Back << Page Fourteen – Index – Page Sixteen >> Forward
Home – Writings – Links – The Atma – Sai Baba
LIGHT OF THE ATMA – THE SPARK WITHIN
s destiny
may have it for those who have good merit, sometimes things seem to go wrong only to end up leading that person onto a better path. Peter was on that path. Things were about to complicate for him, but the eventual positive effects would certainly come from the darkness that was over-coming him, because God was the unseen force that was guiding everything in the direction it needed to go. But, in the mist of the storm, all looks bad, only until the storm breaks.
Peter rang the two residences and was informed by the maids that each family was indeed gone. He hung up the phone and his head dropped from the heavy weight of depression he felt. A feeling of desperate loneliness swept through his young heart and he was ready to succumb to what appeared to be the inevitability of going to England.
As he walked through the main room, a question occurred to him. He headed into the study and interrogated Crogg,” What happened to all of the flowers and wreathes that were here when I left? And where are the new ones that have been being delivered?” He looked at Crogg with a gimlet eye.
“I’ve had them all placed in the Rose Room. I thought it would be a fitting place for them since your mother loved roses so much.”
Peter glanced askance at Crogg then left the study. He walked across the large ballroom and down the hall then entered the Rose Room. As he opened the door, he was surprised to see two large paintings of his parents, each one on an easel-like stand with strings of flowers drooped over them.
He stared at the image of his mother. His heart felt so sad and lonely for her. He closed the door quietly and cast his eyes around the room which was full of flowers of assorted varieties.
The morning light shone in through the large windows which his mother adored so much. It gave Peter a strange feeling to stand there. The flowers, though emanating a medley of fragrances, gave him no pleasure, and no solace. They were just tokens of sympathy for the poignant loss he was enduring. He walked closer to the paintings and knelt before the one of his mother.
He thought he could speak to her, but before a word could pass his lips, the lugubrious and hurtful emotions he had been suppressing rose up, causing him to quiver and cry. “Oh – Mother – what shall I do? What shall I do?”
For the next hour he sat there immensely sorrowful. His face was wet with tears, his eyes were red and puffy, and his mind felt dim and clouded.
While Peter was in the Rose Room crying his heart out, Crogg was in the study with a few of his other cronies who had come over at his request.
A miscellaneous breed of artisans* were all piled in the study getting Crogg’s instructions. Two men, who were of a particular importance to him were sitting in the back of the room.
When Crogg finished up his general business with the majority of the gang, he asked that the two men who went by the names of, Pint Size, and Stilts, remain back.
Crogg said, “The reason I’ve asked you two to stay is because . . .”
“. . . Yeah, we know – we know,” Pint Size interrupted with his small voice. “You need our expertise!”
Pint Size was a three-foot, five inches tall famulus – a magician’s assistant, who used to pick pockets for the magician he worked for.
The information the magician found in the wallets and purses of the audience was then to be used in the trickster’s mind-reading acts. Pint Size had the knack of picking pockets, and then returning their contents intact, without detection. And what a knack it was!
Part of the act was telling the men of the audience how much money they carried in their billfolds, including the serial numbers on the bills, among other trinkets, or photos and things they may have had in them.
Often the magician would challenge a spectator whose pocket had been picked with a wager that he could even tell what the serial numbers were on the largest bills they had. Many would accept that challenge out of sheer ego, thinking the feat impossible. The magician used to pick pockets this way and get to keep the money legitimately. He shared everything fifty-fifty with Pint Size.
Crogg used him much like the magician did, to garner information about particular people who came to the parties he threw. This was a supreme advantage to Crogg. He would use some of the information he found in the wallets, and purses to drop hints that he knew certain things about people. This gave the impression to his victims that he had private sources that could reveal to him their deepest of secrets.
This trick made Crogg appear powerful, and influential . . .like a man who was able to get inside information from many places! This put the people he dealt with in awe – and at odds!
He used to find secret love letters in women’s purses, and after reading them, have then placed back, but the forbidden information was powerful, especially if they were wives of someone important.
He then would request that they spy for him, look through their husbands safes to find important papers that had more value than cash.
tilts, a seven-foot, two-inch, two hundred ninety-five pound man, worked hand in hand with Pint Size. He diverted the crowd’s attention while Pint Size picked their pockets. On many occasions he also provided Crogg with a sense of security, and gave him that added advantage in a tight situation.
People were always taken by Stilts’ size. Most were so flabbergasted at the very sight of him, that it left Pint Size free to pick pockets without even subtle detection.
From time to time, Pint Size and Stilts would perform tricks to entertain people. Stilts would add four feet more of height to himself in the form of Pint Size being positioned securely on his shoulders. Stilts’ head and shoulders were then concealed under a special jacket for the show. What a spectacle they were for all who cast their eyes upon them. ‘The tallest man with the smallest head’.
Another stunt that Stilts favored was the balancing the one leg of a chair on leg of another chair, then balancing them both on one finger while Pint Size stood on the very top.
When they really wanted to get attention Stilts would balance four chairs while Pint Size sat on the top one, then climbing upside down on the top chair, balanced himself on one finger. What a show! They also had other tricks just as captivating.
So, Crogg explained to them what he wanted them to do.
Peter, who was abrim with sorrow at the loss of his mother, and filled with anger toward his father, decided to leave the Rose Room. His grief was strong; however, as potent as it was, he tried to keep himself composed. But, the more he tried to suppress his anger toward his father, the greater it became.
Confused and bewildered, Peter didn’t know what the future would hold for him. Going to England was a dreary thought; but with the way things were stacking up, it seemed he was going whether he liked it or not!
Though time was short, could he find a way out? He thought about going back to Boston. ‘Something tells me if I attempt that, Mr. Crogg will have me stopped. I would have to make a run for it, wouldn’t I? But then I’ve already tried that . . . what good would it do?’
Peter’s mind was boiling with the hot bubbles of mistrust. Wherever his mind went, suspicion went with it. It became a cloak over those about whom he thought. And the truth of any person about whom he thought, remained hidden beneath those dark clouds.
But there was another phenomena occurring within him, the negative thoughts he was having, from the negative suggestions that were implanted in his mind, were being superimposed over everyone he thought about. How can you see the good in anyone when that occurs?
Because of this ‘superimposition‘ his governess and his grandparents were beginning to fall under the shadow of all the doubts he was experiencing.
Too confused to leave – not clear enough to know how to stay, he felt caught in a quandary. That quandary was none other than Crogg’s subtle, vise-grip over Peter’s mind! Putting him right where he wanted him.
|
‘Cripple a man’s mind – you cripple his |
. . . and Crogg was no one to tangle with on that score. He knew how to poison the minds of others, and turn people against one another. In truth, Peter was like a rabbit being toyed with by a clever fox.
Feeling he had to accept going to England, he decided to go upstairs, and look around his mother’s room one more time, before circumstances took the chance away from him – forever!
“REMEMBER
WHAT DA BOSS SAID!”
s Peter walked up the stairs, thoughts of his father continued to race through his mind causing him to feel hostile and angry. His anger had reached the exploding point when he suddenly crossed paths with Lefty and Knuckles who, for some reason hadn’t left the mansion yet as Crogg had ordered, and were coming down the stairs. Peter glared at them with a look that told them to keep their distance.
Lefty, seeing the tears in Peter’s eyes, thoughtlessly and mindlessly razzed him as though Lefty were still a child himself. “Look at da little baby cry!” he taunted, mocking Peter’s upset mood. Knuckles hit Lefty on the arm, and scolded him for his tasteless joke. But, that did it, and now it was too late!
Peter suddenly exploded: “Shut up you stupid insentient mass of muscle!” He then grabbed an expensive vase which sat atop a hall table, and hurled it at Lefty who ducked before it hit him. The vase flew over the balcony, and crashed to the floor far below.
Crogg, who was down stairs with the door to the study open, lifted his head. “What was that?”
Up on the second floor Peter was still screaming at Lefty. “Get out of my house! Get out you obtuse, incogitant lummox!!!!” He then screamed at knuckles, “Get your ramagious, hangdog, idiotic freak of a friend out – of- my- house!” Peter was grabbing assorted vases and other articles off other nearby tables and vase stands, and threw them at both Lefty and Knuckles, in a furious tirade.
In the meantime Crogg went out in to the grand foyer and looked at the priceless vase shattered in all directions across the marble floor. “WHAT THE HECK?!” His eyes were drawn upward toward the commotion upstairs.
By this time, the fight between Peter and Lefty had moved its way up to the third floor where Peter was trying to get out of Lefty’s reach and safely behind the locked door of his room, but he got stuck on the third floor balcony defending himself.
Lefty, with his pugnacious attitude, was not ready to let these insults go. He thrust toward Peter at the disapproval of Knuckles, who tried to hold him back. “He’s just a kid!” Knuckle’s yelled, “Remember what da boss said!”
Lefty, not inclined to heed those words of advice, replied, “He’s a kid wit a big mouth dat’s about ta get slammed shut!”
“Get away from me you featherbrained hominoid!” Peter yelled throwing another glass item. And at the top of his lungs he screamed, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!! GET OUT!! GET OUT YOU RUDERAL EPHEMEROMORPH FREAK!! GET OUT!!!”
Crogg’s was on alert. “Hey!! What’s going on up there?!” he demanded to know as he continued to peer up toward the balcony. Hearing Crogg’s voice, the servants all scattered. But Lefty was deaf to his words and mindless of his presence.
Peter was accustomed to giving demands, and having them fulfilled by the backing of his father. But his father was no longer there to impose that threat. It was now Peter, and Peter alone against anyone who wanted to push him around or tell him what to do.
Knuckles was trying to keep Lefty from actually reaching Peter. He tried to lead him down the stairs. Lefty finally reluctantly agreed, and started down. By this time, the servants had gathered again to watch the scuffle.
The disturbance also drew Stilts and Pint Size out of some other rooms. The three of them stood in the foyer looking up at the balcony as another article came crashing down, from which they had to jump away to avoid being hit.
Crogg could hear Knuckles was having a difficult time getting Lefty down the stairs by the words that were going on between them. Crogg called for some of his men to get a handle on the scrape. Before Knuckles could succeed at pulling Lefty down the stairs, a vase smashed over Lefty’s head as one of Peter’s aims made good.
Lefty turned around and started back up the stairs again after Peter. “I’M GONNA GET YA AND TURN YOU INTO BROKEN GLASS!!
When Lefty reached the top landing, another article hit its mark again, only this time it was a small bronze statuette of a roman soldier. When it hit Lefty on the head, it dazed him, and caused him to fall on the carpet.
Knuckles leaned over him, “Are ya all right Champ?”
Lefty stood to his feet and though dazed, went after Peter again. Peter, still on high fight mode, grabbed anything in sight, mostly all precious articles and continued to hurl them. Costly vases, crystal statuettes, and special commemorative plates went flying through the air at Lefty, rapid fire .
Crogg cringed as he watched dozens of expensive items whiz through the air, and shatter to all sides as they crashed to the floor.
The servants on the ground floor stood clear of the flying bits and pieces. “Blast it all!!” Crogg howled. “I thought I told those two to stay away from him!”
Lefty took all the insults he was going to. He didn’t know what the words Peter was using meant, but he knew they were insults, and that was all that counted as far as he was concerned.
“LEFTY!!” Crogg shouted harshly, warning him off. But Lefty, seeing only red, wasn’t even hearing a word.
As Knuckles wrestled Lefty to the ground, pining him down for a moment, Peter looked over the balcony and yelled down to Crogg, “I’VE TAKEN ENOUGH OF YOUR STINK IN MY HOUSE AND I’M TIRED OF SEEING ALL YOUR UGLY FACES! I WANT YOU ALL OUT!!!” His voice echoed off all the marble walls and floors. Suddenly Peter had to jerk to avoid Lefty’s grasp as he got away from knuckles. Lefty lunged for him but Peter was lighter and more agile and escaped his grasp.
Crogg started up the stairs behind some other of his men he had sent to put an end to the fray, to stop the fight himself before Peter got hurt. “PETER!”he hollered in a tone to stop him from speaking, but Peter was too fired up to listen. He just fired back with a statement of his own. “Call your inane hirelings off of me!”
Knuckles tried to make Peter shut up so he would stop provoking Lefty, but Peter hated Knuckles too, and threw a statuette at him hitting, him in the shin.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” Knuckles cried in agony as he hopped all around the floor.
Peter continued to yell, “Stay away from me you truculent moron, or I’ll let you have it again!” He snatched two more articles from their places on hall tables and flung them at both Knuckles and Lefty in quick succession to make them completely back off.
Knuckles couldn’t avoid being hit, and he took some hits to the head which dazed him. As they were trying to recover from Peter’s barrage, Peter ran and leapt over the both of them, and headed back downstairs skipping four and five steps at a time.
When Lefty realized Peter was on his way down the stairs, he started after him like a dog after a cat, with his canine trainer, Knuckles right behind.
Peter sailed down the flight with tremendous speed, dodging Crogg’s men and leapt over Crogg, avoiding his grasp as he was coming up on the second fight, knocking him over as he flew past. Crogg tumbled down the entire level of stairs, and rammed into the railing at the bottom of the second level. Knuckles stopped to help him while Lefty continued his pursuit.
Stilts, who was blocking the front door, held his arms out to his sides ready to catch Peter in his grasp. Peter maneuvered around him, avoiding his frightening grip, and flew out of the entryway right spang into the extra large Beechwater who was just coming up the front steps.
Peter bounced off of him as though he were a large, beach ball. When he did, he landed right into the arms of Stilts who gripped him tightly with his eagle-claw fingers. Stilts lifted him off the ground leaving him to squirm in mid air. Crogg, who had been helped to his feet by Knuckles, held his ribs as he walked down the final flight, to the hall, and out the front door.
Peter, dangling in mid air with Stilts holding him up, looked to Lefty like a punching bag that he was eager to pound on. Lefty tried to get at him, but Stilts pushed him away. This didn’t deter Lefty who was nearly foaming at the mouth and wouldn’t give up, so Stilts held him off with his other hand.
Knuckles struggled to get Lefty away from Stilts and Peter by taking a boxing stance, and he threw a couple punches Lefty’s way. Peter hurled insults at Lefty faster than bullets could leave a Gatling gun. This set Lefty into a bout of spewing swear words at Peter.
“PETER”! Crogg yelled. “Calm down!” Yelling like that caused sever sharp pains to go through Crogg, and he sat down on the wide steps on which he was standing that led up to the front of the mansion.
Peter couldn’t yell any louder than what he already was. His voice shrieked across the empty field on the other side of the street, scaring the birds and rabbits, and other creatures that scurried out of there, while the birds took to flight. “I’LL NEVER CALM DOWN YOU MUTANT MULE-HEADED OAF!! I’ve had with you, all of you!!!”
Lefty made a face at Peter which infuriated him to the degree twice that of the boiling point, and the war of words started again. Peter not only spit out all sorts of hostilities at Lefty, but targeted everyone who fell in his sight.
Forgetting the seriousness of his injuries, Crogg yelled, “SHUT UP YOU TWO!” Then the pain cut thought him again. “. . .Ahhhh – ahhhh, ohoooooo,” he yelled in agony. But the shouting match only increased.
Knuckles was unable to control Lefty. Crogg’s only hope to put out the fire of rage, was to separate them. Peter wouldn’t relent anymore than Lefty would. Knuckles went over to Crogg and knelt down beside him, “You better do somethin’ boss, or Lefty’s gonna kill da kid!”
Because Peter was not yielding to the coaxing of reason, Crogg told Knuckles to have Stilts put Peter in the wine cellar, “… just until he cools down! And get a few men to help, that door is impossible for one man to open. And Knuckles, have Stilts lock it!”
Knuckle’s got up and went over to Stilts, and cupping his hands as a megaphone so Stilts could hear him over the racket, yelled, “Da boss wants dat yu put da kid in da wine cellar!”
Hearing Knuckles say this, made Peter even more angry. He started to kick and squirm even more as he dangled there in mid-air. But this resistence didn’t even phase Stilts’ ability to hold him out-stretched by the collar with one arm four-feet off the ground while he held off Lefty who was dancing around him throwing jabs at Peter.
When Peter caught sight of Crogg sitting on the steps, He started on Crogg with a series of names and remarks that sounded much like a foreign language.
With a flustered face, and strained voice, Peter assaulted Crogg with words, “FREE TO COME AND GO, HUH?! NOT A PRISONER, HUH?! YOU LIAR!! YOU CHEAT!! YOU SWINDLER! YOU HAVE NO HONOR!! I’LL NEVER CALM DOWN AS LONG AS YOU AND YOUR MENAGERIE ARE HERE! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
As Stilts dragged him off, everyone who had gathered around, cleared a path for him to go by. Peter spouted off with a fireworks spray of colorful words which no one could fully recognize or identify. Everyone of the hundred servants from all the floors and around the grounds had been attracted to the incident and stood speechless at this spectacle, as if their breaths were swept away by an unexpected gust of wind.
Peter’s voice could still be heard in the distance, shouting out both verbal assaults, and pleas to be let free as Stilts carried him down the cellar stairs.
A group of assistants helped Crogg into the mansion. As they stepped inside they came face to face with an entire group of servants, nearly 100 in all, who had gathered around.
Crogg made it a point to walk up to them, with the aid of two of his men, and with a strained look in his eyes, and sound to his voice, he spoke to who appeared to be the foreman of the group.
“I would like to apologize for this unfortunate display of temper you all had to witness this morning.” He could feel the uncomfortable stare of 100 pairs of eyes looking at him. He glanced around at all of them, then continued to address the head man, “I would imagine that this little display could have frightened some of you.” In the far background of sound, Peter could still faintly be heard yelling. Crogg ignored it as he continued to talk “. . . But, as many of you older servants know, Peter is a young Lad who was allowed to do anything he wanted to do, without the restraint of any rules.
His father allowed him to rule in this mansion with his, well…” he paused with a sense of fabricated sincerity and ostensible humility, as if to convey he was such the humble man, and continued, “…. spoiled ways, and I would guess that some of you here have experienced Peter’s wrath before.” A murmur rippled through the gathering, as he plied his verbal methodology. “And, I am extremely sorry to say, that he also gave his gentle mother nothing but needless problems that caused her more grief than she ever deserved.”
By this time, many guests staying there at Crogg’s invitation had managed to join the crowd also. Crogg continued, “Peter simply resents being told what to do, and is doing what he’s always done when he couldn’t get his own way; he throws a fit!” Most every older servant in the crowd, was whispering to the newer servants that this was true. Crogg did have his ways.
“His father allowed him to rule in this mansion with his spoiled ways, and I would guess that some of you here have experienced Peter’s wrath before.” A murmur rippled through the gathering. And Crogg had them fairly well convinced.
Just at that moment, ‘SLAM’, the sound of the giant cellar door, two levels below the main floor, could be heard slamming shut.
“I want that all of you go back to work and do your best to forget this little problem.” Crogg dismissed everyone with a ‘thank you for understanding’look . . . then, with the help of two of his men, went back into the study and sat down on the long, cushioned sofa.”
Charles, who was inconspicuously part of the crowd, shook his head grievously, realizing that Crogg was exploiting Peter’s temper to make him look worse than he actually was.
Two men closed the doors of the study, and stood guard on the outside so no one would bother their boss. Crogg had a few allies rejoining in the study with him from earlier before all the commotion. He spotted a man he wanted to talk to. “Hey, Duds! he called, “Come here.”
Duds walked over to him with a slosh of a walk, and stood before him, “Ya Boss?”
Go outdoors, and see if you can find Lefty and knuckles for me, will ya? And, when you do, make it clear to them, I want to see them.”
“Right Boss. “
Duds, was quite the sharp dresser, and was a retired heavyweight champion, who had seen better days. He was famous forty years ago, and had one of the best reputations in the business, when he was in his heyday. When Crogg found him, he was washed up. No one wanted him around anymore after a career of having every boxer he ever fought, use their bare knuckles to paint their battered rendition of him on the canvas of his face. He became too hard for some to look at.
In those historic days, fighters didn’t wear gloves. No one ever thought about plastic surgery for fighters back in the old days, because of two reasons . . . the profession was very young, and besides that, why patch up a fighter who was only going to get back in the ring, and mess-up his face all over again?
Duds, went outside to see where Lefty and Knuckles might be. He spotted them across the road in a wooded field. Knuckles, seeing Duds give them a ‘come here’ wave, turned to Lefty. “Looks like da’ boss wants ta talk wit us.”
Duds, seeing he got Knuckles’ attention, went back inside and reported to Crogg, that they were both across the street, and would be there in a bit. Crogg dismissed him with a nod.
Lefty and Knuckles then jogged across the driveway, up the stairs and into the mansion.
Meanwhile, Stilts had carried Peter down, two flights to the cellar and threw him into the wine room, sending him sailing into the back wall. The impact knocked Peter’s breath out of him. Stilts locked the massive door that protected all of Michael’s costly wines and then slowly lumbered back up the stairs, and went directly to the study.
As Pint Size was tending to Crogg’s ribs in the study. Lefty, and Knuckles came trotting in. They jogged in place as they looked at Crogg.
Stilts also arrived at the same time and approached Crogg, and peered down at him. “What’s da matter Boss?” His sonorous voice vibrated the window panes as he spoke.
“I think I broke a rib or two,” he moaned as he looked up at him. “Send for the Doc, will ya?”
“You don’t need Doc Woodland,” Pint Size objected. “You cracked a couple of ribs, that’s all. With that fall and tumble you took, I’d have thought you’d come out of this a lot worse, but the thick carpets on the stairs, and the reasonably good shape you’re in, saved you. I think you’ll will be fine.”
“Where did you learn how to do this stuff?” Crogg asked him.
“You learn a lot of things when you travel with a circus troupe like Stilts and I did for so many years.
“And. . .”
“I learned about the healing profession from a doctor,” Pint Size explained. ” After being run out of the town he practiced in, he joined the troupe since he had always been a little fascinated with circus life. If he hadn’t of botched up a surgery while drunk, I wouldn’t be able to help you today.”
Crogg gave a nod with raised eyebrows that Pint Size’s explanation made some kind of agreeable sense. ” Works for me.”
Pint Size continued. ” We could use a good…well almost pretty good doctor, after all, what does anyone do when they fall from an elephant, or get burned by the rings of fire or tumble from the trapeze or tightrope? Lest they fall victim to fate at their own hands not using a net, for the effect of the crowd, if they live, then for their sake, they need a physician, what ever kind we could get…and we got him. Dr. Rambler.
“Did this doctor teach you anything about removing pain? Ohoooo…. don’t wrap it so tight.”
“Don’t worry Boss, I’ll take good care of you.”
As Stilts left the study to go get something Pint Size asked him to get from his room, Pint Size got Crogg a mild drink. Crogg groaned as he moved to adjust himself on the sofa. Taking the glass from him, he remarked, “Try to do a good turn for someone, and look where it gets you.” He moaned again when he tried to take a deep breath. “I try to help the Lad in every way I could, and this is how he repays me.”
As Crogg noticed Lefty’s pitiful-looking expression, some humorous thoughts must have occurred to him, for Crogg began to laugh even though it caused him pain. “Did you hear some of the things the Lad called Lefty?”
Hearing this, Lefty, and Knuckles caught Crogg’s infectious laugh along with all the other people in the room.
“Yeah!” Lefty blurted out, “And what about da tings he called you?!” Lefty said laughing even more, and everyone was sharing their part of the experience with everyone else laughing up a storm, when Stilts reentered the room.
Just the sight of Stilts caused Crogg to laugh even harder, and even Stilts who didn’t know what was going on, joined in on the matter.
Every time Crogg looked over at Stilts, he broke up even more. “Did you hear what the kid called Stilts? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…” Stilts was laughing so hard the windows started to rattle. “He called Stilts a… over-sized lump of dinosaur feces! ” Pint Size was rolled up in a ball on a chair laughing so hard.
Stilts, not understanding the context of the insult, idiotically joined in the laughter. Helplessly caught by the contagious current of absurd humor, he roared and roared.
After the men had their fill of grotesque laughing, one of the trademarks of disturbed men, Crogg became serious. He looked at Pint Size, and asked as he looked at the drink he gave him, “What did you put in that… some mystical potion?”
Pint Size dropped a couple more tablets in his drink, “Now, this is what you might want to call a magical cure*.” Plop plop, in went the tablets, and they fizzed as they dissolved. And Crogg drank it down to the last drop.
“Now listen Champ,” Crogg directed his remarks to Lefty as he looked up at him, “I want you and Knuckles here, to hit the town and buy yourselves some new threads.”
Crogg had Pint Size take a roll of bills from his pocket for him, and count off five hundreds for Lefty and knuckles. Pint Size gave the cash to Knuckles.
“…And Champ,” Crogg said, “keep yourself far away from this place until I send for you.” He gave Lefty a serious ‘I mean it‘ look. He raised his eyebrows, and waited for a response.
“Ah, right Boss,” Lefty answered. “I was tinkin’ a’ goin’ down ta da gym and havin’ a go wit dat, ‘Stars Poluski’. We’ll see who sees stars when I get done wit ’em!” and he did his little pugilistic dance around the room. His shadow moved on the wall as he practiced the art of sciamachy . . . and the two men, whose lives were on the edge of the cliff called fate, jogged out of the room, then out of the mansion.
Crogg looked around with an expression of wonder. “Where’s Ted?” (Beechwater)
Pint Size’s squeaky little voice emerged from his tiny body to give the answer. “When all the trouble broke loose, he jumped into his automobile, and left.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t hear him crank it up. That automobile of his is louder than a train. I would have heard it,” Crogg remarked.
Pint Size shook his head convincingly. “I’m telling you Boss, he left. Ya had a lot on your mind at the time.”
“Wonderful!” Crogg responded ironically. “The voice of gossip is on the loose! With what he saw going on here today, half of Chicago will know about it in a matter of hours. There’s no umbrella big enough to cover this town from the gossip he can rain out of his mouth… Ahhh!…” he moaned as he moved, grabbing his ribs.
Pint Size leaned in toward Crogg with a look that prefaced his tone as if it were a word to the wise, “Listen Boss, the servants saw everything and heard everything,” he glinted a look as to say ‘you know this’ “…and that’s going to be all over town in a hundred different versions by tonight, too.”
Crogg looked at Pint Size with a little cross-eyed stare, “Are you sure you those little things you gave me will take away this pain?”
Back << Page Fourteen – Index – Page Sixteen >> Forward
Home – Writings – Links – The Atma – Sai Baba