There exist words that everyone speaks but only a few practice or believe.  Words like truth, honesty, friendship, and mostly justice.  Justice looks truly beautiful and I have seen her and she tells me that truth lives and waits for you.  She doesn’t have to posture or take off her clothes or say anything because her smile her eyes and her manner reveal all that is good and real.  Justice lives where the light shines and light shines brightly for those who want to see and sight shines in the world for everyone who wants to look. Where the light is, is where your heart lies, and it is your heart that cannot lie to you.  Follow your heart, think with your mind, and believe with all your feelings and the future will become real and all yours.  Transcend obstacles because hurdles are only to be surmounted and death does not hurt.  Evil, prejudice, and inequity are the pains that we might have to live with.  Goodness leaves a good feeling and the others don’t and the integral of positivity and optimism yield a positive first derivative and a second derivative in the fourth dimension.  What it is all adds up to and positive values add up and non-positive values subtract.  What I am trying to say, is that the way is toward the light and no other path exists or matters and this is why.

He does not want you to look at him because he has become horrible to behold.  His hands warp into claws and he has eyes like a cat, a dark complexion, and thick black wavy hair.  His teeth are all canines because he eats meat and nothing else…  He wears black and purple clothes because black is his color and purple signifies royalty and the only colors, he sees are orange and purple, grey and black, and nothing in between.  His demeanor breeds horror, death, and wanting and a hunger that never can be satisfied and he asks you to denounce your religion and follow him.  He shows a bag of gold and a handful of jewels.    In this revelation and the horror, God installs a cruelty that cannot be cured, forever.  His friend is tall and slender and reminds someone somewhere of a snake. The blond has blue eyes, a long head, and hands like him transfigured by the lord into claws of revulsion, hate, deception, and torture. He wears a long robe with nothing underneath.   He too, asks a soul to denounce his faith and follow him.  They promise riches beyond the imagination, hot women that never satiate, and a life of action, adventure, lust, and carnage. This life does not last forever.  They don’t accept no for an answer. They never have and never will, and any pauper looks for time to end and for his children to grow up, be educated, and start their families so they can finally find rest. 

Life is beautiful and offers something to everyone.  What this life offers a soul is the truth and a truth that no one can ever cloud, obfuscate, purvey, or destroy.  In this life and the truth with justice, beauty, and faithfulness, the powers manage to support until ends and means are met. However, who wants to be a Shaolin monk holding a rice bowl in the streets? Better are the other 80 percent. Aphrodite wears a white Russian mink she has blond hair and she promises something somewhere forever.  The Chinese girl is here.  She likes to ride horses and wields a sword like a man and has no other.  She carries a dagger in a leg scabbard and stabs anyone who tries to approach the Rendu Temujin. When you see the light, dreams, and hallucinations are enough to satisfy this life in the promise of something better, longer and faster. In the acceleration of life to the speed of light, someone can love, and in this love is everything and much more.  Numbers, strategic assessments, the way, the weather, the seasons, and discipline.    The Meek shall inherit the earth.  It is all real and apparent in the 4D.  The real is probably a dream, or nightmare, or hallucination that exists in the eye of Allah and to him, it doesn’t matter anyway, because the game is not really a game.

In the twentieth century Bells

In twinkling render hell

And sad melody dothe foretell

 In the dark and endless night

Beginning heartless tearing fright

 I hear those bells bells bells

I hear the wind-driven shameless shaking bells

In the day they merrily ring

With a ding a ling a ling

And my mind imagines things

Please my soul don’t fearfully wing

I hold my ears to stop the din

Of those bells bells bells

Of those piercing grinning banshee-driven bells

Of bells with ringing chime

Ting ting shrilling sordid rhyme

Allah, please deliver a sign

Marking the end of this time

Instruct the fates to be so kind

At the yelling and the shrieking of the bells

Of those horrid screaming profane tingling bells

I always hear the bells

When I am sick or when I am well

With a flinch or with a yell

May my sanity be weld

Or my future be foretold

With those bells bells bells

Of those merciless tearing ringing pinging bells

Of course, bells are only noise

And disrupt my natural poise

May their sounds I  will avoid

Until I go unto my lord

In the far and distant future

O those bells bells bells

Of those bing bong binging evil bells

Inside the gift reclines love inviting. Around the gift reside space and Om and the Om live in quiet harmony with the gift and the all.  The all changes into everything and everything becomes an arena for the all, the gift, the ego, and the mind to fraternize.   The all exists as a wave function that was and will always be after the end of time and the new beginning. The all lives as itself and inside the all lives the love that the all insists upon in his or her loneliness and perpetuity.   If the space becomes a screen and the gift caresses the space then the result returns a picture of what happens in an in-phase sine wave projection.  The gift sees and does not know a master, the gift only knows truth, justice, and harmony and sees only them when awakening and when falling into complete slumber.  The other side of the gift yields mercilessness.  The gift knows no sides, takes no hostages, and makes no bargains, it only sees what happens in reality and is delivered in the space given to it by the all.  The all can be benevolent and shield the gift from what the all does not want the gift to see. The all screens the content of the gift because the master of the gift born mortal has weakness and human failings and viciousness. Inherent in an incarnation of a human being.  The all gives an ego to the gift to control the output of the picture the gift provides the incarnation.  The ego hopes the gift will not see the truth and only deliver a feeling or volume of the existence of space-time at the instant of arousal and focus.  The gift can be evil. After all, it knows no master because they all want it that way.  In the imagination of the all, the whim becomes the gift and the gift sees what it is not supposed to see and the ego scolds it for seeing it.  In the recklessness of the ego as a mortal being comes weakness because the ego only reasons with the anagrams of experience provided by upbringing and the environment and the life of the gift in a human stems from the imagination of a lonely all.  During sleep, the gift looks around unbridled, uncensored by the ego, and sees what truly happens in the darkness and shadows of the night.  The gift as a mind’s eye reacts to stimuli appropriately without regard to race, creed, or color only in the intent-based upon a vector gram in a 180-degree Cartesian coordinate system given to it by the all.  Because the gift has no feeling, no empathy, and no prejudice, it can seem to act inappropriately to a casual observer.  In unconsciousness or during an attack, the gift sees and may choose not to arouse the ego in rapid eye movement slumber because death does not register as a permanent state to the gift.  The gift sees death as a necessary or paramount experience that returns the gift to all for safekeeping.  Should the gift decide to arouse the ego in everything surrounded by ether and the undertaking of mortals then appropriate action ensues instantly, drastically, and completely.  The ego feels the gift likes to kill and the ego tries to shield the gift from any information that sets it on a collision course with reality. In the world of the gift lives a woman because a woman in a male gift transmits love and love is the sound that makes life worth living.  In the mind’s eye lives a woman and her image becomes one instantly in the space-time continuum no matter the time of day or night or distance from the modular transmission station.  The all let the gift see the love and show the ego the beauty of the word in its entirety.  All this occurs instantly without lag, upload, and delay on the bus because they all want it.   This vision given to man or woman debuts not as 3D but as 4D because the experience transcends time, space, or matter.  The Om equals the vibration of matter at an instant in the space-time continuum. The vibrations of humans may be in phase or out of phase with the Om.  The gift senses out-of-phase variations in the environment of the all.   Who can believe that humankind lives in the world only as a dream in the mind of the gift of God.   

4D sees you in a mind’s eye even when I sleep.   And it can feel love.

From a long adventure bearing Bottled up my youth and yearning in my home alone and fearing Screaming, hissing, writhing, Fitting Crucifix in my hand I do the implore Came a tapping at my window floor

So I looked outside and nothing more

 In a  bed in a  room alight Demons hissing, flitting then alight Turn up the juice for  more light Monsters from the darkness come alive and, in my weakness, I might die Comes a rapping at my window floor And

I know for sure there is nothing there.

 It is like a peculiar tapping, not a coarse and raucous rapping not a loud and boisterous crashing A little pecking, clicking thrashing directed at the window floor I dare not look outside for gravest fear

I am sure there is nothing there.

 Lying in the hospital bed insane Roommate dearest also a bane Booming air duct sounds along with pain Darkness madness freedom maimed Others here they are the same Comes a tapping at my window floor

So I scream out loud and nothing more.

 In this hotel, they shock and twist and drug and startle and slap and rip They come back shadows through the big oak door Grinning devils bare and bored, and in the night returns the rapping A little trite peculiar winking tapping Tapping at my window floor

So I start to pray and nothing more.

 Back at home in just a wink Once a week I see a shrink Asking what I see and hear What I think and what I fear and my future goes amidst the tears and in the blackness comes that tapping the familiar simple shortened clapping A click-clacking at my window floor

And I am sure outside there is nothing there.

 Even in the morning early While I awaken slow and surely Before the sun rises so sweet and cheery.  The sound appears that I abhor I hear a tapping at the front door A little trifled intentioned clacking. A peculiar light and constant tapping Tapping again at my front door

I am afraid to look and nothing more.

 Reading in the night so deep No sounds, no light no insects creep No mice to remind of loss of sleep Then returns the peculiar click and ticking Alight and brusque and sickening pecking A tap tap tapping at my window floor Gone and back and rotten fear

I am scared to death and nothing more.

 And this before the sounds and words Are peculiar things that I have heard in the blossom of my youth Came a loving brush with death and to this day sometimes I hear a tick and tapping Always a light and affectionate clacking A click clack clacking at my new front door and now my soul is not so bare

So I look away because nothing’s there

Let’s go trick or treating tonight, Kool, Wracks drawls, It’s Halloween
Yeah, I have Cranks shaving cream and a carton of rotten eggs, promises Kool.
Wall be sold me some tear gas, says Wracks, I can’t wait to try it. We need some pretty young girls to
terrorize on Alls Hallow eve.
We can live on candy, says Wracks and Nate can come along.
See you at the dark, screams kool, I have cherry bombs.
Kool runs away screaming “Cherry bombs”, and he disappears up Mellow man’s street.
Wracks, I don’t want the police to call me from jail like the day you and Timey were hunting deer down
in the Canyon with Bows and Arrows, says Papa Wracks.
I promise I won’t do anything radical except have a good time, says Wracks
Be home before curfew or they will run you in, says Papa Wracks.
Tonight, Cool, Wracks, and Nate will ascend Bacon way and try to draw out the opposition. Bacon Way
winds uphill, the incline increasing until Bacon Way becomes Disenchanted Drive and Way of the Saint
Inez. Almost all the homes on Bacon Way celebrate Halloween. Some carve spooky pumpkins and set
them out front with candles blowing eerily in the night breeze. Others display lights and banners or play
scary sounds through intercoms and hidden speakers. Others just leave a huge bowl of candy out front
under a light and next to a lighted jack-o-lantern because they are somewhere attending a Halloween
party. Kool Wracks and Nate walk up to houses and level their shaving cream at the door of the
celebrants. When the door opens they yell “trick or treat,” level their weapons and pull their bandito
masks over their faces. The usual reply becomes a bowl of candy and the three scoop handfuls of the
prizes and transfers the goods to their backpacks. A little child dressed like an Indian walks by and Kool
throws a lit cherry bomb inside his full bag of candy. The bomb explodes with a loud wham and candy
flies like shrapnel everywhere, and the little kid sits down and starts to cry. The child’s parent starts to
chase Kool but Kool outdistances the adult and hides in a bush.
What is his name demands the distraught adult with a crying child dressed like an Indian.
His name is Barney and he lives on Deadman’s says Nate. Five houses up.
You will all pay for what just happened, promises the adult.
About half an hour later, Wracks finds Kool talking to one of the neighborhood girls who is dressed like a
Cat with a long black tail tight leotards and a cat mask. They both smoke cigarettes and turn to look
over wracks and Nate who are now nearing the top of the hill.
Hello, I am Wracks, Happy Halloween.
The pretty little cat bats her eyelashes at him and then blinks.
Kool, why did you blow up the kid’s bag of candy, asks Wracks
The devil made me do it says Kool. Besides, I do not like his dad.
He says he is going to call the Police, says Wracks.
They cannot prove a thing, says Cool, not a thing.
Let’s head over on Disenchanted, command Wracks.
The three cross the street from Upper Bacon and start on Disenchanted Drive. The first house on the
hill has lights on and looks open except that the owner has a huge dish of candy with a sign of
“Eat at your own risk.” The three youngsters dressed as hoodlums take handfuls of candy from
the bowl and then Kool takes the bowl and empties the entire contents into his backpack.
Yeah, says Kool. Happy Halloween.
The house across the street situates on an alcove and lush foliage shrouds the entirety of the house. Only
a small entrance niche and a long living room window show the main extent of the house. The
three gangsters knock on the front door where a small iron pumpkin with a candle within
flickers in an odious and ominous way. The door slowly opens and a woman with curly hair in
an evening gown greets them. She holds a small dish with candy in front of the three and says,
“Take one only.” Wracks takes one, Nate takes two, and Kool scoops a handful off the tray. The
curly haired woman smiles and withdraws. Behind her sitting in the shadows is a man with a
goatee dark black beard, dressed in a suit with a black hat and black boots, almost like he was to
attend a party, on a large chair that looks almost like a throne. The shadows shroud the man’s
features but his hands are long, almost feminine, with nails shaped like claws. The door closes
and the three walk off.
Nate says, that man in the chair looks just like the devil. I can’t believe it. What a radical costume. I bet
he wins first prize at a party.
A wrack says that man looked really evil. His hair was black, he had claws and he dresses in a business
suit on Halloween. He must be really rich to afford a makeup artist like that. I was ready to run
in case he lunged at us and tried to grab our throats.
Cool’s eyes turn up in his head and he screams out, “Twisted,” twisted on Halloween. He then
masticates a tootsie roll up into a wad in his mouth and spits the soft food on Nate. Nate in
disgust wipes off the sticky mess with a paper towel and glares at Cool. “Don’t you ever make a
fool of me again?”
Up away on Disenchanted live the Pickle family and the Van horror. The pickles live like active
sociopaths and ride motorcycles out in the desert with Wrack’s brother. The van Horrors have
motocross bikes too and the youngest van horror daughter has a beautiful face, nice figure, and
fine brown hair almost like angel vellum. However, the Van Horror beautiful woman is the
subject of a supernatural horror film and no one dates her. Wracks cannot figure out why. She
looks unbelievably attractive. Maybe if he had an income, he would be able to date her although
no one else does. She looks at him and waves on this Halloween and Dike Pickle heaves a
spoiled tomato and beans Wracks square on the chest. With that initial sighting round, a hail of
tomatoes, lemons, and rotten eggs rain upon the three from behind the gate at the front of the
house.
Retreat says Wracks, we are outnumbered. The three-turnabout face and run-down disenchanted Drive
and then flip off their victorious adversaries from a safe distance. In the distance Wracks sees
three people with a huge slingshot muster a large water balloon. The loader pulls back on the
elastic cords holding the sling to the shot and then let it fly. A water balloon arcs towards the
three from about one hundred yards away.
Take Cover yells Nate. They have artillery. A large water balloon filled with house paint impacts and
explodes ten feet away. The three-turnabout face and run for their lives. They have lost the
battle of disenchanted drive and have been driven away. Back down on Bacon way the three
hunts for another gang upon which to take their revenge. The only adversaries to be found are
three pretty young girls dressed as nymphs in skintight leotards with makeup and wigs. Cool
proceeds to inundate each of them with shaving cream and then toss firecrackers at them. A
wrack sprays one of the girls who jumps away giggling. The loud explosions of the firecrackers
drive the pretty young girls away running. Within ten minutes an adult in blue jeans runs at the
three. Cool sees him first and leaps away into the bushes. The man is Nate’s next store neighbor
and he applies a headlock on Wracks and leads him away.
Why are you attacking my daughters’ girlfriends he asks Wracks.
Because it is Halloween, and everyone has to play pranks. Says Wracks
Where your shaving is cream, asks the man.
I must have dropped it when you put a headlock on me, explains Wracks.
I am going to call the police and complain, says the man. Now be on your way
Go ahead says Wracks, I haven’t done anything illegal.
Down the street, the two other cronies wait for Wracks. What happened, they asked. An adult attacked
me then let me go, says wracks. They were looking for your Cool, but they got me instead. Kool
smiles and shoves another piece of candy in his mouth. On Wraks watch he sees that the time is
about ten thirty P.M. Cool says, I have to be home for curfew. So do I, says Nate. The three
then shake hands and split up. Nate walks back up Bacon way to his house. Kool runs up
Mellowman’s and disappears into his driveway and Wracks enters his house from the front. His
mother lets him in the front door and Wracks spies a Snickers candy bar treat, grabs the candy,
tears open the wrapper, and throws it into his mouth.
Happy Halloween, says Wracks and he exits to his bedroom where his brother lies asleep already,
wrapped up like a mummy and snoring. Wracks takes off his shoes, pants and shirt and
slides into the small bunk bed on the wall opposite the Fonz. Sleep rapidly overtakes him.
How was your Halloween, asks Father Wracks at the breakfast table over a cup of coffee.
I was ambushed and pelted in an artillery barrage and then the neighbor beat me up.
Don’t say I never told you so, says Father Wracks. You should have stayed home and handed out candy.
I should have, could have would have, and then life wouldn’t be the way it is thinks Wracks.
Today strikes as All Souls Day, the day of the Dead. This day chronicles as a day the dead walk the earth
and check up on their families. If on All Souls Day, a stranger walks up to a person and tells them
something unbelievably poignant or entirely strange, then they are an angel. God lets the
departed circulate freely amongst the living if they do not meddle or contact anyone. Once a
soul speaks to a mortal man or woman; they must be reincarnated and relive an earthly
existence. If someone who isn’t an acquaintance relays important information to him or her on
All Souls Day, please listen. As punishment, they must be reborn. Happy Halloween.

You are too old to go out and trick or treat, say Papa Wracks.  Now that you are in college why don’t you man the fort and hand out candy instead? 

That is a good idea, says Wracks.  I can read my textbooks, watch TV, maintain the special effects, and hand out candy all at the same time. 

The kids start to come around dusk and then the flow peters out around nine o’clock, says Papa Wracks.  Your mother buys a lot of candy to give the kids so help yourself while you wait.

The special effects at Wrack house this year include pumpkins, lights, and a boiling cauldron with Fog.  A plug-in device when set in water bubbles and makes fog which slowly oozes out of the cauldron.  Luminous light inside attached to the device flickers with different colors and gives the bubbling cauldron an eerie and magical look. The carved pumpkins sit outside on the doorstep with candles lit inside.  The flames flicker diabolically when the wind wafts past the grinning mouths and mischievous eyes cut into the orange jack o Lanterns. On the window sill inside sits an electric pumpkin of plastic that emanates different colors with time out of a toothy mouth and slant-cut eyes.  Orange lights blink hanging from the rain gutters outside near the entrance and as night begins the entrance to the Wracks house becomes an aperture to the spooky and occult that waits inside.  Tonight the breeze blows minimally and the candles glow and wane with an ominous look.   The large harvest moon looms luminously high in the night sky and the immense glow gives the earth a semi-lighted appearance, light enough so that an observer can discern moving clouds seething in the darkness above.   Already the trick or traders start to move in the neighborhood.  Families from less opulent neighborhoods an hour away drive in and bring their children to trick or treat here because of safety issues in a crime-infested neighborhood.  The smell of the ocean seems distant but arrives succinctly as the clouds move scurrilously across the night sky.  The stars twinkle and loom distantly behind the clouds projecting a three-dimensional theatre in a sky illuminated by a huge yellow moon set in October on Halloween in the twentieth century.

The door chime rings.  A wrack opens the door.  Outside a little princess with her proud father and mother smile as the child shouts out, Trick or Treat.  Wracks holds the large bowl in front of her and she peruses the candy and chooses a handful of her favorite confections.  Mother Wracks buys expensive candy with coupons and the result means Milky Way bars, three Musketeer bars, snickers, butterfingers, and more.  The pretty little prince says thank you and the family moves on and the door closes.  Next, the bell rings again, and this time a group of teenagers dressed as indigents appear at the front door.  Two girls in rags with dark makeup and two gentlemen in bowler hats, cut gloves, and linen shirts shout, Trick or Treat and Wracks brings the bowl and lets the hungry kids grab a handful each.  Their eyes gleam with delight at the candies and they turn and run away to the next house.  About fifteen minutes later the bell rings again and this time a bunch of hoodlums is present at the front door. All have masks on like raccoons and have obscured their faces with rouge, giving a rough and haggard look.   They wear old clothes and sports hats of different characters.  For candy bags, they all carry potato sacks with drawstrings as petty thieves do when they enter a house and liberate away personal goods with some resale value on the black market.  Each criminal has a can of shaving cream on their belt to enforce the possibility of retaliation for a lack of commensurate trade.  A wrack holds out the bowl and they each greedily grab a handful of candy bars.  They then turn and quickly evaporate into the night.  Approximately every ten minutes a group of trick or teeters walk up the steps to the front door.  The candy bowl looks low so Wracks opens another bag of candy bars and pour them into the mix.  The night moves on, the doorbell rings and the Halloween celebrator fills their door with costumes and frivolity.  Mainly young children trick or treat with their parents as chaperons and the costumes range from royal figures to puppies and tiger costumes to devils and monsters, depending on the age of the children.  Teenagers appear sporadically in rushes to obtain the most candy they can hold in their market bags and savor the next day.  A wrack sits in Grandfather’s old chair, watches Halloween sitcoms, glances at his textbooks, and slowly adds to the pile of candy wrappers stolen from the main bowl. 

Around nine o’clock the frequency of guests starts to diminish.  Revelers start knocking at the rate of one every fifteen minutes.  After nine o’clock, Wracks hears the bell ring repeatedly and fists knock on the large oak door that frames the entrance to the Wracks house.  A wrack opens the door, swings it back, and beholds a motley assortment of celebrators that appear in front of him.   These tweeters stand out due to the difference in their costumes and the degree of elaboration on the theme of Halloween.  The first crew is dressed like a skeleton, a specter of death.  This tall skeleton steps forward and holds out a large black plastic trash bag.  A wrack presents the bowl and Death scoops a large handful of candy into the sack.   The second reveler dresses like the devil.  A red skin-tight leotard costume with a tail behind, a black goatee, and an accompanying mustache, with two prominent curved horns on his head, steps forward with a large black purse.  Wracks holds out the bowl and the diabolical figure takes a few select candy bars. Next a pretty tall woman with bracelets, jewelry, and a black-cut evening town steps forward.  She has white makeup on and a large French handbag which she holds out open.  A wrack takes two handfuls of candy and drops them inside the purse.  She smiles and two large vampire fangs spring out of her mouth she laughs cunningly and then retreats.  Finally, a small ghost holding a small pumpkin steps forward.  The ghost wears a white sheep with holes cut for eyes and a thick manila rope holding the sheet around his or her waist.  The ghost has a brown paper bag with handles, like that obtained from the liquor store, and then sets the pumpkin down on the ground and pulls a small J frame Smith and Wesson revolver in 38 special from the bag.  The replica looks amazingly like a real policeman undercover firearm issued by the LAPD.  Trick or treat the ghost whispers as he holds the toy gun up to Wrack’s head.   A wrack says, treats, and pours half the bowl into the brown liquor bag.  The ghost drops the gun back into the bag, picks up his pumpkin, and says Happy Halloween.  The gang turns away. The wracks closes the large wooden door.  Only one or two revelers more showed up for candy later that night.  At approximately ten thirty Wracks opens the door, steps outside extinguishes the candles in the pumpkins, and unplugs the fog maker in the cauldron.  The night cools off; the moon diminishes in size and sets in the Northeast.  The wind whispers slowly and the wispy clouds linger somewhat and Halloween ends at the Wracks’ house.  Wracks steps inside grabs another piece of candy, slams the bar in his mouth, and chews.  He then walks to the brown bathroom, brushes his teeth, and moves to the second bedroom that he shares with the Fonz.  The Fonz is not home and lives in a VW camper van on campus somewhere near the Frat House. A wrack takes off his shoes, removes his pants, and slips inside the covers on the bed.  The setting moon indirectly casts light through the shades into the bedroom and Wracks falls deeply into a slumber as is his habit of living.  Wracks will be on the 7 thirty RTD tomorrow on his way to school and he survives another Halloween. 

Mom and Dad, I am going out with the boys tonight on Halloween.  There is supposed to be a rumble downtown like last year.  The boys fight against the Cops 10-31 in the Hills and Radical tonight.

The police are going to arrest you again and then you will spend the night in jail without any candy, says Mom. 

Why don’t you dress up and torment the neighbors like you did last year?  Ride your mini-bike on everyone’s lawn and burn in ruts, says Papa Wracks.  Or heave water balloons at delivery trucks like you and Nate did last year. 

How did you get in here Cool, asks Wracks.   The doors are locked.  

Your dog let me flip the latch through his doggy door.   We are good friends, smiles Kool. Can I smoke inside?

Cool, do your parents know you smoke cigarettes, asks Papa Wracks. 

It is part of my religion to smoke cigarettes, says Kool. We are Serbian Orthodox.

Neither your father or mother smoke cigarettes, says Papa Wracks

They do other things, says Kool, other things.  I forgot my matches, can I use your lighter?

Go ahead, says Papa Wracks and he walks over to his chair, sits down, and lights up a cigarette also.

Where is Koest, asks Wracks.

He is going to meet us at the bottom of his hill and then we are going to assault the city. Let’s go.

Tonight the night is warm and breezy.  The Santa Anna winds whip up the brown leaves and dust in an Indian summer before the winter sets in.  The moon and the stars glimmer across the black sky and the warmth feels like freedom before the storm inundates forever.  The street lights showcase the hills of tranquil hills and they undulate up and down as the road turns in a serpentine fashion into town. At the bottom of Casa de Azul, Koest waits with his backpack and gang costume.  In tranquil hills, the typical gangster costume exemplifies cut-off blue jeans, Adidas sneakers, a tee shirt knotted at the arms, and a baseball cap.  In the hood, like in tranquil hills, the most easily obtained weapons work the best.   A short knife and baby baseball back when used effectively can then be tossed into the nearest trashcan or the ocean.  However, the idle rich of Tranquil Hills acquire weapons much more costly, lethal, and effective. The landed gentry prefer suppressed rim fire rifles with a scope to exert control and the upper hand over the masses. The key to not getting shot is to not venture to secluded areas and to always keep moving.  Running up Tranquil Hills High School hill and entering the town bordered by the funfair market and bicycle shop. 

On to Milton’s parking lot, says Kool.  Have your shaving cream and rotten eggs ready. 

I have my tear gas if they get uppity, says Wracks, Walbe sold it to me. 

In Milty, ‘s parking lot, the juveniles have accumulated.  From the depths of the crowd an occasional rotten egg splats on the pavement or catches an unsuspecting participant in the face.  Koest pulls a rotten egg out of his knapsack, heaves it and it catches an adult on the side of the face.   The larger man turns into a saturnine figure and runs through the crowd trying to find out who threw the egg.  A Halloween festival churns on at tranquil parks tennis courts and the ruckus at Milty’s draw. The kids draw lines and rotten fruit from the back of the supermarket begins to sail through the air and hit unsuspecting people above the waist.  Rogues run out through the lines and squirt shaving cream from Cranks or Gillette foamy in a stream that reaches ten feet long.  Just as things start to escalate and get fun, three Police cars with riot officers in helmets and shields with long batons roar into the parking lot and form a line between the two opposing participants in the battle of Tranquil Hills 10/31.  The police get out of their cars and clash their batons against their shields.  An Officer with a megaphone leans out of the center car and states.  “Everyone has fifteen minutes to disperse or we will arrest offenders and take them downtown.”   With that, a rotten egg his helmeted offer straight in the face, and a huge rotten tomato hits the megaphone and hangs off its end.  The police start to charge the crowd

Let’s bail, says Kool, they are getting rough.

I nailed them, says Koest, I nailed them good. 

Here they come, says Wracks, run for your life.

The three exit quicker than they arrived and rest at the cul-de-sac at the bottom of a way of Peace Street.  Kool pulls out a smoke and lights up.  Koest pulls out a smoke and lights up too.  A wrack is not addicted to nicotine yet and does not have any.  He finds five pieces of gum from his knapsack, takes off the wrappers, slams the wad into his mouth, and starts chewing. 

Let’s take the back way home; says Kool, I want to check out Kneemo. 

Not many street lights line those streets, says Koest, it will be rough going.

Let us stop at some houses and get some candy, says Wracks, I am hungry.

Down and around the High school bordering the football field the road turns in a snake-like fashion and escalates up a hill steeply to the enclave that borders the high school framed on all four sides by streets that angle steeply downward then at the bottom turn up sharply again.   As the four enter the colony, a whizzing sound appears in the air and lemons begin to rain upon the three.

Run says Koest, we have been ambushed.

The lemons come from everywhere and each one of the three gets hit with a hard lemon. 

A gang of young players appear out from the shadows with apple bags on their sides filled with lemons. 

Peepers, who has red hair is the first to speak.

Any aggression and we will pelt you with hard lemons. says the red-haired teenager.

We give up, says Kool, where is Kneemo and Mondo?

They are at a Halloween party and we are holding their turf for them, says peepers

Can I have a couple of lemons, asks Wracks.

Sure, we have a truckload of them, help yourself, says Peepers

A wrack grabs four lemons and puts them in his backpack for ammunition.  Happy Halloween the two groups say to each other and the three make their departure down the hill and up the hill again.  At Blue Houses Street, Koste says goodbye and starts walking home up the hill.  At the next Hill, Kool states he is taking the roundway home so he can visit a friend before going home.  Wracks walks along alone home at about eleven o’clock on Halloween.  Most law-abiding citizens sleep soundly and the porch lights shut down and the hills become dark, illuminated by the moon and shattered stars scintillating slowly.  The street looks dark; the way seems long and the moonlight consoles Wracks who walks rapidly so he cannot be targeted by the elite.  Trotting by the convenience market on the street without lights Wracks moves as fast as he can without running.  Turn right on Bacon Way, to the crossroads and then the grey gate on the south side of the house and enter through the back door. Wrack’s father sits in the chair smoking a cigarette, and watching TV, and the candy bowl still broods full.  A wrack grabs a handful and heads to his room. 

How was your Halloween, asks Papa Wracks

The police broke it up before it could happen, says Wracks

Crowd and riot scenarios can get vicious, says Papa Wracks, vicious.

Wracks falls asleep before consciousness can overtake him and Halloween is now history and a memory. The moonlight shines through the bedroom window and the stars kiss young wracks goodnight.  It is Halloween in tranquil hills and one of many.

Our founding father Benjamin Franklin, who was a publisher, inventor, and statesman uttered the famous words, “The only thing for sure in life is death and taxes.”    They say he was too nice to run a business and Americans till the end of time will cherish his name, and say it with a smile.  Taxes are necessary for a nation to collect to ‘provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our posterity do ordain and establish this constitution of the United States of America”.   Taxes are a necessary evil like surgeons, police, and even lawyers and when they are needed, nothing else will do so the people by the grace of God levy taxes. 

Taxes are necessary but when is something too little or too much?   After World War 2, President FDR created the income tax.   All investments and instruments created before federal taxation are exempt from their application.   All the excellent mathematicians of the United States found employment through the dark forces that created the income tax system.  Now, in the twenty-first century, taxation has become a marauding Juggernaut that defrauds the poor and favors the rich and is so complex that most people can’t figure out how they can be or be used by them at all.  The fact is this:  the 20% must pay higher taxes than the 80% because they require more of the tax base for their establishment and protection, after all, they live in mansions and gated estates.  To begin, this author feels that income taxes should be based on net income and that there should be no cap on the required amount.  Ronald Reagan was probably shot outside of a hotel because he insisted on a flat tax to bolster his supply-side economic theory.  This is conjecture, but our president was shot because he insisted on a flat tax and the upper 20% didn’t like it.  Oh my gosh, shades of JFK.

If a scholar or tax man with State accreditation heads to the irs.gov site, at the top, above all else are forms and publications in a click on scroll down menu.   In the menu are hundreds of forms for tax men and accountants to fill out, and add the good old form 1040.   Because these forms were created by genius mathematicians under the guidance of the dark power, few can understand how to use them or even why to use them.  Using a trusty calculator and perusing each form individually, the mathematics yield a savings rate for all citizens who use the forms from 10-30%.   Using these trusty, excellent forms, an accountant can shelter, hide, or obfuscate income above the green line.   To all of us bookworms this means gross and underneath the green line net.  The bonus from using income tax forms is that if you are the 20% and use these forms, they can save or hide money from net gain or net loss, and employ a person who has the intelligence to use the complex things.  This is a win-win for the landed gentry and a thumbs down for the working citizens and soldiers who work by the hour and forward up to a third of their income to social security withholding and medical insurance.   The medical plans make money on their withheld money.   This is America and how can we make taxation more Equitable?

All income tax is based on income in a straight-line stratagem

All forms and publications on the irs.gov site are deleted

All withheld money by corporations is used by the Government to invest and disperse.  Not private corporations.

The buzzword of Democracy is equity.   All people follow the same rules, follow the same laws, and pay the same taxes.  If there should be a tax that targets a given economic group which is unconstitutional and prejudiced in Supreme Court meanderings, it should be a luxury tax.    Cars, boats, recreational vehicles, condominiums, airplanes, and second houses should be taxed at a high rate.  Estate taxes which all the rich want because they keep the poor, are unconstitutional not because they prey on a single economic class, but because the 20 percent move their money to where it cannot be taxed be it to another state or even another country.    Estate tax only affects the middle class who need an inheritance so they can house, feed, and educate their progeny.   The 20% do not pay inheritance tax.  This author has heard, and it may be a lie or hearsay, that the 20% in the state of Pennsylvania, which is a state with estate tax, keep their money in another state so it can not be taxed.  Luxury tax for moguls who jet around in planes around the world and eat at five-star restaurants, and no estate tax for the working public who try to save money in their 401k so they can send their children to an Ivy League university to obtain an excellent education.  The only honest tax is a progressive sales tax, so let the citizens of the United States play with the devil, pay their taxes, and get their due.