There Is a Generation IV: Kids of the Greatest Generation Series

By W.H. Buzzard

There Is a Generation IV by WH Buzzard is the last in a four-book series satirizing baby boomers, those 1950s offspring of the Greatest Generation who grew into the 1960s rebels that changed America forever.

This last and final book finds Tim and Hect grown up but having taken different paths. Tim's only remaining goal is to resc

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Feb 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890413581

W.H. Buzzard

Although WH BUZZARD will forever be a West Texan at heart, he now lives in Central Texas with his wife, his most ardent and particular editor.When not writing, he is either swimming laps, reading, taking walks, or at church. WH spent the first part of his life experiencing the adventures and misadventures described and the last part writing them.

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There Is a

Generation IV

______________________________________________

Kids of the Greatest Generation Series

WH Buzzard

greyscale Trilogy Christian Publishers logo

There Is a Generation IV

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2024 by WH Buzzard

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA. Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, CA 92780.

Trilogy Christian Publishing/TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN: 979-8-89041-357-4

E-ISBN: 979-8-89041-358-1

Dedication

Dedicated to the

generation of the ‘50s & ‘60s

and what we set in motion.

There is a generation that curses its father,

And does not bless its mother.

There is a generation that is pure

In its own eyes,

Yet is not washed from its filthiness.

There is a generation—O, how

Lofty are their eyes!

And their eyelids are lifted up.

There is a generation,

Whose teeth are as knives,

And their jaw teeth as daggers,

To devour the poor from off the earth,

And the needy from among men.

— Proverbs 30:11-14

Introduction

In book one of the Kids of the Greatest Generation series, best friends Tim and Hect happened upon an abandoned auto junkyard and switched from rabbit hunting to a game of War with their semi-automatic .22 caliber rifles.

The fun abruptly ended, however, as a boyish prank went badly awry. They decided to set fire to a pillbox bunker—actually an old deserted shack—to burn the enemy out. The boys fashioned a Molotov cocktail from an empty bottle and gas out of a wrecked truck and heaved the bomb at the structure. The dry, sun-cooked wood burst into hilarious flames, but, to their horror, a fire-engulfed figure appeared in a window. Believing they just burned alive a hobo who had been taking shelter in the hut, the boys fear they will end up in Sparky (the nickname for the electric chair at Huntsville prison), and the two flee into the desert.

Now fugitives from the law, or so they believed, they left behind their self-centered lives of ease and carefree devilment. Neither could have been less prepared to suffer hunger and thirst, merciless desert heat, and life on the road, not to mention encountering con artists, wily street people, and never-before-imagined poverty, plus the mean streets of Juarez, Mexico.

And so began the adventures—or more aptly the misadventures—through West Texas, New Mexico, and finally into Old Mexico, where the boys were shanghaied into an indoctrinating facility for anarchists called The Camp.

______________________________________________

In book two of the Kids of the Greatest Generation series, the best friends took separate paths. Hect vanished into the Mexican desert, last seen on the back frame of a truck speeding away in a cloud of dust. Tim, having fallen off the truck, faced a harrowing trip afoot through desert without food or water. Skirting death by a series of miracles, he arrived back home to learn the shack in the junkyard he and his friend set on fire was full of mannequins, not hobos.

But instead of the anticipated ‘Welcome Home!’ he found an at-her-wits-end mother ready to teach her son a lesson of a lifetime. Only, what’s to be done with a willful teenager in 1950s West Texas? Why not do what every other frustrated parent does with their black sheep? Ship the dickens off to the strictest private school around: The George S. Patton Military Academy. Let those rough-and-tumble World War II veteran instructors teach him some discipline. The idea sounded abhorrent to Tim, however, who decided it was high time to appease his sore conscience over leaving his pal in the Chihuahua desert and skip town.

Unbeknownst to Tim, his friend had learned brand new ideas due to brainwashing at the training facility known as The Camp. He now despised born-rich Americans, including his silver-spoon-fed best friend. Unaware of the other’s disapproval, Tim picked up the trail in Juarez, Mexico and followed it straight to The Camp, where he too was confined and forced into the harsh paramilitary routine.

As he and Hect butted ideological heads, they were selected for a mission back into the States to retrieve the psychotic genius who inspired The Camp system. Not only were they required to chauffeur the delusional madman past the Border Patrol and Mexican Federales, but they had to somehow keep from offending the touchy schizoid and ending up his victims.

Maybe going to the George S. Patton Military Academy wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

______________________________________________

In book three of the Kids of the Greatest Generation series, Tim and Hect were among the few escapees flying away in a World War II Russian Lisunov Li-2 transport after Federales attacked and destroyed The Camp. At an altitude of 10,000 feet, the rickety twin-engine aircraft bobbed and weaved in a lightning-filled storm until it looked a certainty their young lives would end in a fiery impact against the towering volcano, El Popo. Even if they missed being sliced to pieces by the white-hot bolts, should the planeload of top officials on the way to South America discover the two were really not members of an elite security squad, both boys would likely be escorted to the exit, minus parachutes.

Once safely out of the thunderstorm, a much-relieved Tim began a conversation with a fellow passenger in the hopes of learning what he and Hect had gotten themselves into. Evidently part of an international effort to remake western culture, their lone hope of finishing the flight was to keep bluffing they were security VIPs.

Upon landing, their ruse fell apart, and their identities were discovered. Taken into custody on the way to jail or perhaps a firing squad—the two didn’t stick around to find out which—they escaped and happened upon the only safe refuge in all of Colombia: the slums of Bogotá. No policeman or soldier dared set foot among the government-hating peons. For the first time Tim and Hect experience real oppression enforced by a tyrannical dictatorship. In the most impoverished of living conditions, the boys met and were given shelter by a cripple named Darwin and his good-hearted neighbors.

With the best of intentions, the boys started working to improve the slum conditions by what they conceive as an inspired idea. They set about exterminating a biblical plague of cucarachas, or cockroaches. Not only did they rid the place of the vermin, but, by doing so, they incited a riot that turns into a full scale revolution. During the riotous melee, Tim was accidentally mistaken for a rebel leader and shot by a government undercover agent.

Heavens above, did this mean the end of our heroes? Not likely, as there is still a fourth book to go… but how could it be otherwise?

______________________________________________

In book four of the Kids of the Greatest Generation series, two new protagonists make an appearance, plus a host of old familiar personalities. It’s old home week minus the warmth in a ghastly, malignant sort of way.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Introduction

Cast of Characters

Chapter 1: Great Expectations

Chapter 2: A Red Herring

Chapter 3: An Achilles Heel

Chapter 4: A Savage Joker

Chapter 5: Old Acquaintances

Chapter 6: Nash-Baby

Chapter 7: Land of the Refreshed

Chapter 8: Another Old Acquaintance

Chapter 9: Betrayal

Chapter 10: Makings of a Tyrant

Chapter 11: Rise to Power

Chapter 12: South America

Chapter 13: Unexpected Participant

Chapter 14: The Best-Laid Plans Do Sometimes Go Awry

Chapter 15: Legitimate Outrage

Chapter 16: More Old Acquaintances

Chapter 17: Rally of the Faithful

Chapter 18: Devious Plots Gone Awry

Chapter 19: A Sordid Tale

Chapter 20: Bestial Birth of a Beast

Chapter 21: Bogeymen Trash

Chapter 22: Dominoes in a Row

Cast of Characters

Toby — antihero with great expectation prospects.

Yuni — identical twin brother of Toby and Tirofijo’s stepson.

Timothy (Tim) — netherworld mentor to Toby and disembodied protagonist.

Visitor — netherworld underlord over Tim’s dark world realm.

Gregory (Greg) — dormitory sneak thief and Ms. Dronaman’s son.

Douglas (Doug) — champion boxer and accidental killer.

Juweel (Ju) — South African militia commander.

Colonel Bonaparte — Toby and Yuni’s biological mother and Ju’s wife.

Hector (Hect) — southern division leader of Babel and Tim’s best friend.

Ms. Dronaman — northern division leader of Babel and customs official.

Centipede — onetime recruit leader and highly sought-after bodyguard.

Acey Elu — out-of-touch-with-reality author of how-to books and assassin.

Eli — dime-store cowboy, Becca’s ex-husband, and ranch foreman.

Elrod — Eli’s friend and ranch wrangler.

T. J. — Becca’s father, scam artist, and inventor of the Poison Log Routine.

Becca — Tim’s onetime ideal woman matured.

Fast-One — practical joking slumlord and world mover and shaker.

Tirofijo — Colombian rebel leader, drug lord, and Yuni’s stepfather.

Wormwood — underling companion to Screwtape.

Screwtape — overlord chief with genocidal visions of utopia.

Nash-Baby — Becca’s precious car.

Chapter 1:

Great Expectations

I ’ll be a great man one day, the greatest, Toby told his roommate, greater than anyone. I’ll put a stop to violence and bring peace to the world. Multitudes will worship me. Nations will cease their strife with each other in obedience to my dictates. Media will dog me, celebrities will want me to appear with them, and politicians will imitate my style—unsuccessfully, I might add. My fondest wish will be for a moment of seclusion. Mothers will choose my name as the most popular for their newborns. I’ll lead parades in confetti blizzards and make speeches to packed stadiums. That’s my destiny.

Aw, no, not your destiny again, his brother groaned. Don’t tell me I’m in for another ‘aren’t-I-great’ session. Don’t you ever get tired? I sure do, and speaking of that, so do the other guys. They think you’re off your rocker.

I was like them once. I felt worthless like I would never amount to much, but then I discovered the opposite is reality. I’m fated for greatness.

What’s wrong with normal, an everyday Joe? Why must you be among—

Not ‘among,’ Toby cut him off, as in average but one and only.

Can’t you see it? his brother reasoned. You’ve simply traded opposites and gone from thinking you’re a nobody to the only one. Why the extremes? Try the middle.

Amateur psychologist, Toby scoffed. Mark my words, one day top military brass will quiver at the knees in my presence. He got a faraway look as if to see the future. International leaders will submit to my decrees. Even my enemies—and there will be less and less as time goes along—even they will fake allegiance to me until, that is, I find them out. I will be most feared of all, you’ll see.

Yeah, yeah, Yuni rolled his eyes. When they crown you, don’t forget you have a twin brother. I could use one of your lesser kingdoms.

You’re not serious, but I am. History will record my name first among men of renown. His gaze turned watery. My name will be known everywhere and my portrait hung in buildings of importance, or they better had. There will be statues of me in—

Because of talk like that, Yuni interrupted, the guys in the dorm think you’re a crackpot. They avoid you. Who wants to listen to such I’m-stuck-on-myself conceit? I only do so because you’re my brother. Otherwise why waste my time? Even if you believed that stuff, which I’m beginning to worry you do, keep it to yourself. Once in a while ask the fellows what’s going on with them.

Why? They’re nobodies. Like I used to be. One day they’ll regret missing a chance to befriend me. When biographers seek my former classmates for details on my life and TV hosts want interviews for documentaries, they’ll wish they weren’t so standoffish.

Okay, Yuni sighed. You’re my one and only family in America, and I can’t persuade you otherwise, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The two sat on pull-out bunks across from each other with a space between their knees. Like the twin boys, half their dormitory room was the exact replica of the other half—a desk with shelves in one corner, hideaway bed in the middle, a small walk space, and a closet with full-length mirrors. No one could tell the two apart, not even family, except by personalities. Both had been born in Colombia, South America, but from that point on, any similarities ended. One grew up in the Amazon jungle among rebels fighting government military forces, not to mention competing drug cartels, plus hiding from USA Special Forces. The other spent his early years in Mission Hills, the wealthiest suburb in Kansas City, Missouri. The widow who adopted and who raised Toby idolized her stepson and repeatedly reminded him how special and gifted he was.

The twins started life in Bogotá, a city in Colombia, South America, renowned for its violence. The exact year was uncertain as all records of birth dates and such went up in flames along with the Clínica El Rosario hospital during a revolution against the government. Shortly after the two were born, their mother, herself a high-ranking member in the military by the name of Colonel Bonaparte, while fleeing attacking rebel forces, came upon an American oil company executive also escaping the country. She pleaded with him to take her twins along on a company twin-engine Beechcraft. However, the other executive passengers refused her, as one of the twins was yelling in a pink-faced rage, but at last relented and accepted the quieter child only. That’s how Toby ended up with an entirely different life from his brother, Yuni.

Left behind and captured, Colonel Bonaparte and the child managed to avoid a firing squad while standing in front of a bullet-pockmarked wall with her still hollering child. The rebel leader, a man named Tirofijo, overheard the outraged yelling and came to watch. One look at the Venezuelan beauty, and he fell in love with the colonel and wanted her as his mistress. Her husband, who was also captured, was released unharmed as a sort of peace offering, but the woman escaped also. She had to leave behind her newborn in the care of a nanny, as the baby could never survive the trek through the Amazon jungle. As things turned out, the rebel leader, who had no family of his own, became infatuated with the colonel’s feisty son. He got so attached to Yuni that early on he sent the boy to private school in the USA for his education, but even more so for his safety from all the fighting. At the boys’ academy was where he and Toby met for the first time.

For identical twins, Yuni said to his brother, me and you are as opposite as looking out a window and in a mirror. Why can’t you be down to earth like me instead of always with a head full of dreams? Say something sensible for once.

I did, as sensible as can be. Watch and see—my name will be up there with presidents, military commanders, business tycoons, you name it, only higher. And you, my lucky brother, can be right there at my right hand. You and I together with me at the lead naturally.

Why not equal?

Because I was chosen.

Aw, who cares anyway? Yuni sighed. It’s all far-fetched fantasies.

Not far-fetched at all.

Okay, how come you’re chosen then and not me? Who did the choosing?

I hoped he didn’t answer that. If Toby admitted it was me, then he’d have to say who I was or, worse, where I was, and considering how frantic he was for his brother to believe in him, there was no telling what he might say. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about his future, but who could blame me? So much depended on him—my own freedom for starters—who wouldn’t be overeager? My Lord High Ruler expected results, and if he thought me failing in my mission, I’d end up back inside that container where I’d been for almost twenty years. The very thought made me shiver.

In times past I thought I’d never escape that cursed box. Then there came a day—although that was only an expression, as individual days no longer existed—but, anyway, the Lord High Ruler of my realm, who I called Visitor, as names were forbidden, showed up unexpectedly, and we hit it off, at least as much as was possible in that dark domain. He offered me a chance at temporary freedom, and I jumped at the offer, anything to escape that close-fitting casket. My task was to locate a certain young man, introduce myself (as things turned out over and over and over until he finally believed in me), and mentor my candidate for a predetermined leadership position. From what I could understand, this was some kind of competition with other applicants as well. Should Toby be chosen by a panel of superior underworld lords, it would mean a longer term of freedom for me, perhaps indefinitely. However, there was a problem, a big one. I’d no more than met my trainee than I became aware he was not only incompetent and uncooperative but uncommonly arrogant, willful, and obstinate. Worse than that, Toby immediately started boasting as if he was a shoo-in to be selected. Frankly, after working with the narcissist for a while, I doubted he would make it past the first round before washing out.

My thoughts were interrupted by an intruder leaning in the open door of Toby and Yuni’s dorm room. The boy’s swept-back blond hair was so perfect, especially for this time of morning; he looked like he’d come from a stylist. Hi, guys, he said in polite deference without entering. May I come in?

No, Toby returned none too friendly. You can’t. Beat it, Greg.

I moved to the corner of the room, out from between the roommates and their new arrival. Despite no one being able to see me, I had a phobia that made me extremely shy. Irrational or not, I had this constant dread that one day I’d take on physical form suddenly, and then what? What was there to say? As a result I felt most comfortable in shadows or else half-hidden in corners behind objects like partially opened doors.

Yeah, get going, Gregory, his brother joined in. There’s nothing here to steal.

The ill will between these last two surprised me, as they had been roommates once. That was before I persuaded Toby to move Yuni’s stuff upstairs to his room. Trading rooms like that was strictly against school rules, but I had a hunch once administrators found out the boys were twin brothers from South America who only recently found one another, an exception would be granted, which turned out correct.

I’m sorry, guys, don’t be mad at my breaking in like this, okay? the boy in the doorway begged. He’d edged one foot over the threshold. But I found Yuni’s Case pocketknife he’s been looking for.

Stole it, you mean, Yuni sneered. Now you’re returning it in order to save your hide.

No, no, I swear it was in between the couch cushions in the lounge. It must have slipped out of your pocket when watching TV. Here. He raised his other foot as if to enter but thought better of it. Instead, he pitched the knife that bounced on the mattress, ricocheted off the wall, and fell behind the bed. Aw gee, I’m such a klutz. Can I come in to get it for you?

Scram! Yuni slid off the bed on his hands and knees and reached under the pull-out bed, then sat back up. Except for the shame of thrashing a buttercup like you… but maybe Toby here would oblige.

Gregory giggled, but his frightened eyes switched over to Yuni’s brother.

Not me. My specialty is brains, not brawn, but if more missing items don’t start showing up, he warned the boy in the doorway, my guess is you won’t make it to semester’s end.

Just as you say, just as you say. Bye, Tobe.

Don’t call me ‘Tobe’ either. Who said you could?

Right, Tob-bee. Gregory started to leave but turned back. I forgot I’m supposed to deliver a message, but don’t get mad at me. It’s from Doug. He says he wants a rematch with Yuni, says he won’t turn his back on him this time.

Tell your boxing pal anytime, and after I finish him, it’ll be a fairer fight with you. I won’t feel so bad afterward.

No, no, not me, Greg tittered, but his face lost color. It’d be a waste to bruise your knuckles on me. Remember we were roommates once.

Get lost, Toby muttered.

No offense, really. I was just trying to explain to Yuni that we ought to remain friends. After all, Tob… I mean, Toby, did I complain when you had me move your brother’s stuff to your room? And when admin wanted to reverse the move, who was it who all but begged them to leave things as they were? Me, that’s who. And I’ll let you guys in on a little secret—Doug keeps Yuni’s bloody shirt from their fight in a plastic bag in his closet. Want me to get it for you?

You even sneak among the belongings of your one and only pal, Yuni marveled. Even your protector isn’t safe from your prying.

He kept the blood-stained shirt as evidence in case his father decides to sue you for all the dental work you caused him. His dad was a bigtime lawyer before he became ambassador, you know.

Yuni acted as if rising to his feet, and Gregory scampered away.

Good riddance, Toby grumbled. If not for his boxing-champ buddy, the sneak thief would have been run out of school long ago.

Boxing champ, pshaw, Yuni sneered. Doug wouldn’t last ten seconds in the jungle. In the Amazon Marquess of Queensberry Rules don’t apply.

That’s your department, Toby said. Mine is leading the masses. One day they will make a statu—

All right, all right, Yuni cut him off. Don’t start again. Enough is enough. Besides, no one knows what they’ll become in the future or otherwise.

I do.

Sure you do.

"I do. My destiny is determined and can’t be changed."

An edginess crept over me. This conversation was headed nowhere good. Toby had a bad habit of backing himself into a corner and then saying whatever came to mind to explain his way out. Impulsiveness with him was a virtue, but he’d regret it one day, and maybe me too.

No one’s future is determined, Yuni scoffed. Yours, mine, or otherwise. We’re all the victims of random circumstance.

Not me.

You too. At our age no one can be that sure of themselves.

I am.

Oh, what’s the use? his brother sighed.

My future’s been promised and can’t be taken back.

I cringed. Here we went. Typical overstatement. I never promised anything. I specifically said there was a possibility he’d be chosen, nothing definite, and warned him a dozen times not to mention me, and yet here he was, getting closer and closer to doing just that.

So you say, Yuni sneered, but you never say who it was that made the promise.

I groaned inside. Toby was all but trapped. Now what?

Nevermind who, he said, making the same lame defense he’d made in the past. My future’s been guaranteed, and that’s that.

That’s hooey is what. No one alive can predict the future.

Who said anything about living?

I winced at that. There he’d done it now. Things had never gone this far. If he didn’t shut up, there’d be no way out.

Oh, well, in that case, Yuni laughed, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Now you’re talking real logic. Not alive, of course. I should’ve known. Dumb me.

I thought you’d come around, Toby said, missing the other’s sarcasm altogether.

Far from it, my delusional brother. This is all nonsense. Promises made—not alive—I think you’re losing it. What in the world are you talking about? Robots? Or zombies? That’s a laugh. You have no more idea about the future than bats in the belfry.

You’re jealous. It’s not my fault you weren’t chosen and I was.

All right, I’ve had enough. That’s it! Either name your promise-giver or shut up. I’m sick of all this mysticism baloney. Say a name—I dare you.

Toby scanned the room. I knew who he was looking for, but what was there to do? Even though I wasn’t ten feet away, I couldn’t warn Toby not to fall for the dare because of the noisy boys in the hallway. There had to be absolute silence for me to be heard.

Um-m, Toby hesitated. Okay, only because you’re my brother, but once I start, you have to hear me out. No interrupting, agreed?

I knew it. Sooner or later, I knew this would happen. Now what? Toby would sell his soul for someone, especially his brother, to believe in him so that even if there was a way to muzzle him, the issue would arise again some other day. He might as well get it over with.

Come on. Yuni smirked with a double-dare grin. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. This ought to be good.

There’s this voice, Toby began haltingly.

I shuddered. There was no stopping him now.

Voice? his brother repeated.

You’re interrupting! Toby sprang to his feet and began pacing. I can’t do this unless you let me talk straight through to the finish.

Okay, okay, you’ve been hinting at this for months. Go on.

Like I said, there’s this voice—just a voice—that’s all. And, well, the voice speaks to me at times.

Intuition, you mean?

No, an actual voice. Not out loud but clear inside my head.

Whose voice?

No names. Just a voice, is all.

Where from?

"Who knows? It’s a voice, I tell you, and that’s good enough."

Your own then. It’s what you want to hear.

Toby heaved an exasperated sigh but went on. Okay, I’ll start from the beginning. Some time ago I heard a voice at night in the quiet. Any noise and nothing can be heard. As you might suspect, I paid no attention, thinking, like you do, some kind of mental thing was to blame. Then one day riding in the car with my stepmom, I heard the voice again, this time crying out, ‘Right! Hard right!’ I was so startled I reacted on impulse and dove across the front seat, grabbing the steering wheel from my stepmom’s hand. Our car swerved onto two wheels, almost flipped, but we missed a van that ran a red light going no telling how fast, maybe sixty or seventy miles an hour. The voice kept us from an awful crash, maybe saving our lives.

That can be expla—

You’re interrupting! Toby cut him off. I’m not through.

For my part, I wished his brother would butt in more until Toby got flustered enough to give up. He was wasting his breath, and only someone with an inferiority complex desperate for validation would know better.

I forgot about the car incident, Toby went on, thinking at the time it was a fluke, nothing more. Then the same thing happened.

"Another near-miss wreck?"

No, the voice. Toby glared at the other. One day I skipped class and went to a bakery down the street from our school. They make these crème-filled maple-long johns like you never tasted. When I went to the back of the store to the restroom to wash the sugar off my hands, these thugs came in the front. The voice starts in again, this time shouting, ‘Danger, danger! Stay here! Don’t go out there!’ and so on. I shrugged the warnings off and walked out anyway straight into a robbery.

Oh, yeah! Yuni exclaimed. I heard about that. Teachers still talk of you saving that baker’s life and foiling the doughnut shop robbery. It made the news, right?

National news.

Yeah, quite a splash, they say.

That’s not the half of it. So I’m standing there among these two bad guys, one tying up the shop owner or trying to with an electric cord, while the other emptied the cash register and me stiff as a flagpole. The robbers were too busy to notice me, but the voice starts in again, this time calling, ‘Grab the pistol!’ Only what pistol? Evidently the guy tying up the baker had set his firearm aside to tie a knot, only where was it? Nowhere in sight that I could see. The voice tells me to dive forward straight at the bandit and I’d find the weapon on the way. Let me tell you, if that gun hadn’t appeared, I would’ve ended up piggyback a killer, but sure enough, in mid-flight the pistol came into view inside the doughnut cabinet.

Good gravy, what happened next?

The baker saw me in midair and rolled, pinning the leg of the guy atop him. He told the cops afterward rolling on the thief’s leg like that enabled me to arrive first. I got the gun, but I swear, I never saw the weapon until midflight since the cabinet door was wood.

And you ended up a school hero, Yuni exclaimed. Students and teachers alike tell that story as if the biggest thing to ever hit this place.

More than that. TV reporters called me from all over for an interview; some asked for first shot at my biography. Top news anchors too.

"Yeah, the school still has the newspaper in the trophy case in the admin building with the headlines ‘Schoolboy Saves Baker,’ and so on. That’s why I didn’t argue when you moved my stuff to your room without asking me first. I said to myself, This fellow must be something, certainly better than what I got now, meaning Gregory, not you. Then come to find out you’re my twin brother. What a coincidence."

Not a coincidence at all. Forces we don’t understand control these things. That’s how come I can be so certain about my future. So now you believe me?

"I have to admit