["D/A" narrates —A.A.]
Master J' went back into the can, returned immediately with her uniform, said: "Sorry I took so long, had trouble finding these." He held them up, then tossed the uniform to Tree. She went into the bathroom to change. A moment . . . two . . . three . . .
"So, what's taking her so long?" I queried.
"Good one," he said.
"For her age, Tree's got nice apples, huh?" (Why not push it?) He laughed.
Crabtree came out, looked me up and down, raised a penciled-brow, adjusted her cap, brushed her hands down her uniform, shrugged, smiled a wide one, and headed out the door. Then she stopped and turned back to Master J'. "Thanks," she said, "I guess . . ." and left.
"So?" I said.
"What?" he said.
"You just sit yourself right back down here, Master J'" I patted Aces chair, "and tell me exactly what happened in there." Yikes! Bold that—yes? Extremely bold, what with him being who he was and all? I mean—if, for instance, Master J' were to set his glowing, radiant-robed, white-haired, bearded self down in, oh, say, some pristine, jungle-like, New Guinea-like . . . well, even in this day and age those crazy head-hunters would think Jay was God Himself! They would! Of course they would! You know they would! But we know better, don't we? We know God's a woman.
"Who you talking to? Or was that Aces?" Jay said. (Wish he'd stop reading me.)
"Tell me what happened, Master J'. Ple-e-e-e-ease?"
"Well, I found her in The Hall of Records, dressed like Cleopatra, playing strip poker with Kublai Khan, Queen Elizabeth the first, Pope John Paul the forty-third, Edgar Friznak, Dolly Dagger, some clown calls himself Archie Bunker . . . and, oddly enough, good old Elmer Fudd."
"Really?" In no way did I believe him. "Did you sit in?" I was ready to burst.
"No. Full table," he said. "Can I go now?"
"No!" I cried. "You absolutely cannot! You know I need to know what's going on here. Is this whole freakin' room becoming one, massive co-ordination point?"
"Draw a line," he said, "from your bed to the window to the bathroom to your bed—"
"Done that," I said. "Almost a perfect triangle."
"Not almost. Is. You'll understand better—" he looked at his . . . watch "—soon."
"This room, Jay. Shouldn't we be drawing up a few signs right about now—Out Of Order, Wet Paint, Enter At Your Own Risk, Keep Out! Mmm? Huh? Well?" Anything to keep him here.
"No real harm can come," he assured me.
"So, Tree's o-kay?"
"We'll see," he said.
"I know, patience, right?"
"Active-patience," he said. "Right?"
"Yeah, active patience," My third-eye started to tickle.
"Go ahead," he said. "Ask."
"Alright, then." (Sweet.) "What's The Hall of Records?"
"A record of everything."
"Everything?"
"But not like you might think."
YOU ARE READING
The Seventh Direction
AdventureA spiritual, mostly fictional adventure, which takes place in both the 3rd and 4th dimension . . . and perhaps occasionally in the 5th. Under the umbrella of Mother Earth---School of Learning, Freewill Zone---the story, rather than looking at us as...
