Books are a hard bound drug with no danger of overdose. I am a happy victim of books.

People don’t read like they used to. Mr. Baum wrote 14 books in this reality. In another there are another three books. Your laughter about my escapism called lately here in this reality Mandela effect is sad. You see, reading used to be my escapism of reality. 

That until someone pushed me into this absurd story. How absurd of a story? I have seen the rapture. Lost 1.2 billion people from my reality on Sagittarius to this reality on Orion nebula. What were the three books about? There was a short story about some guy named Mr. Nick Chopper. Who absurdly makes a dead man into a living monster. Almost like Frankenstein. And it is very similar to the story of The Tin Woodman of Oz. 

However, it is a bit more dark. Going into revving humans via electricity or something. Looking back, it almost seemed like a Borg manual on how to build a human from dead parts. Laugh with me on my escapism. For I can no longer find that book here in this reality. The other two books? One was in wars. The other was a love story with Dorothy. I don’t recall either of them much beyond that. 

Surely, I am escaping reality. There are only 14 books by Mr. Baum or was his name Ward?? Sometimes. I wonder. And of the three I remember which is the most? I think the one which seemed more like Wonderland, to be honest. For some reason it seemed Lyman actually placed his child in that story. It was an earlier story about the Wizard of Oz. 

A child taken to Oz. How? My recollection is that the child fell asleep like Alice in Wonderland by a tree. I doubt I can recall much more. However, I do recall that one of the characters was being told the does and don’ts of life. Almost like a nutsy rhyme. It was quite fun to read. Where was I when I read it? Ah. Yes. Escapism? That story I can tell you. I was in a library on the plains of Dakotas. My mom was with some relatives. And I? I was not wanted like usual. 

And had found myself being left at the local library this was the 70s prior to the US government getting involved with kidnapping children and all that. There I found a rather odd book. The first few I wrote about elsewhere. An ex KGB writer, about how the Kremlin had two Mona Lisa’s, one as large as the one in the Louvre Museum. and the other a smaller version. There were 28 books with Ward Baum along with a rather interesting text on things that are best left unsaid. And a collection dedicated to Lyman from the Ward family. I think they thought he was part of their family or something The Ward family had donated a lot of the books there. Maybe they had all died? I knew I was related to them. How or why? I don’t know. But they had donated a collection of Ruth Ward of Ward Baum books.

So. Let me think. This was the 70s. And I? I could read them. Not like the 80s. For some reason, I went from being rather smart to be rather dull. Maybe Sagittarius reality spelling is the problem. After all dilemna there is a dilemma here. And I did rather good at school up to a certain point in my life. Shame on those that are part of this mystery. Did I escape them? Well, if I am here and they are still there. Here has died billions of years ago to them and to me today? It has only taken me a few days. Meaning?

I escaped hell and have no plans on-going back. Hell is real. However, they do have some rather fine books to read. So now back to the 70s. I read parts of it. To be honest, I was not into the Wizard of Oz at that time. I was into cowboy books. I think I was in Jamestown or Velva, North Dakota and their collection held some rather interesting pieces of cowboy literature.

One of the books donated from a local LaMoore titled the real ending of Butch Cassidy told a story I heard in 80s. Thus in that book that I read in the 70s which I think was written in the 40s and published locally the guy as a miner ran into Cassidy in Nevada in the 1920s. Cassidy at the time was running bootleg liquor. How he escaped Bolivia and ended up in Nevada the book did not explain but some of the ways that he smuggled booze from Nevada into California was rather humorous. 

So? Where was I? I seemed to have escaped reality yet again. Which is real? My story? Or that there were or are only 14 Wizard of Oz stories? I doubt I know anymore. I do know reality changes by the day. So maybe I will find those three titles and remember to write them down or remember them the next time they show up. Meaning after all Mandala me this or Sketcher me that.. Time is but a drop in a bucket of reality for those traveling these days. I might have a long way to go.

A long way to go. Yes. I think that was the story about. I think Mr. Ward or Baum had suffered something. And the story held out the morals of what he learned. That life is cruel. And like most cruel worlds, people were soulless. Or for fantasy types golems. Or for the Jewish types golems too.  

Makes me wonder. He seemed to address his failures in an attempt of rebuilding himself or the character of the story into someone or somebody new. Seems rather odd. Remember, I was like what six or five or was seven and this was the 70s prior to Star Wars or any monster movies in my life. Let’s be honest, I was a G rated childhood and pretty much a G rated life. 

All I remember was the monster wanting revenge and had a pretty decent excuse to destroy those he could take hold of. And instead forgave them and walked away. It made me into something different, I must say. Meaning? Ask those that picked on me through my life. I am owed a lot. Do I owe anyone? I think not.

The reader at the bookstore was reading his book. You could see the strain in his eyes. His fingers glanced swipe. This was a person who speed reads through the book. Just like a document or one-page note, but was reading an entire book in the same period as that one page.

The book of fiction he was reading he carefully was not bending. Observing this, I could think that he would not purchase the book. But he would have enjoyed the latest fiction and read it at a speed to complete it in a matter of an hour. That no one would care not to purchase the second-hand book at a new bookstore.

As many of you know, I used to live in the library during the daylight hours of the 1980s. I spent my time with Lewis, Tolkien, Jordan, Rice, before it became cool or interesting to the masses.

I spent some time observing him. Why? I am an interesting person in my own way. To see someone be so careful and watch his movements as you could see him glance at a page and move on?

This was someone I had to meet. Why? Simple. Most of the interesting people I know. Well, they know where a good meal is at. And I was hungry.

I stumbled towards him thinking what I would say. Meaning I had not read the book. I had read something by the author a long time ago. But like most time travelers discovered that words, meanings and ideologies change. Along with the colors and realities of God’s game design.

To think once upon a time, I thought I was unique. Only to discover I was one of so many. Meaning I was part of the parallel realities. That I could step into their shoes for a day to write a story and go the next day to see something else was well weird. Thus like most weirdos. I enjoyed finding and talking with interesting people. Why? Well, because usually some place along the way had a soul or something unique.

I bumped into him. To see me is to wonder how on earth or who on earth let me out of my room? Yes. I am locked away behind several gates. I used to do things, and now? I look like a rag muffin teddy bear with the personality of a pirate. Of course, I had escaped my room that day to get a donut and to check out a bookstore for. Well, for anything worth reading.

He turned and stared for a moment. At that moment, I recognized where I had seen him before. Now this was something unexpected. Usually I meet one soul one day. The person's body is soulless. Meaning not the same stories nor soul or personality. So meeting a soul here in a bookstore was interesting.

So we put our books away. Meaning I too had been re-reading a classic. We went to eat.

And like I said. He knew of a great place to eat. It had German bread fresh. Sort of like finding money in an unexpected place. Because. Well I had lived here five years and never been down this street he took me. Maybe it did not exist in my realities only in his? I do not know Heck. I do not know if I am responsible for my actions or the souls or mind of the person that owns this body is responsible for the body's actions. You say why not? Paul or Saul. That which I would do I do not. And that which I would not do I do. Meaning sometimes I find myself in places and predicaments that the average one footed one eyed teddy bear pirate would not be found. Let’s be honest. 

Now what we discussed? We discussed Borge. An Argentina writer that seemed to be misplaced in time and space. How? Simply put , he lived backwards into a life that was not his. That is why he had fame, fortune, power, and money. While I had was German bread.

We discussed the time of tribulation and wondered if we were doomed or lost souls without real bodies?  So he had heard the story too. I asked if or when he heard the story of the ends of the real worlds not the mirror worlds? He looked at me.  What did I know?

I told him a tale from a journal I once read a long long time ago. About how realities were created for the sole purpose of letting one soul rule a reality and become well sort of the deity there. He asked did I believe that? I told him of the horror stories I knew were behind me and in front of me for I had seen both the future and the past. And we both came to the same conclusion. That the billions of years were just a matter of seconds to our real bodies and that all of this was just some sort of game.

He asked which future I had seen. I had seen so many endings I told him of the most recent memory.

Space exploration is something in 2070. Ever since the 2021 announcement that the aliens had been in contact with them since the 1950s in this timeline reality has shifted drastically. Meaning prior to the announcement there was the normal 1 to 3 years in advancement in technology and mapping of the galaxy to now there is something new almost daily. Moon bases: The first moon base was out already. Which was wild to find out that all those adventure stories from the Montauk Project were real? Mars? Somehow use energy transportation was available already, and they had built a sizable outpost on Mars due some galactic war where the world’s governments wanted to keep humanity safe from knowledge that their very existence was on a collision course with war.

What got more humanity involved was the cheap orbital habitats and skyhooks locations put into orbit by space elevators. Orion space module which was just to use for man space flight to the asteroid belt was repurposed with some tools and a complete mining operation of the asteroid belt happened by 2030. The elemental table kept expanding. From 103 elements to 283, then to 315 elements. Each allowing for a new material to be built cheaper and easier than humans could do.

What happens when luxury happens to a complete population? Some wild dreams happened. People began living much longer and instead of costly education and certifications. Free education allowed the advancement of almost every field.

Artificial intelligence use was everywhere. To think of a toaster that talks and can butler was something to see for those that had not grown up with technology. However, they became used to the new advances. Soon Mars, Earth, and Venus were being used to populating and spread humanity among the solar system as late as 2045. The newsbots were spreading the word of the first Venus born baby being born knowingly. The governments and aliens were always one step ahead of the newsbots, so who knew what was real these days.

The awkwardness was when the first transportation energy gates were being constructed for matter transportation. They needed space flight. Now, because of several fictional designs built in the past with energy ranging from the possible to the impractical. The first spaceflight to Venus took a terrible amount of time, seven months. Reason? The Humanities government demanded to be in charge of the spaceflight. However, soon after that the aliens were allowed their own spaceport and exotic and space flight to other places outside of the Sol System was possible by 2046.

The poor were the first to flee earth. With spaceflight so cheap, people found jobs in exotic realities and the pay was peanuts compared to earth, still fed, clothed, and provided a decent income. They found the reality of Artificial intelligence to help humanity plan for the needs of several unique cultural space races that were not growing their population anymore and needed something more than the robots that took over many aspects of the workforce.

When the cheap freighters and space crafts showed up in used old car lots around the world, soon people were leaving in masses to repopulate places that had been abandoned because of unknown causes was the told language on the newsbots put out.

The conspiracy theories of course talked about a galactic war and that soon humanity would be needed to fight off some meanest or other.

However, this was told by a time traveler from the past 2070. Traveling to 2020. Why? time travel along with space travel was something to do. That time technology like closed time curved loop reality was possible with the use of D'WAVE computers. Many large accidents got avoided completely and changed the course of a lot of humanity’s ideologies and thinking.

The problematic approach? Why the other cultures and aliens were dying out. They were not dying per se , someone trapped them in a dream, more or less. Meaning? Humanity entered the AI game in 2069. One year before the end of humanity, to be exact. People laugh and say humanity will live via cloning for seven million years in some realities.

I am here to tell you the truth as a dead speculator; I suppose. The final game everyone in humanity enters the game after their death. The game was so advertised that no one realized it was what caused the noble deaths of cultures and other alien races.

The game. Strictly speaking, I am not really dead yet. I am still traveling. Meaning my final 10 minutes of life is upon me and I am just writing this as a confession of sorts. 

The game kills humanity, just like the other races. They built it to entertain some people so advance we might as well call them what they are deities. They play for souls and such. They play for keeps. What they do is undoable. In yet? There are stories of time travelers messing with their stories, creating personalized realities where the deities were held in check for a time. Making them believe the unbelievable. That they were in charge of their fate. If I seem sarcastic here, I must admit I am such a designer. I Did things no man realizes in this reality or time.

Do not believe me. I doubt I would. Being almost dead is not what I expected it to be like. They push 10 minutes of the minds back through realities that they passed the soul through to play their games of chance. Some for fun. Some for drama. Others for wars. Wars. The wars of Gods are wild. Some for horror. If you do not believe, read Zechariah and realize zombies are real and I have memories of losing to them more than once.

In my final 10 minutes I am watching the time of tribulation once again. So few people make it this far in the game. To do so makes me wonder. I know I lost and am in jeopardy for telling the stories, but who is left that cares? The time lords or wizards are dropping like flies.

So what is the game? It allowed minds to believe anything and everything was possible. From space exploration to marching into hell. It was a game, and for humanity who loved entertainment, they fell into within a year of being introduced to it. 2069 was the death of humanity.

Within one year of introduction as entertainment, the whole of humanity was almost wiped out. I say almost. What happened? The rich enslaved about a third of humanity and put them into the game without them knowing it. They were placed in events and sports and games that they were not specifically assigned to in the universe or designer game plan.

Meaning the rich cheated the poor. By bribes and so forth and the souls there got caught into realities where the rich felt or dreamed they won control of the game. The sickness like I said almost wiped out humanity by 2070 space exploration was really mind placed inside almost coffins or for those into the religion universal gaming system.

The few humans left were workers on outside worlds where the aliens had taken them in more than pets and used them to do things that robots labor union contracts prohibited an Artificial life form to work. Explicit sex trades etc. Kind of awful ending to a beginning.

But I am here to tell you a tale, an adventure of sorts. So, lets begin. I awoke on earth 6.5 billion years into a future that no longer remains because well I am no longer there and my breath brought it to life sort of speaking. Without a soul, the game is rather automated, and they force the design. Whereas a game with a soul can or is flexible. Why? I do not know. They say chaos or chance. But after reading John Von Neumann's last paper on chaos. There is no such thing. It is just a storytellers place and chance is nothing but the game designers deciding to do something new to keep their clients entertained; I suppose.

My earth South America was below North America. April 18, 2016, there were 8.5 billion people. Mostly golems or soulless players or for gamers non-player characters with limited ability to do anything. There I awoke and played out a game. According to the internet in the April timeframe our galaxy of 377,000 light years across was to hit the next galaxy in 365,000 years.

Since that date? I have been traveling back through time in reanimated worlds for a day or second, to be precise. They broke each day down to mere seconds so the gamers could have the most game play, evidently to make them feel comfortable hurting people.

The precise number goes something like this: 60 sec in 1 hour 24 hours in one day 365 days in one year wherein a player’s average life span was originally 120 years but was reduced to 70 years for game play sake. 60 × 24 × 365 × 70 = 36792000  this then multiplied by a quark somehow is called fractal math and the result is 23 billion splits of the soul, each of these quark seconds is a chance in a different reality if that makes any sense to you.

Meaning 1 second quark one day of game play in some reality. Earth? That is just the funny part. The earth I described April 2016 was what I called home. And now that I am on recall to my original body? I am unsure of the consequences of my actions in this game. Was I good or evil I have only hope and faith left and both in Jesus. However, let me say the bible changes from Lion laying with lamb to Wolves roaming lambs, so who am I?

I am just a time traveler in a closed time curved loop going back into the game. The question is to enslavement or hell or balance my life so carefully to be vomited out into these mixed up realities one more time?  2080 space exploration was real. Humans saw the world through, they provided whatever vision. We conquered worlds. In yet? It or this might be just all a game and I am ending for the time of tribulation draws to an end, I suppose?

My adventure was what I was going to talk about, not an ending. Let me see where to begin. I suppose under a yellow sun. Not here where they have the mirrors set up for a Calmarie transfer of souls back into their bodies. They replace the sun here with the mirror weapon system that recently fried all the trees of the world. Kind of not for me. 

Who was I there? Ah, that is a question. I was a poet. My work used to be read. I used to inspire people to do good. My letters from leaders said thanks for the concern about war with Syria to famine in Africa to the genocide in Africa.

Where or should I say here? I look for my traces to see who I was there, and I seem to have misplaced them or did not do them here. Was the person here soulless and did nothing but according to some game a non-player character? That I wonder about these days. After all, the closed time curved loop for several people is ending.

Like who? Hillary Clinton and I were on the Sagittarius arm where Abe Lincoln was senator.  While George Jr. Bush was on an arm of the galaxy where Sadam murdered Mandela. While Obama saw a reality where the United States had 58 states. And Trump voted the day after Thanksgiving.  Laugh all you want.

But that is the end of the story. Did humanity ever really reach the stars or was it all in their minds in the game of life?  That is the awkward question. For you see. I remember fighting on a star bridge and failing greatly as one of the last ten generals. 

Was it a dream? I no longer know. I do know that my dreams of space flight included that space travel between worlds took less time due to the space elevator that launched vehicles into space without a blast off. My memory of huge ships that no longer make any sense to me fighting an hopeless battle also are concise to points of time and space.

While recently I remember Katrina in 2003 being called in because a DOD research lab let loose a zombie virus and Blackwater mercenary bragging of killing 200 or more US citizens being paid by the US government. 

Spaceflight that I remember a time when the Russian were first on the moon. That let alone did they have a landing they had the first female and this time she did not float into the atmosphere wrongly and burn up. 

Spaceflight? Orbiting earth now is a weapon platform of the solar mirror. It is placed there to fight the invasion well. The Space Force with their spacecraft are prepared to fight. WEll, according to the story here heaven or hell depending on reality.

.I had my instructions. I was in charge of a message fleet frigate. If earth's defense failed the message was nuke the planet. The rich had their shelters and the poor? They did not even know of the war going on. That trillions of dollars had been stolen over the years and taxes raised on them until they paid more in taxes than on food few people even realized.

That the war went badly is all I can remember. You see you can not fight the designer of the game. For when you appear to win. We destroyed everything that was sent against us. The designer just brings the invasion force back. Them without a scratch and earth's forces? Down to 15 percent. Still we fought on until I was told to deliver the message nuke earth and that happened and? We fled in our frigate did it matter?

No. In the end the designer of the game got their game back. And the rich in their bunkers The horry stories told on lone outposts forgotten from other times and realities?  The poor getting mad at their masters dug them out of their bunkers raping and roosting them over open pit fires. People laugh and do not realize that was ist moment ago in some realities. 

The event of 2012. The end game. The waking is happening and all games are being returned to their physical form. Meaning a winner of the game possibly or a conclusion of things. To think all the spaceflight the other worlds the other realities. Were just a dream in an Artificial reality. 

My stranger from teh bookstore laughed and handed me another piece of German bread. 

Humans should not meddle in the in the affairs of dragons ... humans after all taste good with ketchup...A book is a magic portal to another dimension- taken a book is better than any drug to be high on for to read brings about imagination and dreams. The secret is not to tell those that could reach this stage but to hold onto this reality a bit by bit to make it yours. It is first responsibility of dreamers to question the authority of those seeking to enter. Secrets after all are only true when one and only one knows them. 
To reach these secrets visiting a person that happens to see the world a little differently such as a poet, writer, or those just a bit off and talking with them happens to open their minds to ideas. Think before thinking becomes illegal. Read before they burn or destroy the books again... Imagine before the end...  

Do not wish, not to know. Because you prefer to remain unenlightened, to better be a cow slaughtered in the dark. The end was here and a poor poet I am. A hero to no one who remembers. However, within my imagination, I am someone as important as the next person an influencer of good with a little naughty on the side. Someone you are pleased to know of but do not really know for sure. For how can one know a poet’s heart when his words on paper stray from politics to famous people to a cartoon drawn just recently by noon? To say I am recognizable is a short statement to those that read tiny articles or notes pinned here and there. Alternatively, poor poetry sent to people that had half a mind not read it for what is a poet, but a small person within himself caught by today’s light and in the night as unbalanced as a mad hatter at a tea party with Alice in Wonderland So few actually remembers days as a poet nor see through his eyes how the world was changing due to people lack of kindness or rareness. Shame is but sadness today. Forgotten is the way to be true and heart-felt best friends to a mad hatter. 

I am currently unsupervised I know, it freaks me out too. but the possibilities are endless. Blessed are the weird people-- poets, misfits, writers, mystics, painters, troubadours-- for they teach us to see the world through different eyes. So you are okay with the government having the weaponry to annihilate all life on earth.. But you are upset with someone that owns a rifle that holds 30 rounds? When someone tells me I live in a fantasy world, I take that as a compliment. Never be afraid to sit awhile and think. The most precious jewels you will ever have around your neck are the arms of your children. Can you handle all this awesomeness? We are each given a limitless capacity to love and attain wisdom. The extent we use these gifts is our choice. One can not be spiritually fulfilled until another animal has touched one's soul. "YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH PEOPLE'S MINDS" writer's block when your imaginary friends stop talking to you. clint the world is an odd place now a days. Is it life of ease just losing its ease. or is it life just being what it is.Art is a dream. An artist's dream about what the imagination could be without limits. To desire something outside one's own reality is to dream. That was what my new home was like when I was just a child. Built in 1910s the home was a classic railroad home big with lots of room. The first few days I was entranced because there was still a study with bookshelves and an old chair from the prior owner. I would go to the library which was close by and check out a book then comes home sit in the big aged cushioned chair and read for hours. There I would be kidnapped to different locations and realms which my mom would often ask where are you at today. My answer of course would depend on the book's location and my imagination. During this time, I started reading Corrie ten Boom book about hiding Jews and Nazis. My imagination was a bit off into a different world when I accidentally tipped the huge chair I was sitting in over and backward. The chair hit a lower cabinet shelf which sprung away from the wall. Being curious and my mom not at home I looked in and saw a small hall way with a deem shadowy light filtering from a window somewhere. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled towards the light. The crawl space was less than two of me at four feet two inches I edged rather rapidly towards the light.  

Lost in a library or found a story book full of other books?

By Clinton R. Siegle

I was looking for a book at an old library. I bumped into a shelf, which pushed back. Pushing a little more, I found what looked like a personal study or a chamber filled with books. Searching for a switch or light, I noticed only candles and candlesticks. Pulling out. My phone lit the room with my phone’s light.

There was a room filled with old books. Not something you see in this day and age. On a table was a book with the name of the owner or writer on it, Jorge Luis Borges. Opening the book, I found a bit of confetti in the pages. A note translated roughly to saying a door to time follows the map. Roughly from what I could make of the Spanish/German note that had fallen out of the book with the confetti.

Then the Spanish/German book seemed to add some English. In the end, I took the book to the library counter. I asked if I could check it out. The librarian was a kid. She said I could have the book because it was not in the system and they were clearing out the library. Great, how 1984 of the library.

Getting home, I spent the next few hours translating the book. Which went from Spanish to German to English. This is the rough of the story I got from what I titled a Time Traveler’s tale. The translation is rough. Meaning some words I had to add to make sense to me. I hope you enjoy it. Mr. Borges was part of some society or government organization that created a time traveling program using a map. Of Lewis Carrol, or who knows. This is part of the journal, not the first few pages. For that was a detailed accounting on where to find a portal to somewhere else, etc. Rather technical and boring. This picks up when someone else other than Borge has the journal or book or whatever this was a sort of reminds me of a journal.

German translated work: Wonderland? Why, yes, I have been there. It is off the coast of Never-land. A sort of between Oz and Kathmandu. However, on the Chinese side. Not the Nepal side of the Tibetan hiding place of the garden of paradise near the ocean. Few people realize that in England. The reader with the assumption that Alice was English. That small portal or wrap hole or rabbit holes lead to the tunnels that crisscross Europe, leading to many places in the world and elsewhere. Any ways Charles Lutwidge Dodgson talks with great-great Uncle Richard Francis Burton lead to his rather oddity book. I sat and listened about a place that great Uncle Burton talked about during the night tea. Uncle Burton talked about how he and a madman. That made hats for a living. Once fell through a hole following a historical piece stolen by what only he could describe was a fast moving bunny rabbit which he never caught. The hat maker in one of Uncle Burton’s many tales. They gave it the name of Gregor MacGregor after a discussion that he never was sure of his proper name, but that he was a hat maker for sure. The title unofficial or not was part of the real tale told by Uncle Burton when he would take a shot of whiskey.

Spanish translated work. There was this map. Which was the special historical piece which got stolen or some project called Nightshade? The map that could take people across time, space, and supposedly worlds. The mad hatter MacGregor had stumbled upon this map during his conquest of the republic of Poyais. Just where had the map come from? Who knows? However, uncle Burton told how titling MacGregor pirate or cacique of Poyais. Had at one time pirated a Spanish ship that had treasures coming from Europe to Venezuela. One had to ask uncle Burton was he sure that the ship was not coming from South America to Europe. Or why would Spain send treasure to South America? Whiskey tells tales, and you have to verify and wonder about them. No. Uncle Burton was sure that MacGregor had said they bound the ship to Panama City. A catholic cardinal or some prominent official carrying books, maps, and to a pirate very little useful spoils or spent. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. The dream. Or was this the dream? Dreaming is awful and sorrowful these days. Watching the end of time. The wheel has spun out of control and watching time spin backwards billions of years people forget. Pray for peace. Anyway, with a twinkle in my eye, I am not there anymore. Humor a map. Yes, yes, that was where this story was supposed to go. AH, yes. After some wine. Let me see. Getting back to the map of the universe, Wonderland, Sir Barton, Pirate known as MacGregor, and well the rabbit that stole the map of the universe. Where was I? ah, yes. Uncle Burton or Sir Barton the man was everywhere in the 1800s he lived a charmed life. He and Mr. MacGregor meet off the coast of India. General Pirate MacGregor had the map with him and was on an expedition to Nepal. The idea of gaining more investors for his territory in Venezuela required that he have something special. The map indicated a gold statue which MacGregor had promised one of his investors. Sir Burton was not Sir at this time. He was a young man and I believe he said he was the 15th or 18th Bombay Native Infantry based in Gujarat and under the command of General Charles James Napie. Anyway Uncle Burton was one of the few learned white men that was interested in languages and learned oh gosh lots according to Uncle Burton.

I think a short list was a proficient speaker of Hindustani, Gujarati, Punjabi, Sindhi, Saraiki and Marathi and Persian and Arabic. Anyway, Mr. MacGregor arrived in India aboard a steamship and lost looking for someone to help with languages in Bombay. The two meet way per Uncle Burton at a brothel. Mr. MacGregor was calling himself Cazique of Poyais. In layperson’s terms, a chief of a South American country to which he was selling land, and other items to any would be an investor. The two meet over a woman. She introduced Uncle Burton to Cazique of Poyais in English. Because she had listened to Mr. MacGregor’s tale and thought that Uncle Burton could help. Anyway Mr. MacGregor, vice general of the Venezuela army over a drink, told this story. He was in a battle with some locals in Caracas. A cannon ball had bounced and hit right under him while he was reviewing an old map he had liberated as a pirate from a priest or cardinal. The cannonball had exploded, and when he awoke, he was in Bombay of all places. He had served her Majesty for a few years and recognized the city from stories he heard during service. Well, he had folded up his map and found that he had some loose coins. Stumbling into a local house of ill repute, he had to meet the lady who had introduced Uncle Burton. In short order, the two had made plans to follow the map. That changed daily to a shrine where Oro in Spanish spelled out on mountains claiming to border India and China. The weird part was that the map would change. And the outline of England with territories named Oz, Never-land and other lands unknown in the 1840s shown. Anyway, Uncle Burton, Division general MacGregor, outfitted a small team to remove said statue of gold for financial gains. The team comprised two others, a mule, and supplies. They set out in 1945 or 1956, depending on which reality you would count the years in. They crossed the mountain range. One night while sleeping near a lake. Some bodies as Uncle Burton would describe them snatched one of the two mule handlers. His description is that one moment the guy was carrying firewood back to the fire. The next a hooping dead person or as the Chinese people later would call a vampire hopped out of the lake and grabbed the guy. The other three attempted to get their companion back, fighting the bodies. Uncle Burton’s eyes would stop for a moment. In disbelief, he would say that the flesh of the skulls came off most of the bodies. They tried however their mule handler had his throat ripped out and bleed to death. He shook his head. The bodies just ate their mule handler. And slurped up his blood wherever it fell on the ground. With slurping sounds, that memory made Uncle Burton shiver just recollecting the happening.

English work. Now, running away from them. Burton, MacGregor, a mule handler, and mule came to a posted sign in the middle of the mountains between India and China. They had left their tents and sleeping gear. The mule evidently had some food left on it being unpacked, while one of the mule handlers had gotten wood for the fire.

To say they came not equipped is the correct statement. However, MacGregor had his book and map, which he insisted they check before going a step further. The mule and mule handler would not listen to this and just took the left side of the posted sign and left. The slurping undead were far behind however they still could hear so they made a lighted torch from some torn material and the map and book consulted.

Now according to the map they were close to China. However, according to the book. There was a direct route through what looked to be a store nearby to some place else. Someplace else? The title and directions were vague. Maybe that was the purpose of the book to throw people off? Now here is the thing. Being chased by the undead into China was not something either of them wanted. And allies in China were slim to none. This was close to the Boxer rebellion, and prior to that a religious cult had swiped much of China into some bizarre reality where each side killed everyone on the other side. So they decided with a coin. 

And the coin? The coin said go elsewhere.

Taking the path to elsewhere that is mentioned in the book leads them to a store. Now this was not a normal store. The sign outside was in several languages. In English “The Magical Bookstore of the Ages” In Chinese something else. In Latin, etc.

Going in the two did not see anyone except an owl on a perch behind a counter. Now this is the interesting part of the story. Instead of worrying about where they were going or where else where. The two browsed the bookshelves.

Within the shelves were wonderful stories. Tales of old realities, people, places, alternative histories of when humanity was among the stars, and times when humanity went crazy.

An example was an old scroll. I believe in Punjabi. The story was roughly translated in English. 

This story holds true today. There once was a kingdom whose advisors and king discovered that the grain they were about to use contained a fungus that changed a person’s perspective and judgment calls totally. The month before their grain ran out, they decided what to do for the king and advisor. Who could afford to buy uncontaminated grain and live with their current judgment, or they could drink the said Kool aid (reference for time and space of JonesTown) and forget the perspective that they lived with all their lives? That judgment call happened, and we in the USA are paying for their judgment call. I always wondered about the book of Revelations why would people being punished not turn from their evil ways and submit to Christ and the creator. I wandered into other books and discovered something strange. The history of the past is being rewritten today and changed. The whole ideal of America is being transformed, and no one is stopping that change. I was out until I started seeing my sentences and ideas being changed. I realize this is just my imagination. However, I believe there is a systematic change happening within the realities today. What was honest is now being replaced with something else? I wonder if it is the food and all those crazy conspiracies. I wander a bit.

Anyway, the two explorers were in a bookshop on the edge of China and to some place else. When the realization that not a single other person was in the store with them. Uncle Burton brought up a book to the counter and a loud voice asked what the price was.

Now this is the funny part of the story. Uncle Burton with bright eyes said the owl flew down from the perch and looked at the book. Now if this was not a surprise enough replied he would have to look up the price of it.

If this was not a shock of enough for the two explorers to hear a talking low. That he seemed to know who they were and had a conversation with them about their map and book. He wanted to purchase them. Which was an oddity? First, both not shown when walking into the store. Second, he seemed to show he would make a copy of them rather fastly, which was an oddity in that time and place. Printing presses and copier machines are not the usual or non-existent.

After some haggling an agreement reached that the map and book would get copied and that was the cost of their purchase of some other rather interesting books. One by Ender Talon and the collection of maps which was by someone named Claw.

Mr. Burton and Mr. MacGregor introduced themselves to the owner of the bookstore. An owl. Upon formal introduction, the owl replied, “My name is Mr. Whoo, and welcome to my bookstore.” The books excited uncle Burton. For some books were one of a kind. Journals of explorers. And if read correctly, time travelers along with space travelers that actually happened in their reality.

Upon further inspection of the bookstore called “The Magical portal of Books’’ Uncle Burton asked how much to purchase all the books in the store. This was something unexpected. Mr. Whoo looking, how intelligent oldish said the price of the books in the shop, not the shop itself. He could have all of them if they could reach the right amount of gold or treasure.

This excited Uncle Burton to no end. Now, Mr. MacGregor was more practical and asked my uncle how in the world did he plan on transporting all the books to England? However, the answer came from Mr. Whoo. Mr. Whoo replied, “Why London, England is just outside.” And so the shop was on a corner in London, England. Going in one place in reality, the shop had mysteriously appeared in another part of the world totally. Which left both Mr. MacGregor and my uncle in a bit of a bewilderment. If talking to an owl and finding books that were supposedly burnt during the Christian destruction of old knowledge or pagan knowledge was not enough. The whole bookstore was right next to another bookstore known by both the explorers. 83 Bell St, NW1 6TB London Greater London England.  

This gave the ideal chance to collect books from antiquity that had thought lost forever. The problem was the prices for each book had to match some calendar and space time reality. Meaning? Evidently, Mr. Whoo priced his books to reflect the reality he picked up the books and the price he paid along with a percentage to pay for his overhead and keep. There were thousands of books. That Uncle Burton took out a second mortgage of his estate to purchase only a few thousand not the complete set of books is something I can still see sadness in his eyes telling or talking about the experience.

Uncle Burton’s favorite book he enjoyed talking about was a poetry book, of all things. Something about Homer’s Marguerites or marmites or another. “He knew many things, but all badly” My uncle would talk to me about my father who was rather good at farming, but outside of farming had a lack of understanding that astounded both of us.

What I found among the many books was several sheets or skins of what could be books of the bible. There were something like 102 sheets combining to make up something like 24 or 26 books. That I had to learn Ethiopian to read them was a bit of work. The most interesting book called the “Book of the Battles of Yahweh’’  

After reading that book,, I had nightmares for years to come. Then I found binders. One of them seems to show lost short stories found in a suitcase or something like that.

     What inspired most about the collection of books my uncle had purchased. Were the binders that seemed to fill with actual handwritten and typed manuscripts. Specifically, I found one written on what World War I was like by Hemingway, according to marginal notes.

It was like living a tale of an ambulance driver in Italy. The tale is about an ambulance drive in Italy went into vivid details. Serving in the American Red Cross during 1918. How the driver handed out chocolate and cigarettes to soldiers and children. That the driver wounded by mortar fire ascribed to Austrian’s “then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace door swung open, and a roar that started white and went red,” is most surreal to read the handwritten account. The driver while wounded carried some wounded soldier to safety and injured again, trying to go back by machine gun fire. The handwritten story describes how the driver received a Medal of Valor from the Italian government.

Then the handwriting like a short story went into some detail about how hard war was on a person’s soul. Going into details of how gory and inspiring speeches seem to contradict one another in war. That inspiration should be not in war but in writing or peace or something outside the horrors of war.

The handwriting was wet. And after a moment of realization, I could smell whiskey or rumor someone had spilt some sort of liquor on the paper. It had dried now, but the words inspiring by not being a warmonger was something to understand from the short story. What got me as the reader more into it? Was the detail noting who was in charge of all the American wars of mass murder. Democrats are warmongers.

Thumbing through a new arrival from the bookstore marked second-hand books, a couple of trunks full of books, and worn out leather writings and papers. I came across a mysterious half Spanish half Olde English play written if I could understand the signature by one Willm Shakspere. Secretary handwritten the play seemed in a style similar to Don Quixote with players of the rule court of England taking on the characters’ tones and attitudes towards nobles.

Then I found within the trunk a journal tied to what looked to be a scroll. Translated work in the journal was Kings English. An example of the many chapters in it. Booklet of Abraham and his travelers bethought the portals of bethlehem. The meeting of the queen of the fairies and h’r court. Magicians of fusty Babylon at which hour those gents hath lived f’r seven million years after god hath left those folk to seeth what humanity wouldst becometh without a god. Those gents becameth liketh gods. However, those gents did fail. The entire book seemed like fiction to me.

     I discovered something, a sort of short story by Mr. Dodgson with a key. To what the story went into some rather morbid detail. People think they know parallel realities. This short story however talked about portal stones transporting people to worlds so close to theirs that the mirror realities were the same. Or so close to the same they could not be told differently. That is when I found it. What was a spell of sorts? I read enough of magic by Crowley to know what was wrong. Whatever Mr. Dodgson did in those parallel worlds was not good.

    Dear Readers of this story. After translating this much of the book into a handwritten journal I decided to type out the rest on a computer.  

Can I get recollection without looking up the information.

 Abe Lincoln senator or representative.   My world he was a senator. So Hillary is right.

New Zealand one island or two.

Japan off the coast of China or Korea.

Berenstein or Berenstain bears

How many US states 50, 51, 52

Challenger shuttle exploded 1984 1985 1986

Hurricane Katrina 2003 2004 2005

Curious George with tail or not.

Jif or Jiffy Peanut butter

Tiananmen Square was the person ran over by a tank or not. yes or no

Doofenshmirtz: Love was once a crazy dream,

Now it's my new evil scheme

Doofenshmirtz's girlfriend: And I'm as happy as can be!

Both: It's the age-old story how an evil boy meets an evil girl,

We got a love strong enough to rule the whole wide world,

We both maniacally laugh at all the same stuff,

I found my other half, yes,

I got an evil love!

Backup singers: (La-la, la-la-la-la)

Doofenshmirtz: When our robot armies march

Girlfriend: To the beating of our hearts,

I'm as happy as can be!

Both: It's the age-old story how an evil boy meets an evil girl,

We got a love strong enough to rule the whole, wide world,

We both maniacally laugh at all the same stuff,

You can't foil a plan that's built upon evil love!

Backup Singers: (Love-love, love-love-love-love)

Girlfriend: Oohoo

Doofenshmirtz: Evil love...

Girlfriend: Oohoo

Demo versionEdit

Love was once a crazy dream

Now it's my new evil scheme

And I'm as happy as can be

If you'll plan it all with me

We'll take this town by force

Hand in hand, of course

And I'm as happy as can be

It's the age old story how

An evil boy meets an evil girl

We got a love strong enough

To rule the whole wide world

We both maniacally laugh

At all the same things

First we'll steal a glance, then a kiss

And then our wedding rings

When our robot armies march

To the beating of our hearts

I'm as happy as can be

With this evil girl by me

Hey, Doctor, I'm all yours

Matching lab coats: his and hers

And I'm as happy as can be

When we tell our story how

An evil boy meets an evil girl

We got a love strong enough

To rule the whole wide world

We both maniacally laugh

At all the same things

First we'll steal a glance, then a kiss

Barbara or Barbra Streisand

Charles Schulz or Schultz

Coen brothers or Cohen brothers John (“Ice Age,” “Despicable Me,” etc.), Rob (“The Mummy,”

Reba McIntyre or Reba McEntire

Alaska – Coastline radically different.

What color is the sun.

Arctica – Hasn’t existed for a very long time or has it.

Japan – Where do you recall it, in relation to China?

Korea – N. Korea borders Russia? That’s what maps show.

Madagascar – Location and general geography. Not just a map issue.

Mongolia – Part of China or a separate country? And where is/was it?