EXAMINE YOUR THOUGHTS
The committee formed a tribunal and then stepped out of the lime light. The tribunal whipped out an advisory that boils down to a warning: Examine Your Thoughts. They sent it registered mail.
“Roll on proud Mary!” I wrote back on a napkin. “The cow jumped over the moon. The mouse ran up the clock. The levy broke and pork barrel went into action. The rich get rich, period, full stop, a coma cram-packed with commas, a grammarian’s nightmare.”
I’ve about had it sending light waves from the belly of the Beast. I’m going to unlock this ball and chain and set loose the furies. Fast-lane retribution. Heads up, proud Mary. What thoughts?
The tribunal starts thinking Ninjas. Do they have any on the payroll? A fine kettle of fish. They think Richard Nixon and Langoliers, musketeers and deer hunters, Osama bin Laden and Karl Rove, and then they break down in tears. They’ve gone and burrowed to the tap root of sorrow.
Higher up the chain-of-command, red lights are flashing like the scene of a freeway collision. The Masked Man who overrides everything calls off all bets, and the tribunal and the committee are left in the throes of a bad career choice. The Masked Man gets on the hot line to Sam.
“Of course we have Ninjas,” says Sam, stark naked in the lotus position on the peak of Mt. Baker–talk about hills. “I myself am a Ninja,” says Sam.
“Do what needs doing,” says the Masked Man, as close to straight talk as he’s ever come.
Sam disconnects, closes his eyes, inhales deeply and holds it, exhales slowly, opens his eyes again. Prepares for a long day’s journey into night where thinking can get you killed.