"....aah...can you hear me now?"
Rabbi Tirzah punched at her computer keys with her thin fingers.
"Yes!" Rabbi Selah said.
They waited for Rabbi Dinah to join. They were having an online meeting to select a new candidate. Seeing herself on her screen, Tirzah adjusted her blond wig. Dinah was somewhere in Poland on a revitalization visit and Selah was in Las Vegas staying at the Excalibur with tickets to the "Tournament of Kings."
They discussed the matter carefully. They had to find some one just like The Beige Widow. Someone who wasn't really Jewish. Someone who wasn't Indigenous but said she was Indigenous so she could easily become a Jew. They all had read the secret report of the Nixpert on First-Nation-Any-Bodies that was securely sent to them before the meeting by TopBiks, the cheaper version of DropBox.
The Nixpert was busy interviewing female Caucasians claiming to be Indigenous, and her role was to boost the claim of the wannabes through academic research. Nothing sold better to an edgy college professor looking for a way to earn tenure, a person prone to talking up a storm of unverified facts with a wholesome picket fence smile, than presenting him or her with a familiar culture in a new package. And the Nixpert knew where to find these desperate professors.
After the Nixpert vetted the candidates for the professors, she presented the same names to the three rabbis so that they could finish off the job and beatify the "chosen few" as celestial goddesses, attempting to reverse any Caucasian association, with new names straight out of the old Testament.
"Dixie Cobbler?" Tirzah read from the report.
"Sounds southern."
"What kind of Indian is she?"
"She's a hundred percent not. But she says she could be part Seminole via her mother."
"No good, she has to become Jewish on her mother's side."
"Or she could have a tinge of Creole in her."
Selah leaned forward. "How's Teary doing?"
"She's heading to a Sami powwow or something like that but she's telling her husband that she's attending a Mannughnite conference. She's staying with the Shakers in the townhouse until the Vikings clear out of the cabins and the Sami shindig can commence their three day weekend at the venue."
"Excellent," breathed Dinah. "She won't have an ounce of true familty identity left in her and she'll die a Jew."
El-Don couldn't figure it out at first. He felt he had fallen into a daze during the weeks running up to the holidays, all those dreams of aliens and waking up on the floor, groggy and achy. And then Teary saying how he looked tired all the time and reminding him that he kept forgetting things and was letting himself go and he repeating that he was sorry. But these past few days El-Don felt energized. Massively energized by the deepest and most soft hours of sleep and pleasant dreams of strange looking men named John, as if he was jacked up on something. El-Don was opening his eyes to the Colorado mornings, his mind filled with ideas like he had never before experienced, and he thought he had discovered true life at last. "Things are starting to make sense," he said to himself in his car.
Buck eyed El-Don. The man was sitting in front of a large blue donut, his hair was standing up off his scalp like a figure who just walked out of a Dr. Seuss book and into Voodoo Donuts on Arapahoe Drive.
After hearing about an innovative wireless system from his carpenter Bob-Joe, Buck had inquired about whether the founder needed investors which is how he found himself in Voodoo Donuts sitting across from El-Don. Buck thumbed through the Power Point that El-Don had provided. It didn't seem like solid business plan, but Buck was intrigued. He knew that El-Don was in someway connected to Lolly through the Mannughnite church. And then Lolly had disappeared just like Keith Kumasen Abbott's manuscripts. And now this Mannughnite Mast was plumming a plan that was filled with the ghostly notions that the aliens were already in the process of developing. There had to be a connection! Did El-Don know where Lolly was?
For his part El-Don was thrilled that his new business plan was interesting backers. Buck Rogers was notorious for his habit of investing in new businesses and making millions. Why, El-Don was probably going to earn millions, too. He thought about buying Flora a new car. Maybe he could buy Zelda a trip to Paris. Just last week the guys from 'S Natch Funeral Home had promised to come up with a quarter million dollars to develop and merge their ideas. They were really hooked by the Intergalatical Telepathic Interface System because it "pushed boundries" and "cornered the already-here-reality."
Buck was getting ready to talk to El-Don about his product, Hero Pills. So far, it had only been tested on a few select men. Buck had to wait for the right moment in the conversation to introduce El-Don to the concept. Buck thought El-Don would make a great tester. El-Don had religion, a wife and a two garage door home. El-Don was thoroughly relatible. Or was he?
Gator hadn't proved very reliable.
Gator had never really given much thought to eternity. So when he opened his eyes and discovered that he was in his sister Shirley's house, he wasn't all that dismayed. It took him a full five minutes to find despair. He couldn't move, he couldn't talk and, further, he thought he had blinders on. Like a horse.
What was he doing in Shirley's house? He heard Shirley's voice. She was on the speaker phone in her kitchen and she was talking to Buck Rogers.
"Why," Shirley said with that obnoxious voice of hers, "was he buried an Episcopalian? My brother was raised a little Jewish boy."
Buck stated that Gator had specified to be buried in the Episcopalian tradition. Gator actually hadn't wanted to be buried as an Episcopalian. He had written a creative story about becoming Episcopalian as away of submitting the idea of a transitional process to Buck to calm Buck down and ease him away from explosives. A narrative of bland white culture with unrealistic and disconnected expectations seemed a good idea at the time.
It didn't appear that Buck had grasped the point Gator had wanted to make.
Shirley stormed into the rec room after hanging up on Buck. She was seventy-five and built like a tank. Gator tried to shudder but he found couldn't. All his life he had avoided heavy foods and thwarted the family tendency to bulk up after fifty. Shirley grabbed Gator by the shoulders and set him aside. Gator then realized that he was spending eternity as a cardboard cut out of himself in Leoti, Kansas. Unless a miracle happened. Gator also understood that Shirley had driven to Longmont and emptied his hotel room. His meditation cushion was in a crate with his shaving cream on the floor in front of him.
"Alexa!" Shirley called out. "Where did I put my mother's seder plate?"
"You asked where your mother's cedar plate is located."
"No, I did not."
"I don't understand. How can I help you?"
#longmont #Colorado #DrSeuss #keithabbott #keithkumasenabbott #voodoo #donuts #pretendians #Kansas #zen #ghost
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