My Dad's Ticket

Ticket?

Yes. A ticket.

To where?

I’m not telling.

Aw common pops.

To berlin, paris,
Oklahoma?

God no, not Oklahoma.

This ticket will get you to a place you never even dreamed
of.

A place over the hills and through the woods.

To granma’s house?

No.

This ticket, this paper card of sorts, is a magical ticket.

It has powers.

What powers? I cannot tell you

Why? I promised an old friend.

But pops!

I’ll tell you this, you ever thought about the mist that
comes in every morning.

You ever wonder why it stays and blocks out the sun? The
mist you see is like a low cloud that
blocks out things and people can only see maybe a foot ahead of them if they’re
lucky, there could be a dog, or a rose standing next to them and they wouldn’t
be able to tell.

This ticket breaks the mist. It gives things light and
clarity. That is one of its powers,

conversation about the edge and skepticism

The door at the edge.
A myth you say. A Chinese looking man rubbing the hairs on his chin, he
had a bowl of soup that seemed to had a green steam to it and smelled of
ancient onions.

Yes the door at the edge. I helped design it.

They say that it coincides with the rising of the sun, to
give the illusion that its opening into another world.

Hmpphh. Is that what they say. The Chinese man is not pleased by the news. He
looks around in consternation, and takes a bit out of his eggroll. Rubs his
hands to gether and looks in front of him, chewing cautiously, pensively, maybe
even calculatingly.

What if I told you… it was not an illusion.

Then I would say thatyou are a gullible man. A man who
believes any farfetched fantasy.

The Chinese man’s eyes flashed, and his lips itched to
retort, “Farfetched, yes, if by that you mean, you must fetch it and it is far. But fantasy. My good friend…. You think you know so much, that is
the only fantasy. And you live in it. please excuse my saying. "now if you excuse me..."wait!"

Simply that there is a door instead of the sun and if you
race towards the horizon, you can reach the door in time.

And at that point you are brought into the place that is not
earth.

The other place What do you call it.

Call it whatever you want. It’s relatively tropical and
colorful, so I call it Brazil,
but you could call it whatever you want.

Crumbhead and the Door

There are a number of steps. That can eventually lead to your demise. Steps usually lead somewhere important. A closet on the hill is not a popular occurrence. So the purchase of a smith and Wesson for 345 dollars at Penny Giver was no slight mis-step to a large series of mis-steps that would end in the demise of sweet ms Canterbury. The news of her death was like honey to some, namely ms Butterton who couldn’t stand her constant complaints about this and that and who hadn’t sent chrismtas cards on time, but to little Crumbhead it was devastation. A blizzard that appeared out of his own heart and frosted his organs and pickled them in ice vinegar. Crying and desolate is where I found Crumbhead and decided to offer my assistance.

“ Dear little child, steps are taken every day and ankles are twisted everyday, thankfully otherwise…. Anway, what I offer you crumb is a vision, a chance to find a gateway into a kinder world, for I’ve seen the ways of this one, and they are petty and trite, they ways of this world hound you like dogs that savor nothing but the tearing of human flesh.

That is this world. I have found a way…… and he hesitate…. OUT.

The boy looked up, puzzled.

Ahem.

Ever heard of Tahiti?

Doyou know that it was stolen. I stole it and brought it to this world on the back of a giant turtle.

You think I’m crazy… I need a psychiatrist.

But think about what I’m saying, regardless of what I am.

What’s the important thing to get from all this jabber?

The important thing is not Tahiti, crazy man, stolen islands,

The important thing is where…. Where is this place you speak of…

And then How, how my young chap are we to get there!