The Goddess Pele/Feral Chicken Auditory Hallucination Story

By popular demand (or like 4 people on Facebook) here’s a little something funky that happened to me a couple of mornings ago….

Never Look A Gift Cock In The Mouth

I was awakened really early by a woman’s voice. It was probably the crack of dawn but I was too out of it with the tired to check my clock. I just heard this woman talking. She kind of sounded like one of my roommates. I have two, both female. They have real bedrooms. I have a dining room converted into a bedroom, which means that where a wall and a door should be there is a bookcase and a curtain. I hear everything. It sucks. But don’t cry for me Argentina, because while you’re stuck in Argentina, I live in paradise.

Except paradise comes with a severe cost–one worse than dining-bedroom. That cost? Feral chickens who never know what time it is.

Rrr-r-rrr-r-rrrrrr! at all hours of the day with these friggen roosters. The only time of day they can agree on is crack of dawn. That’s when they’re like, “TIME TO GET UP! HEY, EVERYBODY! TIME TO GET UP! REMEMBER MIDNIGHT? FALSE ALARM! NOW GET UP!”

Rrr-r-rrr-r-rrrrrr!

Many are the mornings when I slog out of bed and chase them out of the yard rattling a rake and cursing these loud, shrill, atonal opera singers. As I type, I hear two of them crooning right now. But distantly. They aren’t in the yard. In fact, they haven’t been in the yard since the morning I heard that woman talking. Now back to that….

The voice is not my roommate’s after all. Is one of ‘em watching TV? Are they up this early? What time is it?

I listen closely. Finally, I can make out what she is saying. She’s saying, “Not bad… Not bad…. That’s not bad… Not bad….” over and over. I realize it’s not a roommate, not the TV… holy crap!–Is there someone in the house? Or do we have a ghost?

Now I’m lying there scared listening to this. I’m still half asleep and not attempting to get up. I’m like asleep but paranoid. It’s weird. And then it gets weirder for I hear this woman’s voice saying, “That’s not bad” morph into “Rrr-r-rrr-r-rrrrrr!”

That’s right, I am hallucinating, turning the distant call of a rooster into a woman’s voice. And I realize this at that moment, that very tired-yet-alert-enough-to-be-paranoid moment. And as incongruent as this all is, it gets incongruentier, to… make up a word. I actually find myself saying to the rooster chick, “No, it’s not bad, Pele. But I can still hear them.”

Goddess Pele When She’s Not Doing The Funky Chicken

See, even though I know I am hallucinating a woman’s voice over a distant rooster, I am also still in the middle of hallucinating. And so, me, in the middle of hallucinating, believes that the woman is the Hawaiian volcano goddess Pele and that Pele took time out of her busy morning to come to my apartment and use her magic to keep the chickens a safe distance from the yard so that I may sleep. And now she’s saying to me, “See? That’s not so bad.” Like, “Look, I’ll make sure the chickens stay away from your window so you can sleep.” And me, always one to look a gift horse in the mouth–I’m whining that it isn’t good enough. But, because it’s Pele and she’s a goddess and I’m living on her turf, I’m whimpering with all due respect.

Anyway, I thought that was interesting, especially given that the chickens really have stayed away from the yard for the last few days. When I’d rattle a rake at them, it just emboldened them. I think they came back in the mornings for their daily chase. Honestly, I think they kinda liked it because they would come right up to the window and Rrr-r-rrr-r-rrrrrr! for as long as it took to respond with a chase. Sometimes I’d wait a half hour, forty-five minutes, just to see if they’d go away. No such luck. Then I’d chase ‘em and they’d shut up. So who were they talking to if not me?

Whelp, at least now we’ll have what esteemed doctor Tyler Kokjohn calls “scientific proof” that Pele is real or not. If the chickens stay away, she’s real and I’m turning into Hank Wesselman. If they come back, she’s not and I’m turning into the man who mistook his wife for a hat. Yup, that’s science. Right, Tyler? (Ssshhh… don’t answer. You’re just a humble, small town doctor from a… small town. We know. Or is that someone else I’m thinking of? Only one way to find out: gun show. )

Not Tyler Kokjohn.

Boom! Gun Show, Bitches! The Challenge Has Been Made, Tyler, Doctor To Doctor. (William Henry–Make Me A Sandwich!)

For my own public image of sanity I will not be updating this story if they come back to roost. But I’m still publishing it, so what does that tell you?

Rrr-r-rrr-r-rrrrrr!

All of My eBooks Just $2.99 Each!

I Know Why Book CoverUrgency Book CoverInto The End (front cover)

In a bid to make enough money to fly back home for my cousin’s wedding this August, I have lowered all of my ebook prices to the incredible impulse-buy rate of $2.99 each! Kindle… Nook… whatever your ereader of choice is, you can own all of my work for next to nothing. So, please do! (Sort of. I just realized that I Know Why The Aliens Don’t Land! isn’t available on the Nook yet.)

Consider it a donation to a fundraiser for a plane ticket with the added benefit that you get to own a really great, critically-acclaimed collection of words that came from my head and spilled out of my fingertips for your entertainment and, perhaps, education.

Here are the links to the U.S. pages:

KINDLE BOOKS

NOOK BOOKS

More about these special books….

 

I Know Why The Aliens Don’t Land!

The book that started it all. This is an autobiography written in the style of Robert Anton Wilson’s Cosmic Trigger series. You will learn why these visitors we call “aliens” don’t just land and say hello, but not before being taken on a whirlwind ride through the life and times and mind of the man-child making these wild claims.

Urgency.

If I give your brain every answer to every big question it’s been plagued with since the dawn of time, will that stop thought? If so, what happens in that moment? And if that doesn’t happen, are you at least left with a feast of spirit food to chew over? Yes, definitely that. This is the book of mind and spirit for those who have had it with religion and New Age. This is the real. And it’s written in plain language so that you will understand it.

Into The End

A coming-of-age sci fi/horror epic that starts off like a small and simple tale, but ends with your jaw hitting the floor. No less than that. Take everything we’ve learned from my previous two books, plus the best of Paratopia, put it in a word blender set on “Stand By Me Dialogue,” and feast. By the end you may wonder if you just read a work of fiction… or a twisted truth.

_______

What better way to spend your tax refund? Ssssshhhhh-sh-sh-sssshhhh… I said, what better way.  Now please get to shopping. It’s for the children.

A Moment In Timeless

Into The End (dragon)As I was leaving the coffee shop, a boy sitting outside asked me if I wrote a Star Trek book. I said no I never wrote a Star Trek book. I let it hang there like that, like it was a possibility that someday in the very near future I could write a Star Trek book–because, you know, I’ve got that kind of clout. It’s a deceptive tactic I learned by watching Steven Greer lectures.

The boy asked, “But you did write a book, right?”

I said, “Yes. I’ve written three. I think the one you’re talking about is a sci-fi horror novel called Into The End–but I don’t think you’d like it.”  I told him that last part reflexively to warn him off of adult material. It really isn’t for kids.

He said he must have gotten Star Trek: Into Darkness mixed up with my book title. He asked me how long it took to write it and I told him that’s a tough question because I actually wrote the first draft back in high school. Then I thought how ironic that I’m warning a kid about 2 years younger than I was when I wrote the thing originally that he shouldn’t read it because of the adult language and themes. I caught myself feeling old.

“Do you like Star Trek?” he asked me.

“Yup,” I said.

“What about Star Wars?”

“Oh, yeah. In fact I like Star Wars better than Star Trek,” I said.

His eyes went wide with a look of nerdom I remember well. “Me, too!” he said excitedly.”It’s got a way better story than Star Trek and way better characters.” He launched into a mini lecture on the greatness  of the Star Wars saga. I caught myself feeling timeless.

I cut him short. I had to catch a bus. “You’re catching a bus?” he asked kind of incredulously. Maybe he didn’t picture a rich writer taking the bus. Or maybe he thought I was blowing him off. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was a poor writer. How do you tell a young boy with his whole life ahead of him, “Chin up, kid. You can be anything you want in life. But, you’ll probably still work a soul-crushing 9-5 job. They don’t teach you that part in school, do they?”

I also didn’t have the heart to tell him I was blowing him off.

Sorry, kid. My generation invented the Star Wars vs. Star Trek debate.  It’s people like you–little people–for whom George Lucas invented Jar Jar Binks, the character that single-handedly changed the debate of Star Wars vs. Star Trek to Star Wars vs. Star Wars for my generation.

Then I felt my eyes go wide with a look of nerdom.