Land of Philantasy

By Ralph Pilolli

One whose mind is intrigued with tales of the unusual will discover them once their imagination steps through the archway leading to the 'Land of 'Philantasy'. Sculptured onto the obelisk are the titles of eight short stories, a novella, and a ditty. These are not the run-of-the-mill (so to speak) type of stories. They are what I call '

• Language: English
• Publisher: Go To Publish
• Release date: Nov 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781647497859

Book preview

Benny Baby Number Seven

No time to think of her now; got to be on the court in twenty m inutes....

Why do all locker rooms have to smell like yesterday’s shirts?.... You’d think that with the membership dues I pay, the walls would be impregnated with ‘Channel No. 5’...

Ha! Impregnated, that word alone brings to mind the most gullible broad I’ve ever been with, the fertile Ms. Barbra Bandiné....

Now where did I put them new tennis balls?....

Well, HOT DAMN! Here’s them uppers I thought were ripped off....

I always said, A messy locker is a lucky locker.....

Eighteen left, my lucky number, seven come eleven, gonna need all the help I can get. One for every year that young stud got over me, or should I say under me. Whatever! He’s not going to knock me out of first place....

Benny Baby, pull yourself together, don’t let the threat of youth psyche you out! You may be forty-five and only five foot eight, nobody, but nobody, gets the best of Bennie B....

Arms feel a little stiff trying to prep for this match. Maybe a few push-ups will loosen me up ... forty-nine, fifty. Phew, must have been those uppers....

Good thing they put benches in front of lockers....

A few minutes of shuteye should do it....

The time! ... HOT DAMN! ... How long have I been here?...

My watch! My arm! I can’t move. I can’t move...anything!...

The light! What happened to the light?...

Damn! Hasn’t anybody missed me?...

If I could just fall off this stupid bench, the noise. Maybe someone would at least hear me....

Damn! That’s what I get for paying extra for a secluded locker where I have some privacy....

Hot damn, I hope they find me soon. I feel rotten....

The least this cheap place can do is leave a light on. If nothing else the janitor will find me. They have to clean this stinking place sooner or later....

Wonder if that golden stud thought I was chicken to show for the match? What the hell am I wondering about the match for? I must have had a stroke.... Hot Damn... Where is somebody!...

What a position to be stuck in, my hands over my chest, knees in the air, you make quite a picture Bennie B, white tennis shorts and all....

Somebody has to miss me by now....

Wish I hadn’t kissed off Barb the way I did, at least she’d be looking for me sooner or later. The most gullible broad I ever, and did I ever. You’d think after the results of six dead-beat kids that I literally stuck her with, she wouldn’t sit on the same couch with me....

HOT DAMN! I know I got her for number seven....

Ha! Ha! Bennie Baby, she ain’t going to forget me for long. Tells me she can’t stand me anymore. Well it won’t be long until she will be bulging her seams with remembrances of Bennie Baby lucky number seven....

Damn! How long have I been here?...

The way I’m sweating, I should slide off this bench.... Maybe now if I try my weight on my left side. ... HOT DAMN! I think I’m on the floor, but I don’t feel anything....

Somebody, look for me! Find me!...

Bennie B, you might as well face it, even if they find you soon, it won’t do much good....

Find me after birth to live; find me at death’s door, so...I can die. Guess that’s the way Bennie B has got to go....

That bitch who brought me into this world didn’t want me, just dropped me in the nearest garbage can. But at least that old ‘Mama Bitch’ had the finesse to wrap me with yesterday’s ‘Times’. If it weren’t for that hotel clerk, I’d be forty-five year old garbage. Yeah, Bennie B, from ass to ashes....

HOT DAMN! My leg, I can move it. Maybe things aren’t over yet. I’ll kick the bottom of the bench, if it’s really there, and I’m on the floor. I think I’m kicking...but I don’t feel anything!...

HOT DAMN! What’s happening to me? Somebody! Somebody! Help me!...

Easy, Bennie B, you’re yelling but nothing is coming out....

I often thought about how it was going to happen, why do I have to be alive to find out....

Wonder if Barb will name number seven after me? If she treats number seven like one through six, God help it. Damn brats deserve it anyhow. Can’t say I haven’t provided for her in the last six-and-a half years. I’ve kept her belly full! HA! HA! HA! ... If for no other reason, I wish she were around to hear that one....

Damn broad never appreciated anything. Set her up in a four room flat and what does she do, keeps it no better than a pigpen. I told her to get rid of them damn kids. Messiest brats I’ve ever been around....

Old Bare Back Barb, I guess that’s where she’s getting her extra monies from. HOT DAMN! That’s about the best thing she’s good for. And I know she still don’t know why I yelled Seven Come Eleven at the, should I say, climax of our relationship? HA! HA!...

Bennie Baby, I don’t know if you are going to die happy, but if this is it, you’re going to die laffin’. HA! HA!...

Don’t think my partner will miss me? He does most of the work anyhow, whether he knows it or not. As far as the world is concerned, I’m sure they can do without another insurance man. He’s too stupid to figure out the swindling of client’s monies that I’ve been getting away with for the last couple of years....

Nobody, but nobody, gets the best of Bennie B!...

Time!... How long has it been? It’s so damn dark....

And now it’s this fucking digital watch, you got to push a button, which is impossible at this moment, or the damn thing won’t let you know what time it is. It had to be invented by some female, gimmie before you get!...

HA! HA! Who’s a chauvinist, not me? HA! HA!...

Come on, Bennie Baby, pull yourself together and move something! Try! You know you’re better than ... whatever has happened to you. HOT DAMN! My arm ... I think I can move it. HA! I knew the best of Bennie would come through. Keep trying Bennie B., if you can move your arm ... now I got feeling, I can turn end for end! LIGHT! I CAN SEE LIGHT!...

HELP! ... HELP ME! ... SOMEONE! ... ANYONE!...

Push, Bennie B., as you never pushed before. I’m doing it, and the light ... it’s getting brighter!

HELP! ... HELP ME! Damn! Still no sound from my voice! Why? Why?... Someone is pulling me! Hot Damn! I knew you’d make it Bennie B....

Hey, you idiot! You’re pulling me by the feet! ... LET GO! Can’t you just pick me up? I SAID, LET GO OF MY FEET!...

HEY, JERKOFF, YOU’RE HANGING ME IN THE AIR!...

Barb! ... Is that you? ... Why are you laying there ... like that? OH NO! NOT NUMBER SEVEN!...

OUCH!...

(Now the voice of Bennie B. can be heard throughout the brightly-lit room.)

WHAAAaaaaaaaaa.........

Epilogue

SOULS SHALL LIVE

WHAT THEY CREATE

A story of Philantasy

NEVER CRY PURPLE

The pale blue attire and the facial complexion are a very close blend of the statues figure of a man carrying a small bundle, who is hurriedly approaching the counter marked ‘Patient Information. The elderly white uniformed receptionist looks up from her computer screen and ask, May I help you, Sir?

The stoic faced man hesitates as if searching for the correct word, then very distinctively responds, "Maternity Ward’ is what comes to mind. Is that accurate?

With a respectable snicker, the mature receptionist smiles as she answers. When I had my first born forty years ago it was, but now try ‘Derivation Floor’ as she points to her left... Elevator straight down the hall and three flights up. The duty nurse will direct you from there. Good luck.

Exiting the elevator, the man of blue hastily approaches the ‘Nurses Duty Station.

My name is Mr. Bjay. My wife! ... Am I too late? ... I mean... can it still happen?

Not to worry Mr. Bjay, we have been expecting you. I assume that parcel you are holding contains the ‘H’ chip?

Gently he attempts to hand it to her and answers, Yes. It was a time consuming process. May I now see my wife?

Of course. But please hold on to your package, and follow me. She is just down the hall and hopefully still awake.

The perfection and sterility of the hospital was in contrast to the opening squeak of the door marked twelve. The transition from the white hallway to the red glow of the room discloses a middle aged woman propped up in bed. Her face reveals a semi-conscious state with wires from the ceiling going under her covers and attached to her protruding abdomen. Mr. Bjay steps into the room leaving the duty nurse holding the door and pointing to the opposite wall.

You only have a few minutes however, I will leave you in the hands of the ‘Derivation Doctechin’ there at the control console. You may give him the contents of the package. And please, Mr. and Mrs. Bjay, do not worry. We have done this procedure many times, with a hundred percent success.

Upon the door closing, Mr. Bjay scans and registers the now exposed the multi-lighted control panel attended by the white uniformed Doctechin, who turns in his swivel chair and asks, I believe you have something for me Mr. Bjay?

Without a word he hands the package to the man in the chair as the faint sound of, Dear! Brings Mr. Bjay back into purpose. A look of worried love crosses his face as he walks to the side of the bed and with a voice that matched his expression. Lavina, my love, I apologize for not getting here sooner but my procedure took longer than I was told.

Not to matter, my sweet. I will do my part for our dream.

The tranquility between the two loved ones is broken by the assertive voice of the Doctechin. It’s time! You must leave now Mr. Bjay. The duty nurse will show you to the waiting area.

With those words Mr. Bjay in the silence of a kiss to his semi-conscious wife’s lips, exits the room.

The waiting area carries the sterility theme along with the comfort of well-padded couches, soothing music and wall drawings of children of all colors and ages. Mr. Bjay picks up a magazine titled, ‘BLENDURE’ then seating himself away from the other two men who seem very relaxed by their tone of conversation. In-tuned with the planned atmosphere, Mr. Bjay was startled by the sound of his name being called.

"Yes! I am he. Is everything well? ... My wife?

The duty nurse with the now familiar parcel in hand, walks up to the expectant recipient. "All is fine, Mr. Bjay. Your wife is sleeping comfortable. Now here is your ‘H’ chip. Be careful! Remember it is very delicate.

***

The sharp jingle of bells echo as the store front door marked...

DOGMI, DUPLICREATOR OF LIFE

opens, to accept within its mirrored walls the android structure of Mr. Bjay. His process of registering the confusion of the eternity of dimensions which reflects his bluish hue figure, turns to DOGMI novelty as he views himself at all angles.

A pudgy little old man, whose crackled voice can only speak in duple sentences, interrupts the moment.

I am the proprietor. I am Dogmí. You must be Mr. Bjay. You must be the father. I have been expecting you. I have been waiting for you.

Yes, I am he. Moreover, please accept the ‘Habituation Chip’ programmed with both my wife and my personality impulses that you asked for. In our contract we agreed the due date to be the 18th rising of light, mid-lunar, 1233, which is now, is he ready?

With this, he will be complete. He will be as you and your wife.

Dogmí with the tiny chip in hand, turns toward the mirrored wall to which he first appeared and now disappears, his voice trailing off with, I will get him. I will bring him to you.

Strange these red life beings, Mr. Bjay thought while in the silence of oneness, yet, still feeling the uneasiness of the multitude of reflections. Strange indeed, however, I chose to marry one.

The search of his puzzled memory registers to reality when Dogmí ever so uniquely reappears, only this time with the lifelike structure of a five-year-old boy. His features are the exact combination of his bluish android father standing before him, and the delicacies of his reddish life being mother, who is awaiting his arrival.

Do you like him, are you pleased? stammers the abundantly stuffed Dogmí. He is programmed just as you had instructed, just as you told me. Five years old, plenty of questions. Full of energy, never a dull moment with this boy. Now for the optional feature, the feature that cost you extra.

Yes, the control switch, where is it located?

Dogmí places his pudgy hand on the boy’s face, as he explains, Conveniently, it is right here in the nose. It is in what is known as the olfactory organ. It looks like a nose; however, his nose is not a nose. Duplicreations do not breathe, no need for breath. Let me demonstrate. Let me show you.

With his hand on the boy’s face, Dogmí continues his demonstration by physically working the device.

When you want him ‘on,’ twitch to the left.

The boy’s eyes open.

Want him ‘off,’ twitch to the right.

The boy’s eyes close.

Dogmí duplicates his actions, and the young lad responds. Off-on, on-off. I am also including a remote nose, a gift nose. It is good up to one mile, will work up to one-point-six kilometer. With the remote in hand, he again proceeds to show Mr. Bjay its workings. Off-on, on-off.

I am overwhelmed, Dogmí. I compute that only a short time ago, the mere mention of mixing blue and red was a penal offense. Now, with the new ‘Wisdom Party’ governing our planet, combined with your ‘Duplicreations of Life,’ blue and red can blend. And blend you have, for he has much detail of his red life mother. Thank you for our son, Dogmí. However, we must leave now, for my wife is expecting our child within the hour. The anticipation during his construction has been very trying for her. Now, as I recall, if I twitch his nose to the left…

The child’s eyes open, he looks around, then into his father’s face and for the first time, speaks.

Hello father. Where is mother? I do want to see her."

I do also, son, however you must understand, your mother is very emotional and will probably cry, but they will be tears of joy.

I know, Father, I know. But I can never cry, for I am purple.

Mr. Bjay smiles, clasps his son’s hand, and as the jingle of bells sound, father and son exit in a wave of thank you and goodbye. Holding the door open, Mr. Bjay is startled as he transcribes and registers the reverse reflection into the mirrored walls the lettering on the door, IMGOD, the door hissing close, DUPLICREATOR OF LIFE

Epilogue

The sight of God hath no man seen yet

His image is in the mind of His creation

A story of Philantasy

MIND OF NAUD

The absence of the daytime hospital flurry brought the confinement of Professor Jerome Naud’s helpless, hopeless, condition to the reality that the window next to his bed was the only shadow of light’s life to his limited existence on this earth. Sleep he thought, is such a waste. Therefore, he did very little. The bed on the opposite side of the room was empty once again, and bringing to mind, ‘Partners till death do t hey part’.

Despite his effort to savor every moment of time, the startling, Good morning, Professor Naud, did you sleep well? brought into his semi-conscious mind, the realization that sleep is strength that one cannot deny. He answers in a state of unrealized grogginess.

Good morning, Nurse Ramie. Yes, I must have slept well, for I thought I was awake.

Ohh, Professor Naud, you say the strangest things. Now what do you want for breakfast? The usual, right? I don’t know why I ask. Oh! By the way, you’re going to have a new roommate. A Mr. Vinzzz. No! Mr. Vizzz. Nooo! Darn! Well anyway, his first name is Alfonso. Italian you know. Charm you right off your feet. And according to the E. R. nurses he has whiplash, and his leg is in pretty bad shape, but there is certainly nothing wrong with his hands. Oh, oh! That morning sun is directly in your eyes. I’ll draw the drapes.

No, Nurse! Leave my morning life as it is; for it is the only natural wonderment, I have left. Besides, in a short while the new high rise apartments across the way will shadow it. Please, Nurse Ramie, leave me alone so I may enjoy the remainder of this morning life.

Now, now, Professor Naud, you’ll feel better once Mr. Vizzz... ohhh! Whatever his name is brought in, and you can share your ‘Wonderful Window Wonderment’s’ with him. Oh, oh! I’m starting to talk like you, Professor. Well anyhow, your breakfast will be here soon. Don’t forget now, push the red button for emergency only, and the little light lemon one for just any old thing.

With the echo of, Despite yourself we still love you Professor, and the closing of the door, which he could only hear and never view. A feeling of comfort, a feeling of loneliness, not knowing which out-weighed the other, surrounded him.

***

Excuse us, you’re blocking the corridor, said with the sweetness of voice, yet with the reverberation of command, that at this moment is being wielded by Nurse Day. She pushed before her the fifty five-year-old, six foot four frame of Alfonso Vinzarro. He, being seated in a stainless steel wheelchair, with his white cast leg sticking straight out, commanded as much authority as the white cast form of Nurse Day.

Now, Mr. Vinzarro, you will be sharing a two person room, and I would like to brief you on who your room partner is, and what he is like.

Wait a minute, Nurse Day! stated the dependent patient. Since I have to be here for quite a while, will you call me Al? Because I would like to call you something besides, Nurse Day. Even nurses have first names.

Mr. Vinzarro, your reputation noted to me by the E.R. nurses has already proceeded you. So as Head Nurse I’ll inform you now that it will not be tolerated in any form, fashion or way. I hope I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Vinzarro!

With an almost tattooed smirk, Al replies as only he can, You know, for such a little broa... I mean gal, you’re tough.

Mr. Vinzarro, don’t you forget it.

Approaching, just as the elevator doors open to accept the two generals of this mental battle, one to his bodily recovery area, the other, to rid her of this wheelchair of overstuffed ego. Yet, it seems that within themselves, they had somewhat enjoyed this war of tongues.

Al speaks first in what seems like an eternity of silence as the elevator doors open on the twelfth floor.

Nurse Day, it’s like this white cast on my leg, and the white uniform on your bod. They are only outer shells, and it sounds like yours needs as much mending as mine does. So, You do your best, I’ll do mine, and I’m hoping for a tie.

Nurse Day did not know whether to guard against or accept Al’s last word. So judging from intuition as a woman, coupled with the experience as a professional, she ignores what is said, and picks up the conversation as if it wasn’t.

Before we reach your room, Mr. Vinzarro, I’ll finish what I started to tell you. Your roommate will be a Mr. Naud, Professor Jerome Naud. Many of his writings and poems have been published, and I might add, are quite good.

So far he sounds pretty boring, being that reading and especially poetry ain’t my, so to speak, forte. Can’t you find me another room?

Strange that you bring it up, because hospital policy would not put you in this particular ward.

Particular Ward? What do you mean by that?

Please, Mr. Vinzarro, let me finish. As I was saying this hospital does not normally put a patient of your type, and by that, I mean, unless you are terminal, into this ward. There is nothing contagious to concern yourself, for it is what is known as ‘The Transition Ward’. Now before you say anything more, we have looked into your medical insurance, which you took out recently, and accordingly this hospital is it. Without further ado, Mr. Vinzarro, we are here, room 1212. Until a space is made available in another ward, this is your home, and I will be looking in on you occasionally.

I won’t apologize for disturbing you Professor Naud, because I think that is what you need most. I want you to meet your new roommate, Mr. Vinzarro, or as he says, Al to his friends. Nurse Ramie told me she gave you a rundown on Mr. Vinzarro before she went off shift this morning. Believe me, every word of it is true.

If I can get a word in edgewise, Nurse Day, thanks for the introduction, I think?

Then with the mannerisms combined with a voice of innocence, which every man seems to have in him, Al asks, Nurse Day, I’m feeling very tired, would you help me onto the bed?

Be patient, Mr. Vinzarro, the orderly will be here any minute. Nurse Day, I’m really not feeling well, please help me.

Well, all right, Mr. Vinzarro. If you can, support yourself with your good leg. Thaaat’s good! Now put your one arm around my shoulder, and the other on the bed, aannd over you go!

With a sigh of comfort from Al as he is being lifted, a yell of, Yiiiiii! from Nurse Day, as a result of an amorous pinch. This followed with a somewhat lecherous laughter mixed with the words, you should never trust an Italian with one hand that’s still free.

Round one, Mr. Vinzarro, enjoy it while you can. Then turning to the patient on the opposite side of the room, I apologize Professor Naud for...

No, no, Nurse Day, please no need for an apology, especially at your expense of embarrassment. I have just felt the pleasure of laughter, something that I have not done in quite a while. It is I who owe you an apology, and Nurse Ramie was correct, there seems to be nothing wrong with his hands.

With a solemn look on her face, Nurse Day exits toward the door, then holding it open with one hand, points to the right side of Alfonso Vinzarro’s bed, then in a very controlled tone of voice says, Well now that the entertainment is over, I have work to do. Just one more thing, Mr. Vinzarro, the buttons by your bed, the red one is for emergencies, the yellow one is for...

And will you deliver that special, interrupts the ever grinning Al.

In a very controlled professional tone, Nurse Day responds, The beginning of round two, Mr. Vinzarro, and if I may finish what I was saying, the yellow one is for non-emergencies or as you put it, Mr. Vinzarro, for whatever! So, if you are in need of relief from pain, just push that yellow button, and it would give me great pleasure if you would push it right up your...

The echo from the hall, Dr. Oswald wanted in emergency, combined with the closing of the door, blotted Nurse Day’s final word, leaving little to the imagination of either Professor Naud, or the hysterical Alfonso Vinzarro.

There is a silence of enjoyment, each man in his own way, in a room that ten minutes prior had been confined to the thoughts and mysteries of what death brings, which is now broken by the inevitable manner of Mr. Vinzarro.

Well old man, looks like we’re partners for a while. Don’t use that statement so loosely Mr. Vinzarro. The word partner in this ward has a whole new meaning. I have seen many men in the last few months fulfill the purpose of this ward, so delicately named, ‘The Transition Ward’.

Hey, old man, don’t lay it on so thick with me! I’m only here because there’s no room anywhere else.

My apologizes, Mr. Vinzarro. I’m not used to one so lively.

Forget it Professor. Now talking about lively, what do you do for entertainment in this place? There ain’t even a TV in this room.

My last partner was unable to watch television. As for me, television is something I have not felt a need or desire. My thoughts, my reading, my window, these are my entertainment.

Your thoughts and reading, yeah! But what’s with the window?

Mr. Vinzarro, my window is the only link remaining to the moving realities of the outside life.

Okay, Professor, I don’t understand all that, but do me a favor, will ya? Don’t call me Mister, a simple Al will do.

Alright. Simple Al it is.

Oh, ho! That’s one for you Professor.

***

Two weeks mending for one, yet ending for the other have passed. The inconveniences of Alfonso Vinzarro’s neck brace, which has limited his peripheral view; coupled with the cast on his leg, which is hanging in a sling, has added to the relief of the nursing staff, knowing that a less stationary weapon is easier to avoid. Do to this handicap, the only outlook to his outside world from the three walled area which surrounded his bed, was his newly acquired television set. At first, Al was uninterested in Professor Naud’s ‘Sunrise tales of the activities that transpired from the apartment high rise across the way. However, the curiosity of only being able to hear and not view the very detailing descriptions of Professor Naud’s ‘Window Wonderment’s’, turns out to be the enabling factor to penetrate the imagination of Alfonso Vinzarro. Professor Naud did not know at first, whether it was the description of the everyday drama in the park below or the goings on in the twenty- story apartment high rise across the way that held Al’s imaginary interest. That is until now, as Al anxiously awaits his favorite time of the morning when Professor Naud describes the details of the two women occupying the thirteenth floor apartment