as I've spent all winter and, so far, all this spring learnin’ about this gift of the Serpent People. Mostly from the backend of a pitchfork.

     Serpent People and Reptilians... what's the difference? I'd have ta say it's their empathic telepathy. [It's kinda likea’ Romulins and the Vulcans from Star Trek]...What in Hades was that? Who the crap is making a referenced comment on my commentary about the Serpent people? [...] That's right, shut up... bighead. Anyways, Reptoids (heehee) are very smart, and they decided they don't want ta be empathic telepaths. Who'd want ta feel what their prey feels during dinner time? Yeah, they like their meat warm and sometimes kicking... or running. They think it's good for the digestion, it causes chemicals that get them high to form in their meal (they do, they terrorize as a tenderizor), and so they think it’s fun ta play with their food too. 

     The Serpent People took a different path, they evolved themselves not only intellectually but spiritually as well. They’ve communicated that it only makes sense in the end. To be smart one need only think, speak and act with love, and the rest will follow. They once lived beside us humans, occasionally accepting one of us into their Mystery Schools of Thought, but not often. No one knows where they are now, haven't been seen in a few hundred years or so, maybe they're in another dimension. Crap, some bighead will probably turn "dimension" inta "daemonic" and then no one'll ever see 'em again. 

     Being such sensitives made it difficult ta communicate and have trade relations with us. Not that they didn't try for a few hundred years, it's just that most of us humans aren't very, well... humane. Negative thoughts cause them pain, and you may say, "It's just in their big heads" and all I can say ta that is, "So what? This is just in your big head as well... isn't it all?" How many times have you shot anger at another in a day? Ever think a hurtful thought towards another? Like maybe, "Go frag yerself!" Not out loud I mean, just said internally? I hope not, yet it’s somethin’ I had to overcome when I found I was an angry bully. Ya see, you can be as vehement as you like in your fat head and no one can hear your thoughts... Well, the Serpent People, they can, and they feel it too, that's why you haven't met one... me either. Basically, we hurt their minds because our thoughts step all over them. Few humans have the ability to direct their thoughts, let alone calm them. I work on it by sitting quietly, just breathing with my back against an apple tree while the mutt naps, and the owl-bum sits on my shoulder staring at me with her big eyes... Lately I've felt like someone else is here watching me, maybe more than one (I hope)… Anyways, we are such heels sometimes that it bruises the Serpent People’s heads... Wonder how that will play out in ages ta come? Probably be in some mythtranslated book, mixing them up with the other race and saying something stupid like, "And the serpents head was forever bruised by man’s heel."... Ha! They'd probably go so far as to vilify the apple, the Serpent People’s wonderful gift ta us. Such unimaginative bigheads will probably name our playnet something literal like… um, playnet Dirt, or some such. I was thinking somethin’ kewl like, like maybe playnet Volrath! Just a word I thought I heard in someone’s mansion sized melon.

     Apples, if you slice 'em in half, side ta side, you'll find a five pointed star inside, a pentagram. The points of this star symbolize the four elements and spirit. The pentagram also symbolizes health and knowledge (as in gnosis). Cut the apple in half the other way, top ta bottom (or vice versa), and it looka’ likea’... likea’... well, um, it symbolizes the origin of life. The doorway all us humans usually pass through ta get here, and that many young, and not so young, horny people can't wait ta get back to. Goddess can be seen in it as well... Let's just say I like apples, which just goes ta show why I may seem a bit fruity someti

     An apple breaks this line of thought. Literally, look, it's written right above. It fell on my humungous head as I raked the suckers, and I thought it very strange... What? No, the apple fell on my head, not the line above (sheesh, I wrote very strange, not bizarre). Umm, oh yeah! I think this is very strange, I mean, it's spring here in Atlantis. There isn't a fruit on any branch ta be falling on the ginormous target I call my head. 

     Why do I keep referencing my head as being so large, it looka like’a any other head... Where are these strange thoughts coming from? More importantly, at this moment, the apple, where in Hades did that come from? 

     "Who?" Glaukopis is on her familiar perch, she's swiveled her head to look above.

     Looking up, I see the ghostly head of a blue/green skinned gal... umm, maybe guy? I get a mixed vibe here. This beautiful being has long, flowing blue/black hair and, ah, three eyes? Well, I've seen more before, but there is something in them. She/he smiles a sad smile of what seems ta me to be encouragement. Wow, she/he is able ta smile, be sad, and at the same time give a supporting feeling of, "I know it's hard, but you can do this." What an amazing being. She/he fades before my eyes 'til he/she is one with the unseen again.

     "See," I say to the mutt, retrieving the apple, "I’m so inta the Unseen it's lobbing fruit at me." I laugh out loud at the mutts quizzical look on its muzzle. Turnin' my cosmic cranium to the owl-bum, "I'm not just frittering my time away, the Unseen’s where it's at for me." 

     I make my decision right now, right here. The more I let go of what’s taken for conventional wisdom, the less I ‘know’ of this Multiverse, I feel the more I can learn from it, really understand... Taking a bite of the apple... apple... I'm not just fritterin’ about... Mmm, apple… “THAT'S IT!!!” I knew the missing element of my recipe in a flash of insight. Okay, the apples had been here all along, I just hadn't seen 'em 'til that lovely... whatever it was, that gorgeous being took a moment ta drop one on my gargantuan gourd. It's what the doughy mass of crap needed, a bit of consistency, a burst of natural sweetness. “Apples! That's what the recipe needs, I'll call it... ah... call it ah... an… an Apple Fritter, and I can spread that sugar cream I made over it... It'll be delicious!”

     "Who?" 

     "Glaukopis my friend," I say with a grin plastered to the galactically immense mass I call my head, "Not this time, this time I'm no arrogant fool. Big? This is... this is… um, I can't think of a good word ta describe how big this is gunna be, but it's... ah... it's big. Big I tell ya." I say lamely.

     "earrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr." 

     The mutt lets a quiet snarl rumble forth, his muzzle pointing at something hidden in the grass... A rabbit! Bringing my arm back, I aim and launch the pitchfork. 

      "Who?" I hear again from the owl-bum as the pitchfork leaves my hand. 

     Too late… I'm a fool, I've just taken a step off the edge of childhood as an inhuman/human scream tares from the pinned bunnies throat. 

     I... I didn't know!... Do you? A rabbit’s scream is like that of us humans, and as his scream strikes through me, tears burst their damn and gush out. All the pain I've ever felt (emotional and physical), a life time of pain, it hits me in his scream, and I feel the tines of the pitchfork where it's piercing me... him. I've awoken to bein’ a full empath with the brutal knowledge that I've taken a life, and what moved that life, the Unseen, it moves through me... and you as well.

     Our screams and the pain I feel in my back and chest die away... I must've fallen to my knees from it. Looking up, I see the mutt with his wolfish grin gone red, and find we're ringed by a group of Serpent People... I know which School of Thought I'm going to now, I'll miss my folks. My attention goes back to the mutt, I know he'll be going when and where I go.

     "Your muzzle," I say in a voice hoarse from screaming, "it's all bloody again."

     It drips with the blood from the rabbit’s throat. He'd let him, and me, out of his pain. Crawling over, I put my arm over the mutt’s broad shoulders, leaning on him as waves of exhaustion pass through me. We both look down at the red grass, and the very still, small furry form laying there.

     "Oh, Lol." I say with tears falling, "Look what we did ta Bob..."

     Giz-Gaz, perched on my shoulder in her familiar place, is looking at me with big sad owl-bum eyes. Lol looks at me with his wolfish grin, laughing silently... though I hear it now in my fat aching head. Huh, guess I'm telepathic too. 

     As the shock of all this hits me, everything grows dim... dark...