KLOKWERK

"I just want to know where I am?"

"Then come and pound a spike," he said as he gesticulated towards my side of the table with a circular spin of his right index finger.

"I don’t smoke," I lied and I this time I was certain. I would have killed for one of those filthy Luckys lying so invitingly on the table. "Listen! I don’t want a drink. I don’t want a cigarette. I just want to.........."

"That’s nonsense my boy," he interrupted. "Every body smokes and drinks in Nugatory."

"Where?"

"Nugatory. You are smack dab in the middle of downtown Nugatory."

"It’s an odd name for a town, don’t you think?"

"Considering the state of the world......? No. Not really."

"What state am I in?"

"Apparently in the state of confusion."

I suddenly yawned with the abruptness of a sneeze.

"Take a seat. You appear to be fatigued," he said with concern. "Lets see if we can unravel this puzzle that appears to be vexing you so."

I decided to at least take him up on his offer of a seat. Besides, I figured I had nothing to lose, especially my heath since I didn’t sense any imminent danger from this old man, his immense size notwithstanding. With a degree of apprehension returning as well, I cautiously crunched my way over bits of wood and plaster to the chair and grabbed it by the backrest and slid it away from the table. It grumbled, then screeched as I dragged it two feet or so along the--------

CLICK!

RRRRRRR!

CLICK!

Somewhere in the United States of America

God’s Friday

9:13 PM

I didn’t know if I was dreaming, having a ‘60’s flash back or strapped to a chair in a CIA mind-fuck lab with electrodes sticking out of my ass, but I suddenly found myself standing in front of a huge, spooky house that would’ve scared the living shit out of Norman Bates. It was a rundown, three-story Gothic-style monstrosity in desperate need of repair. Everywhere I looked on the saggy, old woman of a building there were broken and precariously hanging shutters and peeling paint. As my eyes continued to run along the gloomy dwelling, I spotted a huge, oblong plank, which was partially obscured by shadow, with the faded words: THE GANG BUSTED INN. It was hanging from rusted chains about a foot or two above the entrance. From this I deduced it was some sort of hotel. I suddenly shivered as I my eyes skipped along the old sign, then down to the brass-hooded, gas-burning flame that softly flickered above the entrance. The dim light, coupled with the full moon, cast eerie, criss-crossing finger-shadows that seemed to be choking the life out of the hotel and anything else they grabbed. I shivered again as my eyes followed the erratic architectural lines along the front porch to the neglected swing that gently swayed in the night breeze by chains that were in no better shape that the ones that held the hotel sign. I then shifted my gaze to the two, huge, skeletal trees stood ominously on either side of me. They leaned over the cobblestone pathway like angry sentinels warning me to come no farther. I shivered again then hugged myself as I wondered if I wasn’t coming down with something aside from this totally bizarre situation spooking me out. But, the night air was cold, and I didn’t know how long I was actually exposed to it. So I could’ve been actually coming down with the flu or some such annoying malady. My flesh goose-pimpled as I hugged myself even tighter.