I figured it out when we played chess. He had no endgame. He would attack, and if black, he’d overtake. But he lacked a final plan. Frequently, even if he was ahead by a couple of good pieces, I could stalemate him by getting him on the run. His essential flaw was, perhaps, that he was purely reactive. One could bank on it.
My third night on the job I recorded a 66 and a 59. I had back spasms, though. I had a 24 on the front nine on my second round. The first round of 66 I put off to the incredible distractions. I was working on a Friday night, an entire YMCA fellowship was occupying one of the four camping areas, and people kept coming by the guard shack to get their assigned campsites. The nerve of some people! Couldn’t they see I was golfing? I took some painkillers and decided to try a third time shortly before dawn. My third, round, though, also yielded a 59. I had a 52 going into 18, but my spasms were so bad that I got a 7 on that last hole. Perhaps my endgame’s not so good as Beckett’s either.
The fourth night the fifth hole led into a periscope of a decommissioned Russian submarine. A frightened old man was on the other side. His wild white sideburns quivered when I asked him about Lubjec. He placed an exploding scone on the sixth tee and blew himself up with his driver rather than answer my questions. Perhaps I was getting close to the truth. When the brine flooded the sub, I knew I was in a pickle. I figured this was a hell of a way to lose weight.
I made my way to the surface and began to notice my sentence structure. Fragments everywhere. Was it true that Lubjec existed only on paper?
Debriefed by the naval officers who picked me up, I felt naked. My pen was taken from me and broken.
I saw Ed...win.
I was sunk. I was bottled in, and I was in the drink.
I was the gin djinn, and only the reading of my tale would let me out. So, Lubjec, what will you do with me now?
Nin & Nan
Chapter One: The Sign
Nin and Nan sat at the top of the hill together and observed the goings-on below. Nin's mind was sufficiently empty. Nan's was insufficiently so. The future was never not far enough away. Enough that neither of them would never know.
Nin liked straw. Nan liked Styrofoam. The hill obviously disliked the straw because the hill did all it could to free itself of the itchy stuff: it begged the winds to come and blow it away, it enraged the fireflies and it shook itself fiercely. It didn’t mind Styrofoam, which was just fluff, but everyone else did, especially the bugs who came to rest on the hill, and because the bugs were such terrible whiners, the hill decided not to tolerate Styrofoam either.
Nin said to Nan that one fateful morning, "Look— beans are encroaching upon our hill."
Nan looked around. True—the beanfields seemed much closer than they had just a few months earlier.
"No, not those beans," said Nin, pointing to the beanfields. "Those beans." Nin pointed at a newly constructed billboard alongside the not-too-distant highway.
Nan at first did not see it and imagined a different billboard: "Coca Beans—put some toot in your toot!" But Nan quickly dismissed the idea as too silly to even mention to Nin, and by then Nan saw the offending blot on the landscape, a billboard so enormous and gaudy that why Nan hadn't previously noticed it was worthy of some psychological investigation perhaps. But that would have to wait for another time, for at the time the only item being investigated was the billboard: a fifty-foot wide by twenty-foot tall luminescent green-and-pink lettered atrocity featuring a photo of a smiling, dancing string bean in top hat, tails, cane, can and spats. The bean was ascending a spiral staircase. The advertisement text read, "Dance up a stair to good health with Rogers' brand beans."
"Oh, that has to come down, Nin," said Nan.
"Exactly, Nan," replied Nin.
Nan rolled down the hill, across the highway and along the shoulder up to the billboard. Fortunately, it was cheaply constructed of soft pine. That gave Nan an idea for the moral justification for the destruction of the sign.
Back up the hill, Nan said, "Nin, they've killed the trees that went into the manufacture of that sign."
"True, Nan."
"And they've drained the trees of their life energy." "True again, Nan."
"Would it be wrong... wouldn't it indeed be a holy thing for us to restore to the trees their energy?"
"Yes, indeed."
"And what are the spirits of pine called?"
"Why, turpentine, Nan. We have some at home."
"Yes, we should get it."
"Yes, and then we'll soak the sign in the spirits of pine and restore the life energy."
"Yes."
"But Nan?"
"Yes, Nin?"
"That may not be enough. For this to be a holy transformation, we need more. Do you remember the holy transformation of Christ's disciples?"
"Of course, Nin. The Pentecost."
"Wasn't the spiritual transformation described as taking place in tongues of fire? Hasn't it been depicted so by artists for centuries?"
"Ah, yes! So after we douse the sign, we must ignite it with the spirit of the Lord."
"Yes, Nan. You get the turpentine. I'll get the matches."
When Nin lit the fire, Nan was reminded of Abednego's surviving the flames of Nebuchadnezzar's furnace in Babylon. From the German abend, or "evening"; the English "a-bed," meaning "to take oneself to bed"; the Hebrew neg—, meaning "south" [to the Hebrews, of course, the black races lived south]; and the Latin nec, meaning "not," a statement of contrast. Abednego's surviving the flames contrasted the darkness of night yet also upheld it. That it was both things contradictory simultaneously was inherent. All things confirm their opposites. The atheist is as dependent upon the concept of God for hir (i.e. "his or her") self-definition as the theist is. By standing in opposition to theism, the atheist acknowledges the existence of theism. Indeed, the atheist needs the existence of theism in order to exist hirself.
Of course, unlike Abednego, the billboard did not emerge from the fire unscathed. Coca the dancing string bean shriveled and writhed as the bill separated from the board. The wood was freed to dance according to its grain, and as Nin and Nan watched, it danced itself away completely. The billboard turned dark as it was consumed by fire, and then, in turn, fire gave way to the darkness of night. The spiritual transformation of the wood was complete. Nin and Nan watched the last embers give way before returning to the home inside the hill.
Chapter Two: The Road
Days passed, and Nin and Nan enjoyed the return of the landscape to the state it had been in before it had the sign: the purples, yellows, reds and blues of the wildflowers on the heath, punctuated by thickets of gnarled black oaks, weeping willows, scarlet buckeyes, and Eastern cottonwoods, and connected by a two-lane road that reticulated through the countryside like an unwelcome python. The hiss and smoke from the occasional automotive parasites crawling along its skin was repulsive. Both host and parasites had to go.
"We should do something about those pesky cars," said Nin, pointing again.
Nan expected to see a billboard advertising automobiles. A celebrity, perhaps, someone like Imogene Cocabean, holding open the driver's side door to the newest Studebaker, the Studebaker Hawk, and welcoming the viewer into the seat. And something lewd to connect image and purpose—a double entendre: "Come inside," perhaps.
"Where?" Nan asked Nin. No new signage had been put up to replace the obliterated one. The liberated one, that is.
In the distance, a dark Lincoln Continental was approaching. Even at a distance, it seemed to be moving quickly.
"I don't think we'll be able to catch it, Nin. It's moving too fast."
"True, Nan. And to be fair, they wouldn't even be coming along here if there were no road for them to travel on."
"I agree. But we can't get rid of the entire road, can we? It's not as easy as a billboard."
"You are correct that it won't be easy, but I know we have to do it."
They sat quietly, gathering their thoughts.
"Nin?"
"What, Nan?"
"I know why we have to do this."
"Why, Nan?"
"Because the road is a false god, and we must tear down all false idols."
"Exactly!"
"Jesus said, 'I am the way,' but the road pretends it is the way."
"Via in Latin can mean 'road' or 'path' or 'way,' so you are correct, Nan."
"But how can we remove a road without being noticed?"
"Like Hadrian said: 'One brick at a time,' Nan. We must determine the vanishing points on either horizon and begin there, gradually removing a narrow strip of pavement from alongside the shoulder and then, eventually, from the road. This way, gradually, the road will become narrower and narrower until it just ceases to exist."
"But, Nin, do we have a maul?"
"Yes, we do."
"Do we have a spade?"
"Yes."
"Do we have a wheelbarrow?"
"Yes."
"Okay, so let's go find the road's horizons."
On one end, the road came over a hill and was lined by huge willows on both sides. At the other, the road vanished into a valley between two hills dotted with enormous granite boulders. The road's sacrilegious alpha and omega had been easier to define than Nin had anticipated. Very good, thought Nin.
They began mauling and shoveling the road into the wheelbarrow. Load after load they carted off over the horizon and buried in a field. Many days, weeks and months were spent by Nin and Nan in this pursuit. They were vigilant and successfully avoided detection by all occasionally passing cars.
Nan figured they had moved enough wheelbarrow loads and carried them far enough that, if the moved material were laid lengthwise in a one-inch wide strip, it could from where they were reach Point Barrow, Alaska.
Nin said, one day, "Every time we finish a strip, the road seems just as wide as before."
Nan replied, "Remember St. Cyril of Jerusalem's famous Parable of the Holy Trinity."
Nin asked, "No—what was that?"
Nan said, "In the 4th century, St. Cyril wrote that St. Augustine was walking along the beach one day and met a child who had dug a hole in the sand and who kept carrying water from the ocean to the hole, only to see the water disappear. When Augustine asked the child what he was doing, the child said he was trying to put the entire ocean into the little hole. Augustine said to the child that it was impossible to fit the ocean into that little hole. The child replied that he'd be able to fit the ocean into the hole before St. Augustine would be able to explain the mystery of the Holy Trinity."
Other days saw Nin encouraging Nan not to despair. By bucking each other up, they finally saw the day come when they could see their progress. It was a day of joy, and that night they celebrated. They feasted and drank wine. The road was certainly more narrow than it had been!
They ordered a couple of "Road Narrows" signs for the horizons and placed them just beyond where they could see. This would avert the passing drivers' suspicions. Even the occasional trooper would suspect little more than an incompetent DMV. These signs would suffice until the road became too narrow for two-lane traffic. At that point, the "Road Narrows" signs were replaced with "One Lane Road Ahead" signs. When the road had narrowed to within that proportion, the signs were replaced with signs stating, "Road Closed for Repair," and a week later, with railings and "Road Ends" signs. Exhausted but satisfied, Nin and Nan collapsed into their hill and slept for the better part of a week.
Chapter Three: A Visitor
Nin's and Nan's surprise was not altogether unsuspected when one day they saw a Range Rover churning up dust along the former road.
"What do you think he's up to, Nan?"
"I don't know, but we just finished seeding the ground.
That meanie is undoing our work."
"Do you think it might be a revenuer?"
"Oh. You mean like Daddy used to shoot?"
"Yes."
"What do you think he wants?"
"Only two things the government ever wants, Nan:
money or land."
"Heck, we don't have any money, Nin."
"Then I guess he's coming for our land."
"But this isn't even our land. It's God's land." "I think he'd say that the domain is eminent." "What's that mean?"
"That means no one's allowed to own any land except
the government."
"Even God?"
"Especially God."
"But God made all this."
"Sure, but the government wants what's God's." "Aren't we supposed to render unto Caesar what is
Caesar's and unto God what is God's?"
"Yes."
"So we've got to stop this revenuer, Nin."
"Yes, we do. Let's go out and meet him by the road." "The garden, you mean."
"Of course. Sorry. The garden."
"Okay, Nin."
Nan felt angry that this revenuer was destroying the
newly planted beds of melon, squash carrots, cabbage, lettuce, and radishes. Nin and Nan had worked hard on these after recovering from removing the road.
Nan jumped out in front the Range Rover, which turned sharply to avoid Nan and rolled onto its side. A furious bear of a man with a cut on his nose that was bleeding a river clambered out. He was wearing a ranger uniform.
Nan yelled at him, "You idiot! You're going through my vegetable garden! What are you doing?"
The ranger didn't seem to understand. He held up a finger as if to make a point and fell over dead. His brain had hemorrhaged.
Nin and Nan righted the Range Rover, pulled the ranger in, and then drove over the horizon. They jumped out just as the Range Rover and its occupant drove off a promontory point into the lake below.
They hurried back and wiped away the Range Rover's tracks. Nan spent the next two days re-seeding the dirt and swearing. Nin left Nan alone when Nan was like that. Nothing could have consoled Nan just then. The working of the dirt with fingers and replanting of seeds was therapy enough. And, for good measure, Nan also planted mustard seeds.
What worried Nin was that when one lone-wolf revenuer appeared, others were sure to follow close behind. They always worked in packs. The lone wolf was sent like the right eye, and having offended, it was plucked out. But now the rest of the corpus lupi had to be dealt with.
Nin and Nan dug pits in which they stood up logs with sharpened ends. They covered these pits with sod. The next Range Rovers would be skewered before they knew what had hit them. The fact that the dirt had turned to sod and that enormous piles of dirt stood alongside the road and wouldn't even be noticed by the revenuers, who were notoriously stupid, was fascinating.
Actually, seventeen revenuers came by to inquire, but all met mysterious disappearances, all obviously incapable of learning from the vanishings of their predecessors.
Eventually the revenuers stopped coming. Nin and Nan relaxed, confident, celebrated.
Chapter Four: A Pied Piper Arrives
Uncle Sam pulls them along in a sling towed by giant razortoothed clams. Or so went the song.
Nin and Nan listened to American music. They liked America. They just couldn't suffer her misrepresentatives' intrusions.
Musicians showed them a way to hear music as tastefully touching as they had sniffed it out to be.
Fanfare could have announced the approach of music but did not. Its arrival was sudden and surprising.
"Hullooo?" boomed a musical voice from outside of the hill one morning.
Waking up, Nin looked at Nan, and Nan looked at Nin.
"What in the realm of rowdy ratchets was that?" asked Nan.
"A visitor?"
"Not another revenuer, I hope."
"I don't think so. We haven't seen a revenuer in nearly a year. This must be something else."
"Like a gypsy?"
"Or a salesman. Or an evangelist for a mistaken cult."
"Why mistaken?"
"No true believer would ever be so hostile as to use direct confrontation at someone's home
as an evangelistic tool. True evangelism cannot occur in a hostile climate. That's the whole principle behind the Rogerian Strategy."
"The what?"
"Carl Rogers's conflict resolution model for argument and persuasion. Rogers said that to reduce the sense of threat that prohibits people from considering your ideology, you must demonstrate that you have carefully considered and respect theirs. Only then might you get someone to agree to reciprocate by listening to you. That's why confrontational proselytizing always fails. Forced conversions are false con-versions."
"Hmm..."
"I remember going to the grocery store once. I was standing in the cereal aisle, trying to find a breakfast cereal without BHA or BHT, which are carcinogens, when I felt holes being bored into the side of my face by some stranger's stare from down the aisle. I turned and looked to see a bug-eyed fellow coming toward me. I knew he was either a religious zealot or a drug addict. In either case, I did not want to talk to him. But then, sure enough, he confronted me. Without so much as a 'by your leave,' he asked me if I'd accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior."
"Did you tell him about your beliefs?"
"No! He wasn't interested in my beliefs! All he wanted was to force his own XYZ Brand of Christianity on me. You know what I said?"
"No."
"I said, 'Excuse me. Would you accompany me to the customer service desk so that I can have you thrown out of the store for harassing a customer?' Then he said, 'I'm not harassing you,' so I replied, 'Then shut up!' He had no chance in hell of converting me to XYZ Brand that way. If he'd been smart, he'd have asked me about the cereal boxes. He'd have talked to me for five hours about cereal boxes if I wanted before ever saying anything about XYZ Brand."
"That's like what I read about W. Clement Stone, who wrote that Success through a Positive Mental Attitude book. He was an insurance salesman, and when he went on his rounds, he'd stop in at folks' houses and just talk to them about their families and such. You know—you have kids? You ever envision them going to college? Oh, really? Where? Mind if I ask you what you do for a living? And so on, never revealing once anything about himself. When his supervisors made follow-up phone calls to those folks later, you know—our man Stone was out there last week and we were wondering what your impression of him was—to a person these folks all said, 'Oh, Mr. Stone? He was delightful! What an interesting person!' But as I said, he never said anything about himself. What these folks found interesting, apparently, was themselves! They loved talking about themselves. Stone knew this and used this to entice them into wanting to reciprocate, which they could, of course, by buying a little piece of mind from him."
The Unwelcome Guest Plus Nin and Nan Page 6
